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| Giving a **** Didn’t Go With My Outfit; [Mammomax] | |
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| Topic Started: Mar 9 2017, 11:12 PM (123 Views) | |
| Stacy X | Mar 9 2017, 11:12 PM Post #1 |
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Neurochemical Control/ Reptillian Traits
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[size0]Because, and I quote, “Never too many! Evening, Wednesday January 25th, 2017 Location: Central Hell’s Kitchen, NYC The Three Strikes was a certified dive. It bore layers of scars: burns on the bar stools, bullet holes in the peeling walls, knife slashes in the booth upholstery; claw marks on the sticky floor. Management had stopped bothering to cover it up. The taste of vice and desperation coated everything, like germs on the complimentary peanut bowls. But it had a certain charm. They still had a handful of decent beers on tap. Plus they offered Stacy’s favourite drink by the pitcher, ‘Satan’s Circus’, full of rye whiskey, bitter orange and chilli-sugar. Typhoid Mary was the only person who’d ever been able to happily share a round with her. Everyone else complained about their tongues catching fire… If they weren’t complaining about the other patrons. Drug dealers, loan sharks and gangbangers… Stacy didn’t bring other mutant there very often. If she wanted a sociable night out, the snakewoman went to Durty Nell’s in Mutant Town. That was where all the other escorts hung about on slow nights. The Three Strikes was reserved for nights that needed to be profitable, or else nights that needed to be spent alone. Most of the old regulars had come to know Stacy on ‘friendly terms’, one way or another. They knew to leave her alone if she didn’t start up a conversation. A booth down from her, one of the slimy ‘Pier 86’ pimps was chatting up literally the only other woman there with more hair extensions and eyeliner slapped on than Stacy herself. She heard the blonde make a laughably coy excuse about powdering her nose before slinking off. The mirrors in the bathroom were usually smashed so… good luck with that, she thought. She would’ve dismissed them as otherwise entirely uninteresting; except just as she was turning attention back to her pitcher she caught the chemical taste of flunitrazepam breaking down in alcohol. Fucking rohypnol? She peered at the slimeball again. He was sloshing around a beer bottle, even though there was one stood in front of him. Her yellow eyes narrowed until he caught her gaze. It immediately switched to a warm smile – Stacy was nothing if not an excellent actress. “…Hey, didn’t I see you at one of Zebra Daddy’s parties last year?” It was a safe bet. Anyone in the sex trade who didn’t know Zee wasn’t worth knowing. “Uh… maybe. Not been ‘round his way since Halloween.” He put the bottle down and, notably, took a swig from the other one. “Were you the mutie chick handin’ out candy apples?” “Yeah, that’s me! He put on a good Devil’s Night, don’t he?” Stacy got out of her seat and wandered over to lean on the table in front of him. While they were engaged in idle reminiscing, her tail carefully snaked behind her and swapped the bottles around. Didn’t feel like there was too much weight difference. Her smile grew just a little more sickly once the switch was made. The woman came back from the bathroom and stopped abruptly, wide eyed (under all those fake eyelashes) at the sight of a gorgon in a leather dress and Louis Vuitton pumps blocking her seat. “Sorry.” Stacy smiled, stamping down the urge to laugh. “I’ll let you get back to your, uh, date.” She eventually finished off what was left her own cocktail and grabbed her coat to head outside. Flagging down a taxi was always a nightmare in Hell’s Kitchen. She thought about risking the subway but settled on waiting for an Uber. At least she’d have time to suck down a few smokes… The kick drums from the Three Strike’s ‘Hump Day Playlist’ still throbbed dimly through the bar’s walls. It was the low thudding pulse of New York’s criminal element; as Three Strikes was most certainly a vital chamber of the underworld’s heart. She was barely into her second cigarette when she heard the blonde from the bar. “Yo! Snake-bitch!” came out in a shrill scream that sounded like it had been perfected at a Justin Bieber concert. “What the fuck did y’all do t’Bunsen?!” So much for doing another girl a favour… “I didn’t do anything t’him.” Stacy shrugged, keeping her voice even. “I’da charged him otherwise.” The slimeball, “Bunsen” apparently, took that as his cue to come staggering out of the bar behind his lady-friend. “Ah cal’d muh boys un yu…” Stacy blinked. Translating it was a bit like sifting through Trevor Fitzroy’s thick accent. You had to carefully pick out what was supposed to be English. “You called ‘your boys’…?” “Yuh!” “Freaks like you, ya shouldn’t be allowed out! Y’all are dangerous!” “Yeah, yeah.” Yellow eyes rolled contemptuously. It wasn’t anything Stacy hadn’t heard a thousand times before. “Sit tight, sugar tush. The President’s prob’ly gonna put a wall ‘round M-Town an’ call it a reservation soon.” She checked her phone to see if there was any update about her ride. While the woman continued to shriek, Bunsen fumbled around in his jacket and produced a flick knife. Good job he could barely walk straight. Stacy let out a loud hiss. It only made the woman scream louder. Any worse and only dogs would be able to hear her. “Y’know what? Fuck it, I’m walkin’!” She pulled her shoes off, turned her back and started pounding the pavement towards Midtown. She’d smell it if the guy got too near. Her tail rattled behind her like it was flipping them the bird. Her scales weren’t like armour but might at least stop her catching hepatitis from used needles on the ground. Her kicks were less effective barefooted but, if all else failed, the pumps might make decent stabbing weapons… |
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| Mammomax | Mar 28 2017, 11:11 PM Post #2 |
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Eats Peanuts, Is Afraid of Mice, I guess
