Arc Eight : Man Plans, Lilim Laughs “While I must admit, compared to most of the civilized and uncivilized world, I am extremely fortunate to have spent the War in a township that saw no battle, beyond an extremely brief storming of the local nick station and the sole two blokes in town licensed to own sporting firearms. Only a single Kobold was wounded, the guilt of which drove the man, who requested that I keep his name anonymous, to commit suicide with the other round left in his double-barreled rifle. He got better, thanks to a Lich that happened upon the scene hardly ten minutes later. Upon exiting from my flat, the streets were almost entirely empty, on account of the majority of the township being engaged in carnal pleasures, within the privacy of their homes. I passed upon a few Mamono, all of them stragglers, that arrived late to their nearest portals. None were interested in me, and I was far more intrigued with acquiring this Wandering Scholar’s encyclopedia that they all spoke quite highly of. By sheer luck, I chanced upon an entire set that very next morning. The Mad Hatter that owned them, came to an information trade agreement. Specifically, all she wanted to know was where the nearest haberdashery was, and where she could find a collection of knightly helmets. So I returned to my flat, along with 200 Euros worth of candles & matches that I had traded for my jalopy's spare tire.” -excerpt from the Mamono Encyclopedia Britannica, First Edition, Chapter Seven: How I Learned To Keep Worrying And Hate The Bombs Nelson's Green Brier Distillery Nashville, Tennessee January 3rd, 20-- 1:48 A.M., Eastern Standard Time Zone (Azneth) “Look, I’m telling you for the last time, faun-woman, I don’t want any liquor! I’m just passing through on my way to the capitol hall!” (Satyros) “Come oooonnnnnn, maaaaaaan, you can’t knock this ‘till you try it!” (The 34th-born princess grabs the drunk goat by the neck using both of her hands, then suddenly lets go as both women cover their ears while the tables suddenly tremble, the walls shudder, the windows crack, and several glass cups explode. An F-15EX breaks the sound barrier only 600 feet overhead, its pilot frantically deploying flares all over the neighborhood as a Wyvern pursues him, his radar misreading her homing-fireball spells as air-to-air missiles.) (Azneth) “Just give me the directions to this hall, and I’ll try one, JUST ONE, of your craft beers, okay!?” (Satyros) “Like, it’s a deeeeaaaaalllll, you pushy bitch. But you goooooottaaaaa chug the whole thingy.” (She opens an Igloo-brand cooler next to her, then uncorks a bottle with no labels.) “And so here it is. I call it, The Grayson Murray! 25-proof undistilled wheat beer, with a mix of iced tea and lemonade!” (Azneth) “Gimme!” (She chugs the red solo cup, gagging twice before finishing it.) (Azneth) “Now that has GOT to be the fifth worst liquor I’ve ever had in my entire life.” (Satyros) “Hmmmm, maaaaaaaybe I should put blueberries in the next batch of lemonade.” (Azneth) “A deal is a deal, drunkard. The directions?” (Satyros) “Okay, fiiiiiiiinnnneeee, Queen George the Whatever. Take 16th Avenue North alllllllll the way to Jefferson Street, then go straaaaiiiiggghht right for a while. Won’t miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiss it, swear on my soul.” (Azneth) “Thank you. I’ll give your establishment a Michelin Star if you ever set up a real tavern in here.” (She steps out the back door and closes it, then starts happily strolling on the sidewalk of 16th Avenue North, heading northbound as two Wererabbit sisters speedwalk past her, smiling and nodding, while they carry a roofied man by his shoulders and legs. The Princess uses an illusion spell to alter her head’s perceived appearance into a normal human of the pale-Caucasian variety, and after buttoning up her generic Multicam uniform to cover up her tracksuit, she is now rendered relatively inconspicuous. Except for the singing.) (Azneth) “♫Oh where, oh where has my Snowman gone, oh where, oh where shall he beeeeeee! With his six-point-six length cock and his five-inch girth, oh how, will he-ee breed meeeeee!♫” “Wow. That wasn’t so scary to finally sing out loud, now that I--” (Her sentence and train of thought are both halted by the sudden impact of a tomato to her face, ruining the illusion spell and getting her provided uniform dirty. She draws her Glock and spins around in a fit of confusion to see where the strike came from, noticing an open second-floor window at 950 16th Avenue North. A rotund acne-covered man sits at the window, holding another tomato with his right hand.) (Azneth) “What the actual fuck’s your problem!? Didn’t mommy ever tell you not to throw your food at random bystanders?” (Tomato thrower) “What’s MY problem!? I’m trying to have a nice sleep through all the bombings and the sirens and the low-flying airplanes and helicopters, and you have the NERVE to caterwaul about your oneitis in front of MY HOUSE at almost TWO IN THE MORNING! Go home and go to bed, asshole!” (The princess re-holsters her pistol and pulls out a notepad with a dark-purple retractable-pen.) (Azneth) “Rude! I’m taking a note of your address, tubby! Just for that, you’re getting assigned a Dark Elf that’s memorized the entire Wikipedia page on cock & ball torture!” (Tomato thrower) “Whatever, fag. And I saw that nice jogging outfit by the way! What, did you get lost on the way to Jillian Michaels’ snatch?” (Azneth) “No, but I’ll see you on PornHub in a month! Got to make sure your wife is making good use of the entire catalog of Bad Dragon strap-ons, with no Vaseline whatsoever!” (No longer amused with the back and forth heckles, the lardass glares, then closes his window and shuts his blinds.) (Azneth) “Aahahahahaha, oh I bet he thinks I’m playing. Nobody accuses the immaculate ME of being a lesbo! Not unless it ends in a gape-ing with extreme prejudice! When I’m through with him, he’ll be needing geriatric diapers for the next three centuries!” (Continuing her journey up the road, she passes through a cloud of smoke to find residual mana of a portal that had opened up in the middle of the road, that the locals had managed to push back and cover up with an attempted roadblock of assorted automobiles, followed up with a barrage of Hellfire-II missiles. With the road obstructed by the lingering fires, she takes a right turn onto Phillips Street, also a complete mess. Three assorted cars had been completely flipped over, an abandoned Ford Maverick belonging to the city’s Social Services department had a ripped-out passenger door and distinctive claw marks all over, the surest sign of a snuggle-struggle that ended well for the Jinko. Two different fire hydrants had been smashed open, still erupting water onto ground-level, and a garbage truck’s refuse had spilled all the road’s way to said truck’s crashing halt at a concrete wall that runs parallel to the intersection with 12th Avenue North.) (A neighborhood militia squad jogs by on the other side of the road, giving Azneth wolf-whistles and hommina-homminas as she maintains her cover, playfully responding by blowing kisses & imitating some of Marilyn Monroe’s more risque poses. A sirening ambulance speeds by and stops at house 1218, with Azneth catching up just in time to see a heavily-bandaged Youko being taken into the vehicle on a stretcher, ranting loudly about how all guard dogs should be euthanized for the safety of foxes everywhere. Two houses down and across the street, the princess sees a young human boy quietly sobbing to himself on the front steps of his home patio. Due to the urges of maternal instinct that all spawn of Lilith and The Ultimate Hero possess to varying degrees, she walks over, takes a seat next to him, and puts her hand on his shoulder.) (Azneth) “Hi there, kid. What’s wrong?” (Boy) “.......I--I don’t think my parents are coming home.” (Azneth) “Why? What happened to them? I might be able to help, but I need you to tell me everything.” (Boy) “M--me and M--Mommy went to Publix, a bit south of here, we-we just wanted to get some food before all of the bad people come and keep it away from everyone else. We had it all in our cart, and we were gonna wait for Dad to pick us up. …….But he came too late.” (Azneth) “Why was he too late?” (Boy) “Because the bad guys took them away! They took them away and they told me to take the cart and go home and forget about ‘em! They called Mommy a monster, but she’s NOT A MONSTER! Cows aren’t monsters! They’re cute and warm and nice, and Mommy let me sit on her shoulders and hold her horns!” (Azneth) “Who WERE these ‘Bad Guys’? You need to tell me! They might take more parents away if you don’t! Oh sweet Eros, please don’t let it be who I think it is…..” (Boy) “They were wearing a lot of shiny metal, and two of them had heads like normal people. They kept yelling about how Dad was doing hairy-see and that they both needed purr-jing.” (Azneth) “.............Oh, you have got be fu--.....Oh, dear. Ares’ hunch was right after all. The Order really IS here. But why this city? Why THIS one of all places!?” (Azneth draws the kid in for a hug, pressing his face against her breasts in a way that would define his personal fetishes once puberty would strike.) (Azneth) “You poor little thing! Tell everyone that the amazing Princess Azneth is gonna stop those bad guys and save all the nice cows! I don’t know if I’ll find your parents, but if I do, I’ll tell them to head right back home, to you!” (Boy) “Okay, miss Azneth. T--Thank you?” (Azneth) “Are you all alone now?” (The chunking sound of metal cuts through the ambient night, as Azneth turns her head right into staring down the barrel of a Kel-Tec KS7. Struck by panic, she can only move her eyes up to meet the opposing eyes of an Amazoness) (Oni) “He sure as hell isn’t. Joey, I TOLD YOU TO STAY INSIDE! IT’S NOT SAFE OUT HERE ANYMORE!” (Joey) “But Lauraaa! Princess Azneth wants to help us get Mom and Dad back!” (Laura) “Get back in the kitchen, Joseph! I wanna talk to the Princess. Alone.” (Joey) “Oh-okay, sis. Don’t be mean.” (Laura) “I don’t want to be mean! But Big Sis’ is just trying to keep you safe. I love you so much, Joey.” (He stands up and walks back into the house. Azneth still sits on the stairs while Laura sits on a rocking-chair, still pointing her gun at the Lesser Succubus.) (Laura) “You fuckin’ aliens promised that you were just after our single men. MEN! I didn’t want to think any of you would stoop so low as to diddle or groom little boys, but here we are!” (Azneth) “I’m not even going to dignify that accusation with a response. I’m just trying to help you all.” (Laura) “Bullshit! I know who you are. You’re the space-case that’s almost taken over all of Washington D.C. And the rumor mills on Twitter say that you’re hunting for a husband out here. Joey’s nine years old, you fucking creep!” (Azneth) “I’m NOT interested at all in any male who isn't even old enough to cum! None of us are! And I’ve already set my sights on my soon-to-be husband. He’s turning thirty in two months, if you have to know.” (Laura) “So he IS that one that got away?” (Azneth) “Literally speaking, he’s not the only one that escaped this nation’s capital. But in the context you’re implying, then yeah. He’s the one that’s getting away. I was just passing through to get to this state’s capital building, so I can set up a trap for my one-and-only. But……I saw your little brother crying on these steps. So I tried to help.” (Laura, lowering her shotgun) “.........I appreciate the concern, but we don’t need you to render any assistance.” (Azneth) “Oh, really! And what’s that oversized popgun of yours going to do when the Order sends someone with bulletproof armor? What, you think we haven’t tried shooting them too? That almost NEVER fuckin’ worked until we came loaded with Demonic Silver-cast musketballs! And I might not be any REAL authority on explosive-propellant weapons, I mean, a point-seventy-four inch iron ball may most certainly do a LOT of damage to the unfortunately unarmored, but it’s all no-sold once they bring out the Blessed Steel! So unless you’ve got armor-piercing slugs in that, you’re going to be in for quite an excruciating death!” (Laura) “Well maybe I outta test these single-ought buckshells on you first!” (Azneth) “Wha-- WHY!? What did I ever do to you!?” (Laura) “What did--WHAT DID YOU DO!? I’m the only family my brother has left, all because of you and your sisters! You think I didn’t see that broadcast from FEMA on the PBS Newshour? This whole war’s all your fault! Why couldn’t the rest of you talk Druella out of it? Why didn’t you just take any of those fuckin’ deals that the UN and our National Security Council offered? You tell me, were those guys at the White House crying crocodile tears when your sister tore it up and sealed everyone’s fates?” (Azneth) “--gulp--O-Only General Hoboken. The bastard’s been blue-balling over a real war for the past decade.” (Laura) “Then you KNOW, they would’ve had the FBI hand over all those terrorist knights as a compromise! Those motherless fucks are here because YOU’RE here! If you sluts hadn’t turned me and my stepmom, they’d have left her alone! They would’ve left my Dad alone! And now they’re already dead, right? You tell me, Princess, you tell me the truth!” (She gets up from her chair and quickly points the shotgun right up to Azneth’s crotch.) “Or so God help me, I’m putting twelve extra holes in Your Highness’s pussy right here, right now!” (Azneth) “YES! THEY’RE DEAD! IF THEY’RE LUCKY, THEY GOT SHOT IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD OR GOT A DECAPITATION! And if they’re REALLY unlucky, they’ve been dropped into a woodchipper, feet first! That’s what you want to hear, right!?” (Tears start coming down Laura’s face, her emotional dam had burst.) (Laura) “........Why? Why did it have to be us!? Why couldn’t you fix your own world before coming here and ruining ours?” (Azneth) “BECAUSE WE CAN’T! We tried, and we CAN’T! Here’s the truth! WE need YOUR help. And I -literally- mean we NEED Earth’s help. The Grand Goal, the primary objective behind EVERYTHING my family does, is to fix our spell that lets your humans evolve into something greater. WE KNOW it’s not perfect, the male birthing problem is all the proof anyone needs for that! But when we get your world to get with our program, where everyone is chipping in to give my mother the…..’juice’….. that she needs so we can re-ignite the spell without any flaws, then……” “Do you want to have a son? Because I do! I know that the greatest smile my husband will ever have is going to come when he holds a daughter and a son in each of his arms! I want a son, so we can raise him with love to be as tough and strong and wise as my own father, without having to go through all the bullshit my grandparents put him through! And all this just so happens to the price we ALL have to pay!” (Laura) “I was able to have a son for a looooong time before you people stepped in and turned me into a sex fiend.” (Azneth) “And WE never could! Not without erasing the spell completely, which is just gonna take us all back to the very, VERY bad old days. Unless you’re a Dhampir, in which case nothing changes, except being able to have boys at the expense of everyone else. So it’s just tough luck for the both of us!” (Laura) “What if we’re not enough? You ever thought that far? Huh?” (Azneth) “Then we’ll just have to find another world full of humans! It only took us about twenty-one-and-a-half years to get here, and only six years of serious effort. We’ll fuckin’ do it again, and again, until we win or until someone stops us. That’s how the right of conquest works, peasant! Do you really believe, that the average American wouldn’t cheer on another Levantine occupation, or another Indian reservation’s eminent domain seizure, if your government was completely transparent on how well it would make commodity prices stay low?” (Laura) “...Okay, you have a point there.” (Azneth) “Of course I fucking do. Everyone thinks I’m just some upper-class twit who’s sat in a Rapunzel tower her whole life and never touched grass. I don’t know about a LOT of women here, but I want Non not JUST because he’s a stud with a good heart, but I get WET on account of how his brain mousewheels too.” (Laura) “Oh Christ, you’re one of THOSE women. Looking for an intellectual equal. I bet you’re also hoping that he can bookkeep your finances, cook up buttermilk pancakes exactly like they do at Cracker Barrel, grow a second dick so you can get your womb and your large intestine splooged at the same time without cheating, and do a perfect singing impression of Luiciano Pavarotti.” (Azneth) “Now you’re just being silly. Although he CAN do a good singing impersonation of….fuck! I forget his name. Dennis DeMilo? DeOld? Point is, according to that wiretap we had in his older brother’s phone--” (Laura) “--Well I’m not interested in hunting for a boyfriend right now, I’m a little busy just trying to hold the fort down here!” (Azneth) “Yes, I can see that. Not even my sister Carol on a really bad day, could be upset at you for prioritizing your brother’s safety. And you DON’T want to know how she gets on a really bad day. How would YOU feel if you went through all the trouble of putting together your own safe space pocket dimension, and losing it all because it wasn’t ENOUGH of a hugbox for a certain sperg-o-loid fallen god, may she rot in oblivion.” (Laura) “A WHAT kind of goddess?” (Azneth) “A gigantic assblasted loser that threw one-too-many extremely violent tantrums because other people had fun differently. That also applies to my paternal grandmother, now that I mention it. Point is, we destroyed that pocket dimension after a very tough battle. There was a lot of attrition on our side, and it's a shame she took almost all her followers with her. Let me put this in a way you can comprehend. Do you recall the cult that Jim Jones psychopath made? The one where they committed group suicide with poisoned juice?” (Laura) “I heard of that, yeah.” (Azneth) “Now picture that multiplied by a factor of several hundred.” (Laura) “..........that’s horrible, that’s….that’s…..” “You don’t think the people who murdered my parents are going to do THAT?” (Azneth) “No. Acolytes of the Order of The Chief God, or what you would call a Goddess, don’t commit suicide. It’s forbidden by their teachings, unless done in a way very much like Islamists.” (Laura) “........we need to kill these people. All of them!” (Azneth) “My mother has very strict rules about handling human men, even ones with Blessings. Regardless of what horrid things they’ve done, we need as many men as we can use. We’ve already taken a massive loss from India and Pakistan’s mutual eradication. But, I can make an exception for the killers of your parents. Once they’ve been identified, their lives will be in YOUR hands. Until then, you need to pack up and leave as soon as you can. They most assuredly have your parents’ driving licenses and other forms of identification. The Order WILL find this address, they’ll kill you too, and then do their best to brainwash your brother into joining them and spend the rest of his life thinking that you three deserved to die. They’ve tracked down and slaughtered entire villages just by investigating mailing orders and word-of-mouth. They’ll even--” (At that moment, a silver-gray Volkswagen Eos convertible loudly swerves eastbound onto Phillips Street from 12th Avenue North, barely dodging the crashed garbage truck. Laura instinctively raises her shotgun into the low-ready position, while Azneth freezes in horror at the sight of the vehicle’s occupants. Four nuns, their clothes and the car-doors bearing the cross-like insignia of her not-so-dearly departed paternal grandmother, draw their weapons.) (Azneth) “What in the go--” (Driver nun) “Die, monsters! You don’t belong in ANY world!” (The snapping of gunfire cuts off Azneth from retorting, as two of the nuns open automatic fire with H&K G36 rifles, the driver follows a second later with an MP7 submachine gun, and the fourth begins raining lead with a HK21E’s 100-round Beta C-Mag. The thirty-fourth born princess puts her hand on Laura’s shoulder, quickly creating an illusion of the two to draw some fire away. She then dives off the patio onto the lawn, while Laura fires two rounds of buckshot, killing one rifle shooter and grazing the driver’s right shoulder, causing her to lose control of the wheel for a few seconds. The paramedics nearby scramble behind their ambulance for cover, while one grabs his Stribog SR9 off the dashboard and returns fire using the hood as a benchrest, killing the machine-gun nun with two shots through the back of her sternum, and too late to stop her from expending all 100 bullets into Laura and Joseph's home.) (Having passed the ambulance, the three surviving acolytes speed off into the night, as Laura and the armed paramedic continue firing to no avail. Azneth and Laura check themselves for wounds, to which the Lesser Succubus finds none, and the oversized Succubus notices three bullets stopped inside her ceramic body armor. A single scream then emerges from the kitchen of 1213 Phillips Street, to which Azneth, Laura, and two paramedics all rush into the house through the front door.) (Laura screams in horror upon seeing Joseph, sitting on the floor with his back against the bullet-riddled refrigerator. Two patches of blood begin to grow and flow, starting from his left thigh and left bicep. He fights back the tears of pain through utter shock as Laura already begins to bawl. Azneth stands in the doorway and also screams, while the paramedics catch up and push her out of the way.) (Medic 1) “Lift up his shirt and take his shorts off!” (The other emergency responder complies.) (Medic 1) “Alright, he’s been grazed in the arm, that’s good! And he’s got entry & exit wounds on his leg, so no need to pull anything out. Applying tourniquets! Araiza, pack that wound with hemostatic gauze! You, the sister! His arm is gonna be fine, I just need you to bandage it up! It’s nothing fatal if we can stop the blood loss!” (Araiza) “We don’t have room in the ambulance for him, we’ll need to borrow your car, miss…..” (Laura) “Laura Giannopoulos. I’ll get some towels and the first aid kit ready. You’re gonna be okay, Joey, you’re gonna make it!” (Medic 1, turning on his radio) “Dimitri, how’s that fox doing?” (Dimitri) “She got spooked bad by that drive-by, but she’s stabilized now. I’ve got her story. Seems she was crashing at her brother’s house, but his pitbulls didn’t recognize her new look, and mauled like she was a buffet. They’ll probably need to amputate all but one of her tails. How’s it going on your end, Brian?” (Brian) “They hit a kid that lives over in this house, he’s got a graze to the arm and a gunshot wound through a leg. Looks like it didn’t hit any bone, so he won’t be needing a wheelchair for too long. But we need to get him a blood transfusion ASAP! Try not to talk, Joe! Just keep breathing slow and heavy!” (Dimitri) “Those were nuns, man! There’s gotta be more waiting for us at the UrgentCare down in the North Gulch! Vanderbilt’s been bombed, and Tricare’s got an active portal right inside the chapel that’s making the whole place a combat AO! We’ll head for the SAFE Clinic off 3rd Avenue, last I heard, Doctor Stamos is still holding that fort down!” (Araiza) “Got it, we’ll zip over there too. Miss Giannopoulos, I’m going to need you to drive us over there while we keep your brother stabilized. Miss….whoever you are, we’d appreciate it if you could start the car and punch in that clinic’s directions if there’s a GPS! We’ll carry him into the backseat! You DO have a four-door, Laura?” (Laura) “Y-yeah, it’s a sedan. You wanted to help, Your Highness, here’s your chance.” (She fumbles through her pockets for the keys, finding them and tossing it at Azneth, who fumbles it with her right hand and catches it with her left.) (Laura) “Just go!” (The princess runs through the kitchen, passes through the laundry room, then opens the door to the backyard, where a Lexus LS 500 sits on the grass. Azneth goes through four keys before getting to the correct one. Opening the front passenger door, she sits down, closes the door, then presses the engine’s start button. The Princess then moves into the front passenger seat, correctly guessing that Laura would want to drive her own automobile, as the Amazoness and the three human men rush out the backdoor and get into the vehicle. Underestimating her newfound strength, Laura’s US size-15 foot slams onto the gas pedal as her clawed-tail moves the gear selector, the car quickly roaring across her backyard, and nearly slamming into a U-Haul trailer parked in the alley.) (They speed down said alley and make a left turn onto 12th Avenue North, nearly running over a Dormouse frolicking on the sidewalk. Upon reaching Jefferson Street, they take a right turn, to which Azneth puts her head down as a machine-gun toting US Army MRAP flanked by two Nashville PD motorcyclists passes by, heading in the opposite direction. She then gets back up as she sees in the rearview mirror, two Manticores violently landing on the MRAP’s roof to begin their own assault by launching their tail-barbs at both motorcycling escorters. Now with a smooth straight drive for a short time, Brian force-feeds Joseph a pill of Xanax and a pill of Aprotinin to make the trip and imminent transfusion smoother for the boy.) (Laura and her three passengers do their best to gawk at the chaos along the road. Green Fleet Bikes was undergoing a mass burglary of its main product by a crowd of about thirty. Mary’s Old-Fashioned Bar-B-Que Pit had its dining area turned into an orgy spot, with a Salamander who was visibly getting railed while pressed against a window, being the apparent ringleader. A Satyros and a Devil, along with their husbands, were rushing out of the R&R Liquor Store with shopping carts filled to the brim with booze. A Family Dollar was already halfway towards burning down to the ground, and so were a Popeye’s Chicken and a Captain D’s Seafood restaurants a block further.) (Once the car reached Rosa Parks Boulevard, Laura brought the car to a smooth stop.) (Laura) “Here’s your exit, Princess. Get out!” (Azneth) “Laura, I’m so sorry about all this. I--We just wanted to share the love we have with our husbands, with all your world’s peoples, even if we OR you don’t deserve it.” (Laura, unrolling Azneth’s window) “Just get this war over with. Faster you do that, the faster you can ACTUALLY help us. Good luck. And promise me one thing. Get my brother someone who’s gentle and willing to wait until he’s eighteen.” (Azneth) “It’s a promise, I swear upon Eros’ heart.” (Her seatbelt having never been buckled, the 34th-born Princess finds herself violently pushed out of the car onto the street. Laura again speeds off, heading northbound on Rosa Parks towards the emergency clinic.) (Azneth) “--cough--cough--ack--” “Okay, I really DID deserve that. I’ll find Joseph a Weresheep or a Yeti. Never met one that didn’t prefer sex over cuddles. A lot of noise coming from the south. Doesn’t sound good. Maybe it’s just someone watching a horror movie at max volume, maybe it’s--” “......Unholy shit, that intoxicated goat was right….you really CAN’T miss it! All those lights….some kind of circus? I can work with that. Just need to find the Bogie in charge.” (She begins walking southwards down Rosa L. Park Boulevard, her view of the goings-on at Bicentennial State Park held back by the Tennessee State Museum. Upon passing by the front doors, an manic adult Baphomet rushes out of the KFC across the street yelling Azneth’s name and waving her arms in