Chaotic Clusterfuck 21 (Patreon)

Commissioned by Definitely Not Dio

Chaotic Clusterfuck

Chapter 21

-VB-

The Element Zero I could salvage from the Batarian wrecks, weapons, and armors would be some of the most expensive material, and the material that I could use to make people bend their backs to appease me. 

But first I needed to get them.

And the ones I used to get them for myself were the ajins.

The senses of ajins were … alien. Slightly. It wasn’t completely incomprehensible, but they weren’t quite the same. I could “see,” “feel,” “smell,” “taste,” and “hear” through them, but they were often distorted most of the time. Oh, I can make out facial features, the inflections in the voice, and even stray hair in the wind, but it didn’t change the fact that it wasn’t quite “right.”

This didn’t change the fact that all of the ajins obeyed my orders, and their current orders was to secure the Batarian salvage. 

Sufficed to say, they were scaring off a lot of people.

Or in the case of people who were too adventurous or stupid to live, put them out of their misery. 

“Alan~.”

I picked up the remote and turned off the TV before turning around. 

Zoe, Emma, and Anne stood naked and rubbed their tits against each other.

“Don’t you want to have some fun, hon?”

I am a very lucky man.

“I certainly do,” I grinned as I walked over to them.

But even I would not be able to handle three wonderful women by myself. 

And so I called on five closest clones to come in the house and join me.

-VB-

“Fucking asshole,” Terapin grumbled. “While the rest of us are working, he’s over there enjoying the time of his life.”

It was the worst case of blue balls, in his opinion. All clones were connected to the original and vice versa. It meant they could see through his eyes and he could see through theirs. Although he was the ultimate commander of the hive mind, it didn’t mean that the clones were mindless. 

And so Terapin and his three clone brethrens of the Four Musketeers found themselves getting deeply blue balled while having to guard the wreckage. 

“Sorry I’m late.”

He looked up and saw the engineer clone. This clone specialized into Technopath Class using the Gamer System, and one of only two such clones. Unlike most technology-based classes like engineers, gadgeteers, tinkers (not Shard-based Tinkers but the more ubiquitous Anarchist’s Cookbook tinkering kind), and mechanists, Technopath was an intuition-based tech class. It could be described as a mostly tech class with a bit of magic/psychic tweak to make it more special. This made them wonderful reverse engineers and salvagers because they can take apart and put together tech. The downside was that they were horrible at coming up with new tech on their own. Blueprints were greek to them: readable but twice, if not thrice, as hard for them to work with unless they had an understanding of regular sciences outside of the System. 

“Hurry it up,” Terapin grumbled as he sat down on his ass and waited. “What are we supposed to call you anyway?”

The Technopath came out looking like a regular plumber/mechanic. He even had a plastic overall, yellow safety helmet, and a toolbox. Oh, and obviously a mask to cover everyone’s identity. He set the toolbox down next to him as he knelt down to the big wreckage.

“I don’t have one right now, but I think I’ll go with … Mechpath.”

Terapin leveled a deadpan stare at the clone. “... How original. You just smashed your class title and mechanic.”

“Yup! Short and easy.”

“Ugh. Hurry it up and get to it. The vultures are circling.”

And there were “vultures” all around. Gangsters, idiotic civilians with phones and cameras, and even a squad of the PRT. Sooner or later, someone was going to try something, and why wouldn’t they? There was a chance that they might get their hands on a million dollars per 1 gram material. 

Batarians didn’t sell eezo to humans, because they weren’t stupid. If they sold enough eezo, then humanity would eventually build their own eezeo spaceships, which would threaten their space superiority. 

“Alright, alright,” he hummed as he put his toolbox down and, after just a moment of looking over the wreckage of the shuttle, pulled out screwdrivers and a hammer before going into the wreck.

Terrapin turned to glare at the bystanders while he and every clone got first person view of the original railing Emma and watching her tits jiggle.

God, they needed to find more girls because there was no way the three gingers could satisfy them all. 

-VB-

Taylor felt sick and wanted to hide.

She crouched behind an AC unit as people at the street level rioted. 

Why? 

Because they wanted to get their hands on the million dollar precious metals inside the alien shuttle wreckage. 

She didn’t know who did it first, but someone hit someone and then a rock flew. A push became a shove. Bodies colliding became bodies falling. 

Then gunshots.

And finally, chaos. 

Footsteps crunched against the rooftop gravel, and she looked up to see her dad.

“Tay- Swarm, we need to move,” he grimaced. “People down there are a lost cause right now. They aren’t thinking.”

Should she have been surprised that her dad recognized her even with her costume on? Was it some kind of body language tick she didn’t know she had? Or was it the hair that she refused to hide? Whatever it was, he knew who she was within minutes of her “securing” him from the city-wide panic. 

She looked up at him and wondered if she really should. 

She … 

“No,” she muttered as she stood up. “I didn’t … I didn’t put on this costume just so I can run.” She wasn’t going to run from this. She didn’t run from her bullying, and those were directly aimed at her. Could she even all herself a hero if she turned her back to all of this…?

“Taylor, we can’t -.”

“Maybe if I was some nice hero, people wouldn’t pay attention,” she replied as she felt her determination swell up. “B-But I’m not a nice hero. I’m a strong hero.”

“Taylor-!”

She took a deep breath in and focused.

And called upon all of the insects. 

Like before, they obeyed.

Insects crawled out from all over the city and swarmed into a black and brown mass that flew high up into the air. 

It didn’t take long for people to notice the giant insect swarms. In fact, people noticed them very quickly when her bugs started blocking out the sun.

And then she made them screech. They beat, ground, and strung their limbs, thoraxes, and their wings. 

Individually, they sounded like most insects, cricketing of crickets, cry of the cicada, and skittering of insect legs. 

Together, she orchestrated them.

“YOU WILL STOP FIGHTING!” her Swarm roared. “AND YOU WILL LEAVE IN ORDERLY FASHION!”

People scattered like the bugs they ran from. They nearly stumbled upon each other and even a few ran over each other, but they were too focused on running for it to matter to most. And most of those who were stampeded had been already down before she even acted. But people, too scared by the swarm of bugs (if they even realized that they were bugs), moved “orderly” or as orderly as they could. 

… And then she saw a trio of absolute morons going for the wreckage again.

She directed one of her swarms down and onto the three. They screamed and tried to run, but bugs were far faster than they were. People watched in horrors as she covered them from head to toe with any and all bugs she had at her disposal. Spiders, cockroaches, bees, wasps, ants, crickets… 

And they screamed and rolled. They swatted and sobbed as the bugs bit and stung. 

“Taylor, stop! You’ll - !”

“They are a warning,” she cut off Dad. “You … you told me that yourself, didn’t you? People don’t think. Individuals do. I … I know not to go too far. Like what happened to me.”

The bugs on the idiot three stopped and got off of them.

The three laid for a bit longer on the ground before they realized in a relieved panic that they were no longer under attack and ran away like dogs with their tails between their legs

She looked down at it all from the edge of the building. When had she come to the edge? She must be tired if she couldn’t tell when she got here. She could … feel through her bugs, so there was no need for her to be standing at the edge of the building. She took steps back, and then jolted when she felt a pair of hands on her arms. 

Taylor looked up and saw …

“Let’s go home. You did well today,” Dad said with a sad smile. 

“... Okay.”

She gave one last glance at the street below before turning away. 

… But nobody noticed some of her bugs flying into the shuttle wreckage to sneak into vents and any other openings to find those wonder material. 

Just one gram of it … it could help her and Dad so much.