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(because Max is apparently Mutant Townese for Logan) Max didn’t often venture out of Mutant Town. It had, for the most part all he needed. Friends, his kids, crazy super hero protectors, various bits of shady work, even stores that actually carried items right sized for him. However there were occasions when work took him away from his happy (ish) home. Tonight was one of those jobs. Some jackass named “Bunsen”, yes like the burner, owed his bosses a sum of money. It was a smallish sum, a few thousand, but business was business. So much so that they were paying Max far more than the debt to collect said debt. One had to protect their rep and principles after all. Normally Max would have no problem on a score like this. The man was a pimp who specializes in “soft targets”, the naive and young. Were Bunsen a part of mutant town Max would have already had words with him. But the problems began when his employer handed him a list of nasty seedy bars and greasy spoons to run through and a photo of the mook. When Max scoffed, they upped the pay. So the giant sucked it up and went hunting. Thankfully he’d invested wisely and bought an old Hummer for a song that could move his bulk around somewhat discreetly. It was a matter of pulling up close to each bar and bribing some piss drunk patron to go into the place and ask for a Bunsen. Five bars and a hundred bucks later led to him approaching the worst shithole yet on foot as there wasn’t even a damn parking lot. Max tried to stoop and had his trunk tucked into a very oversize hoodie. This meant being pretty much half blind as all he could smell was himself and shirt. However a most fortunate confidence was in the works. Who else but Stacy, not wearing shoes of course, would be walking away from such establishment looking like someone peed in her drink? The couple she was walking away from were so loud and shrill that his covered up ears actually ached from the shrieks. Smiling broadly at Stacy he forgot himself and stood to his full height, his trunk sliding out and raising above his head in happy excitement. |
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| Stacy X | Apr 20 2017, 09:38 PM Post #3 |
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Neurochemical Control/ Reptillian Traits
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Shoe heels clacked together as they dangled by the straps from Stacy’s grip. The woman from the bar was still yelling, the growing distance between them making racist and anti-mutant slurs less and less coherent. Stacy was muttering to herself angrily under her breath as she marched along. “Girl, you do not run from baselines. Just keep going…” She turned to glance back. Bunsen was still making a jelly-legged attempt to follow her. He was fumbling with his phone but from a distance it was difficult to see if he might actually be reaching for a handgun. She turned back, the first little tendril of genuine dread curling up from her belly to her throat. It wasn’t enough to strangle her tenuous sense of pride though. “You do not run! But if he pulls out a piece, a bitch might power walk…” Crossing the street made her feel better, and the lack of shooting sounds afterwards was an even greater relief. Initially she didn’t really clock the huge figure stomping down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. The sight just didnt strike her as odd. It was a testament to how living in the Red Hook mutant district, and shepherding insane powerhouses like Guido, Anansi, Sunder or Skurge around, had all but inured her to the presence of ‘big’ people that made others stop and stare. It wasn’t until she felt a small stone press into the scaly sole of her foot that she remembered she wasn’t in M-Town – because she had sense of mind to check it was just a stone. Looking back up, she wondered who the hulk figure was. Her first though went to Tombstone. God that would just be the turd icing on tonight’s cake wouldn’t it? But then she managed to catch an identifiable taste on the air, just as as a trunk curled out, his back straightened and he pushed back a hood to reveal massive elephantine ears. Oh. Oh! “Hathi!” She grinned, offering a return wave with both a hand and rattletail. Sure, there were no shortage of people who called the guy Barbar, Heffalump, Snuffleupagus or whatever. But she loved the Jungle Book stories (Kaa obviously being her favourite); and always though Colonel Hathi was more Mammomax’s style. Especially when he was trying to wrangle his three kids into a manageable little herd. His ears folded in on themselves as best they could at the girl still mouthing off outside the Three Strikes. Cops weren’t likely to venture out there for a disturbance of the peace. Hell, they weren’t likely to turn up for an outright murder in that place! “Uh, yeah…” Stacy laughed, her smile turning rueful. “That is what happens when y’try ta do a girl a favour and find out she’s a total bitch in the process.” She punctuated the statement with a shrug. “What brought ya to the Kitchen, man?” She asked, genuinely intrigued. If Max was on a job, that usually meant their was some juicy gossip attached to it: Either some idiot had welched on a debt or else seriously pissed the wrong person off. |
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| Mammomax | May 1 2017, 01:16 AM Post #4 |
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Eats Peanuts, Is Afraid of Mice, I guess