a frenzy.) (Azneth) “Drarguthria!?” (The goat-woman glomps the surprised succubus.) (Drarguthria) “Oh, by your mother, am I glad to see you, Princess! You have to do something!” (Azneth) “D-do what? Drarie, by Pandemonium’s dirtiest bedsheet, what’s going on!? Why are you even here? I thought you said you were going with Irazene to Biloxi!” (Drarguthria) “That’s a long story involving Modia and telling Baphy-sama to piss off, and I’ll tell you all about it later! It’s that actually-damned park! The park you’re walking straight into! Don’t go, my lady, DON’T! Me and my little sisters went there to find boyfriends for them and a husband for me, a-and--” “......and you’d better go see for yourself. These humans are just as bad as The Order, only THEY aren’t twisting our style in the worst way possible!” (Azneth) “Are they followers of the Fallen God?” (Drarguthria) “No, the only thing they’re following…. is the most sickened and diseased thoughts that can run through anyone’s minds. They offered to BUY my sisters, and then some of them started ranting about what they’d do with them! Vile men, the most wretched beings I’ve ever met! Saying garbage about how if her age is on the clock then it’s time for the cock, how they were going to fist their anuses so hard that four men could use them at the same time. And they all started whooping and hollering in JOY when someone said they’d all be put on birth control to make sure no one winds up with any rOtTeN liTtLe gOaT-dAuGhTeRs.” (Azneth) “Do you have a gun?” (Drarguthria) “No, and I’ll go find one soon enough. My sisters are hiding in the back of that restaurant’s kitchen and--” (Azneth) “--Get out of this city, head eastwards, now! Follow the river and see if we have any merfolk assets in there willing to lend you all a ride. And don’t look back…… not even for me.” (Drarguthria) “Azzie…. What’re you gonna do?” (Azneth) “I don’t stand a chance against this many humans all in one place, and this uniform is the only trick I have up my sleeve, besides my usual illusions. So I’m going to investigate and look at the faces of everyone there. We’ll find a Mindflayer tomorrow, she'll playback and transfer my memories onto a recording camera, and then we’ll connect it to a computer and convert THAT into a video file, so we can identify and hunt these…… vermin down, later. Eros guide you, and I’ll see you later.” (Drarguthria) “G-good luck, and by your mother’s will, we’ll both be wed and with child next time we meet. Heh, maybe they’ll end up becoming playmates?” (Azneth, pulling the goat in for a hug) “I’ll hold you to that, old friend!” (The Lesser Succubus ends the hug and walks back across the boulevard. With an end to the curtains covering the museum, she looks through the windows to find an innocuous-looking shantytown inside, the first floor covered in small tents, sleeping bags, and in some cases nothing more than a blanket and a pillow. There’s enough lamps and flashlights for her to see some, but not all, of the slumber party participants engaging in relatively-normal carnal unions under the sheets and inside of the sleeping bags and tents. Walking and peeping at the same time, she doesn’t look forward soon enough before bumping into a gaunty Wonderworm, smoking methamphetamine out of a broken lightbulb, her husband underneath her squishy caterpillar half and eating her out.) (Azneth realizes that all the loud moans, engine revvings, and other sexual or violent noises are not coming from the musuem, but rather from behind the two-story-tall curtain behind the Wonderwurm. She walks through, and sees that her Baphomet friend was not exaggerating in the slightest.) (Bikers, bikers, everywhere, and not a single traffic cop in sight. Leather & lace was the name of the game, as every local adult novelty store and Spencers’ had been stripped bare of their fetish outfit and toy inventories to be used out here. Still in disguise, Azneth slowly walks southeast through the park, trying her best to block out the screams of pain and the cries of suffering. She first walks past three Werecats trapped with a boombox in a cage, a snaggle-toothed lunatic holding them at gunpoint with a Beretta 470 Silverhawk, forcing them to dance to an endless loop of Caramelldansen in the original Swedish.) (Azneth taps on the hillbilly’s shoulder, leaving him with a mental illusion that his shotgun’s safety is on, causing him to actually set it on. A Ford Maverick drives past a gap in the crowd, its driver giving out a rebel yell while two sobbing Kikimoras lay in the truckbed with their limbs tied up and their mouths duct-taped shut. The gap is nearly filled in by an RV, the lights on and a Kobold’s ears seen flapping in the back bed, screaming for help as a large shadow pushes her face in the pillow, yells out that he’s out of lube to destroy her backdoor with, and orders her to bite down on the pillow. The Princess sneaks into the driver’s seat, pops open the hood, and rips out every wire in sight to prevent a future getaway.) (A small stage is passed by next, where an Elf and a Dark Elf take turns with a barely-18 man tied to a lamp pole, one smacking his face repeatedly while forcing his penis into her vagina, the other shoving a spiked dildo in-and-out of his ass while sucking on the smooth end. Azneth passes by the lamppost, giving the Dark Elf an illusion that tricks her into believing that the twink’s ropes are too tight even for her, not knowing that she’s loosening them up enough for an eventual escape.) (A police-commandeered M113 with flashing red light cylinders treads along the road opposite to the park, an Army Ranger on top of it turns on his own stereo-system, to blare I Can’t Drive 55 by Sammy Hagar. He tosses a pill-bottle towards Azneth, then salutes her before retreating into the APC. She reads the scribbled-on label that says “Cum Grail: L-Arginine 1000mg, Zinc 50mg, Pygeum 100mg, Lecithin 1200mg. Take one pill per day.” Assuming this was meant to be shared among the depraved crowd, she instead places it in one of her uniform pockets with the intention to later share it among her siblings.) (Next came an rather pimply & obese man performing forceful missionary position on a small Ratotoskr that was alternating between shrieking in pain, and crying about his penis being too big. A wheelbarrow with assorted tools was behind them, to which Azneth takes her chance to do some immediate good, grabbing a steel 30” wrench and smashing it sideways into the skull of the fat rapist with no warning. The lardass falls over to the side, his caved-in skull ensuring a quick death-by-blood loss. Azneth quietly points eastwards, silently mouthing at the squirrel to run, who dashes off while leaving a tiny trail of blood and semen in her wake. Her actions unseen due a bit of luck, and to the sheer amount of tents, curtains, construction barriers and off-road vehicles crowding every inch of Bicentennial Park, she quickly continues her journey to the state capitol building.) (Next was a parked Mercedes Sprinter van, where the princess could easily hear a man inside yelling in a combination of fear and enjoyment. A Selkie sits in a folding chair next to the back door, cheerfully waving towards Azneth, who fires back in a fit of anger while raising her wrench.) (Azneth) “And just WHAT are you two doing!?” (Selkie) “Meeeehhhh, don’t worry about it! We found this cutie trying to hide in his basement, took us a bit of effort to bag him! Little baby was literally dragging his nails on the floor, begging for sOmEoNe to help him, while my good Blue Oni buddy Inoko here was lassoing him out by the leg! Don’t you worry, miss! We’ll break this little buck in before sunrise.” (Azneth) “Little baby….? H-how old is he?” (Selkie) “Seventeen. We COULD have gone for someone older, but you gotta remember what Baphy-sama always says! ‘If his age is off the clock, it’s time to claim his cock!’ You should see him, such big loads for a boy his size! Fucking loser thought he was smart, using himself as a decoy to distract us and keep his siblings hidden under the floorboards. But the eyes NEVER lie.” (Azneth) “.....What have you done…..” (Selkie) “Oh, the usual. We dragged the boys out and handed them over to whichever fellow monster happened by us first, one boy per woman, of course. Then we huddled the girls into their parent’s bathroom and chucked a jar of Prisoner Fruit jam through the window!” (Azneth) “..........Stop this. Give me that boy and go find an actual man. As much as I follow and agree with Druella’s policy of proactive marriage, ripping families apart is NOT PART OF THE FUCKING PROGRAM. WHAT DID CAROL SAY ABOUT THAT!?” (Selkie) “Uhhhhhh, I wasn’t at that briefing?” (Azneth) “YOU HOMEWRECKING, KIDDY-DIDDLING WHORE, I’M GOING TO BASH YOUR SKULL IN, THE SECOND AFTER I SET THAT BOY FREE, AND THEN I’M CALLING UP MY GOOD FRIEND LYZA THE LICH TO RESURRECT YOU, JUST SO I CAN BASH YOUR BRAINS OUT AGAIN ON A LIVE BROADCAST OF THE JOE ROGAN SHOW!” (Selkie) “What? No! NO! We’re NOT letting him go! Go get your OWN buck! Me and the Oni have a deal, and four’s a crowd!” (Azneth) “I don’t want to have him! I want him back with his family! He’s not a full man, not ready to be a father yet. He’s not ready to fully understand how to be a good husband!” (Selkie) “B-b-but Baphy-sama said…” (Azneth) “I KNOW what she says! She tried peddling that crap to me just five days ago!” (She drops her bodily concealment illusion and takes off her patrol cap.) (Selkie) “Aw fuck, Princess Azneth!?” (Azneth) “Oh yes, me! And I remember YOU from Grand Central Station last month. You almost blew your team’s cover when you followed that high school freshman into a public restroom!” (Selkie) “I HAD IT UNDER CONTROL, HE WAS ALMOST MINE, ALL MINE!” (Azneth, grabbing the seal-woman by the neck) “You retard! You brain-dead groomer! We aren’t in Kenkou, there’s a thing called ‘security cameras’ in this world! Get your friend off of that boy and let him go! Or keep him, stay off his dick, reunite him with his siblings and parents, wait ‘till his next birthday, and pray to Eros and my mother that he hasn’t already been traumatized enough that he gets an itch for Alps!” (Selkie) “Alright, I get it! Orders understood, but you’ll have to pull Inoko off of him yourself, she’s down pretty bad. And if the van is a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’, as they say around here.” (Azneth) “She’s just one damn Oni, what’s she going to--” (She forcefully opens the back door, nearly tearing off the knob, and is summarily shot in the chest with a 12 gauge beanbag round out of a Serbu Super Shorty. She’s sent flying three feet, landing in the grass straight on her ass. The Selkie waddles her chair up, getting right up in the princess’s face.) (Selkie) “Ha! You just got knocked the fuck out! Ooh, let’s see what royal jewels you’re carrying in your pockets!” (She sifts through them, finding nothing but her phone and the pill bottle. She leaves the phone next to Azneth, taking the pills.) (Selkie) “Ho-lee fuck-a-rolee, our boy’s gonna jizz like a goddamn VOLCANO once we get this shit in his system! Help me up ‘Oko, let’s skedaddle before she wakes up and memorizes our license plate!” (Inoko and the soon-to-be teen dad rush out of the van to pick the Selkie up, as she starts french-kissing the guy right then and there. The three hop in and quickly drive off, just in time for Azneth to recover from having the wind smacked out of her.) (Azneth) “--cough--cough---” “....Dammit! This is EXACTLY why I don’t hang out with anyone from The Sabbath anymore! Swear to Eros, I’m issuing detain-on-sight orders for everyone in their stupid club. And I’ll ENJOY squeezing that Van Carver TO AN INCH OF HIS LIFE, for letting this shit happen in his backyard!” (She dawns her concealment spell again and keeps moving on down Seventh Avenue North, next finding a woman in black robes and a white hoodie walking in the opposite direction, passing out fliers.) (Azneth) “Hello there! What’re you advertising at a time like this?” (Robed woman) “Oh, I’ve been given a mission to find recruits and raise awareness for our Order! The Chief God may have perished in her physical form, but so long as even a single one of us continues the good fight against the Demon Lord, she’ll NEVER truly die! Everything you need to know is right on this paper, sister! Best of luck!” (Azneth) “I….uh….thank you. I’ll swing by to check you people out in an hour, I’m afraid I have pressing business in a few minutes.” (Robed woman) “Yes, by all means soldier, take your time. The war against Her Unholiness never ends, so long as a free human draws breath! Chief God bless you!” (Azneth takes the flier and starts picking up her pace. Said flier states,) “PURITY! HUMANITY! Save yourself and your loved ones from the horrifying desecration of the body and soul that the Demon Lord seeks to force upon us all! Keep yourselves cleansed of corruption, come on down to Union Hall Station! Open all day, every day, the Order of the Chief God is ALWAYS willing to help YOU fend off the darkness that now marches all across the face of the Earth! Any help is appreciated, no matter HOW small! Free room, board, weapons, equipment, and maybe even a Blessing, to all who render assistance! All Mamono will be executed on sight. Spying, homosexuality, and discrimination for melanin-related reasons, will result in immediate termination of employment and life. Proselytizing for other religions will result in a severe thrashing and permanent excommunication. Long live the Chief God! Long live Homo Sapiens Sapiens!” (Azneth, now out of the nun’s hearing range) “Shit. If I was a human, I’d actually be convinced. I’ve got to--” (Looking to her left, the royal succubus sees a drunken MILF-esque Alraune, nervously wriggling around in her personal flower-zone while attempting to sing some song about mean green mothers from outer space. Azneth would normally not give a shit, if it wasn’t for the fact that said Alraune had nine different men held in midair by her vines, forcing them into giving her a bukkake shower that left all but two men already crying and begging for her to stop. Four of them were screaming out that they had already run dry and were now only shooting blanks. But the Alraune didn’t care, she just kept taking swigs of Hennessy Pure White Cognac while referring to all nine men as “Seymour.”) (She stops at the western entrance to the park’s amphitheater, knowing full well that something wicked awaits her inside. Her guess is correct, as she follows the sounds of loud wailing and moaning to see that the stage is taken up by a pack of Holstaurs, each of which has their arms tied behind a pole and their legs bound with psych-ward ankle-clamps. As the crowd sits in the stands shlicking, jerking off, or partaking in intercourse themselves, the misfortunate bovines are trapped in an unwanted orgy. Some men are reaming the cows in every hole at once, some are sucking them dry of their milk, and some lift the Holstaur’s legs up to forcefully rut with the intention to procreate, like some breed of ram. One Holstaur manages to have a penis out of her mouth long enough to beg them to stop sucking her breasts, that she’s a nurse and her milk is only meant for babies and her husband.) (One nude member of the audience runs up to Azneth while stroking his throbbing penis, and ejaculates across her face down to her chest while she stands still in shock. She nearly-instinctively whacks him in the face with her wrench and knees him in the penis, breaking his nose and putting him in two layers of immeasurable pain. The Princess runs off, in surprise that she feels no spirit energy from the stranger’s semen on her, in fear that the nudist will chase after her, in rage at all of the goings-on, in pity for all the poor souls suffering here tonight, and in hope that she can find whoever started all this open-air madhouse and see to their fitting punishment.) (She starts mentally putting herself in their shoes, and suddenly realizes something.) (Azneth) “Wait, Claudette made sure this city’s water supply had been spiked with our ‘special recipe’….on MY orders.” “......Oh gods, this is all MY fault! I should’ve paid more attention, I should’ve focused on more places besides Washington, I should’ve looked for better strategists, I should’ve been more proactive in shutting down America’s defense grid…..” “.....I should’ve listened to Druella and just stayed home! Mother, father, what the fuck have I done!?” 600 Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard Nashville, Tennessee January 3rd, 20-- 2:09 A.M., Eastern Standard Time Zone (Inside the security room, an Arch Imp takes a sip out of a hot cup of freshly-brewed coffee. Having hit an alarm button earlier, she is unsurprised to hear the door open, as two large biceps begin massaging her shoulders.) (Arch Imp) “Oh, Luc, you’re a lifesaver. That cot was REALLY killing my back. I’m going to shove a cattle prod up Judith’s cooch for not bringing those inflatable mattresses like I SPECIFICALLY told her to. ” (Governor Luc Van Carver) “Cut to the chase, Monica baby. I’ve got to make a quick call to check up on Turney Center. Remember that only the two of us and Justine need to know about that. So what’re we lookin’ at here?” (Monica) “Take a peek at screen twenty-six.” (Van Carver) “It’s the corner of Jefferson and Rosa Parks, about three blocks northwest. There’s a succubus getting pushed out of a car, she’s getting up, and she’s walking right this way.” (Monica) “That woman is Azneth, the 34th Royal Makai princess, and this was about ten minutes ago.” (Van Carver) “Oh, shit! You think she knows about ‘The Solution?’” (Monica) “Highly doubt it, but you’re The Big Man In Town, Luc. There’s plenty more reasons why an enemy commander would want to stop by for a chat.” (Van Carver) “Right. You’re always right, Monica. Think we should roll out a red carpet?” (Monica) “Hell no. If she sees ANY of our security measures for getting in here, we’ll make it plenty easier for her to pass that intel on if this all goes tits-up.” (Van Carver) “Alright, I’ll send ‘The Boys’ out to escort her in. The easy way, of course.” (Monica) “I concur. Non’s probably on his way too. I listened in on some friendly radio transmissions, the Wyatt twins are chauffeuring him here once they finish up in Talbot’s Corner.” (Van Carver) “Those Navy brats? Figures they’d simp for an uber-Fed. We can’t kill ‘em, their parents are good campaign donors.” (Monica) “There’s also a U.S. Marshal with them. The best guess I’ve got is that she’s backing Non up when he gets around to cuffing you and reading your Miranda rights.” (Van Carver) “He tries that, we’ll send his ashes right back to the White House in an old Aunt Jemima box. Alright. Good sleuthing, gumshoe. Come on down to the banquet room in fifteen. I’ll send Herschel Junior up to relieve your post. And let’s keep the Secretary of Homeland Security out of everyone else’s loop until that Eskimo gets here.” (Monica) “Why? The keeping-a-secret thing, that is.” (Van Carver) “I want ‘em to ‘Guess Who’s Coming To Dinn--uh, The Midnight Snack.’” (The Arch Imp pulls her phone out of her pocket, then goes to her contact list. She selects the contact labeled as “Nashville City Health Inspector (whiny bottom) [sweetie]” then presses the button to speed-dial. Precisely one ring later, the call is answered.) (Inspector) “What the hell do you want NOW, Milton?” (Monica) “Wake the fuck up, pshek. You and your brother are getting a mission, and I KNOW he’s playing offline, so tell him to hit the escape key for the pause menu.” (Inspector) “Okay, fine. I can’t believe we stuck around for this shit. So what’s the problem?” (Monica) “Go outside and grab a succubus that's heading right for us. She answers to the name of Azneth. Make sure she gets in here……the easy way.” (Inspector) “Sure, but I’m gonna get pretty livid if I don’t get my smoke break. You’ve been stalling on letting me have one for a whole day now!” (Monica) “You dipshits get ONE smoke to burn through, AFTER she’s in our hands. ONE!” (The line cuts, leaving the health inspector and his brother to their assignment as they sit at the bench of the state Supreme Court.) (Brother) “You heard the lady, Zane. So let’s get this over with. I’m THIS close to beating my last record for speedrunning an eight-way free-for-all! Brutal difficulty, maining Dr. Thrax as usual!!” (Zane) “I hear you, Miles. She said one smoke, ahahahahaheeheeheh.” (Miles) “And?” (Zane) “And she didn’t say it had to be a cigarette….. Hand me the Montecristo in my travel bag, been meaning to bust that cigar out for days now, and now’s as good a time as any. Wish we had a humidor here, but them’s the breaks.” (He grabs the cigar and tosses it to Zane, who catches it and puts it in his pocket. The brothers begin to walk out, taking a left turn to the north exit. Just before they exit, a Dark Angel emerges from behind a pillar, wielding a basic 7x4.5 inch notebook and No.2 pencil.) (Dark Angel) “AH! Sir Kwasny, Sir Rokosz! Where are you two going? Have you any updates on the portal network throughout this metropolis?” (Miles Kwasny) “We’re having an interruption in our preferred routine right now, Luc just tasked us with bringing in one Princess Azneth, the easy way.” (Dark Angel) “The thirty-fourth child of the Demon Lord!? On her way HERE!? Oh dear, oh my, I need to take a literal powder break! Can’t--musn’t look disheveled in front of the House of C-- (Zane Rokosz) “--Yeah, yeah, she’s a big shot, we get the point. As to the other question, we’ve had three new portals reported. Two of which are at the airport, the other one’s at the Hermitage Golf Course to the northwest. All three are deep behind Royal Makai lines, those motherfucking spawn-campers.” (Dark Angel) “I, uh, fail to see how that counts as spawn-camping, Sir. That would imply the resurrection of deceased soldiers, whereas the portals are simply a direct transversal line of logistics for material supply and reinfo--” (Miles) “--It was just an inaccurate euphemism from a known dipshit, Ramiela.” (Ramiela) “While that much is quantifiable, it is NO excuse for inaccurate word usage. By the way, if you feel any negative side effects from ‘The Solution’, please tell me as soon as you can! Your experience may be the decidi--” (The brothers exit the building, with Zane shutting the door in her face.) (Ramiela) “Well, I never! Quite frankly, you and Milton deserve each other, Rokosz!” (At the same time, the state troopers guarding said entrance salute the two, continuing their own assignment to improve the fortifications around the building. Upon walking down the steps onto the south end of Victory Park, the younger of the pair speaks up, raising his arms in front of himself.) (Miles) “So whaddaya think about all this? Everything that’s going on out here?” (Zane) “As in the planet, the continent, the country, the state, the city, or just this park?” (Miles) “Ugh, you KNOW I meant the park, smartass!” (Zane) “Ahehehehehehe, making you sperg out never gets old, broski of mine. As for all this…..debauched shit out here? Fuck ‘em. Metaphorically, of course. Ain’t nobody here on any receiving end that didn’t have a chance to walk away. Besides, most of these monsterbabes came here lookin’ to do some high-impact sexual violence. Well la-dee-da and do-si-do, WE can play that game too.” (Miles) “Public orgies ain’t my cup of joe, but this? This ain’t no orgy. This is a Slaneesh ritual.” (Zane) “A what?” (Miles) “It’s a Warhammer thing. Slaneesh is a godlike tranny bitch that gets amped up from sexual violence of the bad kind, not the good kind. And does ANY of this look like sexual violence of the good kind to you?” (Zane) “It ain’t. I know I’m a fucked-up asshole with a bigger mouth than a brain, but honestly, this….. is light-years beyond what I’d ever do to a woman.” (Miles) “I’m being serious here, bro. Luc’s a goner once that Demon Lord finds out this shit was going down right under our noses. You and I need some kind of alibi to get any war crime charges dropped, assuming we all lose.” (Zane) “We’re just two guys, Miles. What the hell can two lab experiments do against the tide of history?” (Miles) “Tell that to Lee Harvey Oswald, Gavrilo Princip, Brutus, and the Wright Brothers.” (Zane) “None of those guys actually worked alone, dipshit.” (Miles) “.......Fuck, that’s right.” “So…..you know that Ramiela’s gonna get Monica to literally bust your balls for that door-slam, riiiiiiight?” (Zane) “Miles, Miles, Miles. Little brother of mine, here’s the most important lesson you will EVER learn, when it comes to dealing with tsunderes that have actual power over you.” (Miles) “And that is?” (Zane) “Never, ever, ever give in to the nagging. Because nagging, is their way of doing The Chase! Once you give in, they’ll lose interest, flog your nuts once, dump you, and move on to the next sassy schmuck.” (Miles) “And how is getting dumped by a tsundere even remotely a bad thing?” (Zane) “It’s a bad thing if you crave attention from sexy women with attitudes.” (Miles) “That’s gonna bite you in the ass sooner or later, bro. And I’ll be laughing from the peanut gallery.” (Zane) “I wouldn’t have it any. Other. Way. So have you spotted any succ-ers?” (Miles) “These princesses all have white hair, right?” (Zane) “Yeah. Guess that makes you a perfect match, aheheheheheh.” (Miles) “Not interested.” (Zane) “Because you’re a fag?” (Miles) “The only fags around here are the ones you keep shoveling in and out your mouth.” (Zane) “Touche! So what’s your type then?” (Miles) “.....I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that question for almost a decade. I’m a simple man. I see the telltale signs of ‘titty streamer’ in her bio, I swipe right.” (Zane) “You telling me you’ve been a digital mark-ass trick for the last ten years?” (Miles) “No, retard! I’m the kind of guy who’s dated eleven Vtubers for real, and lubes up with the seething tears of all her fanboys that get pissed when they find out their uwu-cutsie-wootsie anime motion-capturer gets railed off-screen by a polack wearing designated programmer socks. Cucking losers is usually an unfulfilling chore. Cucking hundreds of losers? Now that’s a job well done. Cucking thousands of losers at once, OOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOH! That gives out the greatest high a man can have in his life! And they’re all still none the wiser that it is I, Miles Kwasny, ace real-time strategist, who went and nutted in the real woman behind their waifu, muwahahahahahahaaaaaaaaa!” (Now standing in front of the Bicentennial Gift Shop, the brothers turn the building corner and begin to hear muffled sobbing coming from the garbage bin. They both peek over to look inside, finding a pale woman in a standard US Army battle dress uniform.) (Zane) “Hey, crybaby! Have you seen a succubus with white hair, forward-pointing horns, answers to the name of Azneth?” (Azneth) “W-who….who wants to know?” (Zane) “Zane Rokosz, I used to be this motherfuckin’ city’s chief health inspector, but I just got promoted to handling the whole state’s health services.” (Miles) “Health, he says, as he holds a giant toxic nicotine tube in his pocket.” (Zane) “Miles? Shut up!” “Anyways, Governor Van Carver personally sent us out here to bring you in. He’s pretty eager to talk to you, I think he’s willing to negotiate some pretty fair terms of surrender.” (Azneth) “Wait, I’m still using an illusion, how did you know who I really am?” (Zane) “Ha! Lucky guess! I knew you Royal Makai hugboxing, uhhhhh, sexy Snow Whites would lose your shit at what’s going on around here.” (Azneth) “YOU’RE the mastermind behind all this--this depravity!?” (Miles) “Uhhhhh, one, no he’s not. Two, we just got here too! Three, that’s mighty big talk coming from the likes of you.” (Azneth) “........If you think the modus operandi of my family is ANYTHING like this, I’ll see to it that you’re raped to death by a horse. So how did this even happen? What’s WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?” (Zane) “No clue when this started, but as a qualified expert on public health, it behooves me to assume that your people’s patented horny gas made all these psychos go haywire.” (Miles) “Zane, cool it with the jokey small talk. Ain’t no laughing matter to the princess.” (Zane) “Alright, alright. Take our hands, let’s get you out of here.” (Azneth drops her wrench and takes said hands. The brothers pull her out of the bin. Now back on normal pavement, Miles grabs her hand, squeezes hard, and shakes it.) (Miles) “So, it’s nice to finally put a face to the account, ‘prettypurpleprincess34!’ We’re a long ways from the Discord servers, aren’t we?” (Azneth) “.....Who in Zeus’s butthole ARE you?” (Miles) “I’m Miles Kwasny. Head honcho of the Tennessee Valley Authority’s IT department. You already know me as ‘MajorStupidityTheYounger.’” (Zane) “Oh, haw haw haw.” (Azneth) “......No. NO! No, no, no, no, no, this is NOT a coincidence! I didn’t JUST happen to run into you of all people here and now, MajorStupidity! Someone planted you in to spy on Wonderland Two, huh!? Fucking Fed, I KNEW there was something screwy about you! (She pulls out her Glock 34, grabs Miles by his vest collar, and trains the gun on Zane’s nose.) “Tell me who! Did my husband put you up to this? Ian Chesterfield? Bennett Coleson? That murdering shitglob Leo Willemsen?” (Miles) “I’ll tell you, I’ll talk! All in good time! Just come with us and you’ll get all the answers you want! Just not right here! Look, I REALLY didn’t come all the way from Knoxville just to die like this, we can just do this the easy way, or the hard way!” (Azneth ponders for a moment to think of a sassy answer, desperate to clear her mind of the horror-show she just saw. She opens her mouth to take a deep breath right as Zane, standing behind her, stabs her neck with a syringe full of tranquilizer which injects an absurdly large dosage of Midazolam. The lesser succubus turns around and attempts to throw a right hook at Zane. But she abruptly drops to the grassy ground, and the last thing she hears before blacking out is…) (Zane) “THE EASY WAY!” 1001 5th Avenue North Nashville, Tennessee January 3rd, 20-- 2:22 A.M., Eastern Standard Time Zone --CRASH-- (July Wyatt) “Auggers, what the fuck was that!?” (August Wyatt) “Uhhhhh, it was just a concrete barricade! A really tall one. And uhhhhhh, also a Honda Odyssey.” (Mackenzie) “What’re you doing, driving right into barricades for, kid! God-dammit, don’t make me come over there and pull you outta the driver’s seat. This is MY tank, remember? Don’t fuck up the treads!” (August) “Yeah, yeah, loud and clear. The Carillon Apartments collapsed and the wreckage is blocking the road. I’m afraid that we’ve made it to Mister Non’s drop-off a bit too early, and I’m not letting him out until I have a good three-sixty view of the area first. Seems clear for now, all I see are women of all sorts getting it on with their guys, and also a ton of bums and randos sifting through all those abandoned cars and trucks on Jefferson Street. For free stuff, I assume. GPS says we’re at the state library & archives. Oh geez, I can see the Davy Crockett Tower. My first ex used to work there, for the State Board of Education. I’d take a stay in that hotel next to The Alamo that ol’ Davy’s still haunting, over another hour in that tower with her. “Hey! Foxxy Love! Pop the hatch and check if anything’s going nuttier than the new usual. You’re one of them now, so I don’t think you need to worry about getting snatched by a Harpy or sniped by a Cupid!” (Kiyomi) “Cadet Petty Officer Second Class Wyatt, I’m going to sit on the edge of a rooftop and use my tails to HANG YOU, if you EVER call me Foxxy Love again.” (SecHS Non, nudging July Wyatt’s arm) “I take it that his relationships all ended because of a ‘him’ problem?” (July) “You’d think that, you really would. But as far as I know? Nope. There was a gold-digger who tried to max out his credit cards in less than a week, there was that actual psycho yan-derry that kept mutilating pigeons and got a one-way ticket to a straightjacket in a padded cell, there was that one Italian first marshal attache MILF that got recalled after she got caught trying to groom Auggers into being her professional, and carnal, liaison, and……. I also remember our old neighbor Susie Davis.” (SecHS Non) “So what happened to Davis?” (August) “I dumped her last year for ratting me out to my CO and getting me latrine duty for six months. Long story short, it involved pissing on a portrait of him during a ‘90s-themed booze cruise in the Cumberland River on a weekend night. Susie thought it was a gay orgy just because Saturday is for the boys, and she refused to be some fag’s beard.” (Mackenzie) “And what exactly DO Navy pukes do in their off time, besides being queers and-slash-or pretending like you’re in the Top Gun program?” (August) “Uhhhhh, let me remember. Navy stereotypes aside, there was NOT anything homo going down. Well….as far as I know. I blacked out pretty early, but I distinctly remember losing seven-hundred smackers from bad foosball bets, playing Mortal Kombat Trilogy on a PS3 even though I told El-Tee Sandusky to bring his Raspberry Pi so we could all play the SUPERIOR Ultimate MK3, and later some of us cadre broskis decided to binge-watch the Blade trilogy. I was sitting in a rocking chair when I went out cold, right at the part where Norman Reedus exploded.” (Kiyomi) “Ah, the saga of the most handsome Dhampir of them all. Excellent filmographic taste.” (Mackenzie) “You’d put Wesley Snipes over Alucard F. Tepes and Vampire Hunter D?” (Kiyomi) “Yes!” (Mackenzie) “....You’re not going to elaborate on that at all, are you?” (Kiyomi) “.....Yes!” (SecHS Non) “--Oooookay, this has been swell, it was a pleasure to meet you all, and it’s been MY honor to defend our country with you four, but I REALLY should get going now. Like the man said, Tannenbaum. Head on up and do your thing.” (Kiyomi) “Hmph. I’d protest, but you’d all just say that my vulpine ears are too useful at a time like this. And you’d all be right.” (She opens the turret hatch, her ears perking towards a certain direction. She stops still, then lashes her phantasmic tail down the hatch to point at her previous seat.) (Tannenbaum) “Non, hand me that SCAR!” (He does, looking up to see the kitsune-tsuki spend ten seconds aiming, before squinting and then firing a single shot, before flicking the safety switch on and handing the rifle back. Non slings it over his back, then looks at her in confusion, to which the pseudo-fox points to her head and verbally responds.) (Tannenbaum) “Kiyomi’s ears. We heard a woman crying for help, so we looked in the direction of that sound. We couldn’t see her, but we saw a big guy in the back of an Isuzu truck. He was moving his body in a way that made it kinda obvious as to what he was doing, so……” (August) “You blew his brains out?” (Kiyomi) “Oh, we fucking tried, but we missed! The bullet RIPPED right through his fat neck, muwaheheheheheheh! Maybe it’s better that he dies slower, gasping for his last breaths in a puddle of his own blood! And to top it off, he was violating an Inari! Avenging the honor of a sister from another mother, as they say!” (She pokes her head back outside.) “RUN! RUN, SISTER, GET OUT OF THIS CITY IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIIIIIIFFFEEEEE!” (Tannenbaum) “.....Alrighty, Baked Alaska! Your coast is now officially clear. We’ll be heading off…..” “Mister Wyatt, just where exactly are we going next?” (August) “For the fourth time now, we’re going to Firebase Johnston! You got my number, Non. Ring us up if you need a tank again!” (SecHS Non) “I probably will, so I’m holding you to that!” (August remotely opens the rear door, and Non walks out into the parking lot. He waves goodbye at his now ex-companions, who all salute back at him, starting with July Wyatt. The rear door closes, and Second-To-None drives away to the southeast, as August puts on his warzone mixtape, which starts with World Beater by Andy Clark, audible to everyone nearby on account of the loudspeakers that had been installed in the spring of 2020 for anticipated riot control.) (Non carefully walks through the southern portion of the library-archives, the waning gibbous moonlight shining through the remains of the 2nd floor ceiling, the building portion itself having been partially demolished by direct impact from a Boeing 737NG around yesterday noon. Non enters through the smashed-open cockpit’s left side-window, slowly & carefully to avoid any glass cuts. His pants receive two minor tears and his pistol belt nearly snags onto the pilot’s yoke. A small trail of blood-drops leading out of the co-pilot’s side window, and a trail of footprints leading to the door that had the lingering odor of a moderately-dehydrated man’s urine, gave the Secretary a sense of relief in the crew’s survival.) (Not taking any chances in the possibility of having to engage in CQB through the passenger sections, or deal with any traps set by clever husband-seekers, he unsheathes his pistol with the right hand, moving to open the door from the side with his left. The business seating was empty, glass shards of various cognac brands and Evan Williams whiskey cluttered the floor around the bar counter. The seats themselves had open luggage containers and clothes of all sorts strewn all over, while a single Caterpillar was minding her own business, sleeping against a still-intact window.) (Non walked past her slowly, continuing on to the economy seats, which had been picked so utterly bone dry that the food carts, plastic juice cups, and even some chairs were missing. By row 41, he began to hear noises coming from further down, to which a leather dominatrix High Orc entered from the right-side exit/entrance in the back. Non quietly dived into the left section of row 43, upon which three Dark Elves dressed in an all-black beret/leather jacket/pencil skirt/Belleville boot ensemble entered the same way Non had, the middle and front exit/entrances being clogged by building debris.) (The three Dark Elves wake up the Caterpillar by loudly slapping her in the face.) (Caterpillar) “Oooowww! Hey, what gives!” (Dark Elf 1) “We saw a fresh man come out of one of those stagecoaches with the cannons. We KNOW he’s in here. And we’ve got some experimental cock & ball torture techniques that require a live subject to run tests on.” (High Orc) “Show us where he is, punk, and I assure you that the Black Panthers will assign a surplus male all for yourself!” (Caterpillar) “I-I don’t know! I mean, I haven't seen an unclaimed man for hours! Please, I’ve had a long trip all the way down from Toronto, can’t I get just one good night’s sleep?” (High Orc) “She doesn’t know? Oh well. She’s heard too much anyways. Blast her.” (Caterpillar) “No! Wait, please, I never saw you guys, please! I don’t wanna die!” (Dark Elf 2) “Sorry, pal. Picked the wrong place to take a nap, you know what they say about zigging when you should’ve zagged.” (The first elven warrior pulls a Ruger MAX-9 from a jacket pocket, but the Caterpillar tackles her in an attempt to take the pistol from her, pushing the other two back into the cockpit. The armed elf pulls her trigger but misses, hitting the roof. The echoing sound of the gunshot in an enclosed space gives Non the opportunity to pop out from the seats to open some .45 ACP fire on the High Orc, who’s Nguni-style riot shield tanks four of his bullets. She closes the distance, attempting to bash the man with said shield.) (Non leaps into row 42, firing on her at point-blank with his SCAR-L as the High Orc struggles to dislodge her shield from the seat armrest. Wielding the rifle with his left arm, he grabs the Double Eagle with his left hand to simultaneously fire on the other two elves struggling to get up. The first shot splatters one elf’s brains out on the floor, two shots miss, and the last two hit the second hostile in the chest, knocking her back onto the ground as she dies gasping for air. The remaining Dark Elf continues attempting to shoot the Caterpillar, who is using her body to keep the Elf’s hand pressed onto the ground as six more shots ring out. The insectoid reaches for a glass 4-liter Carlo Rossi merlot bottle, using it to bash her opponent’s head into a bloody mess.) (By the seventeenth 5.56 round fired, the High Orc gets her shield free, slapping the rifle out of Non’s hand into row 35. He responds by pistol-whipping her face with his empty Colt pistol, hard enough to break her nose. In shock from the hearty whack, she slumps into a seat long enough for Non to reload his pistol, double-tap her chest, and fire one more round through her skull. He walks back into the aisle, just in time to see the Caterpillar execute her assailant with her own Ruger pistol. Grotesquely covered in blood from her head to her insect-half’s waist, she cheerfully waves at Non and blows a kiss before moving into row 35. She tosses the SCAR rifle back at the Secretary, then snuggles up against another intact window, hoping to get back to a peaceful sleep.) (Non continues down the economy passenger section, reaching the end. The sound of a man in the left-side lavatory is barely audible, sobbing about how badly his ass hurts and that eating a chorizo taco with ghost pepper seasoning is a terrible idea.) (Non, knocking on the restroom door.) “Hey, buddy! Homeland Security's on the scene, need some help in there?” (Man with shattered shitter) “Uh, no, no, I’ve got three extra rolls of tee-pee in here, I’ll be fine. Is the sink out there still working?” (SecHS Non) “Don’t see why it would, you DO realize this airplane crash-landed into a building, right?” (MWSS) “I know THAT, dumbass! I was ON this hunk of junk when we went down! Some really long snake tried to wrap around the jet, but she fucked up and got sucked into a turbine! The whole left wing tore off, but we were already slowing down and barely a few hundred feet up! Just about everybody got dinged up real good, especially the co-pilot! Poor sum’bitch got sliced up real good on account’a all that there glass, but he’ll live. No one died, as far as I know. Though I’m guessing all that yelling and shootin’ I just heard put an end to that, right?” (SecHS Non) “You’re damn right. Couple of hostiles from The Black Panthers, as crazy as that sounds, were trying to smoke me out by killing randos. Didn’t work. Good to hear that everyone made it out safe, you guys are lucky that no one chucked a missile your way, like God knows how many other poor schmucks with no IFF.” “Alright then, have a nice night. Wait, two things I gotta tell you though.” (MWSS) “What?” (SecHS Non) “One, get outta town as soon as you can. Two, there’s a nice thicc insectoid sleeping in the middle section. Get her out of here, she seems nice and reasonable.” (MWSS) “You say she’s thick?” (SecHS Non) “Yeah.” (MWSS) “How thick are we talking?” (SecHS Non) “As thick as a bowl of oatmeal, but I think she’ll slim down once she does that metamorphosis thing into a butterfly-person.” (MWSS) “Do they have big ‘ol titties?” (SecHS Non) “I’ve never seen one that didn’t.” (MWSS) “Mission accepted, I’ll get us both out, don’t you worry! As soon as I’m done inverting my intestines here. I should also change my pants and boxers…..I, uh, I kind of pissed myself real bad when we crashed.” (SecHS Non) “Completely understandable. Alright then, just head on up to Edmonton in Kentucky, go to their police HQ, and tell ‘em the Snowman sent you. What do I call you?” (MWSS) “They call me…..Mister Tibbs!” (SecHS Non) “You serious?” (MWSS) “No, but I always wanted to say that. It’s actually Pibb. Like the so-dee pop. No relation though” (SecHS Non) “You mean the ripoff Dr. Pepper?” (Mr. Pibb) “You shut your whore mouth, Waco-ite! Pibb Xtra is the nectar of the gods! THE GODS!” (SecHS Non) “Yeah, yeah, whatever. See you around, Pibb. Stay as far away as you can from any airports or armories. You’ll find out why before noon tomorrow.” “Wait, no, it’s already almost two AM. High noon today, then.” (Mr. Pibb) “Got it!” (Non continues on to exit the grounded fuselage through the same entrance/exit the High Orc entered from, taking a moment to actually check the sink, non-functioning as expected. It leads to a crumbling hallway, framed newspaper clippings of controversial Tennessee Titans victories and draft picks lining its walls. In turn, the hallway leads to a rightwards building exit. Non walks through it, carefully tiptoeing over the remains of the glass doors. The 737NG’s tail is strewn across an open courtyard, being taken apart at that very moment by the sort of entrepreneurial folk that on a normal night, would be engaged in catalytic converter theft.) (His ears now fully subject to the sounds of screams, moans, wails, howls, and loud laments coming from seemingly every direction, Non crosses 6th Avenue North directly heading westwards, pushing through bushes while following the sounds of a group. His worst fears confirmed, the Bicentennial Carillon was being repurposed as a staging ground for multiple trains being run on twelve Satyros and Krampuses. Some were too drunk or drugged to pay any real attention beyond physical pleasuring, that they took in stride. The rest were losing their damn minds, trying their hardest to break through their improvised cast-iron chain-gang shackles, acquired from an abandoned correctional facility transportation bus parked two blocks west. Four of them were trying their best to kick at least one rapist’s chest in with their hooves, while either being spitroasted, sandwich’d, or full nelson’d in mid-air. Along with this orgy was a single 3rd-generation Ford Ranger that had a ten gallon Gatorade-brand water cooler right on the edge of the tailgate.) (Utter shock from the Alaskan quickly turned into fiery rage on the level of an industrial incinerator, making up his mind on intervening when he could make out a Krampus that was nearly catatonic from stress, struggling to claw the air in the direction of a different violator that was balls-deep in a Satyros’ bleeding anus, as said Krampus was begging for her ‘first’ to come back and be her husband.) (Non put on his best Kubrick-stare, fully aware of the unnecessary melodramaticism, but given the situation, it seemed necessary. The 14-man-strong rape-gang was too drunk on poon to notice him stomping up to said Krampus’s virginity-defiler, all but one. Before the sole sex offender with any situational awareness could offer Non a ‘used’ goat-woman, the Cabinet member pulls his Colt Double Eagle from its holster with lightning speed, pushes it against the right temple of the head of the ‘first’, and pulls the trigger.) (The laughter, the crying, the screaming, the moaning, the begging, the mocking, it all stops at once from the gunshot’s crack. Three of the gang’s ranks that had been jacking off with the intention to bukkake their victims, faced an immediate flight-or-fight dilemma. They chose flight, and chose poorly. Non raises his SCAR-L and fires one shot each into the backs of the three, killing them all. The rest of the men stop dead in their tracks.) (SecHS Non) “HOMELAND SECURITY! Party’s over, you sick freaks! Get your pathetic peckers out of these ladies and huddle up!” (The remaining rapists comply, pulling out of their victims, dropping the full-nelson’d one flat on her ass. The goat-type Mamono huddled together in response, wondering what this sharp-dressed man would do next.) (SecHS Non) “One of you had better speak up and tell me just what you shitheads are trying to do here! You know what, whoever’s in charge here, you have TEN seconds before I put twenty-seven bullets into all of you!” (Three seconds pass before one of them, dressed in nothing but a white toga, a green imperial head-wreath, and Yeezy Knit Runners, speaks up.) (‘Caesar’) “Me, me! I’m in charge here! We…..well, these mutants are all trying to violate US! Why can’t we serve ‘em a dish of their own medicine?” (SecHS Non) “Not ALL of them are doing that shit, you stupid bastard! Did these women come after you first?” (‘Caesar’) “No! We pinched ‘em from First Tennessee Park, they were setting up a group campsite right on the baseball field! Didn’t take much to get them to follow us here, all it took was the promise of free drinks. I filled up the cooler with Everclear, then I dumped a roofie cocktail we got from a friend that said he was a part of Omega Psi Phi.” (SecHS Non) “And just where’s this Cosby cocksucker now?” (‘Caesar) “We don’t know! He went to go find that other goat-mutie, this brown one that brought a bunch of her little sisters! Look, look! We weren't actually gonna diddle those kids, we just wanted to scare them back to whatever wormhole they got here from, you gotta believe me!” (Non turns toward the Satyros that seemed the most emotionally stable.) (SecHS Non) “Miss, is this criminal telling the truth?” (The alcoholic goat wipes her immediate tears and answers in a monotone voice rife with trauma, her eyes already stuck in a thousand-yard stare.) (Victim 1) “Yes. He is. We were using that open sports field to take inventory and settle ourselves. We planned to later move into the team dressing rooms. But only after the building’s electric power source is repaired. They told us a half-truth. There was indeed more than enough alcohol for us to drink. He and these others did in fact encounter a Baphomet, her name is Drarguthria. She used some sort of invisibility spell to protect herself and her siblings from……fr-fr-from ending up as we did.” (SecHS Non) “And just what were you planning to do after taking control of that stadium?” (Victim 1) “We were going to turn that place into a brewery for schnapps and mead, and hang up a sign inviting anyone to come and drink. L-like a tavern! We weren’t going to take advantage of any men, we….we….” “....I will not fib, we did consider luring drunkard men into our flowers and wombs.” “But we never acted on it! We just weren’t sure of what to do after setting our equipment up! I suggested that we cross that bridge when we’d arrive at it, and the vote was unanimous!” (SecHS Non) “So now what do you plan to do?” (Victim 1) “We’re going back there and we’re going to take a lot of blankets…… and we’re going to huddle together and probably cry a lot.” (SecHS Non) “And then seek out husbands?” (Victim 1) “I DON’T FUCKING KNOW, WE’LL CROSS THAT BRIDGE WHEN WE ARRIVE AT IT!” (SecHS Non) “That’s good enough for me.” (He turns back to the men.) “Alright, raise your hands if you didn’t ACTUALLY think these aliens were going to rape you, and you just wanted to have some easy pussy? Don’t bullshit ME! I know a liar when I see one, and I swear to Isaac C. Parker that I WILL shred you right here and now.” (Five of the remaining eleven raise their hands.) “Good. Honesty’s the best policy. You five, get together and take ten steps to the right. The rest of you, keep your hands up. None of that hand on your head shit, I’m not falling for a Nakatomi duct tape maneuver.” (They all comply. Non flicks the SCAR-L’s safety selector from semi to full-auto, then opens fire on the group of five. Expending his entire magazine, he then moves the rifle into a low-ready position while training his Colt on the other six.) (SecHS Non) “Ah, ah, ah! I got eight shots in here, no funny business! As disgusting as this is, I have to admit that you assholes went by THEIR rules of engagement. You weren’t killin’ nobody either, which is why you’re all getting a second chance. You wanna stick it to Royal Makai? Head over the bridge to Firebase Johnston, I hear they need all the extra hands they can get. Crap like this? IT’S NOT HELPING!” “Now then, seeing as I know how these aliens have their minds all wired, I’ll cut them some slack on this one thing. So do any of you men want to take any of these women’s hands in marriage, ‘till death do you part, blah blah blah, et cetera, et cetera, you may kiss the bride? Be a daddy to some horned, wooly bundles of joy?” (The six men all furiously shake their heads for no.) “Alright, go then, ya’ deadbeat faggots! Get in that truck, dump the jungle juice, and get the fuck outta here! And if I catch you doing this again, you won’t even know I shot you ‘till Ol’ Pete gives you the after-action report! And you! Biggus Dickus, I see that keychain jumbling under the toga. Toss ’em over, now!” (The toga-wearer obeys, and the surviving retaliation-rapists scramble into the truck and speed off, as their radio blares Young Lust by Pink Floyd. Non then turns again to the goat-Mamono group. Non flings the keys to the faun-woman that seemed to be in charge, who catches it and gets straight to work on unshackling herself and the other goats.) (SecHS Non) “As one of the highest authorities in this country’s law enforcement, I’d like to apologize that none of us could get here sooner. I don’t know why my subordinates in the area aren’t doing everything they can to stop people from acting like…….drooling beasts. They better have a damn good explanation for this! Someone’s dick is getting spread all over the air fryer when I get to the office!” (Victim 1) “It’s……it’s alright. At least you came, at least someone out there cared. You risked your life, one man against fourteen, to help complete strangers! Heroism deserves a reward, shouldn’t it!?” (She walks right up to Non, as the other eleven monsterwomen encircle him. In a spur of the moment, she gently caresses the Alaskan’s hardening penis, and puckers her lips to move in for a French kiss. Non grabs her wrist to pull it off his crotch, firmly but not too hard, and takes a quick step back.) (SecHS Non) “You’re absolutely right, it should. But not like this. Look, I’m sorry, you’re beautiful, and you seem like a nice, reasonable miss, but I’m already engaged to an even more beautiful angel. And I’m not just saying that because I’ve got a camera running or because I’m starting to think that she’s wiretapped my body somehow. Weird though, you Mamono out here are a lot less…… romantically aggressive than the ones I’ve seen in Charleston and Washington. Did you people do something? Something that would dampen your…….libido?” (Victim 1) “Something has certainly happened. That, you guessed right. Does anyone here have any theories?” (A Krampus speaks up.) (Krampus) “Uh, yes, hi. I’m… Shonyeah, you were just talking to Wieleeti. I know exactly what’s going on, I’ve felt this before when I was hiding in a cave underneath an Order fortress about a decade ago. What’s happened is that Demonic Energy is being dampened in this area, but I don’t know how or why, exactly. Maybe it’s the most mundane answer, that this city just isn’t important enough for the Lilim to focus their efforts on.” (Non’s face goes from confusion to a straight deadpan expression.) (Wieleeti) “You know something, don’t you?” (SecHS Non) “Yeah, I do know something. It’s Holy Mana markers. I was told this city had an array set up all over. They’re all invisible, unless you’re a spellcaster that’s actively looking for them. I thought they would just mask my Spirit Energy from The Ultimate Hero and his kids, you know, in case they had a tracing lock on me, but it looks like it’s working better than expected. Better than what I was informed. Maybe it’s working TOO well.” (Wieleeti) “Thank you for all your help, and for the information, but we have to go. We don’t have any