Dropper

“We have our orders.” Candress insisted. “We are to attempt to retrieve the prize. The master’s goals were made quite clear.”

“We are making the attempt.” Keilnei said. “We are doing preemptive surveillance to assess the validity of committing our forces. We don’t need to wait until one or both of us are lying bloodied on the floor to determine this to be an implausible route to our objective.”

“So you intend to do what?” Candress demanded, “Wander about being leered at for hours?”

“That will happen regardless.” Keilnei said flippantly. “I do not think we are the kind of heroes who can storm a stronghold with only sixty shots between us and make it out alive. Even if we had access to magic, it would be a fool’s errand.”

The problem, of course, was that they drew altogether too much attention to slip into the building unobserved. With little better to do than bathe in the spring, the two of them were fairly clean and well groomed. Their food was rationed, but neither went hungry. Judging by Gil’s reactions, the two of them were both very attractive to human men. Even properly disguised as humans, no one would mistake the two beautiful, armed women for locals in the destroyed city.

Keilnei tried rubbing dirt into their hair and faces, but it only did so much. Candress had managed to get two “hoodies” which clung to Keilnei’s larger bust and barely hid her leather armor. The elf, with her slimmer build, could mostly blend in if she put her hood up to hide the black metal tiara and still pointed ears.

Worse, becoming more approachable didn’t make them innocuous. It made them targets, at least without any markers they belonged here. Even most of the people associated with the Merchants weren’t willing to rush two women carrying firearms, but a few did. No negotiation, even. They just saw outsiders and attacked. Madness.

The two women ended up holed up in an abandoned building near the Merchants’ fortress, after getting a few of the more reasonable **** addled locals to share information: a fellow who identified himself as Lizard for some reason led their informants. Apparently there was to be some kind of large scale meeting that very evening.

“Yeah, it’s a recruitment drive, see?” He said, leering at the women before him. “I’m sure there’d be plenty of people happy to see a couple broads like you. You said you had product to sell?”

“Yes.” Candress said. “We have more stashed nearby.”

She held up a small bag full of white powder Gil had warned them both not to partake in. The man attempted to take it, but they still had need of him. Keilnei, looming behind her elven comrade, glared with a hand on her revolver.

“I mean, it looks like pretty standard stuff.” He said, trying and failing to look disinterested. “You might be able to find a buyer at the meet. If you can get in.”

“I thought it was a recruitment drive.” Keilnei asked, “Would they not desire new faces?”

“Yeah, if you’re with someone who’s already proven themselves.” Lizard smiled, showing rotted teeth. “Someone with one of these.”

He gestured at his wrist, where several simple bangles made from shiny, brightly colored material hung.

“Don’t you babes worry.” He said. “I’ll get you in. I’ll even protect you. Course, you’d need to hand over your piece. People might get suspicious if I walk in with a couple feds.”

“No, we don’t need you.” Candress said, “I’ll trade this for a wristband.”

She proffered the small, clear pouch of white powder. Gil had called it cocaine, and made it abundantly clear that these people valued it.

“Hell no.” He said, clutching his forearm protectively, though his eyes tracked the bag. “You know what it takes to get one of these? I’m not handing it over for some snow.”

“Very well, you may leave.” Candress said. “We will find someone less principled to deal with.”

The man blinked, surprised at being so quickly dismissed. His lip curled back into a snarl.

“That’s a bad idea. You need me and my boys.” He said. “Look, I tried being nice-“

“You tried to disarm us.” Candress said, looking at him over the top of her sunglasses. “I would be happy to be accompanied if you are respectful, but I don’t intend to let you touch me.”

He caught the acid green glow of her eyes for the first time, stiffening.

“You a cape?” He asked, his bravado evaporating.

“I’m someone who wishes to enter the mall tonight.” She said, “Is that so bad? The Merchants don’t seem like the types who will last long. If your “boys” are competent, you might get some work as our bodyguards. My employer can pay quite well; we have ample food, water, and more.”

She held the cocaine casually, directly in his line of sight. Candress didn’t have much first hand experience with anything at all really, but she could recognize an addict. Candress was tempted to offer the disgusting little man a deal for his soul in exchange for the magic dust, but he didn’t seem worthy of such a precious resource. Gil had made it quite clear he wished to reserve the day’s pact for his own use, or any “capes” they might encounter if such individuals seemed amenable. If the man proved useful and no one of great value presented themselves, perhaps then a petty gang leader could find his way into the fold. She doubted it.

“Sure, sure.” He said, staring at the bag, “You want in, you can get in. I wouldn’t suggest causing trouble though. The big man is gonna be there with his girl; you won’t survive if you get caught up in something.”