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“Well I wouldn’t know nothing about doing a favor for someone who turned out to be a cunt, now would I? Not like people treat elephant faced men like anything other than the pope. You need someone stomped, just say the word, you know I owe you big time.” Max adored Stacy, simply adored her. She was great with his kids, actually seemed to like helping people, constantly put herself on the line for the people she cared about and knew damn near everyone in the state of New York it seemed. In most of the ways that counted she was like a more naive Nora come back to life who traded fur for scales. Lovely scales too, but Max missed his kitten. He opened his mouth to say more but the smell of fire filled his nose and the sound of gunshots filled his already aching ears. Without a second thought he pushed Stacy to the ground and ran at the source of the bullets. Good ol’ Bunsen had traded the knife for a nickel plated IWI Jericho 941. A rather expensive handgun for a man with massive debt. The bullets didn’t so much as dent Max’s skin as he rushed the man and slammed him into, then literally into a parked truck that crumpled around them. Max tore the stunned, bloody man from the wreckage of the vehicle and shook him hard, causing more injuries and he wrapped his massive fist around the hand with the gun and made them both into paste. “What the fuck are you thinking you little piece of shit? You could have hit Stacy and then I would have had to kill your whole damned human family. As it is I got to collect a debt from you so you’re already on my shit list. Stop your crying and apologize to her. Then we gonna talk and you’re going to give me the money you owe or I’m taking body parts. Stupid little human shit with your guns thinking you have a place here anymore.” Max gave him another shake and turned his massive head to Stacy. “You want him hurt more I got you. Might need you to burn off some of his pain if I ruptured something though. Unbelievable, jackass is my retrieval target and pulled a fucking gun on us.” His female companion, the main reason for all of this had wisely hightailed it the moment she saw an elephant man. |
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| Stacy X | May 17 2017, 05:04 AM Post #5 |
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Neurochemical Control/ Reptillian Traits
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“Well I wouldn’t know nothing about doing a favour for someone who turned out to be a cunt, now would I? Not like people treat elephant faced men like anything other than the pope.” “Well no.” Stacy came to a halt and arched an eyebrow at the mammoth bailiff, even as she smiled. Her right hip and shoulder shifted closer to each other. “You just get y’money upfront before you start tossin’ favours about for whoever.” She shrugged, adding, “Your holiness.” “You need someone stomped, just say the word, you know I owe you big time.” Stacy rolled her eyes and laughed. She was tempted to point out that if he didn’t do favours for cunts, he likely had no business making her offers. But she had a feeling that that level of self-deprecating humour would just get her told off. The sudden crack of gunshots dragged them out of their banter at a jarring pace. One second Stacy was considering putting her shoes back on, the next she was sprawled on the sidewalk where Max had shoved her. “Hey!” She yelped automatically, a gut reaction that didn’t quite manage to factor gunshots into the equation. Picking herself up, she jogged awkwardly back towards whatever mess Maxie was wading into – limping slightly thanks to having landed with an ankle at a bad angle. She recoiled when each of the last few shots rang out. With Mammomax pretty much shielding the whole sidewalk behind him, Stacy was more nervous of ricochet than anything. Four or five years ago, she would have happily turned snake-tail ad run away. But she’d gone soft in her old age, confusion and concern over what was happening; that just about trumped fear and the desire to flee. Seeing Bunsen slammed into a truck made her recoil just as much as the bullets did – so loud was the crashing noise it made. The truck let out the alarm wail of a wounded animal. Stacy had to be grateful at that point for being the kind of feral who didn’t have enhanced hearing. The human was peeled away from the truck like so much cheese string. His dark pants saved his last shred of dignity but Stacy caught the scent of urine coming from him at that point. The stupid girl he’d planned to drug for lord-only-knew-what-kind-of-funtimes had already called it a night. She’d made it to the other end of the street, in fact. Bitch or not, you had to admire a girl who could give Usain Bolt a run for his money while wearing knock-off Valentino Garavani rockstud pumps. Stacy’s attention turned back to Maxie as he’d started to shake the now-terrified human around. It was like a grotesque parody of a dog with a plush toy once all the stuffing had come out of it. He wrapped his massive fist around the hand with the gun and made them both into paste. Yellow snake eyes wet wide as the headlamps flashing on the damaged truck. The taste of blood and stress hormones flooded her senses, enough to nearly make her sick. “Jeezus!” “What the fuck are you thinking you little piece of shit? You could have hit Stacy and then I would have had to kill your whole damned human family.” “Max!” “As it is I got to collect a debt from you so you’re already on my shit list. Stop your crying and apologize to her.” “...Max!” She was likely difficult to hear over the car alarm, too nauseated to really yell. Frowning, she darted round to the truck door. Max sounded like he was talking himself into getting even angrier. The jalopy was so mangled that popping the boot didn’t even require an internal trigger first. A little fiddling, that came easy from years of jacking cars, and the alarm died. Stacy pulled a pack of tissues from her purse and started wiping grease from her scaly hands. “Then we gonna talk and you’re going to give me the money you owe or I’m taking body parts. Stupid little human shit with your guns thinking you have a place here any more.” Finally, in relative quiet, the behemoth of a mutant turned back to her. He gave Bunsen another shake as he looked at her expectantly. “Okay, yeah, that alarm was gettin’ on my last nerve.” She shrugged. “Look, I know that guy’s-” “You want him hurt more I got you.” He jumped in all too eagerly. “Um, yeah, no! Thank you.” She said firmly. “I think you’ve made your point there.” “Might need you to burn off some of his pain if I ruptured something though.” “You don’t think you ruptured plenty already?” Stacy looked at Bunsen, who in turn looked back at her, face completely drained of blood. His hand though, that was a bloody mess. Splinters of bone stuck out at horrible angles through broken skin and she could see the whole appendage was going to be a swollen