Lisa was the smartest person she knew. The only people who could outfox her were either cheating or catching her off guard.
With the former happening more often as of late, while the latter was rare.
Until now.
The bank heist had been going so smoothly, and now she was kidnapped by an entirely different villain. A far, far more perverse and monstrous villain than Coil ever was.
If the constant moans, the slapping of flesh, and the wet sounds echoing down the hall were any hint.
The primped Asian woman, Yuri, had left the computer room rather quickly a few minutes ago. If she was a woman, that is.
Lisa distinctly remembered seeing a tented bulge in her pants, complete with a spreading dark spot.
Her power stuttered, spitting fragments into her head like broken glass:
“Female. Not female. Mask-Wrong. Male? No. Both. Hidden skin. A third, a whole?”
She winced, rubbing at her temple. Too many jagged edges, none of them fitting neatly together. Was it saying Yuri was a man? No… except, also yes. Both?
Then, as if mocking her, another splinter of nonsense layered over it:
“Duck in muck, sip from dick—wrong angle, wrong truth.”
She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste copper. If only her power would stop fucking up. It had gone completely silent the moment she’d laid eyes on Xena, not a single peep. Which, all things considered, was a blessing.
Alex followed Yuri out of the room, likely to sate her boredom or curiosity. She genuinely didn’t care what the teen did, Lisa only tolerated the brat because Coil wanted his teen brigade.
But with everyone else in Xena’s base, excluding Alex, it was like there was an encryption on everyone. Every answer broken. Every truth mistranslated.
It made the accompanying headaches far less worth the shit that was being dug up.
Half her thoughts were on the obvious Trump effect going on with the giant armored monster and her hive. The other half? On the equally obvious Tinker-enhanced computer rig Yuri had just left behind.
A rig the Asian had left unlocked.
Lisa knew it was Tinker tech because while most of it gave her shard clean feedback, there were pieces that didn’t. Her power sputtered in her head: “Encrypted. Wrong. Xeno-hand. Family touch. Not human-made.” The exact same static interference she got whenever she brushed up against Xena’s brood.
Didn’t matter, the files looked mundane enough.
She slid into the overstuffed gaming chair, cracking her knuckles before starting to browse.
Immediately, a file named ‘Homework’ made her snort. Of course she opened it.
Her skin crawled at what she found. Mostly adult-rated Japanese comics, hentai if she wasn’t mistaken, but also videos. Well, cartoons, really. That distinct Japanese style, Anime.
The childlike characters, the acts they were performing… Lisa slammed the file shut before her stomach could turn any harder.
Something was seriously wrong with Yuri.
The disturbing fetish was one thing, but Lisa kept scrolling through the rest of the files. A few were older, dated back to before the false Endbringer alarms that likely signalled Xena’s intro to Brockton Bay. One folder detailed a shipment of “merchandise” that needed an escort straight from Japan.
Lisa didn’t need her shard to tell her what that meant. Trafficking. Human trafficking.
And wow. Yuri was ABB. Well, ex-ABB, if the timestamps were right. And she hadn’t just dipped her toes in their business, she had receipts. Logs. Contact chains. Enough dirt to map out half their flesh trade.
The one business that was the hardest to pin down.
Lisa leaned back in the chair, lips pulling into a grimace.
Fantastic. Kidnapped by a horny alien monster, babysat by an ex-trafficker. What’s next, a guest appearance by Lung himself?
But it did leave a very mischievous idea in her head. What if she used the same trick that got Capone on the ABB?
-x-x-x-
A half-chub formed on Xecate as the mental images from Xena fucking her harem were shared across the Queens. She sighed, once more stuck being the admin of the hive.
It wasn’t so bad, but she did want some stress relief every now and then. Maybe she’d take the virginity of one of the Squealer morphs instead of making the long trip down to Xera to fuck her tight cunt. It was a rather… plush pussy, but the time it took to reach the new egg room was annoying; especially when she had to make the trip every two hours.
And as the saying went: time is money. While the hive didn’t need or use money, it did need a direction to progress in. When it came to expanding the hive, a “direction to progress in” was more literal than it might seem.
Aside from the main “snake” tunnel, Xecate had many other tendrils spreading through the Bay Area’s underground. Many of the tunnels were extending toward the boat graveyard in particular, because while Xenomorphs are omnivores, dirt didn’t provide much nutrition.
Plus, Sherrel needed more material, and there were dozens of wrecks in the open water there, not to mention the massive cargo ship blocking the entrance. Xecate felt it was a win-win-win for the hive and Brockton Bay… though the locals might object to the homeless and stray animals disappearing.
Already some of the runners were being born from captured strays. Did Xecate feel bad about the animals getting chest-bursted? Kinda. But seeing as most carried some form of disease or parasite, she figured it was a rather quick death in a city with such miserable amenities.
The homeless were an issue… for logistics.
It was an unfortunate truth for both Earth Bet and even The Before that the majority of homeless people were male. Xecate let out a sigh as she watched a group of drones pad past carrying scrap to Squealer’s workshop.
She, and every clone as well as the original, was not into bussy. Just the thought of male booty or a male body touching her made her cringe in disgust. A full-body shiver ran through her.
