The Good Life: Lining Up The Dominos (ch. 19) (Patreon)

A song in the heart. I never really thought too much on the phrase, but in light of recent events, I couldn't help but understand it now, because I found myself humming a tune as I left Vought Headquarters. I couldn't quite explain it, but the colors were brighter, the smells were more pleasant, and there was a bounce in my step while a little tune in my heart was leaping to escape. It was one of those golden moments where all the stars aligned and everything was just… fantastic.

I almost said perfect, but that couldn't be true. Not when all the pieces were in place for my grand plan and I just had to light the fuse to see it all go up. Fucking Cinder into a delirious mess was just icing on the cake.

And when I heard it? Carried to me by a stray wind that encouraged me to change my way home? Ah~! Almost as good as an orgasm.

"NOT! MY! HERO! NOT! MY! HERO! NOT! MY! HERO!" I leaned against the railing of a set of stairs that gave me a decent enough vantage to see the result of my action. A storm that had been brewing for some time now. A crowd was gathered in front of Vought HQ, all of them wielding picket signs or carrying banners that protested Vought. Or, rather, the Seven based on how many 7s in slashed circles I saw. I was grinning ear to ear at the sight of it. Unable to swallow my chuckles.

The crowd was swelling. I hadn't paid much attention to it beforehand, mostly because I had had bigger concerns, but there had apparently been a march that picked up a surprising amount of steam on the way to protest the Seven. It was the result of a hundred different things -- releasing the footage from the sex clubs, the complete ineffectiveness of the cops and heroes, and tarnishing what had once been a sterling reputation. It was a fall from grace in the public eye, and there were few things that people loved more than someone on a pedestal eating shit.

Those that privately harbored their doubts suddenly found their voices when it suddenly became popular to criticize heroes. Those that already had been, however? They were vindicated. They had been proven right. So, naturally, they shouted and screamed the loudest, unifying behind a single figure that had been calling out the heroes since the very start.

Victoria Neumann.

"For too long the heroes have been untouchable! Vought has been untouchable! They were given free reign over the American people and look at what they've done! Villains running rampant! Chaos in our streets! And a prison break from Rikers Island unlike anything seen in American history!" Victoria shouted into a microphone as I leaned on a handrail to watch the crowd as it ate up every single word.

Victoria was something that I had been keeping on the backburner, mostly because I wasn't sure what to do with her. I knew that she was a Supe that was campaigning against Supes, so I had leverage, but I wasn't sold on a course of action even if I was interested in her reasoning. Blackmail her? Doable. To what end though? Information? Action? She already had a large following, but with the downfall of the heroes, she had seen a massive surge in popularity. That was a nice tool to have in my toolbelt. Especially when the ones following her were people that wanted the downfall of heroes.

"Thousands of prisoners murdered in a sick death game led by a madman! A madman that Vought has been completely incapable of apprehending! And what do they say? It wouldn't have happened if Supes were in law enforcement or in the military! It's red tape’s fault! They're not to blame for their failures," Victoria shouted, making the frowning protesters roar their outrage at the excuses. "They want to be rewarded when people are dying, and their heroes are indulging in degeneracy! Sex and drugs! How can they claim to be God's chosen when they indulge in such unchristian values?!"

She had them eating out of the palm of her hand, I noted. She was raking them over a bed of hot coals, but even better, the message was resonating with people.

Perhaps, before, that would have been enough. Before, when I was blinded by my adoration and respect for heroes. Before I learned what they were. Back when I sought to bring them low simply because I wanted to be a villain and that was my role to play. But now, even if that crowd stormed the building and killed everyone in it, it wouldn't be enough.

I would destroy them. Heart, mind, and soul.

I was broken from my thoughts when Victoria continued, "They think they're in a position to be rewarded for failure. They think that because they believe that heroes are our only hope. That is no longer the case!" The crowd was happy even if they had no idea what that meant. My smile widened when I felt someone enter my Room. Someone and something. "I am putting forth a bill to the House of Congress and the Senate. Vought has proven itself untrustworthy and its heroes incapable, so we must turn to another solution -- and it is my honor to introduce the woman that’s offered it. Please give her a warm welcome -- Asami Sato!"