red and black mess within hours. “Unbelievable, jackass is my retrieval target and pulled a fucking gun on us.” Stacy sighed and threw up her hands. “You moron!” She shot at the human in a withering tone, even if her expression was still somewhat compassionate. “I guess it ain’t just girlie randos in bars ya like t’screw over.” Anyone who’d hire Mammomax was not the kind of person you pissed off unless you were planning to skip town the very next day. Honestly, giving everything she’d gathered thus far he deserved everything coming too him. But she was too squeamish to just let it happen. “Hathi, for my sake pleeease don’t do any more weird stuff that makes his bones crunch.” Her brow knitted, squeezing the diamond marking on her forehead into an odd shape. “I had sapes crush my hand in a car door over debt before. Like, back in LA… And worse. Like ‘congrats, you’ll never have kids now’ levels of worse.” It wasn’t a subject she liked to bring up very often but what the Hell. Her evening was already a bust – might as well top it off with a trip down memory lane that was like skipping on broken glass. “Not t’sound like a special snowflake or anythin’ but please don’t go crunching any more’ve this guy’s bones on my account, ‘cause it’s kinda triggery. Like I’d be a lot happier knowin’ you were gonna at least call 911 when you’re done. If I have to see him around Three Strikes some other night with a new hook hand, it’s gonna be a total buzz killer.” She reached out for the human and pressed a couple of fingertips to his forehead. It was the only part of his sweaty skin she wanted any kind of contact with. She could feel the Flunitrazepam worming around his system, probably the only reason he wasn’t screaming his head off louder than the truck alarm. She rummaged around in his brain and her first course of action was to cut off the pain receptors. But to follow that up, she teased out an effect that mirrored an injection of Pentothal. Aka truth serum. “Okay hold up,” she held a finger up at Max. “Just let that sink in a second. Aaaand…” Bunsen’s pupils blew up wide, making his eyes look practically black. “Hey honey.” She snapped her fingers to focus him a little. “This is all happenin’ ‘cause you’re an unremittin’ly colossal prick. So. Are you gonna behave for my friend an’ get him the money or whatever it is he needs to leave you alone?” He nodded, dumbly. “And when you said you ‘called your boys’ on me. What was that s’pposed t’mean?” “…th’boys, frum… Vil-Anon.” “Vilannon?” There was a pause as Stacy racked her brain and finally came up with an answer. “Villains Anonymous? Ohhh… fuckinnnngggg great!” She pinched the bridge of her nose then looked at Max apologetically. “Bunch’ve flatscan loosers that met at Rykers Island an’ made a self-help circle jerk. ‘Cause they’re scared’ve muties. Hypno-Hustler, Big Wheel, fuckin’ Armadillo, those kinda dipshits, y’know?” She turned to address Bunsen again, more angrily now. There were a few ex-cons staying at the Vanderhorn who’d told Stacy about their prison antics. “You’re the ones always gettin’ your dumb sapien asses handed t’you by Daredevil or the cops!” She switched back to addressing Max. “I swear, I did not know he was part’ve that bullshit. They give honest thieves like me a bad name.” |
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| Mammomax | May 24 2017, 05:48 PM Post #6 |
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Eats Peanuts, Is Afraid of Mice, I guess
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“Sorry Stace. When dealing with threats you take away their weapons. Didn’t have time or inclination to figure out where gun ended and hand began. You saying we need to go to LA and settle a few things? I suppose I can find a sitter for the kids while we West Coast it up a bit. Probably stick out a bit there, but I’m you’re man.” With the adrenaline winding down and Stacy out of immediate danger Max’s demeanor went back to it’s normal passive helpful self. He was a man that liked to help, though he stuck mostly to direct simple solutions to things. Violence was always an effective way to deal with those who hurt your friends. “Got it, no more bones. Again sorry, this little shit just really pissed me off. I got daughters you know? It’s human fucks like this that make me lock my door and teach them stranger danger. Wasn’t like this when I was growing up ya know? As for the rest of that, he ain’t got the money you’ll never have to see him again.” Then Stace did her thing, an amazing thing really, Max didn’t understand it, but he loved to watch her work. The genetic gifts of mutant kind were so varied, so powerful. All it would take was the right person, the right mix of powers and personality and life could be so so good on this world. Bunsen folded like a house of cards in a hurricane and Max loosened his grip. It occurred to him he had no idea whose truck this was and it was way past drivable condition. If the idiot paid up he’d have to leave some money to cover it. At the man’s words Max wanted to hit him all over again. Man couldn’t cover his debts, so instead of buckling down and handling his affairs he hired some loser goon squad? Seriously, there were damn good reasons Max stayed in mutant town. Max’s trunk went through the man's pockets rapidly and extracted several rolls of cash in short order as well as the watch, spare clips, rings, and necklace Bunsen had on him. The giant mutant thought for a moment, then took his shoes and suit coat as well. They were something expensive and Italian and of course there was money rolled into them as well. Finding a nicely bent bit of truck Max reached out and bent it a bit more to form a hook, which hung the man up by before wrapping more bits around his ankles and wrists. Using a red marker he’d found in Bunsen's pocket he used his incredibly agile trunk to write a few words before discussing things with Stacy. “Ok so, it’s a bunch of idiot humans that are gonna come after you. Stupid names, probably some outrageous tech they are using in all the wrong ways, you want them dead? I got no probably stomping a few sapes into paste.” Writ large on Bunson's barely moving chest was a simple truth. “I RAPE AND SELL KIDS.” |
