A villainous legacy: Caterpillar II

Walking out from behind the row of greenery, your first thought is that you might be dealing with somebody with plant-related superpowers here. Obviously this is not a coincidence. But then again, you figured that if that were the case then there would be thick, powerful vines sprouting out of the floor and carpets of organic matter spreading haphazardly. But all these plants were very tame and ordinary. You'd even kicked a couple while making your way to the center of the store floor, wondering if they were going to snap at you or try and entangle you, which of course they did not.

As you walk out, hands held high, the first thing that draws your eye is a scene of petty criminality so on-the-nose that it makes you want to laugh. There are two folding tables - one of which is covered by a pile of ziploc baggies full of powdered brown and white substances. The other is occupied by two figures with a third standing up. The one facing you is a young man in a college sports team jersey with a stylish, feathered haircut complementing his prominent biceps to give him the look of a football quarterback. His eyes are bugging out, and he tries to say something - but his mouth is blocked by the gloved hand of a tall man in a hooded green sweatshirt and yellow ski-mask, who stands there silently, glowering at you. By the way his eyes keep flicking over to the side, it's clear he isn't the one in charge here.

Facing away from you as you walk up is someone mostly hidden behind an enormous hat and lengthy black hair until she slowly turns around, regarding you with a half-lidded stare from behind a large pair of glasses.

The pale, bespectacled young woman was very tall, close to six feet by the looks of it, and whatever is doing here, she could've easily made it as a fashion model. Her long, sensuous legs, remaining crossed as she half-turned to face you, were covered in shiny silk stockings with an elaborate vine-like design at the top. With detached frilly sleeves, platform heels, and an enormously oversized pointed hat with lilypad-esque lines running over it and gilded butterflies all over it, it looked like it belonged in an avant-garde fashion show, not a shady 3 A.M. warehouse deal. Her body was covered with a fancy green dress with gilded highlights. The lower part was separated into six dangling strips that trailed by her feet. But you can't help but focus your gaze on the middle; the shoulderless dress had a multicolored butterfly symbol right below her neck, and directly beneath that was a rather daring 'cleavage cutout' so snug that made it seem like she was risking her gravity-defyingly-perky E-cup tits popping out if she were to make any sudden moves. In one of her hands she held a metal tube connected to some kind of water-pipe, which she took a deep drag off of before exhaling a cloud of smoke in your direction.

"Oh, wow... This is all happening too quickly..." she says in a soft, mousy voice at odds with her tantalizing appearance. "Is that... I mean, I don't think the police sends anyone out dressed quite so daring as that.. You really are a... a heroine, aren't you? I don't know quite what to say. What... what should I call you?" She doesn't move to rise from her seat or even put the smoking tube thing down.

"To you, 'Gun Bunny'." You thrust a finger at her aggressively. "And you're only half right. I ain't any cop, but I sure as heck ain't any hero, either. I'm a soldier! And it looks like the intel that said the one responsible for flooding the streets with junk all of a sudden could be found here tonight was right on the mark." You twitch your nose as the hoodie-wearing henchman tenses up. "Oh, and tell that guy behind you that I can tell he's packing heat, and I don't give a shit. Oh, I guess I can just tell him myself - keep your hands where they are unless you wanna die!"

That really gets a reaction out of the young, un-costumed man who'd been sitting down. Seeing that you've come armed, the thug holding a hand over his mouth stiffens up, which the guy uses to push him away and leap to his feet. But instead of locking eyes with you, he focuses on the minx in green who'd been sitting across from him. "What the fuck is this, Cathy?! Oh my god - you PROMISED me you weren't a supervillain! I specifically said, I don't wanna be mixed up with buying from anybody in costume!"

"I am noooot in costume!" the girl says, doing her best to sound wounded. "And I am not any kind of 'villain'! I am trying to start a non-profit business, here!"