“We have no intention of doing anything rash.” Keilnei spoke up, “Only looking for opportunities.”

••••••••••

The Chosen did not, as a general rule, accept walk in applications. As a terrorist organization, by and large they preferred recruits that had at least one sponsor who was already among them. Infiltration from law enforcement or rival gangs was an ever-present fear, even with the strictest protocols available. Of course, that was for normal recruits. Gil had a lot going for him when he rode a towering black bird up to the outer perimeter and asked politely for an audience.

For one thing, Gil was not only white but a bit pasty. His straight brown hair substantially reduced the chances he was Jewish, at least to a worldview as simplistic as that of Fenrir’s Chosen. For another, he was obviously a Cape. He couldn’t throw fire or ice in a mana dead zone without chewing one of his few precious magic leaves, but the presence of Boco was more than enough for him to claim to be a tinker specialized in biology. From what Rose told him, Tinkers were often extremely vague to outsiders about what they could do, or had strange limitations. That made it the perfect cover for “Nomad,” whose “creations” were all opportunistically acquired through missions, sales, or deals.

They didn’t know that, of course, especially not the grunts. If Gil really was a biotinker, a mad scientist specialized in working with living creatures as his medium, he would be an incredibly valuable asset for any super team. As an obvious example, a few massive flying bird mounts capable of quickly navigating through the damaged parts of the city would be great for a mobile raiding strike **** no matter how silly they might look. Even better if they could be stored in small, familiar looking red and white balls when they weren’t in use, as Gil demonstrated.

Gil was not lucky enough to be brought straight to Menja. No, instead he was brought into an improvised office space with high windows, allowing some of the orange light of sunset to peek through. His only company consisted of a few armed men with iron wolf masks, and an irritating fly that zoomed around the room.

“Why all the security, gentlemen?” He asked, shifting to show the sword and revolver slung at his belt. “It seems like a bad way to make a first impression.”

“Shut up.” One of the two, a man with dozens of tattoos of runes running up and down his arms, said, “The boss’ll decide what to do with you.”

The other, who had a shaved head, grunted his agreement.

In all likelihood these men could take him down if it came to a fight, but projecting confidence could carry him very far. That, and if he did get **** into a fight he had every intention of stuffing a magic leaf into his mouth and taking on the aspect of the monkey to help him dodge. Offensively he was outmatched, but between his suit and the enhanced reflexes from Keilnei’s technique, it seemed likely he could avoid injury long enough to bring in Blackpaw and Silky.

He was fairly confident that Menja was somewhere in the building, and further he was fairly sure that she’d be a sopping mess by now. The parasite binding didn’t mess around. Of course, that wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t get past this “boss.”

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait all that long. A man and woman joined Gil right around when the light streaming through the window faded entirely. They wore similar red bodysuits, with the woman accenting it with an eyepatch mostly covered by her long hair and the man adding a layer of Kevlar body armor.

The blonde man was obviously in charge, or at the absolute minimum believed himself to be. He had the kind of thoughtless arrogance you only see in high ranking nobility of the worst sort, and the woman was almost certainly either his girl or his sister based on the matching outfits. Gil erred more on his girl based on how she trailed after him and his best guess at who they were.

Gil knew for a fact, though he’d only peeked them from afar, that not all of Fenrir’s Chosen wore matching red bodysuits. His best guess from Rose’s quick overview was that he was looking at Victor and his wife Othala.

Victor was a generalist who could do almost anything that a human being could manage with enough training, because he was able to rip that very training from the mind of prisoners. Combined with his rigorous physical training to keep his body in peak form, he was close to peak human capability. He was pretty high ranked among the Chosen of Fenrir, and would probably be ranked higher if he wasn’t so young.

Othala had been marked out as a specific person of interest. She was a healer, among other support focused powers, and was thus an incredibly valuable asset to a bunch of warmongers like the Chosen. Rose had bluntly told Gil she believed that the PRT should **** this woman in her opinion, if they couldn’t remove her some other way.

“So, new hopeful, eh?” Victor asked, circling Gil and giving him a once over. “Take a seat. I’ve got a few questions.”

Gil, though slightly nervous that he’d bitten off more than he could chew, sat down in the indicated chair. The man stood over him and signaled his girl to shine a spotlight upon Gil’s face.

“First, your name.”

“I go by Nomad, but I haven’t been in the business long.”

“Seems like it.” The man said, leaning in a few inches from Gil’s face, “Never heard of you. So why’d you decide to dress up as a sand n••••••.”

Gil grimaced. He hadn’t once thought of his hooded robe and skintight bodysuit as having any kind of racial undertones, and seriously doubted that anyone reasonable would go there immediately.

