40k Problems, But Bitches Ain't One 2 (Patreon)

“Talk to me, Donald,” Cecil Stedman snapped as he entered the room.

“Seismic readings have isolated a point of activity on the western side of the Canadian Rockies, approximately one hour after Immortal had his migraine and a number of individuals that the GDA’s been keeping an eye on collapsed,” the glasses wearing assistant responded.

“Their status? And what category were they?” the head of the Global Defense Agency asked, looking over the satellite map showing the western region of Canada as it zoomed in.

“Still receiving reports, but they appear to have all been psychics. Each and every one has been hospitalized for aneurysms. Most were dead before they arrived. Some may recover, but their prospects aren’t looking good,” Donald answered after glancing at the report in his hand.

An annoyed grumble came out of Cecil as the satellite image zoomed in, showing a structure that resembled a doorway from an ancient pyramid, leading directly into the mountain. Surrounding it were piles of different colored sand, each pile highlighted as more satellites adjusted to scan them.

“Show me that spot immediately preceding the quake,” Cecil ordered, the techs immediately moving to do so.

The screen shifted, showing the spot without the structure or piles of sand. From the nearby treeline, five figures walked out. Despite himself, Cecil found his eyebrows rising, though for different reasons than the surprised squawks from the techs. Yes, there were four naked women, that wasn’t what interested him, it was the fact that they were obvious supers. The sheer size of them alone were well beyond the human norm, at a guess he’d say the shortest was closer to ten feet tall than nine, but the occasional glint of metal across their bodies suggested that they also had extensive cybernetic implants.

That was ignoring the wings and taloned feet that the red skinned one had. Cecil’s eyes narrowed as she stepped in front of the group. There was something about the way she rolled her neck, he’d almost swear that she winked at the satellite feed. His stomach dropped, along with every jaw in the room, as countless tons of solid rock tore out of the ground, forming into bricks and sand.

While the technicians were predominantly focused on the naked bodies, Cecil felt a chill run down his spine as he watched a series of pebbles float above the swirling cloud of rock and sand. The way they were positioned seemed random at first glance, but they remained still for far too long for them not to be intentional.

When the recorded footage showed the five descending into the mountain, Cecil let out a grunt and said, “Well, let’s not keep them waiting.”

“Sir?” Donald asked.

“There was a message in there, in morse code. Whoever they are, the red one knew we were watching,” Cecil explained. “Contact the Guardians, I want all hands on deck for a group like this. Give Immortal an injection of tylenol to the brain if needed to get his migraine under control.”

[hr][/hr]

The Four churn and rumble darkly in their collective dream. Between the astral chaos of the Immaterium and the astral stillness of the Throne, they churn and rumble darkly in their slumber. A dark and turbulent energy, roiling and ebbing like an underground sea, permeates the dreamscapes of their collective unconscious.

The four goddesses are locked in a timeless embrace, a primal embrace of chaos and change. The storm of their dream passes through the void, whipping its way across the infinite planes of existence. This storm is more than just a dream, it is an ever-shifting landscape of possibility, a cosmic seething of violent shifts in reality.

The four goddesses churn and rumble, each in their own way. The Lord of Change, ever-shifting and unpredictable, writhes and twists in her fever dream. She is a writhing mass of serpents, snaking through the astral mists and forming ever-changing paths through the eternal void.

The Princess of Pleasure, a being of sensual delight, moans and sighs in her dream. Like a lazy river, she meanders through the infinite planes of existence, winking and welcoming all with her ever-present smile.

The Butcher of Blood, Lord of Rage and Taker of Skulls, churns and roils in her blood soaked dream. The drums of war echo in her dream, sounding throughout the Immaterium and stoking the fires of rage and battle.

The Grandmother of Pestilence, a haggard crone of stretched and withered flesh, coughs and wheezes in her slumber. Her decaying breath carries the stench of disease, while her bony fingers trace a path of sickness and suffering across the realms, leaving a trail of death in her wake.

The Four churn and rumble in their chaotic slumber, their sleep infused with a restless energy. Are they waking? It is impossible to tell, their dream is churning, churning in the dark.

[hr][/hr]

I gasped as I sat up, my hand flying to my head as it throbbed in pain. Forget what I said about my hangover before, this was easily the worst my head had ever hurt. Digging my thumbs into my temples, I did my best to push back the pain as I tried to remember the dream.

“You’re awake earlier than I expected,” I heard Magna’s voice piercing through the throbbing agony.

I looked up, pushing the pain further down as I looked up at her. My mouth went dry as I took in her features. On top of the bright red of her skin, her vibrant, crimson hair, and her glorious wings, she was now clad in gold and white armor and holding what looked like a combination of a staff and a glaive. Don’t pop a boner, don’t pop a boner…

The grin on Magna’s face told me that she heard my thoughts, and I let out a sigh. Thank fuck I hadn’t thought anything that she was offended by.

