The Redemption of Vanessa Hawthorne

So what?

Hubert here could call her a lady all he liked, but Vanessa Hawthorne had never been a lady to him, and remained a figure in his torment in equal measure to her status as a personally-known sex idol. Frank didn't have the latter to weigh it against, but she was no less a villain in John's story... or in John's Game. Didn't she deserve more punishment? Hell, now that he knew who really ruled the operation between her and Frank's cliques, didn't she perhaps deserve it more? It would be just. It would be easy.

It would feel good.

"She's so lonely," the butler suddenly continued, "which I suppose is natural for someone her age, in her father's spotlight. She never brings friends over except for special events... why, it's been many years since she had someone over so sporadically! You must be someone very special to the little Miss."

John stared at the older gentleman's reflection, stunned at his sincerity. Such admiration... was he really a butler? John felt the need to press him. "What... Who are you, to her?"

"I'm sorry, where are my manners, haha!" The older gentleman chuckled as he turned a corner, putting them on a path flanked by small mansions and ending in an absurd-looking estate. "I'm Hubert, Mrs. Hawthorne's personal servant and a kind of nanny for the little Miss, at least as long as she needed it."

"You're... kind of like a dad to her then, huh? I mean, you sound like one."

"I'm afraid Master Hawthorne hasn't had much time for his daughter, what with work and... the Lady... so in some respects, yes. I cared for her as an infant, then as a child, and now as a young lady. But enough of my prattling; I'll have other duties to attend on arrival, so you needn't give me another thought."

John grimaced at the overt humility. It had to be an act... but perhaps this many years watching Vanessa grow had molded the poor old fellow. Still, the way he vouched for her... and the apparent distance from her own parents... John felt terrible for considering the things he wanted to do. "I guess... she must've had a hard time."

"Ah? Well, she has adjusted well to adversity, I believe. In any case, do not let this humble servant's ramblings affect your perception of her: whatever her regal nature at school, or the impressions you get from this visit, I assure you she is a good girl."

John nodded, and let his thoughts stray for a moment as the car drove towards the massive estate... and waited for the car to turn onto one of the other, impressive homes. It did not, and kept on right up to the wrought iron gate wreathed in dead vines, beyond wish waited a mansion and field nearly as large as the Academy itself. "She... she lives here?!" John couldn't help but blurt it out, and mercifully Hubert simply nodded with a smile. The gates flung open after a brief pause, and the car pulled into the massive roundabout until it stopped before the marble steps of a three-story monstrosity of bleached marble, gold-trimmed windows, and a single, two-story-tall oak door depicting a coat of arms. Flanking it were a pair of stereotypical butlers, who bowed as John sheepishly stepped out of the car. Was this the life that shaped Vanessa? He pondered it as they walked into a main hall right out of Resident Evil and up the steps to the eastern hall, with servants occasionally dotting the house like tired fixtures next to plants, portraits, or whatever else they maintaining.

"How many people live here?"

"The estate is only home to the Hawthornes, and the young Miss is their heir. So three, if you'd believe it!"

"You all live in suburbs then?"

"What? Oh, you were counting the helpers, haha! Well, I suppose there's about two dozen or so of us about. Most of us live over in the servant's quarters, beyond the courtyard."

Suspicious, John augmented the butler's trust in him as they cleared the steps. "There must be at least a dozen rooms though... just for three people?"

"The... extended family once resided here too, but Lady Hawthorne... invited all of them to expand their holdings elsewhere... to empower the family of course." John's eyebrows peeked up at that, and he didn't miss the fact buried in politeness. What kind of woman was this matriarch who could tell her husband's family to leave their home? "Here we are," he declared at the third door of the hall. He rapped on the door briefly, and waited.

"Send him in, and don't let anyone else in here!" came a shrill, familiar voice. John inhaled deeply, and stepped through.

The door opened to a private study of polished wood and lit by the low-hanging sun through massive grilled windows of gold and crystal. There, fixing the last button on her shirt with her back turned, was the alleged good person that tormented John socially and sexually. She was joined by a middle-aged woman in loose, beige satin clothes who was presently used the desk as a rack for bras and shirts. Flanking John upon entering was a stoic, professionally suited bodyguard with sunglasses on (despite being indoors) and an earpiece.

Jeremy Harris Miller
Level 5 mob grunt
<Hawthorne Estate>
59/59hp
A low-ranking member of an organized crime syndicate.
Status Effects: Haste (Cocaine, 2h 21m left)

What the Hell? John didn't like the risk he imposed, and noted it as he took in the star of the show. Vanessa was decent now, but this merely meant she had put her exploding shirt back on and carried her swollen, bra-less breasts in her folded arms. By the light of the afternoon sun, she was only more classically beautiful than she would normally be at school, molded by good genes, skin care, and a horrible personality. Was this the young Miss that Hubert had so dotingly spoken of before he vanished behind that closing door? Maybe she was but a prickly rose, a redeemable heiress of evil who only needed a good-hearted man to show her the way. It was a cheesy plot, a cheesy RPG plot, but John hoped-

"Cindy, I'm expecting my wardrobe to be fully fixed by tomorrow morning." The harshness of her order snapped John out of his fantasy.

The woman stared at her, bug-eyed. "Y-your entire wardrobe? But you have thousands-"

"Did I fucking stutter? Do I need to hire another fucking dedicated tailor?"

"N-No, Miss!"

"Maybe I should smear your name and make sure you never work again. If I-"

"That's enough."

