The Owl in the Abyss - Chapter 9 (Patreon)

You would think after speaking to a sentient pipe for a while I’d be less shocked at the idea of a sentient, fully mobile statue. Perhaps it was the fact that ‘he’ was human shaped, if absolutely enormous at just under eight feet tall. That he was moving quite fluidly despite being made of granite - a material that couldn’t organically flex or deform. It was like I was looking at super stock motion or one of those statue-imitating street performers, only absolutely real.

I took a deep breath and lowered the phone somewhat.

“Mighty kind darlin’,” the soldier statue nodded. He lifted his huge stone rifle to rest on his shoulder, took a forward step and without hesitation dropped the distance towards the ground. His impact was what you’d expect from hundreds of pounds of granite onto the soft grass of the clearing, concentrated on only the surface area of two large stone feet.

The shock was felt through my bare feet and the soldier statue ended up with his own feet partially buried. He shrugged and pulled them easily out of the soft grassy earth.

Then he began looking around intently at his surroundings, then up at the sky, “Too much light pollution for that… say Miss, you wouldn’t happen to know where we are?”

My brain began to boot up and function normally, my sight taking in the statue’s aura… yes, he was an anomaly, but somehow I also saw a fully, if very large human aura coming from him.

“We… sorry, you are in Brockton Bay, Massachusetts, United States of America, I’m not sure if this will be relevant or mean anything to you but, you are also on Earth Bet.”

“Interesting, Jewish numerical system designation for alternate Earths,” the statue mumbled then laughed. “Your Earth must not have gotten really far in the whole alternate reality travel thing.”

I was immediately struck by how quick he had made that connection. “Yeah, we had one Tinker or sorry, mad scientist, who managed to open a portal to what we call Earth Aleph. There was a big mess, especially because Doctor Haywire, the mad scientist in question, was a villain and it didn’t create a good first impression on Aleph. It got even worse as they found out more about Earth Bet, heroes, villains, powers, everything that goes with that. Eventual agreement was reached to partially close the portal, it’s only big enough now for radio communication and information exchanges.”

The soldier scratched his face in a gesture of habitual action as he thought. “Oh, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, my name is Henry Hawkins, pleasure to meet you, Miss…?” He knelt down and extended his hand forward to me.

I hesitantly stepped forward, feeling a bit self-conscious of my nudity and how he would react. He hadn’t reacted in any weird way so far… but perhaps that was because of the darkness.

When I was definitely close enough that there could be no doubt of my nakedness, he still didn’t react and kept his stone faced, pleased smile.

I carefully closed my hand on his, finding I could only fit three of his fingers in my palm and we awkwardly shook hands. “I’m Taylor Hebert.”

“Well met, Taylor,” Henry’s eyes stared for a moment at ‘15 in my left hand’s grip but didn’t comment on it. “I first want to beg your pardon for my inconvenient arrival. It’s probably going to create a bit of a complication.”

“Oh, did you intend to come here?” I asked curiously. 15 had been ripped away from his reality, could this Henry be different?

“Not at all. I was just minding my own business at my residence, nothing strange happening, then darkness hit me and here I am.”

“Well, you’re in the same boat as ‘15 over here,” I pointed a finger at the pipe, which honked in response. “It describes pretty much the same thing.”

Henry slowly blinked, stared at the pipe then back to me, “Excuse me, Miss Hebert. Do you mean to say you can communicate with… the pipe?”

“Yes,” I answered slowly. “It wasn’t easy, I had to teach it and learn Morse Code and it’s a slow process.”

“And that was how you came upon that number for it? It told you?”

“Yes.”

Henry nodded, “I see.” The statue’s aura had fluctuated wildly for a moment, becoming a mix of astonishment, interest but also an undercurrent of fear. “Miss Hebert, to continue, I’m apologizing because I must ask something of you. I’m not even sure you can achieve what I’m asking, but I think very much that it would be in all our best interest to try.”

His tone and words were rather alarming, but I had a feeling that he was sincere. His aura also did a lot to convince me of his general good nature, “Okay, what?”

“I need a place to stay out of sight from everyone for at least a week.”

My mind whirled as it tried to parse that request in the face of all the challenges that brought.

“That’s going to be rather impossible, never mind your size and how much you weigh. Even if I could organize a heavy truck at this time of night, you couldn’t even set foot in my house without damaging the floor. There might be some empty warehousing in the docks, but I don’t know where that would be. I could find out, but that’d take time…”

He held up a hand to stop my half-rant, “Sorry, Miss Hebert. I know very well the logistics and problems of accommodating someone like me. I just had to know what you could do and I’ll explain why. Has ‘15’ told you about the organization that was responsible for keeping it in check?”