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| Stacy X | Jun 16 2017, 04:24 AM Post #7 |
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Neurochemical Control/ Reptillian Traits
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“Got it, no more bones.” “Thanks Hathi.” Stacy replied quietly. For good measure, she took some more tissues out of her purse and managed to fix them around Bunsen’s crushed appendage with an old hair elastic. It wouldn’t do much about the taste of gore on the air, but the broken bones would be out of sight. Or, at least, until blood loss disintegrated the tissue. They were only made for mopping up Stacy’s occasional case of panda-eye after all. She stood by impassively as Max rifled though the flatscan’s pockets and coaxed out every saleable asset on top of a few cash rolls. Nothing about that struck her as untoward, it was business. She only grew concerned when it looked like Max might try hitting him again. Thankfully he settled for making a meat hook, hanging the guy up without actually impaling his flesh like a horror movie serial killer. The writing left on his chest was a nice touch. Stacy might’ve preferred adding it with a tattoo gun but with his pulverised hand she’d had enough violence for one night. “You’re maybe underestimatin’ how much anyone roud here gives a shit about that.” She said only half-jokingly. M-Town had it’s problems but there was a reason all the girls Omega Red had murdered were funnelled through Hell’s Kitchen. “Nice sign-writing skills though. I’ve tried writin’ with my tail, not quite mastered it though…” Max was busy taking on board the prospect of Vilannon showing up. “Ok so, it’s a bunch of idiot humans that are gonna come after you. Stupid names, probably some outrageous tech they are using in all the wrong ways, you want them dead? I got no problem stomping a few sapes into paste.” Stacy rummaged in her purse and fished out a cigarette to fire up, taking a deep exhale as she considered her prospects. “Hm. Ummm…” It would be satisfying to know the sapes had their asses torn off and handed back to them, but she didn’t want to actually see it happen. And she likely would be close by if it was Mammomax trying to take a hit for her, because otherwise she’d worry… “Are they coming quick?” She asked Bunsen, prodding his leg with a talon to get his attention. “I dunno… They got alotta gear, mebbies not.” He answered honestly, truth serum effect still ripe in his bloodstream. Stacy paused to ponder again before deciding to interrogate him a little more. “What’s the PIN on your cards?” “Twen’y twelve…” He slurred, “Las’ time’a Giants won th’Super Bowl.” “Huh.” Stacy snorted, pulling out an eyeliner pencil before beckoning Max to hand her Bunsen’s wallet. Once obliged she cradled her phone against her shoulder, putting in a perfunctory call to 911, muttering details into the mic. Her hands, meanwhile, were busy writing the PIN number on Bunsen’s credit cards for Max before putting them back and handing the wallet over again. “You find an’ ATM that ain’t busted round here, that oughta go towards the bill for the night and a pizza t’take home to the Woozles or somethin’.” She smiled. “As for the problem stomping… I could do with a ride home if you’re okay with it, but otherwise I’ll manage.” And by okay, she meant that she’d decided to call Regan Wyngarde and see if something could be done. The Red Court illusionist had a wonderful talent for making troublesome sapes disappear with minimal fuss… “How are the Woozles, by the by?” |
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| Mammomax | Jun 17 2017, 06:26 PM Post #8 |
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Eats Peanuts, Is Afraid of Mice, I guess
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“Little known fact, the trunk has fingers on it. As my own are so freaking huge it works better than they do less I want words a foot high. As for folk round here, I’m hoping we made enough of a splash the cops will actually show up. Make things a little more difficult to explain and I don’t have the time to brand him. Guy should be grateful, if you weren’t here I’d kill him and not think twice. This is about ½ what he owe ‘fore interest. In his damn wallet he’s got pics of barely teens. Killing him would be doing the world a favor you ask me.” The massive mutant watched Stacy with an appreciative eye as she teased out credit card info and other things. The lady was simply amazing and he often thought of what life could be if he had time for romance. He put such thoughts away however as he turned to her. “Giants should have never had that one. Don’t get me wrong, glad they did, but wasn’t their time. With the Pats rolling so hard these days I don’t know if anyone’s getting another one soon. You need a lift home though, beautiful? I got that. You’re dreaming if you think I’m just going to ignore some bully boys that are after you though. I’m sure you got the connects to deal with it in a nice fast manner, but that’s not happening.” Max stretched and started walking back towards the Hummer. The adrenaline was now leaving his system and as always that left him hungry and a little confused. He was not a person who enjoyed violence per say, but he was very good at it and rarely regretted it. “So how do we track down these nobodies and put them out of business? At the very least I’m sure my bosses would give me a bonus for squashing some competition. As for the kids… well they a little squirly these days. They 8 now and it seems Taylor may have discovered boys way early. Hunter is a bit more quiet than normal, he saw me snap at a flatscan that wandered into our McDonald’s the other day and that got to him. Guy called me elephant man and you know how that gets me going. Piper is reading at a damn post high school level now. Has my buying her young adult books, crazy world.” |
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| Stacy X | Jul 6 2017, 09:35 PM Post #9 |
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Neurochemical Control/ Reptillian Traits