"By selling cocaine, heroin, psilocybin and a mysterious designer **** called 'mirrordream' that produces temporary ESP?" you ask with a disbelieving smirk. This is even more fun than you imagined - it's like walking in somebody having illicit sex and then hearing them try to deny it without even pulling their pants up.

"You don't understand," she says, apparently not picking up on your tone of dismissive sarcasm and striking a genuinely pleading note, leaning forward and pouting cutely. "I was **** into this - corrupt authorities took away my father's foundation before it could fulfill its humanitarian mandate... his whole life would have been for nothing... even though he made me promise that I wouldn't re-start the ring before he died, I had to do it..."

Throughout her monologue the sporty guy has been burying his face in his hands and muttering in disbelief. "This isn't happening... this isn't happening...". The guy in the hoodie takes two steps backwards towards a row of ferns... and then, the silence of the place is broken by an ear-splitting bang. The man in green cries out in pain and surprise, topping forward. Your hands jerkily reach for your own rifle but you end up fumbling it and nearly falling back on your butt - the boy in the jersey gives a high pitched shriek and dives onto the ground, pleading incoherently. The woman, for her part, gives a gasp of surprise and turns her head, but instead of giving a startled jump or diving for cover, she just slowly stands up from her chair.

Looking over to the shadows, you see the Jokester emerge from a cluster of greenery, smoke trailing from the barrel of his shotgun as he hefted it casually over his shoulder and sauntered forward. "Don't worry, ladies." he says with a chuckle. "That was no. 7 birdshot, just a little love tap. Right, shitbird?" he planted a foot on the poor, lone henchman's back - pressing into the dozens of tiny wounds there and drawing a howl to demonstrate his continued life signs. Jokester reached down and frisked his target, pulling out a big revolver and tucking it into his belt before giving the wounded man a kick. "Get out of here. Your contract's up." Sobbing and scrambling on hands and knees, the unfortunate mook did as he was ordered and started making for the exit.

As you watched silently, Jokester gave a toss of his head towards the seductively-dressed woman you'd been confronting. "Only made the first one birdshot, though. I was halfway expecting that fat, bloated sack of shit Caterpillar to have faked his own demise, in which case it would fall to me, of course, to make his act that much more convincing." he said with a smirk, pumping the shotgun for emphasis (even though it was a semi-auto model and didn't actually need him to do so, and caused him to eject an unfired shell).

The girl gasped and made a horrified face at that. "But," Jokester continued, "I don't have the heart to put a body like THAT in the ground. 'Father', huh? The apple fell pretty far from the tree. I bet you hear that a lot. Definitely an improvement over the 600 pound tub of lard. You mean, literal father? Honestly, I'm shocked anybody was able to reach his dick. Were the jaws of life involved?"

"Well, I was engineered in the - " the girl starts, then she clenches her firsts, the first vaguely tense gesture you've seen her make yet. "...wait, you're that psychotic vigilante the CIA recruited... I thought that I'd made a deal with your people!"

Jokester's response is to pull a little tape recorder off of his belt, silently hold it up, and press the play button, producing a short, 5-note "sad tuba" sound effect that you're pretty sure you'd heard on one of those game shows that old, boring people like your parents like to watch. The look on the girl's face is priceless, and you find yourself getting a little case of the giggles.

"So, I guess that would make you, what... Caterpillar II? You know," Jokester says gruffly, kicking over some of the potted plants, "I was expecting there to be some real muscle here. Now you've gone and made me look like a fool, bringing all of this ammo AND a new recruit. You were literally outnumbered by one guy and a gun-toting cabaret waitress."

"I'm standing up here, okay, I'm standing up..." sports-jersey guy says in the awkward silence, starting to get up. In a single bound, you jump over next to him and plant the stock of your gun right next to his head on the floor. He freezes, and you giggle again. "Well, go ahead, don't let me stop you. Since you're obviously not gonna try and run, right?" You whistle to Jokester. "Hey! Caterpillar over there," you point at the girl, "said this was all for a good cause. Like selling Girl Scout wafers, you know? Don't we wanna hear what this guy has to say? I bet it'll be something funny, too!"