“Only that it was called ‘SCP’ and given that it was a sentient pipe network, it didn’t really care about the details of the ‘squishies’ keeping it from spreading all over - just that their work continued.”

Henry chuckled hollowly, “Figures. Well, I think it’s safe I tell you at least this much. Understand that I don’t know everything, there are also some things that I can’t tell you for my own safety, yours and because I swore oaths of secrecy to that organization.”

I nodded, pretty much standard fare for high level top secret stuff.

“The SCP acronym stands for Secure, Contain, Protect. Three words that are the primary goals and guiding principles of an organization simply known as The Foundation - who have set themselves the task of protecting and maintaining the status quo of humanity from the anomalous. In other words objects, beings, places, events, knowledge and ideas that operate contrary and in bizarre ways to ‘normal’ existence - such as you, me and that pipe.”

“You mean they’d ‘contain’ me? Lock me up just for being me?” I asked with astonishment.

“If you were in their home reality or universe, yes. It’s where I was before that void snatched me out of my containment. Don’t misunderstand, it wasn’t some dreary prison, though it might be called a gilded one. The SCP Foundation protects, not just humanity from the anomalous, but also the anomalous from humanity. There are some of us who are not blessed with abilities or natures that make us hard to kill. Some SCPs are physically just normal people with a singular anomalous ability - such as SCP-507, utterly normal, except he jumps to alternate realities in an uncontrolled manner then returns. If it wasn’t for the Foundation, finding him, studying him, and equipping him to survive his jumps into other realities, he’d have died by now from some of the places he’s visited.”

“They almost sound like the PRT and Protectorate in a way then,” I mused. “Though they’re only focused on the appearance of people with powers. I can tell you and I are different from that.”

“I’m beginning to get the sense that this world is quite different. You speak of heroes, villains, of people with powers openly. That is not the approach of the Foundation - they would contain even the idea of such things being possible in their reality. One of the many powers of the organization is the technology, derived from their study of the anomalous, to make people forget they witnessed or experienced anything odd.”

I gaped in horror, “That’s monstrous.”

“Yes, I agree, but necessary when some of the SCPs are things so dangerous that merely knowing about them can cause death or fates worse than death. The Foundation also acts to preserve knowledge of their existence, so they can do their work without interference and that is primarily why I’m asking for you to hide me for a week. They do have the ability to traverse universes and alternate realities. They could show up with agents and a Mobile Task Force tomorrow and take me back into custody.”

“Then how would hiding possibly help?”

“It would limit the amount of ‘cleaning up’ they’d have to do to contain me.”

A blanket of dread seemed to settle over my body, “What would they do about me?”

“Now that is an interesting question,” Henry turned his gaze down to the grass and thought for a while. “I’d need to know more to form an opinion, but at first glance, to them you’d be another anomaly needing containment, in a reality that is seemingly entirely uncorrupted by anomalies. They might reason that for the good of your reality, that they’d need to take you to their reality. However, the presence of ‘anomalous powers’ in the hands of the ‘heroes’ and ‘villains’ and local government agencies already policing them, might make things less cut and dry.

“If after a week of local time they haven’t shown up, then it might be that we are sufficiently far enough away from the reality that the Foundation occupies that we’d be essentially invisible in the background noise of the multiverse and I can go on from there trying to create a life for myself here… in whatever possible form that might be.”

I latched eagerly onto the positive possibility, “We do have people whose powers have changed them into forms that aren’t strictly human anymore. They’re called Case 53s and while they attract attention wherever they go, they’re generally able to live and get along in society. Most are heroes and work for the Protectorate, there are some villains though.”

“I can see I have a lot to learn about this reality and about you for that matter,” Henry frowned at me in thought. “I can sense you’re anomalous, that it extends to your being and why you’re naked…” I suppressed a groan at having to do yet another explanation, but spent the next five minutes giving him the cliff notes public version. “Hmmm, you are distorting what I can sense from you quite a bit there, but I trust you have your reasons. I am a relative stranger, though we share a common nature.”

I winced, “Yeah, sorry, it’s just the way things are here with ‘capes’ or people with powers. It’s a matter of privacy and the notion that one day you might have to defend yourself and if everyone knows every detail of your powers then they’d be fully prepared to defeat you.”

“It makes sense from that point of view, you never show your hand to your opponent in poker, after all.”

“Okay, now that I understand why, the question is how. For that I’m going to have to call my dad,” I brought my phone back to hand and began tapping on it. “Hopefully, I can wake him up.”

“I’ll prepare to endure his righteous anger and annoyance.”

I laughed briefly, “Yeah, he’s been pretty understanding about all this anomaly and powers business so far. Hopefully that continues.”