The crowd cheered as Asami got onstage, but what she brought with her was kept out of sight for a dramatic reveal. I almost wish I didn't have my Room open so I hadn't ruined the surprise. Asami shook Victoria's hand with a polite smile before accepting a microphone. "An alternative to heroes has been in development for some time now, and with the monstrous slaughter at Riker's Island, I think there is no better time to introduce it. The Securitron!"

The dramatic reveal was made when a drone lifted up, carrying a white rectangular box that landed next to Asami. As soon as it touched down, a release mechanism had the folds of the box fall away with a burst of pressurized air with fog obscuring what lay within for a moment. I was practically giddy when I saw the red, white, and blue colored robot that stood on four legs. It was generally humanoid in shape with two arms, broad shoulders, and a small head on a short neck. This was the killer robot that Stan mentioned?

The crowd oohed and aahed, and Asami continued. "A policing drone equipped with a bullet and explosion proof chassis, as well as both lethal and nonlethal armaments. In addition, its high tech threat assessment gives it the perfect approach to every scenario, making it a negotiator, protector, and weapon all in one." Asami began her sales pitch, and I really would have liked to be clued in on this before I saw it happening live. Mostly because I wanted a robot of my own.

But, at the same time, I saw it for what it was -- she had seen an opportunity and she was jumping on it. Faith in heroes was at an all time low, so it simply made sense to put forth an alternative to sweep up as much support as she could. Even better, it was coming from out of Vought's bottom line. Their reputation. It took a bullet out of the chamber in their metaphorical gun. I loved to see it even if I was a bit miffed about not getting a robot first.

"When a human touch is required, they have a remote controlled feature, acting similarly to a drone without the risk of endangering human life. It holds no prejudices, its training is perfect, and they are mass producible," Asami continued, hitting the bullet points. It was a clear division of responsibilities because as soon as she was done, Victoria continued, speaking about health and safety.

"This bill I am putting forward will see the first roll out for the Securitrons here, in New York. The days of living in fear of supervillains will be over. The days of living at the benediction of heroes will be over," Victoria continued, and the crowd just ate it up. This was her audience. But how the message would be conveyed to those beyond her audience was of interest to me. Because, as annoying as Stan had been about it, he wasn't entirely wrong. People would bitch about jobs, they would bitch about unfeeling robots, and they would bitch because they just didn't like it.

I'm not sure if it would actually go anywhere, to be completely honest. It was just a question of if the powers that be wanted to humble Vought enough to back the play, and how much political capital Vought had to spend on killing the idea in its cradle.

Well… I suppose I was in a position to do something about that. Something that would drive home that the heroes couldn't be relied upon and force Vought to clean up the mess, leaving them so busy that they couldn't hope to kill the idea even if they wanted to. I was about to step away from the railing and take care of it. And I just might have if the Securitron didn't suddenly move, making Asami flinch as the machine turned on. She looked to Victoria, who cut herself off mid word…

I was getting better at feeling and touching emotions thanks to Cinder. I couldn't say that I was good at it yet. It was barely more than sensing a vibe unless the emotion was strong, like Asami's was, her surprise morphing into full blown panic when the machine took a step forward and the command code wasn't working. She couldn't turn it off.

Victoria Neuman wasn't feeling panic. Or, at least not enough to register with my Room.

"Target acquired: Lethal force authorized," a robotic voice announced, an arm shifting to become the barrel of an assault rifle. It leveled it at the crowd and a dozen things happened all at once.

A-Train entered my Room, but he waited on the fringes for what would happen next to start.

The machine pulled the trigger, bullets leaping from the barrel of the gun and racing towards the front of the crowd.

Victoria Neuman looked at Asami before familiar weird vibrations leapt from her eyes and began to race towards Asami.

Asami dove towards the machine, intent on knocking it off balance in the hopes of saving people.