"Man," he says, looking on the verge of tears, "I've never heard of 'Caterpillar', I didn't think it was gonna be like this, I was just trying to get some party favors for Spring Break, that's all!"

Caterpillar looks over at him and seems skeptical and a bit confused. "You mean that the whole kilogram was for you...? You should have said something, Griff, that much would be deadly, even spread out over 10 days!"

You and Jokester share a smirk. 'Griff' goes pale as a sheet and looks like he's on the verge of toppling over. For her part, 'Caterpillar' stamps her foot in an odd, rhythmic manner, looking very frustrated.

"So yeah, hope you're not disappointed, Bunny.... not really getting to see me in action." Jokester says to you. "I'm getting too old for the real hardcore shit, so even though I joke, I'm glad whenever it turns out that the conspirators are amateurs, unprepared for a fight, and fold at the first sign of pressure, like this. So, Cutie Caterpillar - how ya like that variation on the name, sweetie? - why don't you make things easy on yourself and tell me a little more about who you worked out a deal with. If you do, well... this is strike 1 for you, and somewhere between strike 2 and strike 5 is when you get dead, so I'll just hand you over to the pussies in the local PD. If you don't want to talk..." he strokes his moustache for a second, then gives her a wink. "Well... let's not go there unless we have to."

But as he speaks, you hear a rustling among the plants and shrubs off to your side, as well as an odd low-pitched whistling sound - only noticeable to you because of the enhancing capability of your headband. "J! Duck, now!" you cry shrilly at him.

Being a veteran at this kind of thing, Jokester doesn't ask questions, he just drops flat, laying on his side with the shotgun up top so he can aim at anything in front. A volley of thin black projectiles flies past and lands among the leaves behind him. Scattering several potted trees aside, a hairy, black, fat-bodied creature with six stubby legs the size of a man - a giant caterpillar, of course - reared up and loped forward. As it did, the bristly black hairs covering its body launched themselves in an enormous fusillade. It was like a claymore mine exploding, except with sharp caterpillar hairs. Luckily, you were already jumping... the first wave of spines went low, and then when the huge worm-like beast arched its back to fire at you in mid-air, you did a reversed leap off of the ceiling, rotating a full 360 degrees to ping-pong back to the ground, then over to an elevated store shelf you could use as cover.

"FUCKING DAMN!" you hear Jokester grunt in pain and annoyance - clearly he got stung by a few regardless. Needless to say, Caterpillar herself (with a big 'C') didn't dodge, nor did she need to.

You rack the action on your gun and make another squeaky-voiced attempt at a battle cry. Your agility is impressive, but even you aren't very good at jumping and shooting at the same time, at least, not with any accuracy. So instead, as the huge mutant bug shoots at you, you run along the top of the shelves and fire wildly at the beast, aiming only with your peripheral vision. The thing is so slow, it might as well be stationary - so after four or five wild shots, you're rewarded with a hissing noise as a rifle bullet rips through its soft body with a gout of green bug goop. Jokester struggles to a kneeling posture, a number of projectile quills stuck in arm, and fires with his left hand. His aim is good - all three of his shots are on-target, and the giant black caterpillar flops over onto its back, curling up and making an odd noise as its lungs deflate.

That causes Caterpillar to give a loud gasp and cry of concern. "Oh, no! Burrton! You shot Burrton!" Meanwhile, 'Griff' is unsurprisingly kissing the floor again.