“I was going more for pilgrim.” Gil said, “You know, wandering around seeking meaning or something. It seemed like something inoffensive I could stick with until I settled on something better. Maybe Mimir, to fit the theme around here?”

Victor crossed his muscular arms, looking down at Gil.

“Real name?” He asked, “Where are you from?”

“Boston, but things are pretty hot around there.” Gil said, choosing a city he could remember the name of at random, “I tried selling to all sides, but the Protectorate took offense so I left. I was thinking it might be nice to work for a single respectable group. I’ve gotten tired of wasting my work on idiots.”

“Alright, then.” Victor said, “What are we looking at if we do decide to keep you around? What’s your specialty, what can you make right now?”

“I’m best at altering people.” Gil said, “The one option I’ve managed to get pretty reliable will let me bring someone back from the dead. It has some side effects, mostly a bit of memory loss, and I need to set things up before they die. I can also give people powers, if they agree to be primed for it, and that process is a lot less on-demand. I’m also pretty good at eliminating all sorts of strange conditions.”

“Trump tinker?” Victor said, stroking his chin. “Could be useful, assuming we can actually trust you. Can’t risk letting another Teacher into our midst. We’ve already got medical covered, so you’re redundant there.”

Gil had no idea who or what Teacher was, so he followed his normal policy and shut the fuck up. He met Victor’s eyes with a steady gaze.

“Not many can do what I can.” Gil said coolly. “I can earn trust if you give me a chance, and you want me if you can trust me.”

“Can’t say you look like much.” Victor said, changing tack. “This is a brotherhood of warriors.”

“I can hold my own, but I’ve never felt my place was the front lines.” Gil said, “I can keep people alive from afar, and sometimes I manage to make something interesting. You’ll be wasting me if you just throw me into the fray.”

“This is no place for cowards.” Victor said, narrowing his eyes.

“With all due respect, how many walk-in candidates do you get?” Gil asked, “What kind of coward would even be here?”

Gil felt a faint screen settle over his emergency evac ability; night had come, so he’d be asked an extra time if he ever considered leaving. Not long after, he caught a glimpse of Rose out of the corner of his eye. Backup had arrived, but it was time for him to push his luck.

“Tell you what.” Gil said, “if you’ve got anything that your girl can’t fix on her own, let me step in. I’m flexible.”

Victor glared at him, a cascade of realization careening through his mind far faster than Gil intended. What had been intended as a hint, a hook to get him moving towards Menja, was all the evidence Victor needed.

“Are you responsible for what’s going on with Menja?”

“A free sample.” Gil said, “once she’s got it fully under control, she’s going to be an absolute terror.”

Victor tried to grab Gil by the hair, but he couldn’t get a grip thanks to the Bikini Armor’s effects.

“What did you do!” He roared, clearly angry.

“I sent out a symbiote with a mission to find the individual most primed to make use of its strength.” Gil said, “That’s what led me here, though I wasn’t exactly surprised to find out your organization had good warriors. If she’s having trouble, I can fine tune the symbiote easily enough.”

“Why should I let you anywhere near her?” Victor demanded. “I’ve killed for less.”

“Do it under guard if you like.” Gil said with a shrug, then vaguely pointed at Othala who was waiting across the room. “She’s your normal healer, right? Have her check my work.”

The two looked at one another for a long moment, but their silent council was interrupted by a distant crashing noise. Then gunfire.

“We’re under attack?” Victor said, standing up. “Shit. O, you go with him and make sure he gets Menja into fighting trim, fast. You two, if he tries anything funny you can aerate his skull, got it?”

“Yes sir,”

“Yeah boss.”

Gil stood when prompted, and followed Othala meekly. She glanced back at him warily a few times, but seemed to trust her men to keep an eye on the prisoner/prospective hire. One of them was a very proactive sort, and kept the barrel of his gun leveled at Gil’s head. Out of the corner of Gil’s eye, he saw Rose appear in the corner of the room and started to factor her into his plans.

“Menja has been acting erratically ever since whatever you did to her.” Othala said, “You’re going to fix it, quickly, and if you do you'll get to live. We can discuss employment after you’ve fixed your mess, and she will be consulted on the matter. Menja isn’t known for her forgiving nature.”

As he walked and mapped the hallways in his head, Gil placed his hands casually in his cloak’s voluminous pockets. He settled his grip upon two items, the ones most likely to save his ass if things went as poorly as he half expected them to.

When the door into Menja’s room opened, Gil didn’t have much time to process what he saw. Neither did his three escorts. A tall, well proportioned blonde woman leapt through the air the moment she saw him, knocking him to the ground.