It was a perfect, glorious moment that had just set itself up for me. A golden opportunity that just fell into my lap. Everything was clear to me in that snapshot of a moment, all the pieces lining up even if I couldn't see the full picture just yet. Like, for example, what was up with Victoria -- she was trying to kill Asami? What could she hope to gain from that? What was clear, though, was that this was a plot from Vought. It couldn't be anything else. Why else would A-Train be here, waiting for people to start dying, just so he could save the day before this unforeseen tragedy could get any worse?

A few had to die to drive home that people needed heroes, and to destroy Asami's credibility and the idea of the robots at all.

It was ruthless.

I loved it.

Stan, you evil son of a bitch, you just got better and better.

But, seeing as I didn't really need a reason to ruin his day, I threw a wrench into the mix. Or, rather, a pebble.

As a bullet was launched from its casing, it was replaced with a rock that lodged itself inside of the barrel, making the entire gun blow apart when the next bullet struck it. The vibrations were caught and directed to the machine itself, which was swapped with the dropped megaphone. And it was only when they struck that I realized I nearly killed Queen Maeve because the metal was ripped apart like a frag grenade a safe distance away. The crowd had barely a moment to realize what was going on, not even enough time to panic, before…

I got on the stage?

"Oh, Miss Sato and Neumann-" a Heartless lookalike, speaking in a voice modulated to sound like mine, appeared on stage without any warning. A teleporter? And I could see that the imposters script hit a hitch the moment people weren't dying. "H-how dare you think that a few tin cans could stand against me?" My imposter spoke, adlibbing like a motherfucker.

"Bruh," I muttered, tilting my head at the display as the confused frowning descended into pure panic. While this was particularly cringe, I was more curious what Vought was hoping to accomplish with this stunt, because… it was a huge risk for them, wasn't it? If they did something like capture 'me' then people would have a lot of questions why I was back on the streets. Or, if they did something like chase me off, then they would still get shit for not capturing me. Were they banking on the good will drummed up from stopping a short lived tragedy?

Or did they have something else up their sleeves?

"No one move!" My imposter shouted out, his voice echoing out through the speakers. "That was but a demonstration of my power. If you need another taste… then," he continued, and… did I really talk like that? I mean, the voice wasn't so bad because it was modulated, but the mannerisms… well, I suppose it worked, if nothing else than because I had cultivated such a terrifying reputation. My imposter snapped and Victoria tried again to murder Asami by sending a wave of those vibrations at her. They leapt from her eyes and I halted them cold.

A slow smile tugged at my lips as I could see the confusion and panic building in my imposter, who stole a glance at Victoria, who managed to keep her expression one of fear. I had to give it to my imposter though, "Ha! Look at all of you. You really thought something was going to happen, huh?" He said, thinking on his feet. "Or maybe something did? Who knows?"

Vought was looking to get a win on me and to discredit Asami in one show. That was obvious enough. But, if I knew Stan, and I really think I was starting to, a win was just part of the plan. The win was meant to advance a goal, but what was that goal? Proving that Supes had the best chance to stop me, putting a feather in their hat when it came to talks about Supes in the military? Or was this part of a larger scheme? Something to draw me out? To get a reaction from me? I suppose there was nothing stopping Stan from taking out a few birds with one stone, but I was curious on what exactly he was hoping to accomplish.

Despite my imposter keeping up with the rapidly changing script, I could feel his uncertainty brewing into full blown panic. It swelled enough that I could feel it within him. I poked it, trying to get a reaction out of his panic, and I got a flinch from him as his voice stumbled ever so slightly. "I-I'm sure you're all quite curious why I'm here -- the answer is quite simple! Vengeance. I lost one of my favorite toys, and all of you are going to suffer the consequences for that. Say your prayers," my imposter continued, raising a hand up to dramatically snap.

It was only then that A-Train blurred into action, arriving at the stage and striking a confident pose. "Stop right there, Heartless. Don't even think about it," A-Train said, his hands on his hips. Oh, that was vile. Piss poor acting, I say. But what really got my stomach twisted into knots was the sheer relief that I felt from the crowd. It was a tangible thing to me. I could feel their terror become relieved and confident that they would be saved. They bought it hook, line, and sinker…

And if I hadn't gotten a peek behind the curtain, I would have too.