"Ha... ahhaha..." your heart is racing, and you feel fantastic. Your hands are warm and sweaty as they grip your smoking firearm excitedly, and you settle down into a sitting pose, putting the stock between your spread legs and posing. "Nice... Hey... Hey, Joke! We figured that we were going to be cleaning the streets of vermin but didn't expect-"

"Ahh shut up, Dumb Bunny!" he spits at you, eye flashing up to glare at you and making your laugh die in your throat. "This shit is toxic! I can already feel it itching like hell. Didn't those Army clowns ever teach you how to clear a fucking room?! Christ!" He grits his teeth, stands up and storms over towards Caterpillar. She backs up a couple of steps, lip trembling and eyes wide... too slowly, as usual. He reaches out with his one free hand and wraps it around her throat. "You spoiled, arrogant little cunt." he snarls... making Caterpillar (and, indeed, you) gulp nervously. "Tell me what that toxin does or I'll..."

"It's... it's just an irritating sting to deter aggressors! I never intended Burrton to be a weapon! It was only for self-defense!" she says, her voice taking on a whiny tone once again. "It will wear off in a few hours - and you need to make sure to extract the projectiles carefully or the tips will break off inside - Gak!" she doesn't get to finish before Jokester roughly pushes her over to the table with all the **** baggies on it and tosses her onto it, back first. She is so surprised that she leaves her legs uncrossed at first, exposing her blue silk panties, before she remembers her modesty (what little she has) and re-crosses her legs. He releases her throat and stands, glowering at her. "It was... it was a woman who went by her last name... 'Redwood', she came to me with a counter offer when I went rogue from the lab and decided to re-start my father's distribution ring. I... I don't know how to contact her or what her real name is, she always contacted me!"

"Bull. Shit." Jokester says, fumbling around in his belt (with a clearly awkward, pained right hand) for another cigar. A tense silence followed... after his previous rebuke, you didn't feel like saying anything, though you do frown - he didn't really have to talk to you like that, did he? After all, you helped kill the monster!

Then, a dark smile starts at the corner of his mouth and he glances back at the cowering college boy. "Alright... Gun-Bunny. We're gonna take that pile of junk out into the nearest dumpster and burn it all. But that isn't enough of a setback to this ambitious bitch. She's going to keep causing trouble and distributing supranormal substances and genetic freak-show shit to the sorts who can do some real harm with it. Besides... this poor, stupid kid," he jerks an elbow at Griff, "just got his whole future flushed down the crapper thanks to getting mixed up in this, while Cutie Caterpillar there sashays her way back to freedom. Sounds pretty unfair to you, right?"

"Yeah!" the first response comes not from you, but from Griff. You shoot the jock a dirty look and hop down off the shelf where you'd perched. "Well... when you put it that way, I guess it kinda does, yeah." you say. "But I mean, you're not really gonna... like... **** her or anything, right? N-not that she wouldn't deserve it, in a way." you say, smiling nervously. Even though they're electronic, one of your rabbit ears happens to droop as you speak, looking rather appropriate to you hesitant tone.

"Nah, nah. Instead..." he thinks for a moment, lighting the cigar, "...maybe we can even up that little imbalance in two directions at once, while also helping encourage her to tell us what she knows. From what it sounds like, dipshit there," he pointed to the jock who you'd since moved over to and put in an armlock, from behind, "just wanted some of this poison candy so he could get laid. Gotta have a little sympathy for that motivation. And you know, I recall the first Caterpillar got his name and schtick from the old Lewis Carrol story. Liked to reference it whenever I rolled around, before I would **** some information out of him. "

Caterpillar sniffed and gave a wistful sigh, pushing her glasses up against her nose. "It was a very meaningful story..." she said softly.

"Yeah, I bet." Jokester says. "I'm glad you think so. Hey, in that original story, wasn't the 'caterpillar' character introduced sitting on a mushroom?"

"Oh, yes!" the naive supervillainess says. "You know, I had plans for an organically-constructed fungal throne, but that's one of the reasons I need fund-"

"Yeah," Jokester cuts her off. "I don't think I could deliver just at the moment - just a little SEARING PAIN, y'know - so, Bunny, why don't you do a little philanthropic project and help that college geek get his pants off so that Cutie Caterpillar can show she's sorry?"

"Wh-what?" Both you and Caterpillar are a bit surprised to hear such a suggestion.