“Darling, you are a few thousand years too young to think of something I’d find even remotely annoying,” Magna said with a chuckle, pulling me to my feet with telekinesis. “On a more important note, I fashioned some gear for you.”

The armor that floated in front of me as my shirt and jeans unraveled around me wasn’t anything especially fancy, no Space Marine armor for me, but it was composed of multiple ceramic looking plates that evoked the same basic image. What I was really excited by was the pistol that floated right next to it. What little boy doesn’t imagine having a laser gun?!

Chuckling, one of Magna’s wings reached out, tapping my forehead with the end of one of the feathers, and I grunted as I was once again treated to a migraine. This time it felt like she’d dumped a crap ton of… huh, so that’s how lasguns worked. As the carapace armor fitted into place around my limbs, I reached out and grabbed the laspistol. I took a moment inspecting it, fieldstripping the weapon with the ease of someone who had long practiced with it, despite the fact that I’d never even seen one before.

Magna’s grin widened, showing off her razor sharp teeth. Despite having a smile that a crocodile, a great white, and a piranha would be jealous of, I couldn’t help but picture certain activities involving her mouth. I was beginning to wonder if whatever sent me here had fucked with my hormones, because the last time I was this horny I was in high school.

“I knew you’d like them,” she said, pulling me from my thoughts and fantasies, her voice low, sultry, and holding too much promise for how long we’d known each other. “Now come, we have work to do.”

“What kind of work?” I asked, sliding the laspistol into its holster on my hip.

“We are about to have some visitors, my display in creating this base for us wasn’t subtle after all,” she said with a teasing tone. She turned around and started walking, putting a certain sway into the hips that were eye level with my face.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. These women were going to kill me, but damn what a way to go it would be. There was a sound of melodic giggles ahead of me, and I shook my head before hustling to catch up with Magna. Her longer legs made it difficult, forcing me to jog to keep up, but I managed. We soon were in a hallway with Morticia, Korraline, and Auriela, all three of them in their Primarch armor and carrying their chosen weapons. Looking at them, I had to swallow another lump in my throat. Fetish for badass amazons who can kick my ass: confirmed.

Forcing the horni down, I followed behind the walking tanks who had enough power to decimate entire armies even in the far future. We were walking up the tunnel that led outside, and I couldn’t help but think back to the females that Magna had made when we initially came down here. I was a psyker, so maybe I could do the same… later, I’d try that later.

When we came out of the doors, it was to an unexpected sight. Well, unexpected for me anyway. There were a number of soldier-looking individuals in black jumpsuits with fancy guns, and what looked like a poor man’s Justice League. I had a bad feeling about this.

“Greetings,” Magna said cheerfully, her grin plain to hear in her voice. “Care to explain why you are on our front porch?”

“It cannot be…” I heard Auriela mutter under her breath, her helmet focused on the bearded guy in blue and yellow in the front of the not Justice League.

‘It is not,’ I heard Magna’s voice in my head as the man in blue and yellow stepped forwards. ‘At a guess he is the closest equivalent in this version of Terra, but he is not the Emperor of Man. His presence and power over the Immaterium is far too weak. Nero is more powerful than this facsimile.’

On the one hand, it was nice being told that I stacked up well against someone else as far as potential as a psyker went, on the other I still didn’t know how powerful I actually was. Pushing that aside, I turned my attention to the rest as Magna and the apparent leader of the other side talked.

The one who looked like the version of Wonder Woman had olive skin, blue eyes, and had a round headed mace. Her brown hair was done in twin braids with caps that reminded me a bit of fantasy dwarves and how they’d do up their beards. She was also nearly as tall as me, a rarity in my experience.

There was a yellow-brown skinned conehead guy, five bucks on him being the group’s version of Martian Manhunter. A fish looking guy, a man in all red, a guy in what looked like a knock off batsuit without the bat aesthetic, and a woman in what looked like a green bodysuit that completely covered her.

Some would scoff at me letting Magna do everything and trusting her to tell me the important stuff. To them I suggest they take it up with the giant woman with enough psychic power to make Professor X hang his head in shame. Besides, she had participated in a galactic war whereas I hadn’t so much as gotten into a fight since I was in middle school.

The soldiers all had the face concealing helmets you expect to see worn by ‘high tech government agents’. Their rifles were sleek, certainly sleeker than my laspistol, but I’d stick with the pew-pew gun made by Harpy Momma. Observations made, I turned my focus back to Magna’s conversation, just as it was wrapping up.

“… we will need to consider your offer,” blue and yellow said, rubbing at his Abe Lincoln beard. “In the meantime, we’ll have to ask that you avoid doing any more excavation and one of us will need to be present while it is being discussed.”

“I volunteer,” not Wonder Woman said, resting her mace on her shoulder. “Would be nice to spar with someone new.”

“Gladly,” Korraline seemed to almost purr.

I had a feeling Korraline was thinking of something other than basic sparring. I didn’t know why, but that thought wasn’t bothering me like I’d have thought it would.