"Ah, if it isn't my old friend, A-Train. I see you've recovered well," my imposter said while Asami looked at him with an expression bordering betrayal. I drummed my fingers on the railing, knowing that this had to be punished. How to make it hurt, though?

I could kill A-Train. All I had to do was send those vibrations at him, and he'd be reduced to a fine red mist and that would be that. A real black eye for Vought. It was appealing, but… death wasn't enough. The goalpost had shifted -- it wasn't about beating or killing the heroes now. It was about destroying them. Heart, mind, and soul.

And I had just the thing to destroy A-Train.

"Victoria Neumann is working with Vought. She just tried to kill you," I said, and while holding the vibrations in place was a task in itself, I managed to carry my voice to Asami's ears, and I saw her stiffen when she heard me. "Vought's behind the robot going rogue too." The information would be a seed that I was planting, and I knew in no time at all, it would sprout. Simply because I had just saved her life, her reputation, and her company -- and that was quite a favor to have in my back pocket.

Asami, wisely, chose to not react to the information. Leaving me free to act.

I chose to let go of the vibrations and released them into the air -- it sucked to lose such a weapon, but at the same time, keeping it still meant I couldn't multitask. With the vibrations gone, I reached out to grab my imposter's panic. It had receded ever so slightly, but it was still enough for me to grab onto. All the while, A-Train replied in a confident swagger, "If you're lucky, you might be able to say the same about yourself when I'm through with you."

My imposter was still being forced to adlib, and it added to his growing panic. It was almost like building a fire. Or so I imagined. I had never actually built a fire before on account that the outdoors sucked. It was what I imagined building a fire was like at least-- turning an ember into a flame by feeding it fuel. First a bit of tinder to catch flame, but once it did, you gave it a log. It worked much in the same way, I found, because I stoked his panic until I saw him freeze up. His natural panic of fucking up added to the flame, making it grow and grow and grow.

Unlike Cinder's orgasm, I didn't hold it down to make it build in intensity. I did the opposite. I kept making it grow until the flames leapt from the campfire and started burning the metaphorical forest down. My imposter started to tremble like a leaf before he clutched his heart as I managed to induce a full blown panic attack.

That was enough for me, I decided, my imposter collapsing on the stage as he ripped off his mask to rasp out, "I can't breathe. I can't breathe." It wasn't as dramatic as one would expect, but it was a stolen moment from A-Train and Vought. And with a touch here, and a touch there… it would be a kill shot.

I just had to pull the trigger soon. After all, I'm sure Victoria and Stan would wonder why their attempt failed. And the natural assumption was a simple one -- that I was in the crowd.

The clock was ticking until they discovered who I was… and by the time they did, it would be far too late.

…

Cinder felt like dying, still feeling cum seeping out of her pussy and onto her panties as she sat at the Seven shaped table with the rest of the Seven. Mere hours before, she had received the orgasm of her life, and if she were being perfectly honest, she was still reeling from it. It had taken a full thirty minutes for the orgasmic bliss to recede, her twitching body guarded by Starlight -- which filled Cinder with concern. And, even now, her body was stuck in a state of hypersensitivity. She barely heard a word during the meeting with the CIA's Deputy Director, Susan Raynor.

Even her thoughts felt sluggish. It hadn't been that long since Cinder last had an orgasm, surely? Was her and Law's compatibility simply that high? And why was Starlight looking like she was fighting off a smile every time she looked in her direction.

Starlight looked away when Cinder glanced at her, her lips twitching upwards. That was a problem, Cinder knew. It meant that Starlight was getting ideas about her place. However, now wasn't the time to correct that.

"Would anyone kindly explain what the fuck that was and which idiot approved it?" Raynor began, a hard edge in her voice as she looked around the room, but in particular A-Train.