weapons and we should hope to Bacchus, may she rest in peace, that our brewing equipment wasn’t stolen.” (SecHS Non) “Do you need any medical assistance, given……what happened here?” (Shonyeah) “We--we’ll be alright. They….certainly seeded us a lot, but look on the bright side. Atrocious men like that don’t deserve to experience the joys of parenthood. If they even managed to knock us up, we’ll tell our daughters the truth, that their worthless excuses of fathers were cowards that had to play dirty tricks and wouldn’t take responsibility, even with a loaded weapon pointed at them.” (SecHS Non) “Good luck then. If you really don’t want to leave town, you should hide in the deepest basement of that stadium and wait there until noon. And if I can, I’ll have some supplies dropped from the sky onto the main field, we call it the baseball diamond.” (Shonyeah) “Why should we hide down there?” (SecHS Non) “Because something’s going to happen before sunset today. Something……something wonderful.” (Wieleeti) “I see. Well, whatever this wonderful thing is, can you do one favor for us?” (SecHS Non) “ Sure. You need weapons? I’ve got the hookup for guns. Lots of guns.” (Wieleeti) “Heehee, no, hotshot. Not that. If you meet any cute guys that like goats and are okay with…….with used goods, could you send them our way?” (SecHS Non) “You’ve got yourself a deal. There’s at least five of them that I know.” “No thanks to that fuckin’ Chink gacha knockoff-Zelda bullshit with the--the smoking hot cryomancing goats and mommy-milky librarians.” (Shonyeah) “What in Hel are you talking about?” (SecHS Non) “Nothing! Nothing important. The guys I’m sending your way will tell you all about it, if they haven’t gotten got yet. So long!” (Non runs off back towards 6th Avenue North, sticking to the sidewalk on Bicentennial Park’s side. He reloads his rifle, aware that he is now inside an open-air den of despicable depravity. To his utter surprise, those Baphomets he heard about were right on the other side of the road, making their way through a large parking lot’s maze of cars. Doing a double-take at recognizing Drargurtha’s face from his file on Azneth, he ducks behind a shiny like-new Chrysler PT Cruiser, as he hears some disturbing dialogue from inside the car. Peeking his head out, he sees a man wearing a black Santa Claus outfit and a large clock-themed necklace, with a prop scythe riding shotgun. Said man is watching the last of the young Baphomets cross the street with Tasco 4x30 binoculars in one hand, and his other hand jerking his gerkin.) (Father Time cosplayer) “Oooh, ooh, oh, that’s right. Once I find out where y’all are hiding, I’mma run down the big one, take the rest of you’s, I’mma cum down ALL your chimneys and leave y’all some BIIIIIG presents!” (Non hears enough of this shit, moving up from behind the shotgun seat’s door to tap on the window, point his Colt at the textbook deviant, and spit on his face.) (SecHS Non) “Jerk on THIS, you child-molesting shitlicker!” (--BANG--) (The eldest of the Baphomets turns her head to the gunshot noise, going deer-in-headlights-mode upon recognizing the former National Security Advisor standing before a car drenched in blood. Snapping out of it once one of her younger sisters started pulling at her leg, the faun-esque family continued moving on to their safehouse. Non reaches into the dead diddler’s pockets, finding just his wallet and a pack of matches, and opening said wallet to ‘confiscate’ $7.59 and a Sam’s Club membership card.) (SecHS Non) “This…..this is vile, just…...fuckin’ VILE. I’m gonna wring that Baphy-sama’s neck and gouge her eyeballs in until her whole HEAD pops open, and that’s coming for anyone that keeps enabling this society-disease! I gotta get outta here, I gotta get some reinforcements to clean this all up!” (His brisk walking down the avenue turns into a sprint, continuing farther and farther down the metaphorical rabbit hole of moral degradation. Outside of what he knew of Dark Elves, he knew these horrors went a light-year beyond what even the worst of Druella’s Radical movement would consider doing to their prey. Women and men alike, left and right, all being brutally raped under every sort of physical restraint you could think of. Some were already physically broken, whether their legs were smashed to prevent them from running off, given gunshots to their thighs to make leg movement too painful, or the old-fashioned method of stabbing their legs.) (Non carefully rips the GoPro off of his suit jacket, and ducks behind a flipped-over Chevy Silverado that belonged to the city’s animal control services. He points the camera directly at his face to help get his incoming point across.) (SecHS Non) “Alright, you already know who I am. It’s…” (He checks his phone.) “...almost 2:40 AM. January 3rd. I am at Nashville’s Bicentennial Park, where, uh, as you’ve seen, a lot of horrible things are happening to people that probably don’t deserve it. As outraged as I am at seeing this, this shit that just proves the points of people like Druella and Azneth, that think we, the human race, have proven across TWO worlds, that our free will was a terrible mistake that should be rectified as soon as possible. However, I must remain objective. As much as I can within reason, and I need to remind you, the audience, that, uh…..that this proves Doctor Bellvin’s theory about the twofold nature of Royal Makai’s power.” “His theory, it…. uh, it POSTULATED, yeah, that’s the right word. It postulated….well, let me start from the beginning. So as we all know, internal exposure to Demonic Energy ludicrously increases anyone’s libido and drastically decreases a man’s refractory period, among other intentional side-effects. The most significant one, which the Lilim have refused to tell us whether it’s a feature or a glitch, is the loss of most, if not all, inhibitions. All these people out here? Violating other people while causing unnecessary physical and emotional harm, it’s their fetish!” “The underlying issue here…..is that like I said, Lilith’s power is twofold. Bellvin’s postulation is that Lilith uses a double-dosage system of D-Energy. The first part is outside, that is, covering the area with a…..miasma of that gunk, and the second part is AFTER that, worming its way into everyone’s bodies. The energy within us, it makes us horny and batshit crazy, but the miasma? It pacifies us, cuts the batshit crazy part out, by shutting down the portion of our brains that give us ideas involving acts of physical violence with the intent of causing death or suffering. And these Holy Mana markers that help to keep the miasma out? Yeah, my Valkyrie set them up, but….shit! It was MY idea in the first place!” “These maniacs, they WANTED to do this to other people, no Mamono is putting this in their heads! It’s their true selves made manifest. Sociopaths, textbook psychopaths, the kind of people that prove we should’ve reopened all the asylums that Reagan shut down. Now, to be fair, too many of ‘em had it coming, staffed from head to bottom with Nurse Ratched’s. I hate to agree with the ACLU on something, but when the nuts are running the nuthouse, it’s time to cut the power. This whole park’s a nutfield run by nuts. I’m going to the top, and I’m cutting the power. And if Luc Van Carver tells me to blow chunks, I’m coming back right here to do it myself. Me and whomever I can scrounge up from this county’s Homeland Security branch office.” “I still believe in the superiority of free will, even after seeing all this with my own eyes. What you are seeing right now, is the biggest ‘con of personal self-determination, that I will admit. What I’m telling you all here, is that THESE humans, they’re the realest monsters prowling out tonight, and they ought to be exterminated for everyone else’s safety, even more than Royal Makai’s worst Radicals. Free will has a price, but it swings both ways. Sure, you can just randomly decide to walk into a hospital or something, push a nurse onto a gurney, and go balls-deep with no foreplay. But free will also means that nothing is truly holding you back from doing the right thing, like just randomly deciding to save the local police a lot of trouble by gunning everyone on a local sex offender registry down, in alphabetical order.” “I’ve said my piece on this, and I’ll see what I can do here without getting suicidal. I got insanely lucky that those goatfuckers weren’t armed. Or maybe they were, but I was just too fast on the draw. Either way, there’s gotta be at least 60 psychos out there in the park, and I’m just one guy. I’m not allowed to die on the job, that’s a DIRECT order from my Valkyrie. But keep watching, by all means!” (Non moves the camera back onto his right shoulder, reapplying the duct tape. Hardly five seconds later, a repeating sound of ‘psst’ starts emanating from inside a black GMC Savana cargo van. Reloading both of his guns, press-checking his rifle, then holstering his pistol, the Alaskan carefully walked over to the van’s backdoor, of which one of the two doors was completely open.) (He moves to aim his rifle into the van, where he finds three people inside: a heavily-bandaged man wearing steel-plate armor over his chest, arms, and thighs; a bikini-clad Minotaur wielding a Truper 5-pound railroad pick; and a bundled-up Weresheep wielding a Sig-Sauer P227 Equinox, aiming it right back at Non.) (SecHS Non) “OOOOOh-kay, Who’s making that whistling racket?” (Minotaur) “I am. We need your help, we--” (The Weresheep lowers her Glock and stuffs it into her jacket pouch pocket (Weresheep) “--Hi! I’m Evanie Griffiths. This cow here is Kasrala, and we’re…..sharing this lovely man, Brenton. I heard your rant, and I’m thinking God himself sent you to get us out of this jam.” (SecHS Non) “What kind of a jam, and how much did you hear?” (Evanie) “I heard the whole thing, and your doctor buddy’s theory sounds about right. I know you’re a Homeland Security agent, so don’t even try to lie. As for the jam? Long story, but here’s the skinny. I work at the Amtrak station a bit south of here as a phone operator, employee of the month for the last five months in a row. Brenton here used to be in that Chief God Order, but he went AWOL to be with Kasrala here. His dad hired some professional hitmen to bring him back and kill anyone that tries to help him. They’re combing this park RIGHT NOW, looking for us. I was just being a good Samaritan by helping these two, but those thugs followed us from my office, and shot up my house to herd me and the cow into a killbox!” “I’m not ditching Brenton, one thing led to another and……we’re in love. My poor knight in shining armor, he literally took some bullets for me.” (SecHS Non) “Say no more, how can I assist you, citizen?” (Kasrala) “We need to reach Evanie’s horseless carriage, she left it about three more buildings away, directly west of here.” (Brenton) “If you would be so kind as to cover our backs, we’ll be forever in your debt. My father has been putting our gold in a bank account across the Atlantis--” (Evanie) “--Atlantic.” (Brenton) “Atlantic Ocean, in the Switzer’s Land. You have my word that we will afterwards seek out your organization, and I’lll tell them everything I know about my father’s machinations. My only condition is that we be free to leave after that. Do this, and you’ll be fairly financially compensated.” (SecHS Non) “You’ve got yourself a done deal. But with all due respect, you’re already inside of a horseless carriage.” (Evanie) “Does it look like ANY of us know how to hotwire a van?” (SecHS Non) “Nope, but I do.” (Kasrala) “No, we’re not doing that! Engaging in dishonorable thievery at a time like this is just bound to cause us more problems later. I don’t want to make an enemy out of this vehicle’s true owner. I feel bad enough that we broke a back door latch just to get in here.” (SecHS Non) “Fair enough, I suppose. Mister Brenton…..” (Brenton) “Alvis. Although I would much rather now take my new wife’s name of Griffiths, it’ll wash myself clean of my wretched father. He murdered my MOTHER, you know? She wasn’t even corrupted, he just wanted her gone so he could seduce a widow for her inheritance wealth. I didn’t get along with my step-mother, but I never wished her dead! Which is exactly what my father did after Rachelle got corrupted into a succubus. And my poor step-sister is trapped in that hellscape you call Chicago, she’s fused with some kind of Living Armor, and frankly, I would like to take a week-long nap at a cabin in the deepest forest you’ve got on this continent!” (SecHS Non) “You know what kind of Living Armor she’s talking about?” (Brenton) “She called it an ‘Em six-niner flak jacket’, and said that it was some sort of old collector’s item.” (SecHS Non) “Wow. I, uh, I know exactly what that is. It’s a mass-produced shrapnel-protector that was phased out almost exactly sixty years ago. Aw hell, they’re co-opting our military equipment a LOT faster than I anticipated. Just about an hour and a half ago, I had an encounter with a similar Living Armor, but she was puppeting an Interceptor vest that’s got to be half as old as a M69, at best. At this rate, they’ll be operating First World War steel-plated armor by Tuesday!” (Evanie) “So what happened to this Interceptor?” (SecHS Non) “I ran her over with a Honda Pilot.” (Evanie) “Whoa, brutal. So……here’s the plan. I pick Brenton up by his left leg, Kas’ holds him by the right leg. Sweet husband of ours, you’re going to wrap your arms around our shoulders. Trust me, we’ll move a lot faster that way, rather than if one of us held up your legs and the other your shoulders. As for our new friend here…..you look familiar but I can’t put a name to your face.” (SecHS Non) “They call me The Abominable Snowman. Long story, it started in high school and it’s stuck ever since for multiple reasons.” (Kasrala) “Alright, ‘Agent Snowman’, just ready that weird yellow musket of yours and cover our six o’clock.” (SecHS Non) “Sounds like a plan. Let’s bounce!” (The two Mamono lift up their man, as Non unlocks the other back door. He then kicks both open for ego-stroking dramatic effect, doing a combat roll onto the asphalt. He gives the three an all-clear thumbs-up, to which they begin to set a speedy pace. They reach the center of a Y-shaped jogging trail directly northeast of the park’s amphitheater, when three bikers in maroon leather outfits and helmets riding matching red & white Kawasaki Ninja 400 motorbikes, all simultaneously swerve around a crash-landed Chinook, the furthest one behind firing into the air three .357 SIG shots out of a Heckler & Koch P2000 to get everyone’s attention, and the middle one’s bike speakers bellowing a fittingly-titled song from the band Twilight Racing.) (SecHS Non) “So much for hitMEN, I can see their tits from here…..” (In a panic, Evanie and Kasrala freeze up from the bright LED headlights, while Non stands his ground and aims the rifle at the lead biker. The lead biker already has her folded HK433 rifle aimed at Non, the middle biker aims her MP7’s underbarrel laser directly at the Minotaur’s chest, and the last biker gets off her bike to step in-between the other two, breaking the minor Mexican standoff by speaking up first.) (Head Biker In Charge) “Brenton Alvis! Your father’s altered the deal! On top of the seventy-two Grover Clevelands, it’s an extra thirty-six thousand bucks to haul in each slut you’ve wormed into! What’s it gonna be, Brenny? We can bring you back the easy way, or we can shoot your bitches legs too!” (Biker #2) “And we’ll bump off Mister Tall, Dark, and Handsome as a freebie!” (Biker #3) “Enough with the fuck-fuck cat & mouse games, kid! What’s it--” (SecHS Non) “--Yeah, I’m just gonna speak for them. You three have one chance to buzz off! Hey, I understand the hustle, but you’ve picked the wrong mark tonight! Skip town while you still have a chance!” (HBIC) “Nah, counteroffer! YOU buzz off, right now. Then we don’t say shit to the Order about you aiding and abetting a fugitive, and you get to walk back to Alaska alive. How’s that, Snowman? Yeah, we know who you are! Maybe stay away from any fucking news station next time, if you want to zip around a city without bringing any heat?” (SecHS Non) “Leave? Me? No way, fag.” (Biker #3) “Okay, then let’s fucking go! We’ve wasted oil sheiks, zaibatsu execs, gonzo journalists, and even a British MP! Popping the US National Security Advisor’ll boost our resume to the top!” (Biker #2) “Ladies, ladies! You want to bag a high-profile public servant, you gotta add pizzazz! It’s not just about killin’ ‘em, it’s also about embarrassing them! Tell you what, Non! Let’s duel! Three versus one, Bangkok rules! We’ll even let you use BOTH your guns!” (HBIC) “Luanne, tell me you’re just shitting us? Right?” (Biker #3) “Fuck it, we can take him!” (Brenton) “That’s what she said.” (Luanne) “I’m gonna shoot your kneecaps when this is over, bitch!” (Biker #3) “Come on, Non’s just a pencil-pusher that pumps iron on the side! We’re pros, he’s a chump! I bet that’s not even real armor under that suit!” (SecHS Non) “It’s curved level II, asshole! Challenge accepted!” (Luanne) “Awwww, level II, how cute! Hope you like a few non-frangible center-mass holes, dumbass!” (HBIC) “Jumpin’ Jupiter, we’re really doing this…..” “You try to cheat like Plissken, just know that you’ll only take one of us with you.” (All four duelists place their weapons into the low-ready position, while Evanie sets Brenton down a bit while reaching into her jacket pouch pocket.) (The third biker pulls an unloaded P2000 magazine out of a jacket pocket with her free hand, and tosses it as high as she can. The magazine goes up, and comes down.) (Within a split-second of hitting the ground, Non outdraws Luanne, creating a single .45 ACP-sized entrance & exit in her skull. The HBIC and Non fire at each other at the same time with their rifles, both fully automatic. Non’s mag-dump lands three shots through her right leg, as the HBIC’s burst strikes Non’s armor plate four times and grazes his left biceps brachii. Getting hit in his arm that was holding the SCAR-L, causes Non to move in that single second into a right-upwards motion, landing three more shots of 5.56 FMJ that impact on the HBIC’s own level IV ceramic plates, and another four that tear fatal chunks out of her left shoulder.) (As for the third biker? She fired three shots at Non’s center mass, his plates easily no-selling her .357 rounds. The fourth shot destroys the Alaskan’s rifle by smashing through the upper receiver and the bolt carrier group within. The fifth shot never came, as Evanie took advantage of Non as one big diversion to pull out her P227 Equinox at the same time, pointed it sideways in the third biker’s general direction, and started blasting through her entire eleven-round magazine. The sixth bullet creates an horizontal entry and exit in the center of the third biker’s neck, smashing through the spinal cord. Now completely paralyzed, she drops like a sack of potatoes, trying to suck in some last breaths before her life fades to black, seconds later.) (Non keeps trying to fire at the HBIC with his yellow rifle, taking him seven trigger-clicks before he checks the chamber to find a glaring sideways hole behind it. He drops the broken weapon, and walks up to the last of the assassin squad, as she lays on the grass in complete shock while trying to control the blood spewing from what’s left of that shoulder. For the sake of honor amongst killers, without fanfare or a one-liner, he grants her mercy with two quick shots to the head.) (SecHS Non) “It’s over, for now. Took a hit to the upper arm, underside. I’ll be fine, it’s just a grazing shot. This ceramic plate’s already on its last legs, gotta find a replacement, and fast.” (While conversing, Non grabs the P2000, loots the assassin for four extra magazines, picks the empty one off of the dirt path, flicks the safety on, and walks up to Brenton.) (SecHS Non) “Take it. You need it a lot more than I do. Just remember, aim for the head or upper body, and don’t let your fingers ride with the slide when it pushes back after you shoot.” (Brenton) “Many thanks, Snowman. You’ve gone far further than what I expected of you, and I apologize. Evanie was right, you WERE worth the risk of calling over.” (SecHS Non) “None taken. Given the situation of the whole planet, you’re not even remotely insane for assuming that everyone is out to complete their agendas by stepping on everyone they can. American politics used to just mostly be metaphorically cutthroat. Since Thursday, it’s turned cutthroat in every possible definition of the word. It’s still hard to believe that Delvecchio could whip us all into shape, I honestly never thought he had it in him. But yeah, if we all joined hands together to send the Lilim and their minions packing, I’m sure they wouldn't have a leg to stand on for justifying this invasion to their own citizens.” (Brenton) “I always knew The Order was full of crap, but I put on a mask of piety and held my tongue for most of my entire life. When the Scourge of Kurgania brought us from our dwindling hideout to here, I could have run off whenever I wanted too. I’m a coward, Sir. I couldn’t work up the courage to flee my father until Kasrala provided a perfect escape, or so I thought. I am a coward, and I will continue to hide from my problems until someone helps me to run away from it. It’s just my nature.” (SecHS Non) “Meh, that can change given the right situation. My advice? Hunker down in Minnesota, southeast Oregon, or west Oklahoma. No one will ever think about looking for you over there. But before that, you need to reach a town in Kentucky called Glasgow. Tell the police station there that I sent you.” (Kasrala) “You’re not coming with us?” (SecHS Non) “Sorry, but no. I need to speak with the Governor of this state, and then I have some business to attend too. But I’ll escort you to Evanie’s car, and I’ll see you all again before noon. And this might be a little too much of a personal question, but what exactly did you come to my world for, Miss Kasrala.” (Kasrala) “I ran with some of Druella’s Radicals, but I never really believed in their dogma, just like Brenton. I just used them to let me through the portal. Not interested in forcing a guy to love me, I know just how disappointed my family would be with me. I just wanted to meet a guy that would accept me and let me be his wife, that’s all. I also heard about your Council’s deal that the Lilim threw out. If it’s any consolation, I would’ve taken it.” (SecHS Non) “Thanks. Thanks for giving me hope. If you thought the Lilim are crossing a bridge too far, maybe there’s other people back on Kenkou willing to knock their succubi masters down a peg and be reasonable. I mean, if our sources are right in that they rule by what’s, like, a popularity contest with a smidge of mind-control. All we need to do is make this invasion so costly, that their own citizenry gives up and makes their leaders give up. My country’s been on the bad side of the coin THRICE in living memory. Well, uh, four if you count Lebanon, six if you also count Assad and Zelensky’s bullshit. I'd say that pretty much makes us experts on that sort of warfare.” (Evanie picks up the HK433 and hands it to Kasrala, to which Non in turn hands the bovine his last STANAG magazine, now useless to him. The Weresheep picks up the MP7 and slings it over her shoulder, trying not to look the Snowman in the eyes.) (SecHS Non) “Like I said, you guys need this firepower a lot more than I do. I should have all the gats I need at my office.” (Evanie) “Have it your way, Mister Badass. If it wasn’t for Brenton, I’d have to snatch you up for myself. You know, this is the third time I’ve shot someone to death. From the way you’re looking, I guess you’ve got quite a killstreak already.” (SecNon) “Yeah. You’re the second person to ask me that tonight, actually. Honestly, I lied to the other guy. Told him about only a fraction of the people I’ve shot in Uncle Sam’s service. He knows about the enemy collaborators I’ve iced in the field. And my first kill too, a smackhead burglar that tried to slice me up when I was sixteen. I turned him into meat chunks with my Dad’s favorite 12 gauge. How about you? You certainly don’t seem too fazed, for a civilian.” (Evanie) “I was seventeen when it happened. I had just gotten my driving learner's permit a month earlier. So I was waiting in the car outside of a bingo hall, waiting on my Grandma to finish up so I could drive us both home. A little after 10 P.M., a dipshit Crip smashed through the shotgun rider window with the butt of his mini-Draco AK. The windows were all blacked out, so he had no idea that I was in there, and I had already popped open Gram-gram’s glove compartment to fool around, you know, spin tricks with her dinky old nickel-plate pearl-grip 36-3 Ladysmith. I was so fuckin’ stupid, that I didn’t bother unloading it the whole time. So the window smashed, I screamed, he raised up the AK, and I put three .38 Specials in his chest before he could take a shot.” “Parking lot cameras caught the whole break-in, no charges were pressed on me thanks to castle law. The second time was about three years ago. I was walking home from work, and this Son of Sam wannabe jumps out of an alley and spooks me with a goddamn .44 AMP Auto Mag. I would’ve been his first victim, but I pulled the same trick I did just now. After what happened at the bingo hall, I was never gonna catch myself lackin’ again. One of my older cousins went halfsies with my Dad to buy me this Sig as a 18th birthday present, and I even took it to high school and college, no one ever found out until I admitted it at the 10-year reunion last May. …..I still tense up a little when someone talks about searching through bags.” “So what’s your story, handsome? Volunteered to fight commies in The Philippines?” (SecHS Non) “You’re ice-cold.” (Evanie) “Russkies in Ukraine?” (SecHS Non) “Warmer….” (Evanie) “Al-Shabbab in South Sudan?” (SecHS Non) “Colder!” (Evanie) “Syria?” (SecHS Non) “You’re white-hot, baby! But I’ll spoil it. I rolled into northern Iraq back in late 2020, right at the last minute. Hush-hush reasons, if I told you, I’d have to kill you.” (Evanie) “Shit.” (Brenton) “What!?” (SecHS Non) “HA! No, I’m just joshin’ around. I was a office go-fer for FEMA back then, they sent me out there as part of a fact-finding mission to study Cold War-era fallout shelters, along with command & control bunkers that Saddam built back in the day. We got betrayed by one of our local guides right after the mission ended, most of my teammates and our whole Vinnell Corp. security detail got wiped out by a cell of Kurdish White Flags. I had to cut a deal with the damn Syrian Army to pull my ass out of that frying pan, in return for handing them a complete copy of all my research.” “But the joke was all on them. The locations of these shelters and military facilities were the top priority they wanted from my files, and it didn’t have much that they didn’t already know from ex-Republican Guard asylum-seekers, according to a French intelligence informant I’m pals with. I had to send two of my dead co-workers’ reputations up the river though. Some CIA double-agent in Moscow wanted to know why I was quoted as a credible source on some underground building schematics that Assad’s dudes passed on to Mad Vlad & the Kremlin Boys. So I lied on record in a Congressional subcommittee hearing, told them that I had attempted to report Danahue and Wilson for being the possible leakers. I bluffed that our Wi-Fi was jammed, and we couldn’t un-jam it before everything went south.” (Evanie) “I guess it sure beats getting ‘accidentally’ killed by ‘falling’ onto the