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The saga of getting Henry, the sentient Civil War Statue, or SCP-011 as he was known to this Foundation organization, was a rather tedious affair.

Just speaking to dad over the phone and explaining the situation was difficult, for the reason that trying to relay and contextualize it over a phone line whilst being vague enough, in case the call was ever investigated afterwards, was incredibly difficult. He also demanded to speak to Henry and since there was no way he could handle the relatively delicate phone, I had to put dad on speaker and hold the phone up.

That conversation was rather embarrassing to listen to, given that dad played the ‘overprotective father of a daughter’ card. Henry bore it with a stoic grace and even smiled during it.

“Rest assured Mr. Hebert, I do not intend any harm to come to her or anyone. I realize the favor that she’s doing for me, by asking this from you. This will create a very deep debt between us that I intend to fully repay you in any manner that I can.”

“Hmmm, we’ll just have to see. Very well, get yourselves to the west side of the Park, on Grant Street. It’ll be about two hours. We’ll have plenty of time left before sunrise.”

“Dad, how could…?”

“That can be explained when I’m there and we’re driving towards the Docks. See you then, little owl.”

The line clicked and beeped.

So we headed west away from the clearing and into the eerie silence of the park, not bothering using any of the designated footpaths to avoid the possibility of encountering anyone, remote thought it may be and the surveillance cameras.

“They’re going to find your plinth eventually,” I pointed out to Henry.

He laughed deeply, he’d probably be able to do a good Santa Claus impression with that voice. “They’re welcome to it. It’d be interesting to see what your Protectorate will make of it. I wish them luck removing it, the Foundation couldn’t do anything to my first plinth upon which I was born. It’s interesting that I would appear back on it in this reality. It suggests an intriguing notion.”

“What notion?”

“Something that I’ll elaborate on later, I need time to work with the idea. Best not to get our hopes up.”

It didn’t take long to reach the edge of the park, and we found a secluded spot in the mass of trees from which we could observe Grant street, while still remaining concealed from view. We both sat down and I began to put my slowly regrowing social skills to work. I simply chatted to him about my past, whilst politely trying to get him to open up about his own.

Henry wasn’t an entirely extroverted person by nature and there were times where we both fell into awkward silences. My own introversion was something I was trying to work myself out of, as it had been a survival mechanism against my old bullies.

When it came to his past, I had imagined he had been some sort of Civil War soldier whose memories had been grafted into the statue. In fact it turned out he had never been human at any point in his existence.

“Much like any infant, it took me more than two years to master my movement. All I knew was being a statue and that I hated being shit on by birds. I then began shooting them out of the sky.”

“That rifle works?” I asked in weary astonishment, staring at the massive stone weapon he was cradling in his right arm.

“It’s technically a musket, but it works, I wouldn't bother carrying it otherwise. By the third year after my birth, I had mastered moving fluidly and even without that annoying grinding noise. By my fifth year I could speak and had many wonderful conversations with the caretaker of the park grounds. He even eventually convinced me to stop shooting all the birds and made these rather ingenious devices that spun and flashed, which mostly discouraged the blasted things from using me as their toilet. By year seven, I stepped off my plinth and it wasn’t long after that the Foundation revealed themselves to me.

“It turns out they already had me under a field containment for a number of years, recruiting the caretaker and had very subtly redirected any of the general public visiting the park from ever coming near me. Any who managed to actually see me were also given amnestics - their memory erasure technology - which prevented anyone from talking about the amazing walking, talking and shooting statue.

“In the following two years, I truly developed a human level of self-awareness of my existence. The Foundation was actually pretty lenient and patient with me, giving me the breathing room to develop and eventually presented the facts of the world and the options they could give me. In the end, I decided it was best to just take up residence in one of their facilities that could best accommodate me.”

“But you couldn’t just decide at any point to leave,” I pointed out.

“For what would I leave, Miss Hebert? Freedom? In a world, which even if it could accept me, wasn’t built to handle me. At least with the Foundation, I could explore what I was and follow my interests. I needed no human comforts, sleep or food, besides a good cleaning now and then.”

“No need to sleep? Welcome to the club,” I grinned at him and held up a flat hand.

“Really? Interesting,” he lightly high-fived me as best he could, showing he at least had some cultural familiarity with the gesture as well. “The Foundation could also help me with the only passion that I had - learning. Do you want to know how many degrees I’ve been awarded in the last seven years?”

“No need to sleep, nor eat, tons of time, I wouldn’t be surprised if you could manage… ten?”

Henry radiated smugness, “Thirteen, including two doctorates in physics and mechanical engineering. The Foundation last rated my IQ in their standards to be about 133.”

“Wow, that puts you in Mensa range.”

“It does, but rather pointless for me to belong to them, it’s not like I can attend any meetings. It’d be amusing seeing all those geniuses’ reaction to me walking in the room.”