Stan stood next to her, his expression one of polite fury as he too looked at A-Train, who tried to appear confident but Cinder could see that he was shaken. He licked his lips nervously, "We needed a win, right? For the optics! And no one was doing shit while my ass was being raked over some hot coals, so I set it up." He admitted, and Cinder thought the confession came with some prompting.

Cinder slid a glance down the table over at Homelander, whose expression was completely blank. That was worrying. Cinder had a handle on how to deal with Homelander -- in the end, he wasn't that much different than Salem. Appeasement and only bearing good news was the key to staying on her, and his, good side. When he was like this, however, Cinder didn't know how to handle him. But her gut told her that this was the calm before the storm.

"This… misstep aside, A-Train's… display happened to work in our favor," Stan replied, his words cutting into A-Train like knives. Deep tried and failed to not look pleased with himself, and Cinder got the impression that he ratted A-Train out in some way. He would need to be punished. If he was going to sell A-Train out to anyone it should have been to her, or at the very least, he should have sought her approval. "We know Heartless was in the crowd."

"Do we?" Raynor shot back, narrowing her eyes at Stan, an accusation clear in her voice. That he was hiding information from her. "Nothing we have suggests that Heartless can induce panic attacks."

Stan offered a polite smile, "Perhaps that was a member of his Eight. We do know that he was there based on how the machine was handled and disarmed." A pissing contest. One that Cinder was keen to read into, but at the moment, she wasn't in the right headspace. She had never been fucked like that before. Sex was a tool to be used, and Cinder wielded it well.

She had gone in with a clear plan -- use sex as a reward while positioning herself as the dominant one in the relationship. To drive Law wild with pleasure and make him desperate to taste her again. Instead, not only had he flipped the tables on her, but he blew every sexual experience she ever had out of the water. It was almost unnatural. Was Law a Supe with some kind of sex related superpower? Did he drug her with an aphrodisiac? Cinder didn't know and the experience tugged at her attention, pulling at her focus.

"We know that he has a range, meaning that there is a high probability that he was in the crowd. He went from being anyone in New York to a few thousand people at most," Stan said, trying to sell the good news. Based on her expression, Raynor wasn't buying it completely.

Homelander let out a grunt, bringing everyone's attention to him to see that he was looking at his phone. "The two of you are making this sound like a win," Homelander said, standing up before rounding the table. "Like we haven't been made a fool of. Again. Oh, I'm sure the stupid fucking masses might buy into the idea that A-Train was just so scary he gave Heartless a panic attack. But, you know what might make that difficult to believe?" He asked, doing something with his phone that connected it to the TV screens around the room.

Porn?

A woman was surrounded by a number of men, fucking her with reckless abandon and from the looks of it, she had been getting fucked for hours. Her bronzed skin was covered in a layer of cum, it was in her hair, over her eyes, and dripped down her tits. She was pinned in place with straps on a machine that gave full access to her holes as she was ravished by a dozen burley men that fucked her like they hadn't seen a woman in years.

It started to dawn on her when Cinder saw a poster hanging up behind them.

A train for A-Train.

"What the fuck…?" A-Train breathed before the scene vanished, replaced with a snapshot of the woman and A-Train in an upscale apartment, in bed and slowly grinding against one another as they looked into each other's eyes while they whispered sweet nothings.

Cinder offered a blink -- she supposed that answered the question of whether A-Train was gay or not.

Then the snapshot ended showing the same woman getting her cheeks pulled back as she was ruthlessly drilled in the ass with thrusts so powerful they shook her entire frame. Her expression, however, was one of absolute delirium. "I love it!" She moaned, making A-Train stand up, stumbling back until he nearly tripped over his chair, his expression increasingly distraught. "I love it! Don't save me, A-Train. I don't need you to save me!"

The entire room held its breath, waiting for his reaction…

Cinder expected rage. Anger. For him to blast out of the room or demand answers.

Instead, A-Train broke down crying with his head in his hands while the room was filled with the wanton moans of his lover.

Heartless really knew what he was doing, Cinder reflected, fighting a smile. He really did.