D.C. Metro’s third rail, though. NPD’s Vice Squad went and done that here to four whistleblowers, while I was paid to keep my mouth shut and help deepfake the security tapes. They’ve probably done it at other stations too. So who’s the lucky woman that beat me to you?” (SecHS Non) “Well, her name is Frejya Volriksdottir. She’s a grade four Chief Warrant Officer in the Air Force, Strategic Command’s top liaison to Boston Dynamics, and she also works real close with General Atomics. Her professional specialty and personal obsession is with drones. Ugh, you let her take a MQ-9 Reaper for a spin ONE TIME, let her blow the shit out of a MS-13 drug farm in Nowheresville, Arizona, and blam! She thinks it’s the trump card she’s been looking for to fuck up Lilith herself! I mean, I get it! From her point of view, it’s an absolute mind-melting paradigm shift to realize that there exists an expendable easy-to-operate device that doesn’t need Holy Mana or Spirit Energy to provide power, it can let you scry an enemy from literally thousands of miles away, AND it simultaneously smites them from above like the wrath of an angry goddess, with NO consequences!” (Brenton) “Wait, wait, wait! Volrik’s daughter? A legion of remotely-controlled siege golems? Direct battle with Lilith? That’s what you just said, summed up, right?” (SecHS Non) “......Yeeeeessssss.” (Brenton) “Oh shit! I know who you are! You’re the Valkyrie's betrothed! Listen, I’m a big fan of your work with the interdiction of Orderites, and if you could--” (Mister Alvis’s sentence is rather rudely interrupted by a certain Ford Maverick, which performs a drive-by on the group of four, wildly firing two binary-trigger KP-9 AK pistols each wrapped around an arm via SB Tactical folding braces. Kasrala flings her railroad pick at the truck, but misses, then picks up Brenton with both of her arms and runs into the parking lot across the street, as Non and Evanie shoot back to no avail. The truck continues northbound on 6th Avenue North, as Non turns to face the other three.) (SecHS Non) “GET OUTTA HERE! They’ll circle back ‘round that complex to broadside us again, I’m gonna draw their fire and get ‘em off your tails! Just go!” (Evanie) “Then we’re out! Godspeed, Snowman!” (SecHS Non) “See you folks soon!” (Evanie rushes to help hold up Brenton, the three ducking, bobbing, and weaving through the labyrinth of automobiles to avoid any notice. True to Non’s prediction, the truck returns about two minutes later. He stays on the western edge of the lot, keeping his pursuers as far away from his three new friends as possible.) (He takes a few peeks, then checks his suit and pockets to find that he has one full magazine loaded into his Colt Double Eagle, and only two left in his suit’s right inner pocket. He ducks under a Hummer H3, waiting for the Maverick to roll by. It does, and he shoots out both left-side tires. The driver’s window unrolls in response.) (Driver) “Heeeayah, nice shootin’, Tex! Little birdies done told us that you be some kinda snooty degree-holdin’ DeeeeCeeee G-Man, here on a mission to spoil everyone’s fun! Now, we can’t just sit here and let that happen!” (Passenger) “We gon’ string you up reaaaaal good for the nine AM newscrews to find, nigga! Ain’t nobody tellin’ me when or where I can’t stick my peener up some choice strange, yeeeeeehaw! Go ahead, bust all our tires! There’s still only one ‘a you, and two of us!” (Non crawls out from under the Hummer, making his way two lot-rows south to take cover behind a Dodge Durango with blacked-out windows. Hearing the captive Kikimoras bang the floor with their feet-talons, he realizes that they’re trying to warn him as to how close the truck is. He moves another row down, and leaps into the trunk of an doorless Jeep Wrangler 4XE. Covering himself with a rain tarp, he hides and waits for the bird-dog metal-tapping to come as close as possible before making his move. But the tapping abruptly stops as he hears the truck stop after making a left turn into the lot aisle, before the sound of five shotgun blasts break the silence. A scant few seconds pass before the blast echoes are followed by the sound of the Maverick’s engine redlining, before a large crash is heard, setting off an Infiniti Q60’s burglar alarm.) (The Alaskaman gets out from under the tarp, upon which he notices an extremely scruffy middle-aged man armed with a extended-magtube Benelli Montefeltro walk up to the front of the Maverick, blasting the driver and passenger each once more. As he begins reloading more 12-gauge slugs, Non jumps off of the Jeep to greet him, pistol holstered and his hands in the air.) (SecHS Non) “Hey man, thanks for the save!” (Shotgunner) “Ah, don’t mention it! I’ve been trailing these assholes for over an hour, I should be thanking YOU for giving a good diversion and getting ‘em to sit still! These rat-bastards shot up an ICU for an easy score of drugs, straight-up killed five people! I was just there to get a Gatorade out of the lobby’s vending machine, and them nice doctor folks offered to let me have a room if I took care of these dickheads! Say, you got a knife? I need a hand with these hostages back here.” (SecHS Non) “I’m afraid not, but let’s check the bodies and the glove compartment, there’s bound to be something in there!” (Non is correct, as a plain black Benchmade Autocrat spring-knife gets taken out of said glove compartment. As the good Samaritan provides cover, Non leaps into the Ford’s truck bed to begin cutting the ropes that bind the Kikimora’s arms and legs, then unbuckles the red BDSM ball gags in their mouths.) (Kikimora 1) “Ay, thank you so much, sirs! Those maricons forced us into here, said they were gonna make us squeal like cochinos!” (SecHS Non) “Huh, you senoritas are a long way from home.” (Kikimora 2) “Chinga de madre, we’re janitors at the Knight’s Inn right off of Cowan Street, just across the river!” (SecHS Non) “Yeah, yeah, keep yapping, doggy. You guys got a place to go?” (Kikimora) “We were planning to just go back to the motel, and wait in one of the deluxe suites ‘til this all blows over.” (SecHS Non) “I’d recommend leaving the whole city in case the Air Force starts carpet bombing the north side of the city again, but you do you.” (Kikimora 2) “Nah, we’ll manage. As for the man who risked his life to save us, we’d very much like to invite you to come with us, maybe…… have a nightcap in the jacuzzi? See where the night takes us?” (The older-looking of the bird-dogs walks up to their savior, sliding her fingers across his chest while leaning into his free arm. The other one drags the two dead druggies out of the cabin, arming herself with one of the nine-millimeter AK’s and sifting through its previous user’s vest pockets for more magazines. She takes four, then gets into the driver’s seat, shifting gears into reverse, backing out from the Infiniti.) (Kikimora 1) “Forget the hospital, there’s better prizes if you come with us…..” (Kikimora 2) “Hurry up and--” (An unknown voice overpowers hers.) (Voice) “BY THE ORDER OF THE CHIEF GOD, YOU’LL PAY FOR ABETTING HERETICS!” (Another burst of rifle fire comes from the west, as three men wearing medieval barbute helmets and chainmail armor emerge, two wielding HK416 carbines, and another with a HK169 grenade launcher. The shotgun-wielder and the Kikimora with him drop to the ground, already dead, as the other bird-dog screams, firing back with the KUSA KP-9. She kills the one with the grenade launcher with a burst of fire across his upper body and head, who’s rigor mortis fires at the ground, blasting himself to pieces. The other two knights expend their magazines into the already-damaged Maverick, striking the remaining Kikimora twice in her left leg before she can slam the gas pedal with her right talons. She fumbles the gear selector into reverse, plowing directly into one of the knights and continuing out of the parking lot. Said obvious Orderite attempts to cling on for dear life to the tailgate, until said life is cut short from being crushed against the side of the van that Brenton and his lovers had been previously hiding in.) (The other knight stands in shock at the humiliating death of his comrade, fumbling a reload while the motel maid shifts from reverse into 7th speed, and zips through the walking trail onto R.J.L. Way North. He remembered too late that switching to your pistol is always faster than reloading, unable to unholster his H&K VP40 fast enough before Secretary Non swooces up and shoots him in the back of the head, punching through the helmet and splattering the Snowman’s suit with blood and brain-chunks, who in turn starts jogging southeast-wards across the parking lot.) (SecHS Non) “OH, THAT’S NAAAAASTY! AWWW, THIS SHIT’S NEVER GONNA COME OFF!” “......Hmph, oh well. My two-year warranty’s still valid. Or maybe it’s a sign that I should slip into something more tactical.” (He suddenly stops and takes his coat off, looking straight into the GoPro camera taped to it.) “Pfft, like THAT’s ever gonna happen!” (He slips back into the suit jacket, turning towards the south, but then he stops as a thought occurs to him. He walks over to the dead shotgunner that had accidentally sacrificed himself, sifting through his wallet to give the GoPro a good view of his driver’s license.) (SecHS Non) “Mac Jackson. Sorry for getting you and the ladies involved in my drama, but your sacrifice won’t be forgotten by me OR the lady you cut free. I don’t know how you’ve lived until today, but at least you fought and died a better and braver man than most.” (He does the same for the Kikimora.) “Yasmin Alonso. Your death won’t be in vain. I’ll make those ‘chingas’ pay if it’s the last thing I do. God willing, you’re their last victim.” (Exiting the lot, he makes it to the middle of the roundabout connecting Harrison Street with 6th Avenue North. Stopping to take a minute to breathe, a pair of headlights blast him from a pink Mercedes-AMG C43 convertible. Shielding his eyes from the bright LED floodlights, he waves at the car to stop, as the driver complies. His eyes still reeling, he manages to make out a three pairs of yellow Caterpillar-brand hardhats, belonging to a Cheshire catgirl in the driver’s seat, a Nekomata riding shotgun, and Werecat in the back that’s receiving cunniligus from an Incubus.) (Cheshire) “Whazzup, faggot!” (SecHS Non) “‘Sup yourself. Is there some kind of problem?” (Cheshire) “Yeah, nothing serious. You’re dressed pretty fancy for walking around an active warzone. So I’d bet you’re some kind of guy that knows things, ain’tcha?” (SecHS Non) “I can neither confirm nor deny these allegations.” (Cheshire) “Whaaaatever you say, fancy-pants. So here’s our dilemma. Our dear mutual husband here wants a wife collection, one of each kind of cute kitty-cat. Now we’ve read up on the Wandering Scholar's Encyclopedia, and we’re gonna take the L on a Cait Sith. Hubby’s got a hankering for meowers, but a full-on furry is just too far. Seen any Ocelomehs, Jinkos, or Sphinxes? We’re halfway there.” (Werecat) “WhOoOoOoOoOa, OH! Livin’ on a prayer!” (SecHS Non) “....That depends. How’d you find your man?” (Cheshire) “We didn’t! He found me first! You know about that portal right west of here at the state’s university, the one right in the middle of the uh….what’s the sport’s name….uhh--” (Nekomata) “--Tennis. Right in the middle of the tennis court.” (Cheshire) “Yeah, the giant ping-pong game. So yesterday, a bit after high noon, I volunteered to go first through it, and you know what’s the first thing I see on this stinkin’ planet? Our guy right here, his pants down, and he’s already jacking off and hoping a good kitty comes through. Eros definitely heard his prayer, and so there I was. So he tackled ME, and went right to humping my leg, and I wasn’t gonna let this jackpot slip out of my fingers. We banged, I upgraded him, and he told me about his dream of having one of every kind of catgirl, with his kittens in their bellies. I dig it, it’s a sweet dream, and what’s a man’s duty if not to spread the fruit of his nuts far and wide? We found our Neko here a few minutes later at the same school, and our delightful Werecat joined us about two hours ago after he put a first-cum-first-serve invitation on this website called Krag’s List.” (Nekomata) “It’s called Craigslist.” (Cheshire) “Shut up, nerd!” (SecHS Non) “Alright, you’re all off the hook. I don’t know about any Ocelomehs, but I know there’s a bunch of Sphinx ladies in the south side of this city. You all had better search on foot though! There’s been a bunch of very, very lethal bombs set up all over the roads down there, and they’ll explode if something heavy gets too close, like your car here! And stay on your toes, they might shoot at you since your man might not be dark-skinned enough for the folks over there!” (Cheshire) “What the fuck kind of a deal-breaker is that? Whatever, thanks for the tip-off anyways! So what’s the deal with all the assholes in the park here?” (SecHS Non) “I think the Demonic Energy in the water supply turned them rabid! Don’t worry about it, I’m gonna call a bunch of friends in a bit to shut this operation down!” (Cheshire) “Ah, Eros bless you for doing something about this. We’ll grab you on the slip-side. Good luck, faggot!” (Nekomata) “It’s ‘catch you on the flip-side’. Dumbass.” (Cheshire) “I’m gonna make our hubby rearrange your colon with his schlong when you least expect it, you fuckin’ killjoy!” (Nekomata) “~Nya~, Don’t threaten me with a good time!” (The Nekomata then grabs the AUX cord to plug into her Iphone 15 to play a Squeeze song called Cool For Cats. The group’s Cheshire as well steps on the gas pedal to continue speeding westwards down Harrison Street.) (Non walks through the parking lot acting as inconspicuous as a man in a $5000 suit, $600 shoes, $900 body armor, and an automatic rifle, can be. He walks westwards, crossing 6th Avenue North, heading towards the Tennessee Map Plaza, going around another wall of tall concrete barriers. Once in full sight, he sees a podium and concert-like stage being put together right on top of the plaza, to which the Abominable Snowman saunters up to the woman attaching all the necessary wires to the soundboard.) (SecHS Non) “Homeland Security, you folks better have a good explanation as to why you’re fuckin’ with a monument.” (Sound technician, pulling out an envelope) “Calm down, fed. See this paperwork? We’re with the state Department of Education, and we’re sanctioned by the lieutenant governor. She wants this stage set up and ready by six AM, RIGHT HERE! So just stay in your lane, and let us do our jobs. You don’t see ME throwing a fit about all YOUR department’s social media information aggregation that lets you profile our own citizens for pre-crime, huh!?” (SecHS Non) “Oh God, don’t remind me. ELINT is one of the stupidest, time-wasting, makework memes that every Gen X and boomer law enforcement bureaucrat fell for, hook, line, and sinker. I’m tossing all that shit out the window sometime next week. I can’t believe I’m agreeing with Baltimore’s police chief, but he’s right. Just stick to stakeouts, wiretaps, and traffic cameras.” (Sound technician) “So, you here to get freaky with everyone at the Bicentennial Park? A bit TOO freaky for my tastes, but if you ask me, those aliens deserve every second of it. Too late for those bitches to go home now, huh? Still, I almost feel bad for the fox-people. They all seem pretty harmless if you ask me. And that family of goat kids, man, that was WAAAAYYY over the line. But I suppose all rape is fair in hate and war.” (SecHS Non) “Who the hell are you quoting with that last part?” (Sound technician) “Roman Polanski’s latest tweet. Haven’t been checking the Web lately?” (SecHS Non) “I haven’t been checking much of anything lately, besides military comms. My number two’s secretary is still screening my calls.” (Sound technician) “Ah, I see.” (SecHS Non) “Well, I’ll leave you to….whatever it is you guys are doing here.” (He walks southwards, crossing James Robertson Parkway to find that the open field in Victory Park has been converted into multiple makeshift helicopter landing pads. And by makeshift, I mean the big H landing spots and the surrounding circles were spray-painted white, directly on the grass. The area was empty of vehicles, save for fuel tankers. Of which only one was occupied, the succubus driver and an incubus fueler that were indisposed at the moment, on account of the need to breed.) (Passing into the inner layer of the park, a familiar sight of fortifications encircling the state capitol building came fully into Non’s view. This time, rather than tediously go through a security scan again, a human-adult-sized pixie and a Devil, both wearing red-and-black suits, stood at a security gate. Said Devil is holding a chauffeur-esque sign asking for the Secretary of Homeland Security, to which said man walks up and responds.) (SecHS Non) “Attorney General Judith Giudizio, it’s nice to see you again. Same goes for you, lieutenant governor Justine……. with the long last name that I CANNOT recall at the moment.” (Pixie) “It’s Volareruptor, dude. It’s just Latin for flybreaker! Judy, why is it so hard for everyone to remember it?” (Giudizio) “Big Latin word hard for grug and grugette brain.” (SecHS Non) “Oh, ha ha ha. So what’s up? Luc’s already expecting me, I take it. And what happened to your skin, Giudizio? I thought you Devils had blueberry skin like Demons.” (Giudizio) “Same reason why Justine isn’t the size of a Barbie doll. Long story, we’ll explain everything soon. Come on in, we got late midnight snacks for everyone, still warm out the oven!” (They walk to the front door, where a small table and two reclining chairs lay. On the table was a clear glass of brown liquid, of which Justine picks up.) (Volareruptor) “Now just take a seat, we need to wait for Patterson Junior to disable all the booby traps he put on the door. Anyways, want some choccy milk?” (SecHS Non) “........This isn’t some fetish thing, right? Like, this isn’t milk from a black Holstaur or Minotaur or something?” (Justine) “Whoa, they can make chocolate milk straight from the titty tap?” (SecHS Non) “Rumor has it. There’s way more wackier things that Mamono can do, after all.” (Giudizio) “He has a serious point there. Nahhhh, it’s plain jane 1% lowfat Borden that I took out of the fridge about 20 minutes ago.” (SecHS Non) “Ah, okay then. Bottoms up!” (He drinks the milk, unaware that it’s been laced. Not with prisoner fruit, nor any other edible vector of Demonic Energy, but rather 40 grams worth of ground-up Valium. It takes Non twelve seconds before he closes his eyes and falls asleep.) (Volareruptor) “Dude, I am gonna feel so bad when we have to wake him up.” (Giudizio) “Let’s sit him next to the Princess, it’ll be funnier that way, trust me.” (Volareruptor) “You got it, homie. Hey, I got an even better idea!” (Giudizio) “Let’s put both of their hands in a bowl of warm water! I’ll start a bet pool for which one of them pisses their pants!” (Volareruptor) “Oooh, I’ll start it off! Sixty-nine bucks says the both of ‘em tinkle all over their seats!” (Giudizio) “Ahahaha, now that’s a good one! Alas, poor Non. Bet you thought you’d be a bigshot hero for taking Jimmy D’s mission that brought’cha out here, huh? You shoulda gone to Kentucky, and now you’se gotta pay the price.” (Volareruptor) “Hey, wait. Non’s team ditched him at the Channel 5 news station, but the Princess had her own little simp squad riding her coattails. Her dad’s way out in the east side of town, and her entourage ain’t with him. So where ARE they?” 200 23rd Avenue North Nashville, Tennessee January 3rd, 20-- 2:31 A.M., Eastern Standard Time Zone (Rehema) “…..ahahahaha, oh gods, my mother is going to LOVE you, my sweet Duncan! Yes, yes, quite the bloody wine aficionado, she most indubitably is.” (Duncan) “Glad to hear it, my floofy Fido. Ah, maaan. My sister was right about ONE thing.” (Rehema) “And just what’s that, dear husband? How there’s no better feeling than being wrapped in a wolf-woman’s fluff, her tail swishing across your chest like the greatest feather duster you ever had?” (Duncan) “True all that, baby. But no. She was right about how I just needed to get laid. Said it was the quickest way to cool off, you know, drop the attitude and shit.” (Rehema) “And was I the best lay you ever had, or what?” (Duncan) “Mon ami, you want the details, you’re gonna cringe.” (Rehema) “Hit me, darling.” (Duncan) “Well for one, your pussy death-gripped my cock to the point that I thought to myself that you had a clamp in there--” (Rehema) “Duncan, love, you’ve got QUITE a girth. From my point of view, I was filled and stretched to the breaking point, mmmmmhmmmm. Perfect evolutionary design, I must say. No way to have a drip until after you pull out, and after six loads in there, there’s no chance I’m not having your puppies.” (Duncan) “Hmph. Puppies. If you asked me last week how I felt about having kids, I’d tell you that I’m not interested until I have a solid job and a two-story house. Now? Wherever that succu-boss of yours drags us, I’m with you for the long haul, mon cher. And I’m making sure our jackal-kids don’t wind up with narcissist parents who can’t handle taking even one single L in their personal lives. Not like me. And they aren’t getting useless sisters either.” (Rehema) “Ohhh, I love you, love you, love you! I’m so happy I found you!” (Duncan) “Baby, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me since…..” “Since……..” “Since……..” “Since the day I moved out into my college dorm, and that was about five years ago.” (Rehema, hugging her husband tighter) “That’s it, you’re getting double the snuggles. You’re a very, very good boy, and you deserve better than those wankers. I’m sorry I gave you quite the scare outside, but I was quite pent-up after watching all my new friends claim their own husbands for the last day-and-a-half straight.” (Duncan) “Relatable. So now what? We just sit tight for the boss, get into the hot tub, maybe take a little nap and go at it another six times? The sky is now the limit, Rehema.” (The sauna door bursts open.) (Stacey) “AAAANNNNDDDDDD, with that being said, we’re moving out! Now!” (Rehema) “Fuck off! I need another creampie! Just one more!” (Terri) “No, bad doggy! Bad! We helped you get your man, and now you’re gonna help us find ours! Until Azneth, Maggie, or Lenny call for help!” (Duncan) “Do I get a say in this?” (Rehema) “Of course, dear.” (Terri & Stacey in unison) “NO!” (Terri) “Stacey, take the literal lazy bitch outside by her tail. I’m dragging out The Honorable loverboy here.” (Duncan) “Hey, hey, hey, whoa, okay, we’re moving, we’re moving! At least let us get our clothes back on! It’s fuckin’ cold outside!” (Terri) “Fine, you have five minutes!” (The Night Gaunt and Werebat exit the room.) (Rehema) “Quickie blowjob with headpats?” (Duncan) “Quickie blowjob with headpats.” (Outside, the other two women begin to talk.) (Stacey) “We’ve GOT to come back here when this whole invasion’s over.” (Terri) “I completely agree, that hot tub felt so good on my wing membrane.” (The Werebat turns on her radio.) (Terri) “Yo, Wade spouses! I need an update on The Ultimate Hero, praise be to he.” (Leonard) “He’s on his way straight south, to a train station that the US Army and Marines are setting up as a staging ground. Well, not for long now. Where the hell ARE you guys?” (Stacey) “We’re at some day spa on….. 23rd Avenue North. Azneth split up from us, she’s probably already at that governor’s lair by now.” (Margaret) “She sure is. That transponder beacon is working perfectly, it’s got her position somewhere in that building’s main atrium. Her plan is working flawlessly, three of our fliers identified Non as having…..” “Wait, that’s…..” “OH, NO!” (Terri) “What!?” (Margaret) “The full report says these two white-hair guys, vaguely in their 20s, tranquilized and dragged her inside.” (Leonard) “And about ten minutes later, an ashy-skinned Devil and a really big Pixie roofied Non with some trick drink, and dragged him inside too. Stay frosty, DO NOT mount a rescue! I’m in contact with Druella’s support team in New York, they said they already have an insider planted in Luc Van Carver’s inner circle. She’ll keep ‘em alive, so remain calm and carry on. Wades, out.” (Terri) “Oh, thank Eros, that’s all under control.” (Stacey) “It’s out of our hands now, buddy. Good! That gives us a window to fully focus on what REALLY matters.” (Terri) “So what’s your type anyways?” (Stacey) “I always wanted to be some lucky guy’s hero. C’mon, you must’ve jilled at least once, to all those stories about beautiful, brilliant, powerful women who whisk poor, sad, beaten-down guys in shitty situations away, and treat them like a king?” (Terri) “Hmmmm, not quite my thing, but I respect the style.” (Stacey) “Why exactly DO you like guys that ought to be Alp’d, not that I’m into queers.” (Terri) “It’s not THAT kind of femboy I’m hunting for. I want a soft, needy crybaby that I can pamper and mother as much as I want, and give him babies that’ll make sure he gets all the love in the world!” (Stacey) “.....You have a bad relationship with your father, don’t you, Terri? There’s no shame in admitting it. The first step towards fixing a personal problem, is to admit that you have a problem.” (Terri) “....