I laughed trying to imagine that. Thinking that most would conclude someone had spiked their drinks with a hallucinogen or something similar. Then steadily Henry would disprove every single theory they could come up with until they were left with nothing but the inescapable fact that he was a sentient statue just as smart as they were. They’d either be shouting ‘Eureka’ or have aneurisms on the spot.

Henry’s reaction to my own history was rather heartening and proved that while he might not have ever been human physically, he had developed a human mind and emotions inside that anomalous body.

He felt sympathy at my mother’s death, anger at what my bullies had been allowed to get away with and was rather impressed at the stories of my tentative minor forays into heroics.

“In that respect, you are quite lucky to live in a world that even allows such extraordinary things to be possible and in the open.”

“Well, now that I know about the Foundation, I can see that, but on the balance we’re stuck with some truly monstrous villains and the Endbringers that threaten everything.”

Henry nodded, “That is the fundamental nature of existence and the universe. I don’t know the details of them, but I know the Foundation does contain SCPs which could potentially destroy the world and even a select few which could potentially destroy the universe.”

I looked at him with horror and tried to imagine what kind of threat could potentially do that… and failed, which was probably for the best.

“Endbringers seem small fry in comparison to that.”

“Yes, which makes me fearful for this universe, Miss Hebert.”

“What? Why?”

“Is that not obvious? You are here… an anomaly, SCP-15 is here, I am here. Seemingly delivered to this universe by this ‘void’. I might be mistaken, but am I correct in assuming there are more?”

I could only nod, “Two items, the Maccabee Jar and some kind of pill bottle that makes you telepathic, I think.”

“Five anomalies then. What happens when something is delivered that is instantly hostile and dangerous on a level that you personally can’t handle with your powers? I shudder to think of this world being introduced to the likes of SCP-096 - a monstrous humanoid being, utterly unstoppable and will not rest until it kills and devours anyone who’s seen its face - in any medium. You see a pixel of its face taken in a photograph accidentally, it will know and instantly begin to hunt you down. You could hide at the bottom of the Mariana Trench in a submarine and it will go down there with no problem and tear open the submarine to kill you.”

I was having a hard time comprehending that such a monster could even exist. That it could somehow just ‘know’ that you had seen its face anywhere at any time. It did sound somewhat like an Endbringer level threat, but…

“The Foundation did contain it in the end?”

“Yes, but it was luck that it first appeared in the sparsely populated countryside and it further took the deaths of many agents until it was understood the mechanism by which 096 functioned and killed. If it had appeared in a city…” He shuddered and it was the weirdest thing to see an animated statue do that. “So you see the problem you have?”

“That this world and even the universe could end if this ‘void’ delivers the wrong anomaly… if I’m not ready for it…”

What bullshit was this? How did this happen? Why me? How could my naked ass suddenly be responsible for the survival of the entire universe!? All I wanted was to just… be me, be a hero somehow and… was that just too much to ask?!

“Easy Miss Hebert.”

I felt a cool granite hand on my shoulder and it snapped me out of a funk and… why did it feel like I was hyperventilating? Oh right… I was…

“I apologize. Perhaps I should’ve waited to deliver my conclusion to you, but I feel that some truths are best addressed immediately. The question of why this is happening is something that must be pursued. Whether the Foundation shows up or not, I think it best we approach this conundrum from the worst possible angle and not rely on the whims of some unknowable void entity and that it will just keep throwing Safe class SCPs into your universe.”

“Wh- what do we do?” I felt wetness on my cheeks and angrily rubbed the useless tears away.

“For the moment, get me out of sight. With the assumption that I might not be here soon, I will do everything in my power to aid you. I will leave behind all the knowledge I can and try my best to come up with more. There are certain technologies that I can build as well, given the right materials and tools. In the end, all I can say is you will not do this alone, Miss Hebert. If we have to build our own version of the Foundation on this Earth, we’ll do it.”

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Dad showed up after two hours and ten minutes of waiting.

The truck was easily large enough for Henry to sit down in and there was even a tarpaulin covering that would shield him from view.

I desperately needed a bit of levity and so secretly recorded the meeting between Dad and Henry when they shook hands. His face was just priceless and hilarious.

It was also nice that the truck’s cab was high enough that I wouldn’t be visible to any nearby cars passing, though that was a different story for oncoming traffic. The level of traffic was paltry at this time of night thankfully, so I enjoyed actually sitting on a seat for once.

That dad could also drive this class of truck was something I only vaguely remembered him being able to do. At some point when I was still in primary school he had gone for the driver’s exam for heavier vehicles.

I desperately didn’t want to think of the burden that was on my shoulders now, nor did I want to tell dad while he was driving, but it was a conversation that also had to happen.

