Meditating

The doctor leads Ms. Blackheart to a room, opens a door to another door, then opens that to a fifteen by fifteen room with a water fountain in the corner, a floor made of river stones cemented in place, and the sound of windshield coming through hidden speakers. A blonde woman sits on an exercise mat in the middle of the room, slowly breathing as she sits still, cross legged with her hands past her knees. She's wearing something that looks like regular clothes, but the seams seem extra thick.

The sitting woman opens her eyes slowly, “So it,” the woman pauses briefly, “went well, then?”

“Correct, I don't need you to rip her head off,” the doctor confirms, “although I did kind of accept a job offer on your behalf.”

The witch looks the woman over… she's certainly strong and healthy but hardly an obvious melee powerhouse… but then, super powers aren't always obvious, “Angela, was it? I'm Fantasia Blackheart.” The magical woman gets down on one knee and extends her hand.

Angela nods and shakes the offered hand, “So,” that pause again, “what's the job?”

“Superhero team member, a million US a month,” Fantasia smiles, “so what's the power and complication that means you can't be alone?”

The sitting woman stands up, glancing at the doctor.

“I'm perfectly happy helping you revert after if you can't manage it yourself,” Benjamin nods, “I'm okay with it if you want to show her.”

Angela smiles, and gets up “Okay then… is your shotgun loaded for a full demonstration?”

Benjamin Maddox Beaux pulls his weapon out of his trench coat, and nods.

The woman shifts, her clothing ripping apart at the seams as she grows from a five foot something woman to a human-wolf hybrid form the size of a horse, bent over on all fours and still nearly reaching the ceiling. The doctor points the shotgun at Angela, who is now hugely naked, and fires a few times.

As Fantasia's ears stop ringing, she notices a few things. One, the wolf woman doesn't seem to be scratched… and there's flattened slugs on the floor… the doctor was using solid shot. Two, the clothing isn't actually torn: Those thick seams were apparently velcro. Three, those teeth and claws are really long and sharp. The witch adds a fourth a moment later: The wolf woman's tongue is very wet… as is Fantasia's face, after that lick.

The doctor reloads and puts his shotgun back underneath his coat, “So… Angela, can you calm yourself down?”

The wolf gestures a bit with her claws.

At the witch's expression, the doctor explains, “She can't speak in this form, her throat and tongue are all wrong, we sent a camera in to check. But her paws are just as dextrous as her hands in her normal form, so we've been learning German Sign Language together.”

“So what did she say?” Ms. Blackheart looks at Benjamin.

“She's going to try, but wants us out of the room,” Dr. Beaux shrugs, “She'll bark if there's a problem,” he waves, “come on.”

The two head back towards the doctor's office, and get to the serious business of planning: Discussing what they want out of a headquarters: Standard things like apartments, guest quarters, a common area, meeting spaces, vehicle spaces, and such. They account for the expected needs of individual needs for the members: Werhure is huge at times, so sixteen foot ceilings and double-wide doors everywhere… plus a meditation room; Iron Fox will need a landing pad on the roof and a tech room; Fantasia will likewise need an area to work enchantments; the doctor needs an examination room or two, a surgery bay, and an office. Of course, they can't neglect security, and there needs to be some training areas….

They're still at it when Amber buzzes the doctor through the intercom, “We like, have an Iron Fox lady… and yes, she's totally a fox… here to see you or some junk?”

“Ah, good,” the doctor replies over the intercom, “Please send her in.”

A moment later, Amber (still in her silk kimono), leads a woman in black and glowing green and metal full body armor into the office. The footsteps from her obviously metallic boots are surprisingly quiet on the tile floors. The woman's face plate kind of melts away from her face, and yes, she's a smiling blonde woman.

“So like, what do I need to do for that million a month salary?” She's all smiles.

The doctor tilts his head, ‘getting’ what Fantasia was talking about earlier, as the witch answers, “Basic hero work on a team… use your inventions like that incredible suit of yours to help people, coordinating with the rest of us.”

The Iron Fox's eyes look down, and she seems to deflate, “Umm… about that…” she takes a breath, “I'm like, not an inventor? I didn't make Samson, I just adopted him.”

“You adopted a set of power armor?” Benjamin scrunches his face up.

“Like, he's more like a puppy that can be a set of power armor? Or a seal thing…” she pauses, “You know what? It's easier to show than tell. Samson, separate please.”

The armor melts off the woman, forming a black creature with some glowing green circles, shaped a lot like a harbor seal. It speaks in a robotic voice with a child-like warm tone “Am I a good boy?”

“Yes you are,” Irene Fox smiles at the thing, now in a pink crop-top and matching microskirt, reaching down a hand, as the creature flips over, “Such a good boy…” she proceeds to give the ‘seal’ a belly rub, and it wiggles and flops around in pleasure, “you did good getting mommy here without breaking all the windows this time, yes you did, such a good boy….”

“‘Without breaking all the windows’?” Benjamin repeats questioningly.

“Yeah, we can do the LA to Wyoming trip in, like, a minute? Less, really…” Irene continues the belly rubs as she explains, “But the sonic boom from going that fast totally breaks every window within half a mile or so of our path. We're working on staying just below the speed of sound when like, over land.” The woman smiles at the seal-thing, “and you got it this time! Such a good boy Sampson….”

“But between the two of you, you can fly, blast, and soak hits?” Fantasia is rubbing her chin.

“Like, yeah…” Irene is still giving Sampson belly rubs, “when Sampson here is wrapped around me, I don't even feel it when like, we get hit. He's really fast, but… Sampson, why don't we ever dodge?”

Sampson doesn't quit responding to the belly rubs that Ms. Fox continues to give him, but his tone switches to a very flat, robotic one for the answer, “Sabots traveling at less than 0.2c and under six martons of mass are handled by subatomic deconstruction and absorption. Energy delivery of less than 2.7 quartloons per piconarn can be directly absorbed into energy stores.”

“Like, what does that even mean?” The blonde woman with the pet monster asks, still rubbing his belly.

“I eat the treats they give us, mommy,” the beast answers in the child-like voice again.

The witch and doctor look at each other, and both say the same thing, “I think we can work with this.”

Then they hear a bark….