Just… ew.
Were the hive misandrists? Oh, fuck yeah. And Xecate intended to keep the hive male-free… Unless they were being given to an ovomorph for some good old fashion chest bursting.
She shook her head and refocused on the tedium of managing the hive while the other two were either plowing pussy or getting plowed.
One major issue with working underground near the ocean was the risk of flooding. There was water everywhere. From aquifers to public utilities to the bay itself. The drones couldn’t go 20 feet before hitting some source of it.
A sudden shriek echoed through the tunnels as another pipe burst. The noise was an unnecessary addition to the problem; other drones were already rushing to seal the breach with fresh resin.
Sometimes those girls can become real drama queens. It wasn’t as if drones could easily drown, but she supposed the shock of cold water was unpleasant when you were used to the hive’s warm humidity.
The place was surprisingly cozy, despite looking like something straight out of a horror movie.
Either way, Xecate kept working to reinforce the growing hive. In barely a week, Leviathan would hit the Bay, and he was notorious for turning underground bases into waterlogged coffins.
Then she sensed something better. A pair of drones approached, hauling two female streetwalkers who were still, surprisingly, conscious.
Their slutty outfits highlighted their generous breasts, though the scabs of drug use and other less savory marks put a slight damper on Xecate’s interest.
Another annoyance tugged at her thoughts: she still didn’t have the sexual healing power Xena possessed. The dumb bimbo kept forgetting to disperse her abilities to the rest of the harem.
Even at twenty percent strength, that power could be healing these new initiates… She slapped her face, the loud crack causing the nearby drones to still.
“God damn it! it’s FUCKING 20% OF the power. Not REDUCED to 20%. Xena you dumb bimbo whore!!” Xecate fumed.
She blamed the double-up biology, for the original’s IQ being lower than room temperature. Herself and Xera, the whore, were free from all of Xena’s extra powers which included the redundant biology meaning when not consumed with lust or pleasure, they didn’t have to contend with a self inflicted echo chamber of literal double downing on ideas and presumptions.
It made Xecate wonder about what else was ignored or presumed that was actually false in the first place… The simurgh’s location is known to Earth-bet, meaning those autists online would 100% have a simurgh tracker!
“Take them to Xena. No sense in having filthy women in the hive,” Xecate said casually, gesturing the drones back toward the upper tunnels, utterly done with Xena’s stupidity.
She wanted Birb for dinner but knowing Xena’s mating habits; that wasn’t likely to happen within the next day… or two.
-X-X-X-
Maxine Anders rubbed at her temples, trying to soothe a growing migraine. The conference room buzzed with accusation and outrage.
Three. Three whole capes had been abducted, eaten, or injured by the new thing in the bay.
And that wasn’t even counting the mooks who’d lost their lives. Better not to dwell on that.
A sudden boom rattled the expensive hardwood table as a pair of fists slammed down.
“We should start hunting that freak immediately. Get back my fucking sister!”
It was startling to see Nessa so worked up about anything, but given the circumstances it made sense.
Maxine’s own charge and Nessa’s sister, Jessica, had been stolen away by that sixteen-foot, Endbringer-looking monster.
Nessa’s anger wasn’t just loud; she had unconsciously triggered her power, her body expanding until she literally towered over everyone in the room, easily the tallest person present. Her sheer physical presence and righteous fury had even pulled Bradley over to her side.
Normally Maxine would have been right there with them, ready to unleash a “proportional” response on the insect-looking witch. But the unexpected caution coming from Brad’s right-hand man made her pause.
And wasn’t that a surprise? Jonathan usually acted like a yes-man for Bradley, just like Melody.
But he was the only cape to come back from that confrontation unharmed.
“I’m telling you, it would be a massive mistake! Just look at what that bitch’s blood did to James!” Jonathan said, trying to cut through Nessa’s fury.
Maxine gave a silent nod. He wasn’t exaggerating.
James’s feet had arrived as scorched, melted nubs. Last she’d checked, he was still in a coma despite Ophelia’s best healing efforts.
Jonathan looked at Bradley, his expression hard as he raised a placating hand.
“Listen, I don’t mean any disrespect by this, Bradley, but you’d turn into a pile of slag if you actually tried to fight that thing.”
Bradley crossed two muscular arms over her rumpled office blouse, a snarl forming on her lips. But before she could cut in, James pressed on.
“You should see what that green stuff does to a person. Hell, what it does to metal. We can’t even use that van anymore. By the time we reached the safe house, the remnants of the blood had eaten straight through the floor. The only thing holding it together were the door latches.”
Maxine tried to imagine it and the picture was grim. If Jonathan wasn’t overplaying it, the fight would end similarly if Bradley attempted to fight Lung.
A pile of melted slag and the smell of burnt pork. Maxine, honestly, couldn’t see herself doing any better than Bradley but at least she could keep at range while summoning her metal unlike the changer’s own wolf blender.
Jonathan looked to Nessa next. “And you, Nessa. What do you think you can do that your sister hasn’t tried?”
Maxine watched as the tall blonde flexed her jaw but ultimately looked away, admitting that she didn’t have any sort of plan.