“How did you manage this?”

Dad engaged the first gear, the truck’s brakes hissed and we set off into the night. He chuckled, “A veritable network of traded favors. First, a call to Kurt, a promise of at least three drinks at the bar in apology for waking him. He calls another friend, does the same, favors are traded and so on, until I end up with the keys and this truck with the understanding that it’s to be back in its parking spot promptly at nine in the morning with not a single scratch.”

The drive was mostly spent talking about Henry, his nature and the problems that would inevitably come.

“We’re going to a warehouse not far from the DWU building. It’s still on the books, maintained and currently has no one contracted to use the space. That might change but isn’t likely for the next few months. It’s one huge empty space, but not much in terms of creature comforts.”

“I think as long as we give him some way to access the Internet, stationery and paper, he’ll be fine otherwise.”

“There is an unused supervisor office, so assuming he can be delicate enough with the PC in there that should be sorted. Now, tell me about your union meeting.”

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I stared into Leet’s laptop screen with my mind and thoughts not really taking in the diagram and notes it displayed.

The villain had at least made good on his word and the beginnings of what I had requested was there. He had gone back to all of his failed projects of robotics and started to take elements from them, then steadily puzzle what definitely worked back together and with Uber’s help was starting to make a device that would at least in function, resemble the Snitch.

It would not just be a hovering camera drone that floated through the air through gravity manipulation though and Leet was carefully delving into the field of artificial intelligence to give the Snitch 2.0 a visual mind to film any chosen subject with cinematography levels that would in his words ‘win old school Oscars.’  There were some compromises to be made though and Snitch 2.0 would not have invisibility and be about as large as two smartphones glued together.

No matter how much I tried to distract myself with notions of getting my porn business off the ground. It just seemed like such a pathetic consideration and almost a waste of time now that I potentially had the fate of the entire planet and universe to worry about.

Almost a full day had passed since then, filled with just inane banality and busywork. Powering through my GED work and banishing all thoughts of more SCPs landing on my lap. Some stupid part of me was hoping that would help in potentially delaying the arrival of more.

Henry had already asked what my thoughts had been during the ‘Void Events’ as he designated them and what I had been doing at the time, to see if there were correlations and commonalities to be drawn.

In the act of trying to remember and typing out a reply to Henry’s email at the warehouse, it quickly became apparent that there had been no links or common threads to draw with anything I did being responsible for a Void Event. There was no pattern in the time it had happened or time elapsed between events. It was a dead end, but I sent it to him anyway. Maybe the genius statue would spot something I couldn’t see.

“So, uh, what do you think?” Leet asked nervously from the couch behind me, giving a glance to Uber.

The duo were dressed in the most non-cape outfits you could imagine, simple tracksuits and knee length shorts with simple domino masks, though that wasn’t surprising given our location. They had also made good on finding a more comfortable place for our rendezvous, a pretty decent four star room at a Hilton hotel in downtown.

“It’s looking good so far, though I’m a bit concerned with the AI thing…”

“It’s not going to go Skynet on us, Escort, we’ve seen all the movies,” Leet rolled his eyes in exasperation. “If you want to be technical it will be a limited AI, it’s dedicated to one task or goal and will only have the tools we give it to work with. Everything else will be outside of its context and it can’t grow, copy itself onto other systems or even imagine doing so.”

“Okay, what about your power research?”

“All of it is there on the laptop, you can take it with you after we’re done tonight…”

He was interrupted because my lips were shutting him up and I was already straddling his lap on the couch.

I was sick of thinking about all the universe ending shit on my plate.

I just wanted to feel and forget it all for this brief time.

Leet wasn’t a great kisser at all, though I couldn’t really call myself one either. My focus was on his upper lip and he eventually fumbled to my lower lip. When we were in a good rhythm I snaked my tongue forward to duel with his.

I suddenly hungered for more skin and began working on removing his clothes, taking the time to do it normally all the while our kissing duel continued.

When he was down to only his tented underwear he finally worked up the courage to be more than just a passive recipient and brought his hands up to cup and play with my breasts.

The kiss broke as I was hampered by pulling his boxers off.

A brief use of misting that had me standing at his knees, which allowed the leverage and I chucked the boxers on the floor. Uber at this point had already divested himself of all his clothing and was steadily stroking himself to erection.

Another mist, and I was back on Leet’s lap, smooching his face off and hugging him tightly, enjoying the feeling of my breasts mashed against his chest.

He was pretty eager himself and his hands were on my butt, squeezing and holding on, trying to direct me so his penis could spear into me already. He ended up missing and bumping against my inner thigh, but was persistent in trying.

I decided to play and kept moving each time he thought he had himself lined up properly at the last moment.