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“In his damn wallet he’s got pics of barely teens. Killing him would be doing the world a favor you ask me.” “Yeah, I know people who can, er, check on that…” Stacy frowned. She wasn’t exactly proud to know New York scumbags like ‘Zebra Daddy’, but his speciality was finding work for women who passed for ten, twenty, even thirty years younger than they actually were. Mutation could do odd things to the ageing process. She kept the pictures for identification, slipping them into her purse. She could only smile and shake her head as Max trailed off down the football path. Bunsen wasn’t exactly fit to debate. Stacy owned a San Fran Giants shirt, just to remind her of home, but that was about as sportsy as she got. “You need a lift home though, beautiful? I got that.” Stacy dipped her head and made a little faux curtsy, although the skirt she had wasn’t really made for it. “You’re dreaming if you think I’m just going to ignore some bully boys that are after you though. I’m sure you got the connects to deal with it in a nice fast manner, but that’s not happening.” Stacy made an amused ‘tsch’ noise and rolled her snake-eyes as she followed him to the hummer. She wasn’t overly surprised. Half the time men said things like that it was just because their adrenaline and testosterone had peaked unexpectedly. She expected Max would end up busy again with his own business soon enough; there was no shortage of job offers for a man with his talents. “So how do we track down these nobodies and put them out of business? At the very least I’m sure my bosses would give me a bonus for squashing some competition.” “Uh-huh.” Stacy chuckled, staying quiet rather than answering the question. “As for the kids… well they a little squirly these days. They eight now and it seems Taylor may have discovered boys way early.” “What? No!” Stacy couldn’t remember being interested in much beyond playing pirates or dressing dolls up at that age. It seemed each generation was displaying some vague sense of evolution at earlier and earlier ages, but she’d only thought of that in the ‘knows how to work the TiVo/rigs the wifi password’ kind of way. “You’re gonna have to get one of them trackable fobs for lost keys and sew it inta her coat.” She grinned. “Hunter is a bit more quiet than normal, he saw me snap at a flatscan that wandered into our McDonald’s the other day and that got to him.” “Aw, what happened?” “Guy called me elephant man and you know how that gets me going.” “Ah, yeah, that’d do it.” Anansi had been the same when people made Spider-Man jokes around her old colleague. Most bestial jokes were water off a duck’s back (or snake’s scales) to Stacy. There wasn’t anything new under the sun people could throw at her these days. When they stated the obvious, even in the most spiteful of tones, she honestly couldn’t find it in herself to get annoyed. ‘Never forget what you are, wear it like armour and it can never be used to hurt you’, as the saying went. She was more likely to get into trouble when the sapes tried to stop her going where she was headed. Or if they tried to throw her out of places she’d stopped in. Yeah, that rarely went down well… “Piper is reading at a damn post high school level now. Has my buying her young adult books, crazy world.” “Oh, yay!” Stacy chirped, smoke curling from her nostrils as she grinned wide. “Bring her round sometime, she can have my e-reader… I got it from Bishop Books back at the 2014 Stark Expo; but then I kept using my tablet ‘cause… work stuff.” She shrugged. “It’ll still be logged inta my library, should really go t’another avid reader.” People always seemed surprised about how many books Stacy got through, as if every sex worker had to be an illiterate street lurker. She’d really solidified the habit back in her Vegas days, waiting for clients to walk though the Ranch doors for ‘service’. Beyond that there were lots of times were she’d found herself in new cities, too tired to deal with flatscans but not tired enough to just pass out in a quiet hotel room. “I’ll delete the violent stuff like the Millenium Trilogy.” She added with a wink. “But you’re never too young for Maya Angelou!” |
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| Mammomax | Jul 10 2017, 05:30 PM Post #10 |
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Eats Peanuts, Is Afraid of Mice, I guess
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“Well so far Tay mostly just likes teasing them and showing she can do what they do better. Might be cause of you and me you know? I’m a giant guy that can knock down buildings and you’re the strong female that runs a business and looks after people down on their luck. I don’t know, I caught her flipping her hair for that teen muscle guy who lives by the bistro down the road from your place. As for keeping track, well you find one you find them all, might be the only small advantage they come with.” Even though the words were a complaint, Max was all smiles as he talked about his kids. He knew Stace was distracting him, however he’d look the mooks up himself and make sure they stayed away. Sapes with tech were a personal affront to him and a few less in the world was always a good idea. “Was at the one McDonald's brave enough to stay in M-Town, right? This damn sape got all fucking assholish with having to wait while I placed my order. I eat a lot, oh such a crime, right? So I ordered 12 meals, 3 for the kids, and the guy told me, ‘hey elephant man fat ass, why don’t you leave some food for the rest of the people who ain’t genetically fucked up?’ I rounded on him and just barely stopped myself from caving in his chest. The man shit himself and started crying. Really freaked Hunter out as, well, he knows when I’m ready to do some damage even if I don’t do it. Hunt is so damn sensitive, gonna make him great with girls in the future, but man, I’m glad his sisters look after him.” Of all his kids, Max understood Hunter the least. He was from Georgia, where public weakness in males didn’t happen. Max didn’t blame the kid and did his best to deal. It was just an alien way of being to the huge mutant. It did mean that he paid more attention to his actions around him, or tried too. “Heh, trying to get Pip to use anything other than real books is next to impossible. I got the kids a tablet for Christmas, Hunter uses the paint program, Taylor looks up every bit of sports she can find, Piper uses it as a paper weight. She likes the feel of the books, the smell, doesn’t even like magazines much. Wants me to get her War and Peace and All Quiet on the Western Front and stuff like that. Maybe if you tell her there’s like 10 books on there it’ll get her intrigued. I was worried she’d be smarter than me as a teenager. Think she already is. She got her hands on a algebra textbook and now I’m supposed to help her figure it out. I barely got what counts as the third grade ya know? I can build a building, don’t know nothing about letters in my numbers.” Max chuckled and ran a giant hand through Stacy’s hair. He loved this little snake lady in many many ways, but never more so than when she was focused on his kids. She got them and they clung to her like a second mom. It was one of the reasons he was looking at the brotherhood these days. Every mutant should have a chance at a good life like his. “Nah, the violent stuff is what she likes. She wants to be a scientist and develop a cure for killing. Something that would make everyone less violent and war prone. Or a tank, she loves tanks. Weird kid. Won’t have to worry about her and boys at least.” |
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| Stacy X | Oct 23 2017, 06:54 AM Post #11 |
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Neurochemical Control/ Reptillian Traits
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“I don’t know, I caught her flipping her hair for that teen muscle guy who lives by the bistro down the road from your place.” “Hair flipping? Scandalous!” Stacy laughed in a poor mockery of outrage. “If we’re thinkin’ of the same kid though, he’s a total baby Muscle Mary, complete with Gym Bunny boyfriend. I see them workin’ out at Coffey Park all the time. Worst you’d have t’worry about is him gettin’ Tay into protein shakes an’ fake tan.” “As for keeping track, well you find one you find them all, might be the only small advantage they come with.” “Ah, true…” As Max went into more detail about the McDonalds incident, she couldn’t help but wonder how the triplets close symbiosis would fair as they grew older. She couldn’t imagine being tied to anyone that strongly; not to family, not even lovers. Being so staunchly self-reliant from the get-go, the way the Troika worked was an odd concept to wrestle with. “…Hunt is so damn sensitive, gonna make him great with girls in the future, but man, I’m glad his sisters look after him.” Can only be a good thing he didn’t get his daddy’s temper, Stacy thought, even as she nodded along. Something most grown men failed to understand was the effect that even just a raised male voice could have on some women. Women were the gender raised from birth on horror stories of how bad the world could be for them, even at the hands of relatives. Double that for confirmed mutants… If they didn’t experience it personally they still noticed when the vast majority of incidents happening around them stemmed from ‘a man got angry and did a thing’. Few men would actually get violent once they got loud, the way Max occasionally did (or be predatory in the way Bunsen seemed to be). Even fewer would truly be the bogeymen behind why girls were told not to stay out after dark, accept rides from strangers or be vigilant on dates. But most girls had no way of knowing who was who until it was too late… Considering the three-in-one link Hunter had with Taylor and Piper, Stacy wondered if the boy had somehow absorbed that same knee-jerk response too, or even taken it away from the girls into himself… It might explain why Pipes and Tay were such little tearaways. Maybe Hunt cried for the same reason she’d seen countless girls in Vegas go into a panic or mental shutdown when they heard men yelling, even when it wasn’t directed at them… It was sort of heartbreaking to think that made Hunter the hardest to understand in his father’s eyes. But she let him roll on to the topic of Piper’s e-book aversion rather than verbally delving into armchair psychiatry theories. “Wants me to get her War and Peace and All Quiet on the Western Front and stuff like that. Maybe if you tell her there’s like ten books on there it’ll get her intrigued.” “Ohhh no problem on that front.” Stacy chuckled. In the space of three years she’d amassed somewhere in the region of five thousand books in her ‘cloud’ account. Not that she’d read them all, it was just what happened every time you jumped on special offers and flash sales. “I was worried she’d be smarter than me as a teenager.” Max went on, “Think she already is. She got her hands on a algebra textbook and now I’m supposed to help her figure it out. I barely got what counts as the third grade ya know? I can build a building, don’t know nothing about letters in my numbers.” “Mm, algebra’s a doozy.” Stacy nodded. “Maths always made sense t’me but I dropped out in eighth grade. I know enough to program a spreadsheet in Excel but some’ve the full ‘Good Will Hunting’ stuff goes over my head.” Max chuckled and ran a giant hand through Stacy’s hair. “Hey!” She hissed, the noise coming out harsher than she meant it to as she ducked to the side. “What the fuck is it with white people and the petting zoo thing for black hair?!” She muttered more to herself than anything. “I got an expensive weave goin’ on here an’ you ain’t washed that Bunsen guy off your hands yet!” She shot Max an admonishing look before straightening up and making the crack about the Millennium Trilogy. “Nah, the violent stuff is what she likes. She wants to be a scientist and develop a cure for killing. Something that would make everyone less violent and war prone. Or a tank, she loves tanks.” “Right… Cure for killing or a big-ass vehicle made for killing folk. That’s sensible.” She mused, completely deadpan. “Maybe… design a new bulletproof Pope-Mobile? That’s the only thing I can think of fits both categories.” “Weird kid. Won’t have to worry about her and boys at least.” “Not while Tay’s doin’ all the hair flippin’.” Stacy smiled, worries about ‘Vilannon’ put behind her as, two blocks behind them, Bunsen finally passed out on his little meat hook mounting. |