Nessa balled her hands into fists, “What about my sister, James? And what about revenge for Earl and James?! That Bitch cored Earl’s head with her mouth like a fucking apple, Jonathan. A. fucking. Apple. She’s a god damned cannibal! What if she kidnapped Jessica to eat her?”
Tears started to fall down her face, the mere thought of what might be happening to her beloved sister.
Maxine stared at Jonathan, waiting for his response.
He bowed his head, rubbing the back with his hand, “Look I don’t know okay. But we gotta treat It like Lung, else we’re gonna lose even more members.”
He straightened, this time looking at her. “Plus it wasn’t that thing that started this, it was one of Coil’s goons. I’m not trying to make excuses to ignore that beetle, but we spoke to her after she had nearly killed all the mercs. If we hadn’t distracted her and the final piece of shit hadn’t shot at us, we likely wouldn’t be three capes down!”
Maxine finally spoke. “The result of which needs to be addressed. I don’t care if it was Coil’s mercs or the PRT’s troopers; we need to retaliate against the so-called ‘Black Queen.’”
She scanned the room. Victor had sat in silence, calmly watching the arguments unfold. The creepy Schmidts stood near Kayden, who still looked meek and submissive even after all these years. Maxine didn’t regret the nights of passion she’d shared with Kayden and Heith, but the rest of the E88 could never know the truth, and Kayden had been getting uppity lately. Melody had taken Tammi to school, so neither of them were present; six members were missing in total.
Maxine rose and walked slowly to the wall-length window. “Does anyone have recommendations on how we should handle the guilty parties? Do we even have anything solid on either of them? Where does the snake burrow? Where does the pretender hold court?”
Thank God she hadn’t blindly followed her first instinct. The E88 had almost nothing on Coil’s operations; and the new cape was worse.
She turned back to the group, hands clasped behind her. “Do we even know why the Black Queen attacked Coil’s men? Do we have an easy target for either of them to threaten or outright kill?”
Victor stood. “We know one of the monster’s children is in PRT custody right now. The thing actually helped defend the building during the ABB assault.”
Maxine’s eyes narrowed. “That would make a fine target. Not only to hurt her, but to show we can be just as dangerous as those chinks. If we kidnap the child, she’ll be forced to come after us.”
She nodded toward Victor and then looked for the next report. “What do we have on Coil? Why were his men in that neighborhood?”
Kayden, mousy and cute. Like a kitten standing tall answered. “Judging by the location and what the Schmidts heard, they were targeting the mayor’s niece.”
Maxine’s eyebrows rose. Bold. The snake had gone for an obvious, high-profile mark.
“Then it needs to be subtle,” she said. “Have the made men stir up enough noise that the attempted kidnapping won’t die from obscurity. Get people talking. At work, at school. Keep it in the public eye so the city is forced into a response. We want a PR black eye that forces action.”
She turned finally to Nessa, masking her own calculation with a steady expression as she reassured the grieving girl. “We’ll get Jessica back.”
-X-X-X-
The bottle of chilled Hennessy sat half-empty on the oak tabletop.
Thomas Calvert, aka Coil, slumped in his leather chair, still wearing his costume.
He stared at the deep amber liquor in his glass, eyes unfocused. Beside the bottle, his mask lay forgotten, the lower half dark with dried blood.
His own eyes were red-rimmed, a flush already darkening his chocolate skin.
Everything had been going so well.
The PRT was distracted, tangled in negotiations for more funding to repair headquarters. His men had radioed that Dinah was bagged and tagged. His pet was busy tying up the Wards and even the active members of New Wave.
He had been a breath away from becoming untouchable.
The greatest underworld boss on the Eastern Seaboard, outpacing even that arrogant perfectionist, Accord.
And then it all unraveled in an instant.
By some fucking Case-53 bitch.
Now his power was spent for the day, the migraine behind his eyes barely contained by painkillers and alcohol.
How could he have known? Why did the Black Queen even interfere?
What did he do to her to catch her ire? He was unable to talk to her when she first came into the PRT, his power failing him. His pet, now stolen from him too, was likewise unable to figure out the monster’s intentions. Nothing worked and now he was practically back to square one.
Sure Thomas was doing fine without his pet thinker, but with her it made things far easier.
He built his empire on precision and inevitability, on playing both sides of the coin. And now a single freak of nature was eating through his neat equations like acid through steel.
A comm ping vibrated softly across the desk. “Sir,” came the filtered voice of a lieutenant, a man who’s indiscretions made for a great leash. “Empire Eighty-Eight is mobilizing. Nessa’s demanding action. Maxine’s planning something public. Word is they’re considering making a play for the HQ.”
Calvert let the silence stretch, he couldn’t use his powers today, but tomorrow was a fresh start.
He would intervene. Slowly, surgically, nudging the Empire into a trap of his own making.
A small smile stretched on his gaunt face. He placed the cup of liquor onto the table, sending a look at the bloodied mask. He would show Xena Murphy and Maxine Anders who was the true ruler of Brockton bay.
Or they would find themselves being choked out by a coiling snake.
–]feel free to leave a comment about the chapter, I always read them.[–