He moved his hands to my hips to try and keep me in place, but he didn’t have the strength for that.

Leet groaned in frustration and actually slapped my ass at this point.

We both froze, me in total surprise and I felt he was frozen with fear.

I broke the kiss slowly and glared at him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

My response was to grin my best evil grin and slap his thigh in return before pulling his arms over and pinning them on the backrest of the couch.

My lips returned to his and this time I utterly dominated the contest and wrestled his tongue into submission with my own.

Then I lined myself up and worked his manhood into my core.

I hissed in pleasure as I enveloped his full length.

Then began riding him whilst also using my internal muscles in rhythm with the thrusts.

Leet broke the kiss and gasped for extra air, “Ah fuck!”

“That’s the idea,” I grinned and kept on riding.

I noticed Uber was looking quite lonely at this point and beckoned him closer with a single finger.

He smirked and obeyed.

Then took the initiative and knelt right behind me, briefly grabbing hold of my hips to stop my ride.

I allowed it to happen and using his right hand as a guide Uber worked his dick into my ass.

He was surprised at how easily it got in. “You’re kidding?”

I giggled and flexed those muscles as well, using them to practically pull him in deeper before resuming my ride on Leet.

Coordinating our thrusts was a bit of a stop-start affair and I eventually had to settle on being more passive and letting their thrusts dictate the pace, whilst my internal muscles got to work.

The pleasure kept building and building until at last I was at that blissful place where worries or thought didn’t matter.

That is until Leet abruptly stopped below me.

“Yo bro, not cool, I felt your sack against me.”

Uber stopped at this point and I sensed he was totally astonished at his friend’s stupidity.

He restarted his thrusting with a grunt, “It was an accident dickhead. Keep going.”

I propped myself up against Leet’s chest and glared down at him, flexing my vagina in a way that was not pleasant at all.

“Sorry,” he squeaked and resumed thrusting.

It took a few minutes before we returned to the blissful place and I climaxed with a throaty high pitched groan, soaking Leet and the couch.

He followed a moment later, twitching and pumping his seed into me.

Uber pulled out abruptly and rushed forward to my side, keeping the pumping going on his penis with his hand.

He climaxed with a strained groan, squirting ropes of cum towards my face. One got onto my cheek before I managed to close my mouth around his member.

When he was done I swallowed and used my hand to eagerly wipe the nectar on my cheek towards my mouth and lick off my hand.

“You’ve really got a kink for that, don’t you?” Uber smirked. I merely shrugged in response and relaxed my vagina, allowing Leet’s deflating manhood to slide out of me. “Mind if I try something?”

I was still on my post-orgasm bliss so nodded in honest curiosity.

Uber guided me off Leet to lay on my back on the right side of the couch, knelt in front of me and pulled my legs apart. He dove with his face towards my pussy and in the next moment his mouth was playing on my very sensitive lower lips.

Then it felt like he had stuck me with an electric wire when his lips closed around my clit and began suckling and licking on it.

His muscular arms looped around my upper thighs to keep me in place as I twitched, almost screaming in pleasure.

I barely rationalized that he had probably used his power for help in getting so good at pleasuring a woman down there, but that thought was drowned in the haze of bliss.

Then he torturously moved away from my clit, suckling on my labia, just before his tongue started poking in and out of my core. The penetration was minor, but it was pleasurable enough. .

I grit my teeth furiously as I rode the waves of pleasure crashing through my body, breathing hard and fighting a battle to both experience this sensation and to back off from it so it could last longer.

Finally, I lost the brinkmanship and came hard.

My hips thrusted forward but Uber clung on for dear life, as my pussy erupted with a jet of fluids directly into his face. He had closed his eyes in anticipation and turned his head, so it actually just hit his cheek. The volume of fluid was enough to thoroughly soak his neck and chest.

I was so out of it that I had no breath as the orgasm crashed through me.

When I finally had voluntary control of my muscles back, I pulled in a deep breath and panted, resisting the urge to just scream.

Leet entered the picture again, climbing the couch backrest in order to bring his groin to my face. His manhood erect and ready again, glistening and already leaking a bit of pre-cum.

To refuse that was just not in my nature anymore. My right hand grabbed his cock and guided it into my mouth and I began eagerly suckling.

Uber gave me about a minute of this before his mouth returned to my pussy again to deliciously torture me with pleasure. This time he started using his fingers to aid in his efforts, his mouth working on my clit, whilst two of his fingers penetrated and he definitely managed to hit my g-spot.

I groaned into Leet’s dick as it happened. The involuntary twitch forced me a few inches forward and I ended up with my first deep throat experience.

My gag reflex took over for a moment and I had no choice but to open my mouth and retreat a bit.