--sniff--” “It’s not ME that my dad wouldn’t cut any slack on. On the contrary, I was his little squeaky princess. It’s my poor brothers. My mother already had them before the mayor’s total-monsterization act went into effect, she had me right after that. Dad always belittled and pushed them around, trying to make them tough men, always crossing the line to do it, and it’s no surprise a group of Bogeys whisked them away before any of them turned fifteen. Dad took a few years, but he realized what he did was wrong, even though he was far too late. My brothers forgave my dad just a few months back, but it took a LOT of years for them to mend things, no matter how much me, my mom, and my younger sisters tried.” “......Stacey, I believe that Lilith will succeed, that we’ll be able to have sons soon. My baby boys are NOT going to have a father who even has a CHANCE of being a cruel jerk. I want my sons to come home from school and be happy that their father is coming out of the kitchen, or the workshop, or our bedroom to hug and play with them, an--and--” (Stacey) “Alright, I get it! I’m sorry for bringing up bad memories…..” (Terri) “How were your parents?” (Stacey) “Mine? Well, my dad works security for the whole southwest Zipangu-to-Court-Alf cruise line. Now, by security, I mean that he really just makes sure that drunks aren’t getting TOO messy. Also the whole anti-robbery thing. Which is really just piracy when you do it on a boat. But the cruise company that Dad works for, won’t ever use that phrase, the public relations team forbids it. Because piracy sounds a helluva lot scarier than ‘thievery,’ and it could scare tourists away.” “Now about thirteen years into the job, he meets a certain Night Gaunt who had just found a hidden treasure from an ancient shallow-sunken caravel. She sold all the gold, splurged on a cruise, called Mr. Hot Stuff over to her table at a complimentary lunch, she answered an invitation to Dad’s bunk on his off-duty leisure time, one bottle of rum led to another, and here I am. Mom was always an independent go-getter, so we stayed away from dealing with our Pandemonium brethren, which saved my family’s asses during the revolution not long ago.” (Terri) “Wow. That’s way cooler than MY parents. My Mom is a very nice, kind, and patient woman, but I’ll be honest, she was a town bicycle who settled down with the first guy that couldn’t pull out fast enough. That guy being my father, a blacksmith who specializes in horseshoes. They moved to Goatville right before my oldest brother was born, and the city’s on a major trade route, so we make a pretty tidy profit every year, selling our wares to people with hooves. And to be fair to Dad, at least no one forced him to stay with Mother. He chose to take responsibility all on his own.” (Stacey) “It’s nothing weird, to have mixed feelings about your family. Now, that Desmoine guy? Yeeeaaah, if I went to university for six years straight and came out a disowned loser, I’d be a few screws loose and a bit willing to try out parenticide, too.” (Terri) “If I were him, I’d just change my name, drop them out of my life, and move on.” (The spa’s front door opens again, and out comes the Anubis, licking her lips as if she had just been drinking something, and her new spouse, both fully clothed save for a certain oversized puffer jacket.) (Duncan, trying hard to cling onto Rehema’s tail) “Dammit, I hate being underdressed in winter!” (Rehema) “Duncan, dearie, I said I was sorry!” (Duncan) “And I forgive you, fluffy honey. But poppa needs a new jacket, and it’s going to be mighty awkward walking around town glued to your tail, as soft and warm as it is. Come on, the Buffalo Exchange is right across the parking lot, I know people who’ve found some pretty high-quality items there.” (The four walk across the street, leading to the back door. Said door has a padlock on the doorknob.) (Duncan) “Everyone stand back, I’m gonna shoot the lock off.” (Stacey) “Save your bullets, I’ve got this.” (She moves her plasmic mucus into the lock, picking it apart from within, unlocking it.) (Terri) “Smooth move, Goopy. But you know, I thought your mucus was supposed to be your transformed husband?” (Stacey) “Technically yes, that’s how we operate, but I’ve got a weaker facsimile substitute. It doesn’t use up much of my Spirit Energy, but the catch is that it only functions within a range of five feet from my body. And it’s not as capable of holding or moving things as a Night Gaunt’s husband should be able to. Our beloveds are linked to us in mind and soul, but fully capable to think and act by themselves. This facsimile is controlled just by my own mind.” “Back to the breaching though, it’s a trick I learned from my father. He’s got some good training in lockpicking, just in case someone did a switch-ruse on a treasure chest and his employers needed it open to properly take inventory, you know, to check for fakes.” (Rehema) “Everyone get behind the wall, there’s a tank coming!” (They all comply, waiting two minutes for an M1A2D Abrams to roll on by, as the group is hidden from thermal sensors by a brick wall. After the vehicle turns southbound onto Louise Avenue and rolls into Vanderbilt University, Rehema and Duncan sprint into the thrift store, with the other two following shortly.) (Terri) “Whoa, there’s handbags here too! Might as well get one while I’m here.” (Stacey) “I’ll peruse the sunglasses.” (Duncan) “Jacket section, here I come!” (Rehema) “I’m going with you, husband!” 2214 Elliston Place Nashville, Tennessee January 3rd, 20-- 2:44 A.M., Eastern Standard Time Zone (Stacey) “Mister Desmoine, just what the fuck are you wearing?” (Duncan) “It’s called a woobie jacket! The military used to use this stuff as a second layer that goes under raincoats and other cold-weather outfits. And for the last twenty years, as far as I know, it’s been fashionable to make stereotypically high-class fashion out of the material. I have a smoking jacket just like this, but--” “--I HAD a smoking jacket just like this, until I lost it in the dorm fire yesterday. Well, that one was pure black, this is a shade of brown they call Coyote. Thought it fitting, seeing as how my new wife is basically a North African coyote.” (Rehema) “No, Duncan, jackals are the equivalent of coyotes. Anubis’s….Anubi? Whatever, we’re African wolves, which are more akin to….. well, that’s rather self-explanatory, innit?!” (Duncan) “Pfft, not according to Google Images.” (He shows the three monsters a comparison picture of said African wolves with coyotes.) (Terri) “Very cute wild dogs! I wanna boop ‘em both on the noses!” (Stacey) “They both look like foxes on steroids, dayum!” (Rehema) “You’ve got to be takin’ a foockin’ pisser, love.” (Duncan puts the phone back in his pocket and surprise-hugs Rehema.) (Duncan) “It’s all right, mon cherie! I always thought coyotes were cuter than stupid gay foxes and cringe no-fun gray wolves anyways. Wolf-fanboys are always going on and ooooonnnnn about ‘survival of the fittest’ and ‘alpha males’ and ‘pack mentality’, all that crap. Maybe they should pack some bitches, then they--.” (Terri) “--Hey, hey, shut up! All of you!” “I think I hear someone crying, and it sounds like a guy! Follow me!” (She starts flying closely to the ground, heading north on Louise Avenue, before taking a sharp turn right onto State Street. The other three follow her, her voice crackling over the radio just as they cross the road.) (Terri) “My, my, it’s one of those late Christmas miracles that Cerise Noscrim won’t stop yammering on about. I found my man! He’s in the Artemis Midtown apartment complex, I’m watching from the roof. He’s getting surrounded by a couple of men, looks like a mugging, looks like….” “They’re pulling their pants down! Oh fuck! They’re going to rape him! NO! No faggot shit on MY watch!” (Her radio turns off, as Stacey, Rehema, and Duncan rush into the apartment lobby. Stacey pulls her shotgun on two bystanders, motioning at them to get back in their rooms, while Rehema takes point. The crack of five similar-sounding gunshots ring through the hallway, as the two Mamono and lone incubus turn the corner to see five men masturbating wildly on the concrete patio floor, another with a dropped gun and his hands in the air, and their evident leader. Said leader has a white-haired young man in a headlock and a CZ P-07 against his left ear. Said young man is wearing an all-black fashion ensemble of an embroidered gothic coat, leather boots, matching gloves, a skirt, a bandana, and a choker that has a small tag attached to it, a small black rectangle with a white X on it.) (Terri keeps shifting her aim between the two would-be gay rapists, neither realizing that Terri’s Taurus Model 85 is a five-shot revolver, rather than a six-shooter. As Duncan pulls out his Steyr SPP, he slides across the hallway carpet to brace his arm on a lounge chair, to better his aim. Having seen him out of the corner of her eye, Terri decides to buy time by talking.) (Terri) “Let him go! He’s not some Alp freak, he doesn’t want a cock in his ass! Let him go, or one of you dies! I’ve got one more bullet, and it’s a real one! One of those hollow-point detective bullets!” (Gang leader) “Nah, nah, I thinks it’s gonna be YOU walkin’ away, ‘Kathy Kane’. Me and my homies here are gonna spitroast this cute little number, and there ain’t anyone stoppin’ us. I mean, look at him! I bet he still likes girls, the little bitch. When I’m through with his ass, his gape’s gonna be as wide as the Mississippi, fartin’ our cum out like a cement mixer, OOOOOH YEAH! You hear that, boy? You’re the belle of tonight’s ball, and I ain’t had a virgin booty in seven years! Not since that PCP smuggler I put in touch with his inner woman back at Leavenworth!” (Terri) “MY NAME IS TERRI! IT’S NOT KATHY, IT’S NOT ELIANNA, IT’S NOT HELENA, IT’S NOT CARRIE, AND IT! ISN’T! BARBARAAAAAA!” (In a fit of rage, she pulls the trigger while aimed at the thug with his hands up, to no avail. She pulls the trigger another four times before reason un-clouds her mind.) (Terri) “Oh dear.” (The gang leader tries to aim his pistol at Terri, only for the hostage to bite his wrist, causing him to misfire into the head of his remaining stable subordinate. The hostage also ducks and drops to the floor, expecting Terri to tackle his would-be rapist. Instead, Duncan fires a spray of actual Hornady hollow-points, smashing through window glass before turning most of the ex-convict’s lungs into a fine red mist. In a flash of panic, the hostage grabs one of the incapacitated hoodlum’s firearms, a CZ Bren 2 MS pistol. He gets up and dashes across the courtyard, past the community pool, towards the complex’s parking lot. Still in shock at nearly being executed, Terri hardly even notices her mark rush off, as her friends in turn rush out the door to check on her.) (Rehema) “Duncan, we’ve got her, she’s safe! Make sure the prey doesn’t escape!” (He nods and runs across the courtyard in pursuit, turning a corner and crossing 22nd Avenue North, just as the former hostage/near-rape victim wildly opens fire, using a Honda Civic’s hood as a bench-rest. Duncan dodges several 5.56 bullets and dives behind a Kia Optima. Without any more sound of gunshots or footsteps, Duncan opens his backpack and pulls out a fresh white t-shirt taken from Buffalo Exchange, waving it above the car.) (Duncan) “Hey, buddy, listen and just calm down! You’re okay now, those faggots are all dead or out of the game! Look, we just wanna talk!” (Hostage) “Okay!? NOTHING’S okay! Nowhere’s safe! We’re all doomed, don’t you get it? Just leave me alone!” (He gets up and starts running off again, this time southwards towards the alley in-between the Heritage Medical Center and its accompanying parking lot. To which Duncan takes a gamble and continues to follow, knowing full well that the other guy has a loaded mini-rifle. He crosses the street, passing by an open lot turned into a makeshift campground, and is nearly run over by a speeding Mercedes-Benz EQS. In a fit of rage, Duncan lets off a spray of gunfire at the fleeing vehicle, riddling the back door and panicking about two dozen campers, yet his bullets do not strike the driver.) (Duncan reloads on the move and follows the hostage down that alley, watching him attempt to open a door at the end of said alley that would lead into the Apollo Midtown apartment complex. He shoots the lock off on the first try, but is still unable to open the door. The rest of his magazine is then fired into the door, unaware that it’s blocked on the other side by a heavy duty titanium cabinet, placed there earlier the previous day by a tenant who had tried and failed to save himself from being claimed by a Phantasm. Now Duncan has him cornered and out of bullets, to which the goth twink hides behind a garbage bin. The Cajun slings his machine pistol, and walks over to the bin.) (Hearing his footsteps approach, the goth attempts to whack Duncan with the Bren 2, to which the Cajun man stops in mid-air with his bare hands. He throws the gun away and pins the goth to a wall.) (Goth) “Stop! Please, I’m not one of those Alps! I’m just a normal guy!” (Duncan) “And I believe you! Look, why did you run? She just wanted to talk to you!” (Goth) “Bullshit! I know how this works by now! She wasn’t trying to rescue me, she was just getting rid of the competition! I bet they got YOU the same way, don’t think I can’t see your mutant eyes!” (Duncan) “Ding-ding-ding! You got it! And it’s the best thing that’s happened to me in the last five years!” (Goth) “Please man, I don’t wanna get raped by a guy OR a girl, I just wanna go home! Please, please, please, just lemme go home! I’m really sorry I shot at you, and--and, look, I’ll give that bat a chance, okay? I’ll give her a chance if she just lets me go home first!” (Duncan lets him go, and the goth drops onto the ground, his back still against a wall. He pulls out his wallet, taking his driver’s license out and handing it to Desmoine.) (Goth) “See! Here’s my name, my address, my driver’s license, the works!” (Duncan) “Vincent P. Macorgary, age 20, University of Tennessee student--” (Vincent) “--I dropped out last semester, actually, but my apartment lease doesn’t run out until Saint Patrick’s Day. No reason to go back to Lansing until then.” (Duncan) “You’re from Michigan!? No wonder you ain’t freezing your balls off in 40 degrees, dressed like that.” (Vincent) “And just where’re YOU from?” (Duncan) “Baton Rouge.” (Vincent) “Oh…… So THAT explains the overkill Arctic getup.” (Duncan) “And just what the hell did you think I was?” (Vincent) “Some kind of corpo assassin? I dunno.” (Duncan) “....Whatever. Alright, here’s how it is. That bat-lady, she likes you, and she wants you. Hate to confirm your fear, but you're right that we didn’t save you, technically. We’re under new management. Now, she’s gonna get her hand….wing….membrane….things on you, one way or another--” (Vincent) “--Yeah, I’m….” “I’m pretty much up to speed on that. Well, thank goodness she’s hot. I would’ve put that gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger right there if it was one of those fugly insect monstergirls.” (Duncan) “Even if she was a mothwoman?” (Vincent) “No, no, you are NOT gonna talk me into a threesome!” (Duncan) “Have it your way. Take my hand, lemme help you up.” (Vincent acquiesces.) (Duncan) “So, how’d those prison homos get you?” (Vincent) “I was at the Walgreens across from my pad, grabbing whatever food I could. There was some dead Goblin in the frozen drinks section, god that gore was EVERYWHERE. I had to run to the restroom to take a fat stress-shit. So after that, I walked out, and there was some cowboy making a mess in the tampon aisle with vomit, he ran into me and knocked all my shit on the floor. I gave up on holding them, so I put the clean stuff in a cart, then I went out the door……and there they were.” “They offered to sell me a gun, they looked like renegade military types, and it didn’t occur to me that they could be ghetto crooks wearing fake uniforms. So I declined, went to my apartment, dropped off the food. I went back out through the courtyard, and there they were AGAIN! They grabbed me, that old freak started humping my ass with his boner, and then that bat popped in, and then YOU popped in.” (Duncan) “You’ve been laying low in your bachelor pad this whole time?” (Vincent) “Yeah! Why haven’t you?” (Duncan) “.....Some kind of brownish-purple dragon happened.” (Vincent) “Awwww shit. Sorry to hear that, dude. So you went to find a new place, and that wolf pounced you?” (Duncan) “To make a long story short? Yes! Look, they’re not bad people, though their boss is kind of a bitch. Stacey’s a bit rude too, not gonna lie.” (Stacey) “Well MAAAAYYYYYBE, me and the boss wouldn't be so mean if we weren’t surrounded by whiners and morons!” (Duncan) “AAAAH! What the fuck, I had this under control!” (Rehema) “You were taking a while and I got worried. Sorry, love.” (Duncan) “It’s alright, mon cheri. He’s coming quietly, okay? We’re gonna let him go to his apartment. And then, uh….” “Uhhhhmmmmmmm, he’ll set the mood?” (Vincent groans loudly.) (Vincent) “Fifth floor, room two. You can’t miss it if you take the left elevator in the main lobby. Don’t come in until I let you in. This is between me and the flying mini-Capybara.” (They walk out of the alley to find Terri leaning against a wall. She nervously walks up to Vincent, her 6’1 body towering over his 5’5 self. The awkwardness is compounded by Terri standing in front of a streetlight, casting a large shadow over Vincent and the road.) (Terri) “I…uh…. I heard everything! So, ummm, g-go on ahead, I’ll fly up to your balcony. You DO have a balcony?” (Vincent) “Yup.” (Terri) “GREAT! G-great, that’s…. really great.” (Stacey) “Stop being cringe, Terri. He was SO CLOSE to being more scared of you, than you’re scared of finally getting laid.” (Terri) “Shut it! You don’t have a leg to stand on, i-in judging me on this! I’m so close to my wildest fantasy becoming a reality, I will NOT let you ruin this for me!” (Rehema) “Yeah! Stop being a rude slag, Stacey. I didn’t hear YOU complain when Duncan and I were exploring our bodies!” (Stacey) “You’re not the one lusting for dangerously-borderline Alps, doggy.” (Duncan) “How did it come to this? How did the mighty United fuckin’ States of America fall to assholes and whackjob losers like you people? Were we REALLY that fragile, like a glass plate that’s one stiff breeze away from a forty-story fall?” (Rehema) “Magic hax. That’s what's happened.” (Duncan) “Damn it, that’s right!” “.....Aaaaaaaand, he’s gone. Well, well, well, looks like Kathy Kane’s about to go get her Inigo Montoya and--” (Rehema) “--Renee Montoya. The poofta Question’s name was Renee.” (Duncan) “Right, right. Still can’t believe they shoehorned her into being a homo. I was really rooting for Harvey ‘Gotham’s Number One Thiccboi’ Bullock to tap that spicy Latin ass.” (Rehema) “Eh, it was 2005. The queers finally get to marry in the States, and thus….. hetero shippings across every fandom you can think of? They all went to shit. A whole bloody dam burst on that one, swear on me mum. Or should I say that the dike burst, aheheheheheh.” (Mr. Desmoine’s deadpan face morphs into a smirk, then he raises his hand to start patting the former Ms. Hampton’s head right between her triangular canid ears.) (Duncan) “Good girl! Very, very, good girl!” “Could be worse though. Remember when Superman got his cheeks clapped by a random edgelord OC African warlord back in 2022? Now THAT made Blood Diamond and Beasts of No Nation a helluva lot funnier in hindsight.” “And from someone who just got raped not even an hour ago, I gotta say that the only time in comic books where that crap was ever sad, or actually creepy, was all that shit that happened to Karen Page in ‘80s Daredevil. Kinda mad, but also kinda glad, that Netflix pussied out of pulling that shit-parade on her in their show. Then again, Fisk got nerfed pretty hard when Disney took full reign. Now THAT…. was a complete travesty.” (Rehema) “You forgot Old Man Logan, the part about She-Hulk’s fate as a broodmare to her own cousin. I can’t believe I got a little…..scare-oused when I first read that.” “.....Oh don’t give ME that look! Everyone’s an utter degenerate in their teen years! Don’t lie to me and say that you never fantasized about becoming a tentacle monster when you were 15, shoving one or two of your eleven cocks up a girl’s bum, aaaaaalllllllll the way into her stomach!” (Duncan starts breathing heavily, then grabs his wife by the shoulders.) (Duncan) “HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT!?” NOBODY WAS EVER SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT! I NEVER TOLD ANYONE, EVER!” (Rehema) “Ahahahaha! Oooohhh, you wondrously good boy, our very SOULS are connected now! We’re married on the literal AND metaphysical level, love! We….. are one in spirit, and we’ll be one in body again soon enough!” (Duncan) “ You mean the good ol’ beast with two backs?” (Rehema) “No, no, no, we’re having doggy style next. A nut up me womb, and one up me arse. You fail to set off me A-spot, and you'll be spendin’ the next week wearing a collar and a leash! So the whole wide world will know that you’re MY good boy.” (Duncan) “Hmph. You’re on.” “Hey! Where’d Stacey go?” (Rehema) “Shitte, she’s probably chasin’ to score a peep show from Terri! Let’s go! I don’t like splittin’ up, not in a time or place like this!” (She dashes on all fours towards the Apollo Midtown complex’s lobby as Duncan desperately sprints to keep up, weighed down by his overstuffed backpack. He bumps into a man rushing out the back stairway, and again into a Wight that’s chasing said man. Duncan arrives just in time to see Stacey using her mucus to pick the lock of Vincent’s front door. Rehema waves and puts a finger to her mouth to shush Duncan.) (Rehema) “Hush, dear. We’ve GOT to know Terri’s bedside behavior.” (Duncan) “But why?” (Stacey) “To make fun of her later, ya dipshit.” (Duncan) “This is why you can’t get laid, asshole. Screw this, I’m heading out to the main balcony, gonna puff my last cigarette…. if I can find a light.” (Rehema, her left ear pressed against the wall) “Quiet, he just opened the blinders, and nooooow, the back door.” (The Anubis and Night Gaunt peek through a crack to see a shirtless Vincent staring at Terri, who is gripping on his balcony fence with her feet-claws, her wings wrapped around her body.) (Vincent) “......You can come inside now.” (Terri) “O-okay. Please don’t…..don’t run away again.” (Vincent) “Bad experience with that?” (Terri) “Yeah…. You’re the ninth person I’ve put my eyes on, you know, an interest in. And the other eight all ran away, and by the time I found them again, they……..well, they got claimed before I had a chance, and…..a-and their wives wouldn’t share, an-and I DON”T WANNA SHARE EITHER! Ahem, c-could I take a seat?” (Vincent) “Sure. Anywhere you want. Like something to drink? I’m afraid that all I’ve got is whole milk, water, and Sprite Zero.” (Terri) “Just some milk, please.” (Vincent) “So, um…..what’s your name?” (Terri) “I’m Terri of Goatville.” (Vincent) “No last name?” (Terri) “No…. Where I come from, it’s not exactly like this world’s “Western civilization''. A lot of people have just recently been uplifted from…..what you’d call ‘feudalistic peasantry.’ Things like last names were reserved for the high-class and people of business. And my parents came from lowly stock. Vincent, I heard was your name. It sounds cute. So what’s your last name?” (Vincent) “Macorgary, just one C. My ancestors emigrated to the land of Michigan, from a place called Scotland, about one-hundred twenty years ago. It’s funny, we used to have two C’s in our last name, but the fellow handling my family’s documents at Ellis Island? He made quite a typo. My great-great grandfather thought it was funny too, and we just kept it that way. I’ve got a middle name as well. Price. Here’s your milk, sorry if it’s a bit too cold.” (The Werebat chugs the glass dry.) (Terri) “--gulp--. Aaaah, it’s alright, I like it cold. So, Vincent Price Macorgary, and Terri Macorgary. I’ll take it. Wait! Vincent Price, I’ve heard that name before…..” (Vincent) “Ha! Of course you have. The original Vincent Price was a bit famous, my parent's favorite actor, and he specialized in monster movies. Some people even joked that he was a vampire in disguise. No wonder I’m shacking up with a bat!” (Terri, glomping him onto the bed) “Oh yes! You really, really ARE my destined one!” (Vincent) “Oh God, I hope so. I haven’t been having so great of a time these last few years.” (Terri) “How so?” (Vincent) “Well….. it all started three years ago, when my parents died in a vehicle accident. Wasn’t their fault at all, a drunkard in his own car hit them. After that, I had to sell our home, which I got ripped off on. Since then, I’ve been hopping from job to job, and……” “.....and I just keep. getting. fired! From bad luck! EVERY! SINGLE! TIME! THERE’S ALLLLWWAAAAYYYSSS A KAREN WHO FUCKS WITH ME AND THEN SHIT HAPPENS AND THEN SOMEONE GETS ON SOCIAL MEDIA AND RATS ME OUT AND I GET FIRED!” “All I’ve got left is this stupid fucking dress-up crap that I record myself roleplaying, for creepy perverts on the Internet! I hate this! I don’t even like hack-and-slash video games! I prefer racing games! I saved up the money from selling my family home so I could afford college, and I couldn’t pass the last semester! All that money, my parent’s sacrifice, all of it was wasted and there’s nothing I can do about it! I was just a few months from rock bottom, from checking into a halfway home with all those psycho drug addicts and schizophrenics! And I’m not wacked out enough to make whore money off of stuff like shoving dildos up my ass while roleplaying as a Chad Thunderqueer’s breeding tool!” (He wraps his arms around Terri, squeezing and crying into her wings.) “But you’re here now! You’re gonna save me, right? You’re gonna take me away from all this and make my life actually amount to something!? Please!?” (Terri) “I don’t know if I can! I came here, to this world, to get away from my OWN problems back home! But I’m going to help you, and you’re going to help me, and together we’ll figure something out! My boss, Princess Azneth, she’s one of the Demon Lord’s daughters! She’ll fix us up, we just need to help her find her own husband and she’ll make us stars, heroes even! Just stick with us and everything will be okay!” (Vincent) “T-thank you! Whatever love goddess is out there, thank you for bringing us together!” (Terri) “Come in closer and give me a kiss, you silly man, you!” (They embrace and begin crying together, as the Werebat shoves the Nier: Automata cosplayer’s face into her I-cup breasts.) (Terri) “Oh my-my, you’re getting pretty hard all for a pretty bat, aren’t you?” (Vincent) “I am and I don’t fucking care anymore! I’ll do it, anything you want! Just keep holding me!” (Terri) “Oh, you pretty thing! I’ll blow your mind, and some other parts of you too!” (She pushes Vincent onto his bed, unbuckles her revolver belt, then starts unbuttoning her corset. The last one comes off, and her bust bursts out from its containers. As a visible bulge under Vincent’s skirt begins to rise and stiffen, her sleeves slide off, then her own skirt is pulled down to her feet. She kicks it off onto the television set, her panties now the only important thing left hiding her body.) (Terri) “Take it off. I want YOU to do it.” (Vincent) “Whatever you say….” (He gets off the bed, and starts pulling her undergarments off with his teeth, making sure to give her legs and child-bearing hips a few licks. He starts pulling on her right stocking as well, but Terri snaps her leg up.) (Terri) “Uh-uh-uh! The socks and heels stay ON!” (Vincent purrs and continues his stripping of her. After lifting her left leg and ridding herself of the panties, Terri spreads eagle across the bed as Vincent begins sniffing and licking her arousal fluid as he drops his skirt and starts stroking his dick in a frenzy. He would’ve busted a nut right then and there, had Terri not thrown her corset at his face.) (Terri) “Oh, don’t waste your babies on the leftovers, come put your juice straight in the tap! Now!” (Vincent) “Oh god, I don’t know if I’m ready to be a dad!” (Terri) “YOU’LL NEVER KNOW UNTIL YOU TRY! NOW STICK IT IN OR I’LL MAKE IT STICK IN!” (Vincent) “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU--” (Terri) “YEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--” (He plunges balls-deep, barely lasting seven seconds and four thrusts before Terri dives in for a kiss. Vincent blows his load right then and there, his ballsack simultaneously drenched by Terri’s cum. After a brief 15-second afterglow, the man grabs his costume-blindfold off his computer desk, wraps it around his forehead like a bandana, and starts thrusting again.) (Meanwhile, Stacey accidentally pushes the door in, pleasure-drunk from fucking both her lower holes with mucus-dildos, failing to grab Vincent or Terri’s attention. Rehema is drooling and playing with her nipples, then mentally slaps herself for taking so long to remember that a lady doesn’t need to jill when she has an eager-and-willing husband right around the corner. The desert-wolf dashes off on all fours to find Duncan, tracking his scent that reeks [in a good way] of Dior Sauvage cologne. She reaches the same floor’s public balcony, and uses her last remaining coherent thought to pull out her phone, access her Spotify account, and select Sandy Marton - Camel By Camel. No longer able to control her atavistic horniness, she snarls at her husband from across the open glass door.) (Duncan) “OH SHI-- Oh, mon ami, it’s just you. Yeeee-up, couldn’t find a light out here, not even a pack of matches. Guess I’ll have that smoke lat---” “....” “What’s with the synthpop, I mean, it sounds smooth, but….” “.......Why are you on all fours? I-is this some kind of mating thing!?” (Rehema) “YES! I CAN’T TAKE IT, I WANT YOU NOW, NOW, NOW! 15 SECONDS OR I START TEARING YOU UP