Vice Bunker 10 (Patreon)

Vice Bunker

Chapter 10

-VB-

It happened on a perfectly normal day in the currently ongoing apocalypse.

“Slaughterhouse Nine is here?” I asked with a grimace.

I knew that hunkering down in the bunker was not an option, not when the Siberian ran around using her indestrutibility to tear up the bunker. She was, in fact, the worst opponent for someone to fight in underground corridors; there was no escape from her.

“I’m going out to fight,” I told Kali, and she grimaced.

I had already told her and Harley about this world, including the Nine. There was no point hiding.

“I’m fighting, too,” Crystal said as she stood up.

“Crystal!” Sarah objected.

“Mom, it’s the Nine! They won’t ignore us just because we’re out of sight!”

The Slaughterhouse Nine was indeed a force of chaos. They fit like a round peg into a round hole in the current apocalypse looming over everyone, and used it to cause even more deaths and despair than they did before. More than a dozen secure bunkers - private and PRT’s - had fallen to their onslaught.

“Exactly, mom!” Victoria agreed with her cousins.

Sarah and Carol both grimaced. This was something I noticed. The two MILFs basically lost a lot of their heroic drive after the loss of their husbands. Their sex drive, too, apparently because despite the fact that my Great Old One perks should have been luring them in, they were adamantly unaffected.

… Well, they did glance deeper into the bunker once or twice so maybe they just had more self-discipline than to explore like children.

I turned back to the scene before slipping out.

To my surprise, Crystal, Eric, and Victoria all joined me.

“... you all realize that I have ranged options, yes?”

They looked at me as we exited the bunker. “You do?”

“Yes,” I replied as my tentacle flesh slowly changed. Soon, I had hundreds of insect wings, quietly flapping. To top it off, a small radio dish-mesh rose up from the top of my head and a howitzer barrel pushed out of me.

I looked like a bumblebee reject.

“... Also, I do not look great while fighting optimally.”

Victoria scoffed as she rose up along with her cousins.

-VB-

Eric winced as the howitzer fired again.

All three members of the New Wave hovered around Ya’Manus - “Call me Alan. We’ll be fighting together.” - because he admitted that defense was not his best trait. As such, the three of them took the role of defense for him.

Why?

Because when a cape could both pinpoint an enemy and shoot them with artillery, they were probably the best bet Brockton Bay had against the Slaughterhouse Nine.

The insect wings Alan changed his tentacles into buzzed terribly and loudly, grating against his ears like nothing else Eric had encountered before.

“Locking on… Loading… Firing.”

CRAKOOM!

A sharp whistle sailed above Brockton Bay’s skyline before smashing into someplace Eric couldn’t pinpoint. The artillery shell detonated and sent a column of black smoke into the sky in the current gently snowing Brockton Bay landscape, contrasting sharply like how black would on white on a canvas.

Shatterbird had already died to Alan’s anti-air guns (which he popped out of him between the howitzer barrel and the radar dish-thing, shot a few hundred rounds, confirmed the dead cape, and then retracted).

It was almost trivial how Alan treated the Nine, but from where Eric was standing, there was a good reason why he felt Alan trivialized the Nine.

With Shatterbird gone, they had no way of reaching the four of them while Alan continued rain down artillery strikes every three seconds.

It was horrific … yet safe.

Seeing his already beaten and downtrodden hometown suffer a literal artillery barrage tore at Eric’s heart, but nearly two-thirds of the bay had been abandoned by this point.

“... Siberian down.”

Eric’s head snapped around to look at Alan’s currently monstrous and disfigured bumblebee form. “What?” he asked.

“Siberian was a projection. I found the master. The master just died right now from my artillery strike.”

There was a muffled clu-chunk from within Alan, and a different type of barrel came out. Well, barrels because there were now five smaller and shorter barrels in place of the long and dominant howtizer one.

“Cover your ears. I will be starting another barrage.”

Crystal yipped as something slashed against her weaker barrier, and Eric quickly put his shield over hers.

“That was Jack Slash,” Victoria let out a shuddering breath.

“Locked on. Firing.”

One of Alan’s barrels cracked with a sharper crack than a dull and powerful boom of the howtizer, and was quickly joined by other barrels as they unleashed their attacks.

KOOM KOOM KOOM KOOM KOOM KOOM KOOM K-!

It was an unending barrage of shots, and those shots tore through concrete and brick walls like paper.

And then a man jumped out from one of the buildings underneath them.

“Ah! That’s him!”

And then one of the shells clipped Jack Slash in the leg. He tumbled forward, and Eric saw a girl that had to be Bonesaw running up to him with her brain-spiders.

“Changing ammo. They are not getting away.”

Another muffled clu-chunk rang out from inside Alan, and then all five barrels fired together.

Whatever he fired, it exploded and lit everything on fire.

“Manufacturing chlorine trifluoride inside me was risky,” Alan said. “But it was worth it.”

Eric watched the fire burn everything.

“At least this way, none of Bonesaw’s pathogens will be relea-”

And then one of the buildings at the western edge of the city collapsed, and all four of them saw a green cloud spew out.

“Crud.”