This led to the realization that I could obviously control that too.

So with careful experimentation I pushed forward until I had Leet all the way in my mouth, with his balls hitting my chin.

“Ah shit,” Leet gasped, as his hands instinctively grabbed my head as he came directly into my throat.

I slowly moved back, keeping the suction to get every bit of cum and his deflating member popped out of my mouth.

At this point I’d rather had enough of Uber’s efforts, wonderful though it was.

I misted out of his grasp and appeared behind him, where a light push from hand and foot had him on the floor. Then I straddled his hips and guided his manhood to spear into my pussy.

It took just another ten or so twirls and thrusts of my hips before I came again, the sensation of my squirting pussy finally overcame even Uber’s control. He groaned and his hips twitched upwards, deliciously deepening his presence in me even more.

For a while I just sat on him, keeping his dick in me and grasped with my vaginal muscles.

Eventually he cottoned on to what I was doing, “Gonna be getting up any time soon, Escort?”

“Sure, just not now, Leet, be a dear and get us all something to drink, water for me please.”

He smirked at the predicament of his villainous partner and headed off to the hotel room’s minibar.

When we all had drink bottles in hand, Uber sat up on his elbows and frowned in confusion, “Um, Escort, why am I still hard? That’s not usually a thing.”

I frowned at him for a moment in confusion, then realized he was right. He had ejaculated, but his dick was still rock hard in me. He should be in his refractory period. My eyes glanced down past my breasts, to my pussy, which was split open with Uber’s manhood, my engorged prominent labia catching the overhead light and glistening as I leaned back a bit for a better viewing angle.

Nothing was immediately wrong that I could see, but now that my mind was steadily less cloudy and coming out of the post-coital haze…

There was a steady yet slight drain of energy from me.

I opened my mind’s eye to true sight.

Something new was happening. Normally, I pull energy only during a climax release. Now I was giving a sliver of energy to Uber… it was keeping his penis and all related functions going and now with this prolonged joining I was also steadily pulling on his energy to a greater degree.

It didn’t take long to come to the horrifying conclusion of what would happen if I kept this up.

I misted and fought to keep my composure as I reappeared next to ‘15 leaning against the lounge desk. To my great relief, the energy drain ended as soon as I rematerialized but I knew that I had just learned a new trick that would allow me to sync my pleasure with my partner and if I wanted, to keep going and kill them… robbing them of even the energy that kept cellular activity happening.

If I wanted more proof that I actually was a SCP, then here it was.

“Sorry about that, Uber. Your erection will go down in about… seven minutes, a bit hard to estimate these things.”

The villain sat up, glanced at his still raging hard on and gave me an incredulous look, “You really are a super hooker. You can just make me keep going?”

I took a deep gulp of my water bottle to delay answering but eventually nodded.

There was a splash of water and a dull thump as Leet dropped his bottle. He was staring at me with a weird mix of amazement, excitement and weariness. Then he flicked his fingers and pointed. “I don’t know how I could’ve missed this before… it was staring me right in the face. You… you might as well be a 5E succubus.”

I frowned in confusion.

“5E Succubus? What?”

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The rumbling of a motorcycle echoed through Lord’s Park.

It was generally not a common thing to happen or generally allowed in the first place. An exception was made, however, for the head of the local Protectorate.

Armsmaster was a man of efficiency and to this end he navigated his highly modified motorcycle through paths meant only for pedestrians moving among the many trees and pristine landscape, with speed and fluidity that would put even off-road bikers to shame. The smart suspension easily compensated for every curve, turn and bump. The onboard computer managed the power distribution between both wheels with not an erg of energy wasted.

It was a delight to finally just get away from dealing with the absolute bureaucratic mess that had been dumped on his shoulders as a result of the Hebert case and its fallout.

As much as he knew that the young woman was absolutely the victim in the case, she had in the process exposed a thread of corruption within the PRT. The ripple effect of which would likely see a shakeup of procedure throughout the entire country. It had already triggered knee-jerk reviews of the financial links and staff that supervised and liaised between the schools of Wards and the PRT. Not to mention the rehab and rebranding program had also taken a significant hit.

That a Ward on probation could go so far off the reservation to the point where her supposedly supervised behavior resulted in another Trigger Event in a classmate was an intolerable fact.

Every parahuman whether they be rogue, villain or hero, knew that Trigger Events, the events that led to their genesis, was a subject that bordered on taboo. It was something not easily spoken of or joked about. It was the day that irrevocably broke you and what came out on the other side was very rarely the same person that went in.

Oh, Sophia Hess had help from her little friends. Hebert’s old childhood friend turned enemy certainly was the biggest straw on the camel’s back, but there was no question that Hess’ physical threats and even the subtle use of parahuman abilities to phase through matter had aided things.