AGAIN!” (Duncan) “Righty-o, cherie!” (He realizes they’re outside, visible to anyone that can look five floors up, not to mention the complex’s other inhabitants. Duncan sighes and drops his pants + boxers anyways. Taking his shirt off, he muses as Rehema places her hand-paws on the railing and presents her hind, her tail’s wagging speed rapidly increasing.) (Duncan) “I’m warning you, I’ve never done butt-stuff, and I’ve never put on a show for voyeurs either.” (He then abruptly sleeves his cock inside Rehema’s cooch.) “BUT THERE’S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING!” (Duncan starts thrusting, his right hand pressing and rubbing Rehema’s fluffy tail all over his chest as he huffs the end of it, his left hand flicking and pulling her nipples. Not even 3 minutes go by before the Anubis reaches an orgasm while her mate again fires pulses of potential puppies into her womb.) (Rehema drops to her knees, leaning against the railing. Duncan’s dick slides out, as he scrambles to sheathe it in her again. He pulls her arms off the railing, wrapping them alongside the rest of her upper body in his arms. Rehema begins to growl, but Duncan does a cut-off by pulling her head in for a french kiss. He then starts rubbing his shaft along Rehema’s labia to drench it in her fluids and his own excess semen. After a minute of hotdogging [pun intended], he slides into his caramel wolf-wife’s backdoor, lifting her thighs into the air for a full-nelson position. The Cajun attempts to pull her arms back enough to let his hands cover her mouth, but his newfound Incubus strength can only go so far.) (Duncan takes the L on this and starts jackhammering Rehema’s rectum, as her now-deflowered anus fights it’s stretching to squeeze every drop of pre-cum and sperm her mate can deliver. Unable to keep her noise down, everyone residing in the top floors of Apollo Midtown [along with the roof and ground floor] is subjected to the Anubis’s 105-decibel moaning, woofing, incoherent attempts at dirty talk, and orgasm-induced howling. After fourteen minutes and six mutual orgasms, Duncan pulls out the last card that he could think of.) (Remembering this one 3D-animated porno about a prince and a vampiress [in which the prince comes up with a pro move to win her over in the literal and metaphorical climax, but it was moot since the sequels immediately ditched him for more-profitable transsexual drivel], the would-be judge drags his left arm down his wolf-wife’s leg to reach around and abruptly fiddle with her clitoris with speedy tempo. Now experiencing an absolute state of IRL ahegao, Rehema howls into the fiery night, her echo competing across the skyline with various explosions, distant gunfire, and other Mamono.) (Duncan collapses onto the carpeted floor not even five minutes later, his balls finally spent. Rehema takes a minute to recompose herself, then crawls up to her husband to teasingly trail her claws across his chest. As their combined body heat begins to subside, the incubus of the duo places his woobie jacket over Rehema’s back as he moves in closer to wrap further in her floof.) (Rehema) “I shall keep telling you all about how glad I am to have found you, sitting on that bench.” (Duncan) “And again, I’m glad you picked me out of all the other sob stories in this county.” (Rehema) “Oh, poppycock. Cease with the self-beating over what’s past. It’s all behind you now, no more consequences for what you’ve done.” (Duncan) “I burned almost all my bridges, mon cheri. I din’t have much going for me in life, and it looks like Vincent doesn’t either. You sure that Azneth didn’t assemble your team because you’re all angels on the inside, here to answer our prayers?” (Rehema) “Flatterer. Your mother CLEARLY taught you well in matters of getting into a proper lady’s drawers.” (Duncan) “HA! My bitch of a mother never showed me a single rope on THAT. And Grandma Susan-Marie, rest her soul, knew her advice was a half-century outdated. So she pulled in my big sister to lend me pointers.” (Rehema) “Were they good ones?” (Duncan) “You’re still here, aren’t you? I’d say that answers your question.” (Rehema) “..........Very funny, love.” (Duncan) “Speaking of siblings…..I hope Lisa’s all right. I heard shit was hitting the fan real bad in St. Louis. Fuckin’ Albanian Euro-trash.” (Rehema) “Euro-trash? I take it, present company excluded?” (Duncan) “Oh, cheri, I meant eastern Europeans. Not Franks, like my ancestors. You’re not even a continental, I’m putting you Brits, the Scots, Welsh, and the Irish, in another category.” (Rehema) “And what of the Cornish and Manx?” (Duncan) “Well, it’s a shame they’ve got no tails, but I’d say they’re pretty cute kitties.” (Rehema) “.......I wasn’t talking about cats, but never mind that. Tell me more about Lisa.” (Duncan) “She’s smarter and hotter than me, hard to believe on the latter, I know. She put her connections in the Kappa Alpha Theta sorority to good use, works for Dow Chemical as the St. Louis assistant branch supervisor. And she’ll inherit the family winery after I commit double parenticide. You know, ever since middle school, she’s considered me an underachiever, but at least she was there for me when it was obvious that I tried my best but still failed. Whether in class exams, skeet shooting competitions, or relationships. She would’ve throw me a bone by giving me an entry-level job at our winery, but my impulsive ass blew that by robbing our old man and so-called lady. I have an outstanding warrant for that, back in Louisiana.” “That’s why I was here in Tennessee in the first place. I made my way up the Mississippi River, laying low in Memphis with friends I made in college, then the plan was to scrounge up enough money to skip the whole country and sneak into New Brunswick, Alberta, or Bordeaux in France, depending on how close the FBI and U.S. Marshals are--” “--excuse me--” “--WERE, on my tail. And now absolutely none of that matters anymore. I was going to play Secretary Non like a fiddle. You know, help him out and squeeze a Presidential pardon out of him, S.D. Bob Plissken-style. Or at least immunity from arrest, so long as I stay out of East Baton Rouge Parish.” (Rehema) “.....And what of your past relationships? You’d better not be holding a candle for anyone anymore. I’m a very jealous canine.” (Duncan) “Nothing of real note. Just a line of pricks using me to get my parent’s money, or to get into Lisa’s social circle, what with her being a queen bee all the way into college. I still can’t believe she didn’t turn into one of those bee-women. But given our last name, being a Demon makes more sense. Last I saw on her Instagram, she bagged some corporate big-time player from Nike Incorporated. I should hit her up when this is all over, I’ve been putting off buying a tracksuit and getting The Honorable Philip Banks’ drip for long enough. Or maybe I should try to impress your old man, get a matching set in that sick old disruptive pattern camouflage.” (Rehema) “Bad idea, love. The Irish Republican Army still uses that. I appreciate the sentiment though, but Father has an obsession with velour. We’ll get sets of that, but not tracksuits. Both of my parents prefer half-zip sweatshirts. And for your information, Nike doesn’t do real military patterns. As far as I know, only Adidas does that.” “......Rehema Desmoine. Hmph. Could be worse. Imagine having the name of Macgillicuddy.” (Duncan) “Hilarious. So what about YOUR family?” (Rehema) “I don’t mean to brag or make light of your issues, but my family and I are doing just fine. My father kissed the right rumps, now he sits on the Board of Directors for The British Museum. Me mum’s a wonderful woman, stays at home to take care of my three little sisters and my two younger brothers. They’re all going to LOVE meeting you, I’m sure of it. I’ve snogged a few lads, but I never went steady with any of them.” (Duncan) “Wait. Whoa…. THE British Museum? London’s West End British Museum?” (Rehema) “Righty-o!” (Duncan) “Holy shit. Are they hiring?” (Rehema) “Ahahahahaha! Oh, I’m sure Father can find or open a spot for you. If nothing else, he could certainly use a legal advisor, what with all these ex-colonies seething about lost artifacts and crying for the United Nations to send them back. Hmph! ‘Finders keepers, losers weepers!’” (Duncan) “Attorneys making house calls for WebEx tele-hearings is one thing, but a live-in lawyer? Like I said before, I guess there really IS a first time for everything.” “Should we go check on the others?” (Rehema) “No, dear. I can hear them, and they’re doing just fine. Besides, I don’t think you’re interested in seeing a man get his prostate professionally pummeled by a Werebat’s ghastly long tongue. Good lord, he’s soaked in his own cum, and she’s licking it all up. H-hot!” (Duncan) “On second thought, let’s not go to Vinnie’s pad. ‘Tis a silly place. So how long should we wait until we get going again?” (Rehema) “Technically, we don’t need to go anywhere until Azneth radios us. But we’ll bask here for 20 minutes, then we’ll radio Wilkinson and the Wades.” (Duncan) “Who?” (Rehema) “Ann Wilkinson’s a butterfly bobby from Arlington, Virginia. She’s helping us out on the same condition as Stacey. On her way to claim some masked mystery man that was tagging along with Non back in Washington D.C. We think he’s proper CIA, but we’re not completely sure.” “And Margaret’s a Holstaur, a cow-woman, from the other world. Right when we started chasing Non, she scored a computer technician from the Smithsonian Air & Space, a rather chipper fellow named Leonard Wade. You two’ll get along swimmingly.” (Duncan) “Nice to know our little strike team has reinforcements.” (Rehema) “Oh, they’re helpful, but we’ve got the best muscle there ever was!” (Duncan) “We’ve got a Mr. Universe competitor?” (Rehema) “No, you dunce! We’ve got Azneth’s father, The Ultimate Hero himself!” (Duncan) “...........wut?” 600 Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard Nashville, Tennessee January 3rd, 20-- 2:42 A.M., Eastern Standard Time Zone (Azneth awakens from her drug-induced slumber, attempting to open her eyes and yawn. Unable to see anything or open her mouth, she comes to her full senses and realizes that she can’t do much of anything besides breathing through her nose. Her uniform disguise is gone, her breasts are getting ventilation due to an unzipped tracksuit, her wings and tail are zip-tied and duct-taped across her waist, and her right hand is also handcuffed to the chair. The first thing she fully comprehends hearing is another woman, her voice tired and slurred.) (Unknown woman) “Heeeeeeyyy, the Princess finally woke up! Someone take her blindfold off, I reaaaalllllyyy think we outta ‘sheck if Miles went overboard with the dosage and turned her narcoleptic.” (Zane Roskosz) “Oh you’d know ALL about that, wouldn’t you?” (Another man) “Shut the fuck up, Zane! Every hour we dive into Armageddon, I’m realizing more and more that I should’ve listened to Grammercy, and fired your sorry ass! Now eat the goddamn pancake, it’s gonna get cold!” (Zane) “Whatever, daddy-waddy.” (Unknown woman) “Nooooote to self, make sure Luc spanks our sons enough so that they don’t turn out like you. Why can’t you just be a good quiet nice boy like Miles?” (Unknown woman 2) “From my studies of the two, it is quite clear that Missus Roskosz was the aggressor that initiated the divorce that separated their family. Simply put, Zane is a chip off the matron’s block, and assholes beget assholes.” (Zane) “....I confirm and deny nothing.” (Unknown woman 3) “Oh, that’s even less of an excuse for being a raging fuckwad, HONEY! Don’t make me mindbreak you by pegging you all the way into the small intestine every time you don’t call me ‘mommy’ loud enough!” (Zane) “You won’t do it, no balls. You love my Polish sausage too much for THAT, ahaeheheheheh!” (A hand descends upon Azneth’s scalp.) (Zane) “You know, at first I was just gonna unmask them both like Scooby-Doo, but I thought of a better idea! Trust me, it’ll be a lot funnier this way. That’s why I left this dude’s GoPro on at the other end of the table. Bro, you DID remember to copy all the footage it’s already got, right?” (Miles) “Yesssss, I did. Turned it off for a minute to slip in some new batteries too, the camera’s rolling right now.” (The professional health inspector then pulls Azneth’s blindfold off briefly, just to let her get a good look at the room and the four steaming chocolate crepes on her plate.) (The Lesser Succubus sees that she sits at a table with chairs for fourteen, but only ten taken, counting herself. Her Glock 34 sat in the middle of the table, unloaded and chamber-cleared. Of the men at the table were: Miles, playing some game on his laptop with one hand and scarfing down his crepes with the other; an equally-gagged unknown man that sat to her right whose head was inside of an opaque black plastic bag with anti-suffocation holes poked in the back; a large hunk who wore naught but round black sunglasses and an apron, that sat at the head of the table; and Zane, who was metaphorically hovering behind her and the masked man.) (The women in the room were practically a gallery of infernal-type Mamono, consisting of: Azneth herself; a Devil in disheveled red business-casual clothing who was clearly struggling to stay awake; a ordinary Succubus who quietly ate her crepes slowly and avoided eye contact with anyone; an unusually-dark Arch Imp that had an air oozing of raw aggression; a Beelzebub in an impeccable also-red suit that was making paper origami insects; and a muscular Ray-Ban Aviator Total Black-wearing Pixie that was doing her best to keep three stark-white pomeranians calm. Lastly there was the odd-one-out, a Dark Angel that had several packs of Bic No.2 mechanical pencils sticking out of her pockets, scribbling notes furiously.) (About eleven seconds after soaking in the sights, Zane puts Azneth’s blindfold back on, then slowly peels off the duct tape covering Azneth’s mouth.) (Azneth) “--cough cough cough hack wheeze--” “Ooohhh, shit! Please! If it’s money you want, my family’s got it all! All the money you could ever need, ever desire! All the--” (Head of table) “--SHUT UP!” “Listen here and listen well, missy. This isn’t a kidnapping-for-ransom, not even close. Congratulations, you’ve just become a political hostage.” (Azneth) “Hostage for what!? Do you REALLY think that The Order can protect you from my father and Druella?” (Head of table) “I don’t need them to. Honestly, I THOUGHT I would, but it’s become clear that I was misled. Their capabilities in dealing with your kind were……highly exaggerated. Quite frankly, I’m all up for throwing them to your literal wolves. Nobody takes a Van Carver for a ride, and gets off without at least a black eye and a busted ballsack.” (Azneth) “Yes, yes! I know you, Luc!” (Governor Luc Van Carver) “You do? I don’t recall us ever having met.” (Azneth) “I was in disguise at the time! That speech you made about Heckler & Koch’s contributions to the American economy, at last year’s IDEX show in Abu Dhabi, I was there! Granted, I was there to keep an eye on my husband, but I needed to act natural. You don’t remember? Second row, middle section, the debutante in the Puma tracksuit?” (Muffled screaming intensifies from the man with the bagged head, to which everyone in the room ignores.) (Luc Van Carver) “I’m very sorry. I DO recall that speech, but I don’t recall YOU.” (Lucille) “I do. I was scanning the crowd so I could roast everyone that wasn’t dressed as nice as me. Uhhh, that is, taking mental pictures so I could tell allllllll my gala friends about them. Yoooouuuuu were one of them. Yeaaaaaahhhhh, I remember you, all right. Me and my gal-pals were wondering why your soooooooooorry ass got into a show like THAT without at least aaaaaaaa, uhhhhh, full Gucci set. We thought you were some moron’s trophy wife that wandered off and was trying not to act lost.” (Azneth) “I resent that! My Versace La Greca cardigan-dress hadn’t arrived in the mail yet, and Gucci would’ve been TOO conspicuo---nevermind! The point is, I’ve read up on your husband, on most American governors this side of the Mississippi! Luc Van Carver, age 39, married six years to heiress, and former real-estate executive, Lucille Leiter. No children yet, first governor of this state in a very, very long time to take office without a degree!” (Luc) “Bullshit, an associate’s degree in culinary arts still counts!” (Azneth) “Yes, but I’m talking about a REAL degree! Oh sure, you’ve got an online one that you earned at some no-name community college. You sick, diseased, foul, wretched, disgusting bastard! I’ve spent enough time around this palace to know that you don’t deserve to run a hamburger stand next to a minotaur farm, much less this place! Do you understand even the smallest IOTA of what you’re letting your people do outside?” (Miles) “She’s talking about Bicentennial Park and the Farmer’s Market next door.” (Luc) “Thank you, Miles, but I already knew what she meant. While my heart bleeds out to those poor people suffering out there, I’m afraid my hands are tied trying to fend off three different invasions at the same time.” (The bagged man makes a paragraph’s worth of muffled yelling, then quiets down.) (Luc) “I’ve got the Feds and the Klan of all people in cahoots, all of them breathing down MY ass from the west. I’ve got the fucking Black Panthers riding my nuts to the south. And I’ve got your old man running loose on my east flank, not to mention the rest of your ‘Ministry of Love.’ Better to let my constituents have their bread and circuses, than to open ANOTHER front!” (Azneth) “Bread and circuses! That’s what he calls it! This is group public torture, Mister Carver!” (Luc) “That’s GOVERNOR VAN Carver to you, and you’re certainly one to lecture me about letting mass rape go unpunished!” (Azneth) “It’s not rape! I’ve had it with all you human’s reworded coping! It’s just proactive marriage by any other name!” (Devil) “Now THAT’s a reworded cope. Sister, I’m an expert in legalese, and THAT was prime legalese.” (Azneth) “And just who exactly are YOU?” (Devil) “Monica Milton. Head staff & press secretary to Luc and Lieutenant Governor Justine Volareruptor. I was Lucille’s office secretary back when she was CEO of Pegre & Associates. After Wal-Mart’s hostile takeover back in ‘29, I moved on with Lucille into the public sector. THAT should’ve gotten me slammed with a nepotism charge, but Justine’s vouching got me past that.” (Pixie, widely waving her hands) “That’s me! My Godiva-chocolate buddy over here…..” (Arch Imp) “Black, I’m charcoal-black, you imbecile! Ugh, I’m Judith Guidizio. Attorney General of this fair state, and I’m not at your service. That insipid insect to your left is Beatrice Deoraiocht, and yes, that’s a complete bitch to spell from memory.” (Beatrice) “Greetings, darling. A shame I’ve met you under these circumstances, but young Miles’ profiling of you paints you as a nice girl.” (Justine) “Don’t get too cozy with ‘That Fly’, she’s a convicted terrorist. Why she’s even here, I refuse to understand.” (Beatrice) “Ah yes, now we circle back to Lady Azneth’s point about reworded coping. A man lobs a crate of dynamite into a Tory spy ring’s meeting, he’s a patriot and a freedom fighter. I slap a pack of C4 under the limo of a World Economic Forum gagglefuck, and I’m a terrorist!” (Judith) “Note how she’s not talking about the incident that ACTUALLY got her tossed down that correctional supermax in north-central Florida.” (Azneth) “And just what WAS this incident?” (Lucille) “Luc hired her last election cycle to give his opponent’s private jet a literally explosive landing. She succeeded in that, aaaaaaand failed to get away with it.” (Luc) “She didn’t snitch on us, so cool it with the bullying. I wouldn’t have made it this far without her help, and we--” (Ramiela) “--It has become extremely clear that not only is Miss Deoraiocht an assassin in Mister Van Carver’s employ, but she and he have had quite an amount of carnal liaisons. And her eating habits indicate that she has very recently become pregnant with his firstborn child!” (Beatrice) “Damn you for saying that here and now! That was supposed to be a surprise for when the baby bump starts sticking out!” (Luc) “I admit to everything and regret nothing.” (Lucille) “Well I used to hate Beatrice. But once I started taking my chill pills, I decided she wasn’t worth hating. There’s enough Luc for six, no, seven of us!” (Ramiela) “I am still declining your offer. I am not a lesbian, but Luc is just not my preferred type of man.” (Zane) “Pfft, those aren’t chill pills. They’re back-alley barbiturates. God-dammit, boss! Five bitches! A basic succubus, no offense to Miss Asmod, and a ex-terrorist, a happy-pill junkie, a demon nigger, and a……a…..just what the fuck ARE you, Justine?” (Justine) “I’m me!” (Zane) “But-but that…that--! …..You know what? I rest my case!” (Judith) “Monica, I have a suggestion. You should fucking…..fuckin’ tie your pet Polack to a bedpost, with his ass cheeks spread out. Then put a hanger on a stove and let that shit sit there for, like, a half hour. Then take it off and stick it in his ass real slow, like, ‘tsssssssssssss’. Give his prostate a second-degree burn!” (Monica) “Note taken. Apologies in advance, but I need that cum button fully operational.” (Beatrice) “Okay, this dude’s muffled screaming is getting annoying. Miles, be a doll and let him loose, pretty please?” (Luc) “Belay that! Noooooot completely though! Just take the bag off.” (The IT expert complies, ripping off the bag, allowing the Secretary of Homeland Security to see normally again. After a fifteen-second scan of the room, Non realizes that not only is his professional stalker sitting right next to him in her true form, but that he’s surrounded by monsterwomen and weird looking-men that don’t exactly seem to be incubi. His muffled vocalizing ceases, replaced by heavy breathing and sweating. The fact that he has been reduced to his undershirt, boxers, and socks, isn’t helping either.) (The Nashville city health inspector props him up, with Non’s legs still handcuffed to the chair, and his hands cuffed behind his back.) (Zane) “YOOOOO! Check it! This snow-prairienigger’s got the official NASA rocket-cock draws’ on!” (Justine) “Based. Keyed, I dare say!” (Beatrice) “Hot.” (Ramiela) “Absurd, but presumably arousing towards women with a mechanics-centered fetish. Very interesting.” (Lucille) “I’mmmmm reaaaaalllllly sure--” “--hick--” “--that I bought a pack of three for my sweet hubby when we went to Huntsville down in ‘Bama last yeaaaar for that SpaceX launch.” (Luc) “I will not confirm the validity of that claim, but that Falcon 11 rocket do be bussin’, for real, for real, no cap.” (Succubus) “So you’re The Abominable Snowman that’s got so much of Royal Makai’s middle management and lesser servants so scared. I wouldn’t say they were overexaggerating, but you don’t look so scary. (Non attempts to point out that this is the second time someone’s said that to him this night, but the duct tape is still on, and no one can understand him.) (Miles) “Hey, shake up and down for yes, left and right for no. Is it true that you’ve been catching and sending the Lilim’s spies to black sites, where your FEMA lackeys chop ‘em up for dissection?” (Non nods for yes, then makes a see-saw motion with his hands to signify ‘sometimes.’) (Miles) “Ooooh, that’s nasty business.” (Zane) “Naaah, look at him. He ain’t got the balls to execute POWs. I bet he locks ‘em up, and sets them up with his goons so the bitches ain’t motivated to escape or report back.” (Non shrugs, and then making coin-rubbing motions with his hands.) (Justine) “Nice, good ‘ol-fashioned bribery!” (Luc) “My former Order associates found physical torture most effective. All I needed was to send one of my men embedded in a federal agency, to make false promises about letting them go if they spilled all their beans. They almost always spilled the beans. And then The Order would spill their guts.” (Azneth) “How can ANY of you women call yourselves Mamono and let these sorts of atrocities then and now, over there and right outside, how can you let any of this slide!?” (Succubus) “I--I just got here.” (Lucille) “Fuck ‘em.” (Beatrice) “If they had stayed home, none of this would’ve happened.” (Justine) “Look, we Americans are pretty pent up on a full-scale war, you gotta understand. We’ve been blue-balled over and over and over on getting to slap off a foreign invasion, since 1816! This is a reckoning, we’ll all get it out of our systems within a year.” (Judith) “For the record, I was outvoted on just icing The Order, and jacking all their shit. Word has it on The Web that that’s exactly what France and The Russkies are doing.” (Miles) “I don’t like ‘em, but they were too useful. Pissing them off before New Year’s, that would’ve caused too many problems. They’re obsolete now though, so let ‘em eat static.” (Ramiela) “Sir Miles, you are a man, no one asked for your three dollars. That being said, The Order would like nothing more than to burn me at a stake for accepting Lilith’s improvements, and I do not want to die. It’s as simple as that. I will be there, writing down their last chapter, and they’ll be too dead or incubized to do anything about it.” (Beatrice) “I still don’t understand how none of you in the angelic host thought to just execute The Order’s top men, install puppets, and quietly surrender.” (Ramiela) “Our arrangement and delegation of power with the Cardinal Conclave, it just seemed completely adequate. The system was immaculately sound, but the people that comprised the system were so completely unfair, that the effect was identical to institutional corruption, on every single level. By the time The Chief God even considered an overhaul, we were decades too late. The Fall of Lescatie had already come and gone, and polity after polity fell, shortly after the last of the The Wandering Scholar’s encyclopedias came into common or black-market distribution. His arguments were just far too convincing. Or at least, enough to sway even I, an Angel.” (Azneth) “That sort of logic is completely out of the question! If we had just smashed in, assassinated and installed puppets from the get-go, all of their nations would’ve ripped themselves apart in civil war, which is exactly what’s happening right here, right now! Do you have ANY idea how bad of a setback it would’ve been, to lose all those men, all that manpower we need for finishing my mother’s grand plan! We HAD to take it slow! We HAD to make some external cracks, monsterize a few key women and incubize a few key men! It’s basic domino theory! Knock the right ones over at the right time, with the right amount of force, and every variable will solve itself! It worked flawlessly at Lescatie, and it’s almost always worked without a single hitch ever since! And we would’ve gotten away with it on Earth too, if it wasn’t for that meddling Valkyrie and her secret society of simps, such as our mutual husband right here!” (Luc) “I’m aware of this secret society, before you ask. It’s none of my concern though, outside of Mister Non and…..whomever else that’s working the Valkyrie’s will through the United States government. That’s where she fucked up, you see? Her pompous ass made the same mistake that turned their Chief God’s Order rotten to begin with, and that mistake was relying on top-to-bottom micromanaging! Putting ALLLL the eggs in the executive branch, and that only has power because WE, the governors, the senators, the National Guard, the people……allow you too. Just like back home, putting alllll the eggs in with their Pope and the Cardinal Conclave, letting their ass-kissers