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| Mammomax | Oct 24 2017, 11:07 PM Post #12 |
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Eats Peanuts, Is Afraid of Mice, I guess
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Max chuckled as he moved his hand to tap Stacy’s nose. The move was gentle, amazingly so when one took a look at the huge mutant. Max had enough raw strength to tear through buildings and throw buses, but those same hands cradled his kids, wiped away their tears, had even attempted to braid Piper’s hair. His trunk tended to take over most of those tasks, but Max was a gentle giant when he could be. Stacy was in many ways his best friend, she helped fill the empty spot Norma had left in him. “You do know my pa was black right? I was almost as dark as you before my skin got all wrinkled. Dad was always proud of that, mom was ivory, he was ebony, but I took after him. So you can just hold onto your “white people” bit. I happen to like your hair, a lot. Sorry if I upset you. As for Norma, well I never met her folks and she never let me see picture of her before she went all feline. Didn’t like to talk about life before me and us, you know? Maybe I should have asked more questions. Bet the kids will ask me stuff I just don't know one day soon.” Max’s grin split his face and his trunk moved in short excited motions as he talked about his lady. Thinking of Norma, it was one of the few things that kept the darkness away, made his anger cool. The humans took her away, had they not Max probably would have lived his life in mutant town raising his kids and fixing things till the end of his days. “Hey Stace, whatcha think of Magneto? He’s back you know, man gets things done. I’m thinking of maybe seeing if I can help his cause some. Guy’s going to need some non-crazies around him. Maybe keep him and his cause safe for a bit, you know, till Piper invents the happy juice.” |
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| Stacy X | Nov 22 2017, 07:31 AM Post #13 |
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Neurochemical Control/ Reptillian Traits
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“You do know my pa was black right? I was almost as dark as you before my skin got all wrinkled. Stacy’s mouth opened, as if to let out a laugh that never actually made it out. When her human skin had dried out and sloughed off, the copper scales in between the black, cinnabar and ochre markings were actually a tad lighter than her old complexion. But it was fair to say that was nothing compared to how many points up the colour swatch Max had obviously hurtled! She was tempted to query whether he was sure the triplets were therefore definitely his, given how they looked… But she knew implying Norma was anything less than a saint during their marriage would go badly for her. “I happen to like your hair, a lot. Sorry if I upset you.” “Eh, you’re too used to having a literal tiger momma with fur.” She really did laugh then. “As for Norma, well I never met her folks and she never let me see picture of her before she went all feline. Didn’t like to talk about life before me and us, you know? Maybe I should have asked more questions. Bet the kids will ask me stuff I just don't know one day soon.” Thinking about it, Stacy realised that was possibly a common theme among many of the physically mutated, herself included. She couldn’t think of many M-Town residents who deliberately kept photos of what they looked like before they stopped passing for human. Some maybe found it a painful reminder, others maybe saw it as reductive after embracing what they’d become. Unlike many, she had a fancy image inducer that could project a scarily accurate illusion of what she’d look like as a human now; but it always gave her a funny feeling whenever she caught that reflection in the mirror. She didn’t want to pass for human, it was just a handy way to avoid police ID’ing her on occasion. “Hey Stace, whatcha think of Magneto?” “The terrorist guy?” Stacy frowned, confused as to why someone like Max would bring him up. “He’s back you know, man gets things done.” “Well… yeah. I guess. Most’ve what I know ‘bout him’s from one’ve his old school groupies back in Cali.” She shrugged. Avalanche had pleaded the guy’s case so well she almost went and got herself recruited. She could only thank her lucky starts it hadn’t quite panned out. “But this poor little snakeboy, Toxin, he told me ‘bout how things got under Exodus after Mags bailed. Sounded pretty fuckin’ miserable, like mind-rape goin’ on left, right and centre in Sanctuary; and that was someone Mags trusted to leave in charge…? I mean, I guess if the psychic asshole’s in lock-up and Mr Magnet’s back behind the wheel, that’s somethin’… An’ I’ll admit I cheered when I saw him take out Reverend Stryker way back when. ‘Cause fuck that flatscan bastard. But still…” “I’m thinking of maybe seeing if I can help his cause some.” Max admitted. Stacy openly gawped at him. “Say what now?!” “Guy’s going to need some non-crazies around him. Maybe keep him and his cause safe for a bit, you know, till Piper invents the happy juice.” “Max…” Stacy knew people like Mammomax were exactly the kind of people they offered the Brotherhood Kool Aid to. What he’d just done to Bunsen proved that much. But she’d always assumed being a single father would keep him on the straight and narrow at the end of the day. “You seriously wanna mess with those crazy idiots? There’s some on an individual basis were always okay in my book…” Examples like Avalanche or Toxin. Or George, who’d gotten mixed up with them for reasons she still couldn’t quite fathom. “But as a group they’re bad news. One’ve them messed with Thebe an’ Nansi’s heads. I don’t take well to my friends gettin’ screwed over. They made Thebe kill people! An’ right after he got out on probation! They use up mutants as much as anyone else when it suits ‘em. What if you get arrested? What if they decide your kids’re useful for pullin’ some fucked up stunt?!” |
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7:10 PM Jul 11