Both women jumped at the sudden noise, and slowly turned to John Newman, the young loser who dared to say them. Cindy fell silent. The mysterious man (bodyguard? hitman?) coughed. Vanessa's face grew red with fury. "Get fucking to it, Cindy!" The woman complied, scooping up the massive load of clothes and fabrics in her arms and dashing for the door. John was quiet as she worked... but only because he was busy setting the tone. Maybe he would reverse it if she truly ended up being a redeemable victim, as Hubert had somewhat painted her, but for now Vanessa's old bad attitude and new funbags had given him an idea, half-inspired by staring at Summers' tits for their brief meeting earlier. Using augment physiology, he tried to loosely defined "milk production" in his mind as he used the spell on her. Mammary glands were key to making milk, so could this be a way to cheat and make these huge udders even bigger? He received pleasant new notifications in response.

Crit! Milk production boosted by 20%!

Combo! Augment body and augment physiology! Prenatal lactation activated!

Achievement unlocked! "Yin Yang"!
Gain a combo effect from your abilities for the first time! Clever! Discover more of them for a bonus.
+1 INT
+100XP

Cartoonishly, Vanessa's chest surged until even her areolas were visible through the stretching cloth... and then became outlined with dark blotches that spread like small city-states on a time-lapsed map. Vanessa's anger turned to shock, then a deeper red with embarrassment. "Fuck, n-no! I'm... I can't be...!" Cindy stared back in shock and nearly re-approached, but quickly fled before Vanessa could scream anything else at her. That left a generous room filled with books, a table, a murderer, fixed windows, and John. "Fucking... I don't know how, but you must have..." On the verge of tears, she huffed at the stupidity of what she almost accused him of doing. "Nevermind... shit..."

John tried to sound convincingly confused. "Are... are you OK, Vanessa? I'm worried that your hormones are maybe a bit of out of control..." He took a few steps forward, doing his best to keep his eyes above chest level.

"God, I can't even with this! Hormones don't give you a boob job, moron!"

Well, when you think about it... "Boob job? What do you mean?"

"And... and shut up! You're going to tell me everything about Frank, about how you got this," she nearly whispered as she revealed the buttplug from her purse on the windowsill, "and what you intend to do to make it up to me!"

John put his hands up defensively. "Whoa, whoa, well, I-I mean... can't we get a bit of privacy to talk about all that?" He motioned to the bodyguard, or assassin as his label declared him.

"No, because I need him here to explain the NDA that you'll be signing."

"The... what?"

Cindy had escaped at some point in the exchange, and only now did the bodyguard move, pulling out a piece of paper and pinning it to the table with a fountain pen. John watched as the guard went back to guarding... no, obstructing the door, and grew alarmed as he locked it with a soft click. "An NDA, idiot," Vanessa sighed, "like, a contract to make sure you keep your stupid mouth shut? If anything we talk about leaves this room, we'll sue you and your family into the deepest hole we can find. Period." A bit intimidated, John looked down at this contract, noting the "NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT" text at the top... and then the exceptional Gamer message the paper gave him:

Special item: Hawthorne non-disclosure agreement. The usual doom and gloom of crossing an agreement with the Hawthornes. Signing it seals you to silence on any defamatory information, regardless of the truth of it. Signing it will lower your Charisma and Wisdom by 10, and provide all members of <Hawthorne Estate> with a 20% resistance to your spells.

Special- what the Hell?! Are the Hawthornes m... wait, no. Sometimes mundane stuff gets labeled special too, but this is... pretty heavy. John shook his head quietly, earning a smirk from the Hawthorne present. Well, fuck that. "You can't really expect me to sign-" The click of cold metal. John turned slowly, and was faced with the service end of a suppressed Glock in Mr. Miller's right hand. Not a rapier, not a mana bolt, not a goblin dagger. A fucking gun was pointing at his head. John, Gamer and all, could only freeze up under that old, mundane threat of being shot in the face.

"This isn't an option, faggot. NDA first... and don't bother screaming," she snidely taunted. "Everyone here is on our payroll, and they wouldn't dare cross me for some loser peasant like you."

"You're... you're going to shoot me?!"

Vanessa shrugged with her arms, letting her breasts sag slightly under the shirt. "Only if you don't comply. It was fun to laugh at you with the other girls, and to just play with you like I do... but you're getting cocky, too cocky for my taste." Her expression darkened, but that smile never left. "The way you acted on the bus, the way you snuck my mom's toy back to me... no, you're definitely not just run-of-the-mill peasant scum. You've got talent, and I can always use more talented people... just not the way you are now, talking back to me as if we were anything even like equals." She chuckled the last word, but there is no mirth on the cap on her sentence. "So sign it, and the scary man goes away. It's really not that hard, I mean, like, I've done this a dozen times."

Acquisition successful.

"Why... why would..." John shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. He didn't even see the contract anymore... but merely continued to shake his head in disbelief.

Acquisition successful.

"Hmmm?" She leaned forward, her ear facing him. "Do you still have questions when you're in danger of being shot? I can barely control these guys, you know... mob guys, all of them." She motioned to the unmoving gunman. "Do you really want to give this one a reason?"

Acquisition successful.

"After all that BS from Hubert, I would've... no, I guess it isn't true."

"I don't care who that is even, but fuck what you've heard."

John looked at her blankly. "W-... What do you mean? I said Hubert."

"Who the fuck is Hubert?"

John stared at her at a loss. Vanessa Hawthorne stared back, not dropping the joke that didn't exist. She really didn't know. But he... he raised her, didn't he? He was so dedicated to her well-being and growth, for her entire life, for what must've been all his best years...