run buck-wild all over the little people of the world. That’s why it was so fuckin’ easy to knock down every of their countries, and that’s why it was so easy to rip THIS country a million ways, once the orders stopped coming from NORAD, The Pentagon, Vandenburg! And yeah, Raven Rock, Air Force One, Offutt, they’re still on the loose, sure! But they’re falling apart, and they’ll all get got by next midnight, mark my words.” “To sum it up, your ‘Fail-uminati’ was out of touch from the start, and now you’re out of time. So what’s it gonna be, smart guy? That nuke Football you’re reliving your high school linebacker glory days with, it’s a paperweight until a second person gets authorized and turns the key. And I already know that they scan for fingerprints, so I’ll just get blown to bits if I even tried. So here’s the deal. You two listening?” (Non slowly nods his head, turning his eyes to the Governor of Tennessee, and keeping them glued to Luc’s head. Azneth nods as well, scowling but staring at Lucille instead.) “It’s simple, there’s just three conditions. One, you’re going to pick up the landline behind me, and you’re gonna call Mayor Conway, and you’re gonna give her and her Klan a direct order to ceasefire immediately. I'm not through with her for a single damn minute, but we’ll deal with each other after The Order of the Chief God, the Panthers, and Royal Makai are through.” “Condition two. You and the Princess here are going into the basement. My trump card is in there, and I know that Raspberry’s momma, poppa, and sisters, along with The President, the Valkyrie, and the rest of Non’s Illuminati gang, are all going to back off once you two can verify it.” “Condition three. You two are going to get out of my state immediately after The White House accepts my declaration of independence, and after The Lilim order a full retreat. I’ve got a winning hand, but a smart man always knows how much chips he should cash before the casino security takes him to a deluxe suite to drill his brains out. This state is mine. And that’s that.” (Non points to the tape over his mouth, while Azneth stays quiet.) (Justine) “Oh for crying out loud. Miles! Let the man finally say his piece.” (Miles) “Nope. No sir! Not getting out of this chair. I’ve about to nuke four different USA players, and I will NOT have my speedrun record get fucked with!” (Justine) “Oh-em-gee. ZaAaAne!” (Zane) “Fine, fine, I’m going.” (He pulls off the tape.) (SecHS Non) “--Ahem--” (He suddenly knees the table, knocking his Double Eagle pistol back into his hands, after a near-fumble. Luc in turn pulls out his snubnose S&W Model 60 with black rubber grips, Lucille draws her S&W Model 67 with a Bushnell Phantom 1.3x scope, Justine whips her blued Colt M45A1’s from her symmetrical shoulder holster, Monica unsheathes a LaFrance M16K that had been hidden in her oversized Florentian suit, Zane extracts his S&W Model 629 Competitor with a AimPoint CompC-SM scope, and Judith unholsters her full-size 10mm Sig-Sauer P220 Legion.) “Give me a better reason as to why I shouldn’t cap your ass off RIGHT NOW, for picking THE WORST GODDAMN TIME to live out some Jefferson Davis fantasy!” (Luc) “Because that Colt’s not loaded, and the person you mean to refer to, is Isham Green Harris. May he rest in peace.” (SecHS Non) “EHHHHHHH! Wrong! This baby’s a double/single action. That means I’ve still got one in the chamber! I can see your undershirt well enough to know that you haven’t got any armor on, and this is a motherfucking hollow-point. Anyone gets up, makes a fast move, calls for security, I pull the trigger. I’ll be gracious enough to aim for the heart, so Lukey-boy gets an open-coffin funeral.” (Monica) “Princess! I’ve got a drum mag with 90 bullets! Tell your hubby to put that heater back on the table, or we’ll put so many holes in him that the coroner’s gonna get trypophobia! ” (Judith) “And it’ll be a real pain to plug up all the damage we’ll do to the wall behind him!” (Azneth) “Honey! My sweet Snowman! The man I know who’s secretly so much of a cuddlebug that he qualifies as a male Yeti! Please put the gun down! You’ve reeeeally made your fuckin’ point! Hurry up before they decide to find some other bureaucrat and just smite you down! I know you think you’re being a totes badass by getting yourself into a Mexican standoff, but this is QUITE lopsided against you! You’re really just embarrassing yourself by being stubborn! And I know exactly how much you don’t like being humiliated on camera!” (SecHS Non) “Alright, alright, alright! Now that I’ve shown my card, I’m going to tell you all how it really is. Governor Van Carver, your conditions are ALMOST acceptable, but I’m not leaving until that mess in the park is cleaned up. And I’m taking The Order off the table, once and for all. Don’t worry about diverting your own guardsmen, this problem is squarely in Homeland Security’s jurisdiction. After that, I’ll be on my way to another state, and the Football’s coming with me, no ifs, ands, or buts.” (Azneth) “I too have some renegades to deal with, over at the Grand Old Opry-house.” (Luc) “Sold! You drive some real easy bargains, Secretary, has anyone told you that?” (SecHS Non) “No, but I’m well aware that I can be very reasonable when I have a loaded gun.” (Lucille) “Missouri?” (SecHS Non) “Not telling, that’s top secret. And let me move a chair down, the Princess is trying to play footsies.” (Azneth) “Snitch! But as for these conditions, you’re going to have to show me the goods before I can make a real answer. You’re not playing poker with me OR my mother, if I can’t prove that you have any cards.” (Luc) “I told you, Lucy! I told you, they weren’t stupid!” (Lucille) “I’m never going to hear the end of this. Alright, my sweet husband, you win. They turned out to be reasonable, and I was wrong. How do you want it next?” (Luc) “We’re making a baby while Justine eats your ass out, Judith eats HER out, and I eat our fine Lady Asmod out!” (Lucille) “Buuuuut, what about Bea?” (Beatrice) “Luc’s AALLLL mine when you five are done.” (Luc) “I’m so glad we could all come to a reasonable agreement. So please, put the gun down and enjoy the free meal. You’ve both got to have worked up an appetite after all the shit you’ve probably been through tonight!” (Azneth) “......He’s not wrong.” (SecHS Non) “Okay, sure. Let's see if these crepes of yours are as good as Senator Gennerico swears they are.” (He takes a bite and savors it.) “.............” “MmMMmMmMmMmMM! God-mothafuckin’-daaaaaaamn! I haven’t had a meal like this in over a week!” (Azneth) “Ha! I knew it, The Valkyrie is a shitty cook! Modia, you owe me big!” (Azmod gags and nearly coughs up her crepe-slice, but it goes down after a cool glass of water.) (Ramiela) “Sooooooo, Mister Non! Miss’s Judith and Justine spoke highly of you shortly before you arrived, how did you meet them?” (SecHS Non) “Well, about two years ago, when I was still FEMA’s Deputy Director, I was meeting with representatives of the Tennessee Valley Authority, along with higher-ups from each state it’s got fingers in, for a conference about who gets a slice of the latest budget pie. Lieutenant Governor Volaraptor and the Attorney General here, whom I must add is absolutely DASHING tonight, showed up repping for Luc, and--” (Justine) “--IT”S V O L A R E R U P T O R!” (Judith) “Dashing, he says. Snowboy, I’d tell you flattery can get you everywhere, but I think you’re just trolling me right now.” (SecHS Non) “A gentleman keeps his mouth shut.” (Azneth) “Now THAT’S utter horsecrap, coming from you.” (SecHS Non) “Oh please, like you’re any better, Princess Raspberry. What, is Strawberry Shortcake on a sabbatical?” (Azneth) “Daughterless!” (SecHS Non) “No you!” (Azneth) “Cope!” (SecHS Non) “Seethe!” (Azneth) “Mald!” (SecHS Non) “Dilate!” (Azneth) “Get real!” (SecHS Non) “Cry about it!” (Azneth) “Have sex! Have sex! Have sex with me!” (SecHS Non) “Negative, Ghost Rider. The pattern is full.” (Azneth) “Okay, who even told you about my parent’s pet nickname!?” (SecHS Non) “You did, silly goat. Last Halloween. You got shitfaced on Wonderland Two’s voice chat channel and you went on and on and on about your personal life for like, six hours straight. We all heard you answer the door, and you almost puked on some kid that thought your Wonderworm lawn ornament had candy in it. Who even really owns that house in Annapolis you’ve been crashing in? We’ve had surveillance put on you in the house across the street, and we couldn’t find any foul play…….” (Azneth) “It belongs to Mari, technically. She owns a majority stock in the real estate company behind the whole subdivision, under an alias of course. There’s at least seven other friends of her’s that’ve been hiding there. I knew you were watching, you little voyeur, you. I only let you do it to take the heat off the others.” “Hey! If you’re in Wonderland Two, and so is Miles Kwasny here…..how many infiltrators did we have?” (SecHS Non) “Well, let’s see. There’s me, Milkshaker Unit-02. I take it that Mister Kwasny here is that leaker we traced back to the TVA--” (Miles) “Yeee-up! That’s me, MajorStupidityTheYounger.” (SecHS Non) “AYYYY! It really IS a small world! How’d you get in? It took MONTHS for the NSA to find Wonderland Two, and another three weeks to set me up on an encrypted burner phone behind a disposable ProtonMail account!” (Miles) “The Order tipped Luc off to how Queen Carol was using internet chat rooms. As the head IT technician for the TVA, I have easy backdoor access to the NSA’s systems. All it took was a few recycle-bin’d E-mail recoveries and a hard-drive I copied from a sloppy intern at the server farm in Birmingham, Alabama. I slipped almost perfectly under everyone’s radar.” (SecHS Non) “Top skill, my man. But back to the other digital spies, we’ve got CleanHarold, who works for the DIA, there’s Hollafrontgirl77 that’s an Warrant Officer in the Space Force, NewportNewsie is Ian Chesterfield himself. And I know that CIA Director Rick Wayne is a lurker, but he refuses to tell me his username. Me and Ian’s best guess is that he’s BackdoorBatteringRam. And that’s all I know. My international colleagues all have spies there too, but I’m on a need-to-know basis. My only confirmation is that KittyKatarina-uwu is in the Russian Ministry of Internal Affairs. Her real name isn’t Katarina, nobody’s THAT stupid.” “It’s actually Kirochka. I can’t recall her last name at the moment.” “Back to business, where’s my suit, and my GoPro camera?” (Lucille) “The suit? I threw it out, there’s no way the blood was gonna come off of that without a whole day at a dry cleaners’.” (SecHS Non) “Oh, come on! That was a 5,000 dollar suit, asshole!” (Miles) “We’re about the same build, go ahead and take one of my shirts and pants. They’re in the basement. My room’s got a plaque with my name on it, no way you’ll miss it. Just one of each though, you’re paying MSRP if you try to jack my shit! And what the hell’s up with this T.Rex Arms Ragnarok holster? That speech Delvecchio at the Shite House gave just a few hours ago, you had on one of those fancy Cebeci shoulder holsters. Why change it out?” (SecHS Non) “The war’s in full swing, I didn’t see a need to use anything built for concealed carry anymore.” (Miles) “Hmph. Makes sense. Can I have the Cebeci?” (SecHS Non) “Knock yourself out, but I gotta remind you that it’s molded just for full-size 1911’s.” (Miles) “YES! I’ve been putting off buying one for years, and opportunity comes knockin’ just RIGHT before the economy goes tits-up!” (Ramiela) “Sir Non, as part of my notes for all the public sector servants here now, I’ve been noting down about what motivated them to begin their careers. So if it’s not too….touchy of a subject, may I be so bold as to ask yours?” (SecHS Non) “Don’t be silly, there’s nothing I have to hide anymore about my life before becoming Deputy Director of FEMA. Start writing.” “So back in May of 2019, my mother was pushing me hard to find a summer job. A PAID one, of course. Now, government agencies, the ones that have offices in Juneau at least, have a reputation for good job security, easy ladder-climbing if you’re willing to zip around the state, and very lenient office environments. So I applied, us applicants all had one-on-one interviews with the Sector 10 branch supervisor herself, Yolanda Mous. By her standards, I was well above the baseline for being physically capable, I passed the aptitude test with flying colors.” “I was single, and more than willing to travel, so long as the taxpayers were footing the bill for my plane ticket. And I had a clean criminal record, except for one charge of vandalism that my dad turned into 25 hours of community service, and one charge of being an accessory to joyriding that my dad turned into a scared-straight episode for me. He left me in the drunk tank for a whole night.” (Ramiela) “Correct me if I’m wrong, but your father, Joshua Non Senior, is an Alaskan Highway Patrol officer that has repeatedly bent the rules for his sons.” (SecHS Non) “He used to be. Search & Rescue section, he’s bailed a ton of retarded lost tourists out of the The Great Icebox. But after I was born, he decided to set down roots, so my grandfather offered to let us move in with him at his own home on Glacierwood Drive. Dad transferred to Juneau PD, and he still works there as a sergeant. Mostly handles processing of criminals with outstanding warrants, but sometimes he tags along for drug busts. The kind where you need a warrant and a Blackhawk Thunderbolt battering ram. You know, he’s been using the same Remington Marine Magnum shotgun they issued him in 1998. The first gun I ever killed someone with.” (Ramiela) “Elaborate, if you’re comfortable with it.” (SecHS Non) “Not much to say, honestly. An illegal immigrant from The Yukon, a methhead by the name of Wyatt Collier, thought it’d be a good idea to raid my mother’s jewelry cabinet. He was as high as the Moon, and my dumbfuck sixteen-year old self did the stupid thing and ran TOWARDS the noise of a window being smashed. So he sees me, thinks I’m fuckin’ Chernobog from that ancient Disney music anthology, and he rushes me a butcher’s knife. Dad left the Remington in the kitchen, I grabbed it, blam blam blam, there’s Wyatt chunks all over the walls.” “I told this other girl a few hours ago that I froze up and hesitated. That……was bullshit I drummed up to get her sympathy. I didn’t hesitate for a second, to grab the shotgun and blast him. I had wished a nigga would for months, and my wish came true. And you know what? That was the real turning point of my entire life.” (Azneth) “Frosty……what do mean by that?” (SecHS Non) “Just a few months ago, I took advantage of Freyja’s offer to use her forced-truth spells, to clear up some loose ends and open drama in my personal life. So we interrogated Yolanda Mous, on why she picked me out of all the applicants that next year, to be her personal assistant, and later her top enforcer. She picked me…… because me killing Wyatt proved that when the chips are down, I’m decisive. And I WILL cap any fool that’s in my way. I’ve got the killer instinct. Mous pushed it to the limit, and now so is Freyja.” (Zane) “You and Yolanda ever banged?” (Monica) “ZANE! That’s a very rude question! Three nutsack floggings for you!” (Azneth) “Ohohohohoho, I can answer that. When we monsterized Mous last month, she spilled every last thing on our dear Snowman right here. She didn’t take his virginity, but we know she sucked him off like a champ at the 2023 Christmas office party. I’ve got pictures and everything, awww, you all gotta see it, he’s got his ass splayed right on top of the copy machine, straight out of a cheesy porno from the ‘90s!” “And that’s not all! On June 21st, 2025, the summer solstice, you and Yolanda went to Bohemian Grove to squeeze more funding out from Super-PAC lobbyists and some senators. An orgy started right in front of that stupid owl statue, our boy right here isn’t a homo and didn’t want to try out geriatric pussy, despite his obvious fetish for older women. Yolanda didn’t want a shriveled-up two-inch dick that doesn’t work without twice the recommended dosage of Viagra…..” “So they banged each other, we’re talking 69 AND missionary, AHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, sweet Eros, poor Non almost caught feelings for his own boss! He kissed her on the lips, cuddled with her, and stopped himself from saying ‘ YoLaNdA, I lOvE yOu! MaRrY mE!’ Your parents raised you right, didn’t they, you sweet lonely boy!” (SecHS Non) “I already knew that you guys made her turn traitor on Uncle Sam.” (The Abominable Snowman successfully holds back a tear without notice.) “......And I already knew that you made her stab me in the back. Even The Valkyrie couldn’t find her anywhere, so we assumed she left Earth for your neck of the cosmic woods. ” (Azneth) “Not even close. She’s in Atlanta, helping us keep tabs on those two CDC asshole-supremes, Dr. Wilbur Paisley and his autistic outlaw-wannabe of a security chief, Jonathan Walker. Uh, not anymore though. We tossed that bio-weapon obsessed monster, Paisley, into a crowd of Devil Bugs. As for Walker? I turned his wife Sierra into a Jinko, and then I turned her loose on squeezing the psycho out of her hubby.” (SecHS Non) “You better not have fucked with his research, that shit’s critical to the both of us!” (Azneth) “Oh calm down, their CRISPR gene-editing is going nowhere. The original Chief God already considered the possibility of Mankind trying to upgrade themselves by copying or grafting monster aspects, so I’m afraid we all have a magically-induced DNA killswitch made especially for when bio-technology would reach that point. My mother’s Grand Plan is the ONLY chance we have of having sons! There’ll be none of that super-soldier monsterboy crap, that just overcomplicates things! And don’t act like you’ve got a halo on with this, honey. I KNOW you gave samples of your DNA to Walker, because you were hoping that they could turn you into a…..what was it?” (She picks her phone out of her pocket, unlocks it, opens her EverNote app, selects the folder labeled [CRISPR abomination files-Centers For Disease Control] and scrolls down for a bit.) “Aha, here it is! You put in a dead-serious requisition for them to turn you into either a Wendigo, a Living Swor-- uh-- Gun, in your case, you hoplophile, you. Or also a Yeti, you silly cuddlebug.” (SecHS Non) “Suck a diesel muffler, I was only planning to get transformed in case I caught a terminal disease or go critical on an operating table!” (Luc) “The CDC’s been working on the possibility of monsterizing men? Fascinating. I’d want to be a Demon.” (Lucille) “Oh you’re just saying that because you want us to taste blueberry cock and slurp blackberry cum.” (Luc) “Maaaaaaybe.” (Zane) “I wanna be a Devil, so I can fly and shoot lasers out of my hands at every niggerfaggot that’s been chewing at my department’s budget, or any of those rats trying to whistleblow on me for misusing federal funding.” (Miles) “Eh. Devil, Incubus, Demon, whatever gets me two dicks, I’m down. Don’t wanna be a tentacle monster though, that’s just excessive. God, imagine how long I’d have to shower every single day to prevent dick cheese on every single tentacle. Not to mention that the slappy Jappys will deffo find a way to force me into helping solve their birthrate problem.” (Ramiela’s cheeks go red, her writing pace drastically picking up speed to the point where cartoonish smoke was visible from her pencil.) (Justine) “Imaaaaagine the SMELL!” (Judith) “So let’s get this straight, your professional career can be summed up as, ‘competent diversity hire that’s been riding the coattails of tough ladies the entire time.’” (SecHS Non) “Yup.” (Judith) “Wow. Same here, except I only rode Justine coattails.” (Justine) “Oh she rides a LOT more than that, whenever Luc whips his thang out. Out of all the fellatio I’ve ever seen happen under a desk, Judy works the shaft so good that Luc’s busted a volcano down her throat in less than five minutes. And that’s BEFORE she got mutated!” (Judith) “Dayum gurl, not here! And the record’s four minutes and sixteen seconds, get it right!” (Azneth) “Mmmmmh, impressive, for a human. But that’s nothing! I can make my hubby here go off like a broken fire hydrant in THREE, flat!” (Judith) “I’d like to see you try, space-cracker-ass bitch!” (Monica) “Shut it, both of you! Now’s not the time. Let’s finish this nice meal we’ve had prepared for us, and then we can get back to……whatever it is we were doing. Bea, Justine, you two’ll escort Frosty and Snow White down to see ‘The Solution.’ I’ll get back to helping Hershel Junior with comms, and…..I have no idea what the hell the rest of you were doing. As for Miles, stop playing fuckin’ video games in the middle of a active warzone!” (Miles) “Never! So long as the servers are up, I’m sticking to one-up my last streak of wins!” (SecHS Non) “What’s your record so far?” (Miles) “Seventeen wins in a row as Townes, the US Laser General. I’m currently fourteen deep as Dr. Thrax, just four more and I can sleep soundly.” (Ramiela) “A-are you telling us that you haven’t slept A PEEP, since starting this strategy-simulation streak?” (Miles) “Hell yeah, babe. Actually, since I started a previous one as the Chinese Nuclear General, but I lost the seventh round. Since then, uhhhh, I’ve had three cups of Folgers black coffee, a can of classic Mountain Dew AMP, three bottles of Coca-Cola Starlight, a can of Frose Rose Bang energy, and as you can see, right now I’m going through a basic red Rip-It. Full disclosure, I know Zane laced this with a grounded-up gas station boner pill, fuck you bro, I’m rock-hard, and I already dribbled a bit of pre-cum in my briefs.” (Ramiela’s blushing continues, and she’s glad that she’s sitting down at the table, lest anyone see that she’s leaking so hard that it’s causing a stain under her slacks. Unfortunately for her, Azneth can tell.” (Non looks at the revolver sitting next to Miles’ laptop, and recognizes it. Desperate to get everyone to stop talking about him, he changes the subject.) (SecHS Non) “So, Kwasny, was it? Your face looks familiar, have we met?” (Miles) “We did. Remember when you inspected Wolf Creek Dam up in Kentucky last August? I was the IT guy on scene, making my own inspection on the systems to see how fast they respond to a simulated machine breakdown. I noticed a weird issue with the power output, like it’s being siphoned, but our best guess is the growing electric demand from all those new subdivisions in Somerset and Glasgow.” “And come to think of it, FEMA recently opened an underground power plant in Glasgow, using one of those old Cold War AT&T communication bunkers that they donated to the Feds for a tax write-off.” (Miles pulls his own Aimpoint-scoped S&W Model 629 Competitor , identical to Zane’s.) “What’s your game with that, Snowman! That’s MY electricity you’re stealing, go make your own fuckin’ hydroelectric dam!” (SecHS Non) “Fort Knox, it’s going to Fort Knox! Look, it wasn’t MY idea! President O’Grady and Bill Barstow, Army Chief of Staff and may he now rest in peace, were both leaning on me to have a civilian-ran backup to keep the Federal Reserve's lights on, you know, in case the Fort took a direct nuke to the face!” (Miles) “Well why the fuck didn’t you just ask us? We’d have shared the juice, for a fee! You ran FEMA’s budget reeeeal stingy, but you ain’t THAT stingy!” (SecHS Non) “If The Pentagon hadn’t been blasted by a space laser beam, I’d have a top-level secret executive order sitting in my desk that’ll tell you O’Grady gave me DIRECT orders to keep it hush-hush. He didn’t trust the TVA for a damn second, not that he knew about Luc’s treason, but he just thought you guys were pulling some serious graft, and he was gonna sledgehammer ALL of you once he’d declare nationwide martial law, had Druella stuck to the original timetable!” (Luc) “You’re in NO position to judge us for playing corporate favoritism under the table. I’ve been talking with some other governors. We put two-and-two together, figured out that you’re balls-deep in the military-industrial complex, and you’ve been laundering a good chunk of SEVERAL agency’s budgets and not to mention funneling some SERIOUS Pentagon inventory through the Department of the Interior, all to prop up FEMA Sector 10 and Alaska’s National Guard. Allen Lawrence has no idea about it, but you and your sock puppet in Juneau, are also in cahoots with the governor of Arizona. We know there’s at least two MORE governors involved, but we couldn’t find them out. I’ll back off and let you keep that secret. Unless of course, you’re willing to make an information trade.” (SecHS Non) “Nope, not telling. Oh, and by the way, Missus Van Carver. Does Kurt Russell know that you and these two upstanding young men here have been raiding his armory?” (Zane) “Pffft, nah, we fuckin’ wish. These are just lookalikes of Snake Plissken’s stuff. Now, as to why Luc has Biff Tannen’s revolver, or why Beatrice has the Half-Life MP5, is beyond me.” (Beatrice) “It’s from that Schwarzenegger movie, End of Days, you uncultured plebes. I didn’t whip it out because I know Luc has this under control, and a grenade launcher is a little too overkill for a dining room.” (Justine) “Speaking of theft, Azmod, what’s the deal with that fancy Model 19 you’ve got? All those gold engravings and shit, I’d have to say you straight-up robbed Graceland!” (Azmod) “I did. This really IS from Elvis Presley’s collection. I just……I just really like his music, especially Burning Love. Priscilla, Lisa Marie, and the rest of his remaining family were nowhere in sight, so I helped myself to a memento. Along with a platinum record of Love Me Tender, one of his white sequined jumpsuits, and the real original blue suede shoes.” (Zane) “3000 Miles To Graceland? More like, 230.” (Lucille) “You---you stole all that! Where is it!? Why didn’t you say so until now!?” (Azmod) “The trunk of my car. And none of you ever asked…..” (Justine) “What are you waitin’ for then? Go get it!” (Luc) “Would you kindly leave it in my office? Thanks!” (The Succubus gets up, takes a bow, and leaves the room to run for the front door.) (The Governor grabs a radio off the table, lying next to his plate.) (Luc) “Security, there’s a Succubus leaving the building. She’s just running a car trunk errand, do NOT hassle her. If she tries to leave the area or fly off, shoot her down. That is all.” (SecHS Non) “I’m through with the crepes, my compliments to the chef. It’s been nice meeting you all and talking here, but I’m a very busy man. Now take us downstairs, please. I’ve got places to be, a country to save, and illegal aliens to shoot.” (Azneth) “I’m done as well, thank you for the meal. Come now, Governor Van Carver. Put down your royal flush.” (Zane unlocks their cuffs and hands the Secretary of Homeland Security his GoPro back, as Non continues holding onto his Colt .45 with his other hand. Azneth grabs her Glock 34 off the table, and zips her tracksuit back up. They exit the room with Beatrice and Justine behind them. As the basement door opens and closes, Lucille turns to her husband.) (Lucille) “Oh baby, weeeeee’re in the clear!” (Luc) “Of course we are. All according to keikaku. Note, keikaku means plan.” (Ramiela) “Do you think they have any idea, that Judith took out Sir Non’s chambered bullet to slip in a blank cartridge in it’s stead?” (Azmod) “A cold chance in hell, anointed one.” “A cold chance in hell.” On the terminal point, of the cul-de-sac Patients are dying, the horses are dazed From the glare of stars, the starry wisdom Owned by The Baron, and he’s got the cure! A drug by the name of ‘World Without End’! -Blue Oyster Cult