“You!” She growled, her eyes hollow, “You. Pants. Off.”

Menja appeared to be wearing a skin tight suit made of malleable stone, which went a long way to making her heavier. She had enough muscle she probably could have knocked Gil over regardless, but she thankfully wanted to make love, not war. She tried and failed to rip off the bikini armor, rubbing her pelvis against his leg.

“Nessa!” Othala cried, laying her hand upon one of the two guards. He didn’t start to glow or anything, but when he grabbed Menja he didn’t have much difficulty pulling her away. That turned out to be a mistake.

Menja twisted in his arms, and the stone upon her hands shifted into a large claw. Just like that, she tore his throat out. A spurt of bright scarlet splattered across the wall before anyone but Gil realized the danger.

Othala didn’t panic, but her reaction was fairly similar to what someone would do if they had. She was perfectly dignified as she backedsteped out of the door with every intention of bolting and getting help.

Gil whipped out a wooden rod, the Cultural Shift, and pointed it at Othala. He focused on the skyblock, willing her to culturally become a native of the small island where every permanent resident was either him or a member of his harem. From the moment he saw it in his almanac, he knew he needed to at least try. Even if it proved suboptimal, this was his job.

Meanwhile, Rose leapt into Menja, taking advantage of her lust addled mind to ensure she would finish the job she’d necessitated and kill the other guard. That distraction lasted only a few seconds before she turned back to Gil, her claws dripping red and eyes aflame with lust. Rose, it seemed, couldn’t restrain her host’s feelings if there wasn’t a potential enemy to focus upon.

The armor provided by Menja’s Symbiote receded, revealing her immaculately maintained body. Gil had been in plenty of worlds where a set of DD cups would be considered on the small side, but Menja’s perky tits crowned by small pink nipples would be considered adequate-to-optimal in almost any world. She pawed at his crotch, **** for release, until Gil firmly took her by the breasts and sucked.

She didn’t resist in the slightest, and when he reached down he found a sticky mess between her legs. He fit two fingers inside, and hardly had to put any effort into making her cum. It was an earth shattering experience for Nessa, who had spent days edging by this point. She’d only been able to function well enough to operate for a little more than a day before Hookwolf ordered her confined for her own good.

The result, after only a few moments of effort, was one of the most mind-breakingly intense orgasms Menja had ever experienced, leaving her in a puddle on the ground. Or it would have, if Rose hadn’t been sitting in the back of her head. No one was at the controls while Nessa recovered from a combination of intense orgasm and mental rewiring, so Rose stepped in to help resolve the situation. She placed a damper on what Nessa sensed, so from the statuesque blonde’s point of view she’d assume she blacked out.

“Morninglord above!” Rose said through Nessa’s lips. “That was incredible.”

“Don’t you mean I was incredible?” Gil said with a cocky smile.

“I’m not sure.” Rose said dryly. “I’m the one who infected her with the parasite, but I suppose you were useful as a marital aid. What of her?”

Othala was leaning against the wall, arms and legs shaking as she slid to the floor. She stared into the distance, eyes glassy and her mouth opening and closing.

At the same time, her body shuddered and shifted. Her slightly frizzy hair, damaged by hard water and infrequent washing, smoothed out into a shiny mane. Her lips plumped up. Her breasts grew into a body suit that suddenly seemed shrink wrapped to her body.

Gil looked at Nessa, who had also changed, if more subtly. Her fair hair grew slightly longer and her lean muscle gained a layer of fat barely thick enough to soften her appearance. Naturally, she also gained just enough titflesh to reach an E cup.

Belatedly realizing that either Keilnei or an automated system must have pressed “complete mission” on his tablet, Gil put the matter from his mind and focused on the rather urgent task at hand. He walked over to prod at Othala, genuinely curious. She flinched away from his touch and scrambled back several feet.

“Are you a customer?” She asked, face white, “I don’t want to be a **** again.”

Gil blinked. This was not what he expected.

“Uh. No.” He said. “Not a customer. I’m a tester. Who or what are you?”

This response didn’t even slightly reassure the woman, which removed his first guess. Outside of designated PVP focused tests, most testers were fairly magnanimous with strangers in the same profession. You never knew who you’d be paired with in the future.

“I’m a person!” Othala said, wrapping her arms around herself and rocking back and forth. “I’m not a nazi. I'm not an NPC. I’m a person. I don’t belong to you.”

Gil let out a low whistle.

“Well then.” He said, “I think you might have an opportunity ahead of you, Miss Othala. What do you remember?”

“Gil. It’ll have to wait.” Rose said, pointing. A carpet of insects were crawling under the door. “I think we know who’s after us.”