The paperwork to get Hess out of his jurisdiction and into her new accommodations in Juvenile Detention was daunting to say the least. She had missed getting the full consideration for an adult prison sentence by just four months. Her continued freedom and employment in the Wards had been contingent on good behavior and a further spotless record. A record which now showed that it had been glossed over considerably and on other occasions outright falsified.

The anger and wounded pride that this had happened under his watch came roaring back. His own record now blemished with the failure. The speed of gossip being what it was, it wouldn’t be long until word had filtered through the entire Protectorate.

He focused, going through a mental exercise to compartmentalize and banish that train of thought and the emotions. This was not the time for them. Now he could get back to efficiently doing what he was meant to do.

His motorcycle slowed and smoothly coasted to a stop just beyond the yellow police tape surrounding the area.

Approaching him was the detective in charge of the case, if it could even be called that. A few flicks of his eyes and systems hidden in his armor in addition to a few in his bike began a systematic scan of the area.

Just a cursory look brought quite a few rather puzzling facts to mind, such as the need for a detective in the first place, in addition to two actual crime scene investigators going around with their massive cameras and steadily taking pictures of the ground, plus the two original responding uniformed police.

“Armsmaster, thank you for coming,” Detective Gabriel Fisher greeted him with a friendly outstretched hand.

His HUD flashed a warning as his social logic AI flashed a prompt at him. A flick of the eye had the strength moderators on his armor engaged to the appropriate level and he shook hands.

“Detective Fisher, you were assigned to this case?”

“Yeah, as if I didn’t have enough on my plate. I work one parahuman case successfully and suddenly I’m the go to guy when weirdness strikes in the department.”

“And it was ‘weird’ enough that you felt a call to the Protectorate was warranted?”

Fisher shrugged, “I’ve done my due diligence, Armsmaster. Exhausted all the mundane resources and I am still left with something that belongs in the Twilight Zone.”

Armsmaster read through the analysis his systems reported and stared at the tall edifice that should not be there. “The plinth without a statue?”

“That’s easily explained, no cameras here and their coverage is pathetic. You could move a Mardi Gras through here if you knew the blind spots. No, the fact that it was moved in here without anyone seeing or hearing is not the issue. This is the problem.”

Fisher gestured for him to follow and walked towards the plinth, being careful to avoid the further demarcations that surrounded footsteps that Armsmaster could tell with the naked eye were human, booted, and extremely large.

The detective stopped a few feet from the plinth and gestured down towards another set of similar footprints but these were side by side and extremely deep. His HUD began an analysis and the results were beginning to paint a picture. The only way it could’ve been generated was if the person had simply fallen from a height of over ten feet and from the ground displacement had come from…

Armsmaster turned his head slowly to the top of the plinth, where his systems helpfully calculated and displayed that the trajectory matched someone jumping from the top.

“This can be staged, detective.”

“Oh, like those fools in the old days with crop circles from UFOs?” Fisher snorted in amusement. “We made a measurement of the statue’s feet impressions and they match the impression at the top of the plinth. But you have a point, until you do a bit of research on the statue and its markings. The sheriff of Woodstock in Vermont was quite surprised to get my call asking if they’re missing their Civil War Memorial statue.”

Fisher pulled out his phone, swiped on it a few times and held it up for Armsmaster to see.

His helmet’s visual sensors immediately captured and pulled the image for analysis, easily compensating for the various imperfections of the compression that let it be efficiently pushed through the Internet and ran an enhancement algorithm.

“This photo was taken this morning and as you can see, their plinth and statue is still there in all respects. So logic says, someone decided to make a perfect copy, down to even the same granite patterns, dump it in a random clearing in Lord’s Park, 164 miles from where the original is. Then leave fake impressions in the earth around it that gives the impression that the statue had come to life and jumped off its stand. Then had a nice chat with a local before walking off towards the west with them, where they presumably caught a ride.”

Armsmaster snapped his head to stare at the detective as his brain parsed the words. “A local?”

“Impression on the earth and grass have since faded, because their weight was much lighter but there are still distinct patches here and there that indicate someone else was in the clearing.” He gestured to the crime scene investigators. “Then there’s the bit where the lab tried to take a small sample of the plinth for analysis and were unable.”

“You mean nothing they had could damage it?”

“Correct, and they tried everything they had on hand, hammer, chisel, sledge. I even gave them permission to try to shoot a piece off with a sidearm. Pointless, not a scratch.” Nothing indicated that the detective was being anything less than honest in the vocal analysis being projected in his HUD. “That was when I began seeking permission to call the Protectorate in.”

Armsmaster reached to his back and his iconic halberd weapon unfolded into his hand. It’s own miniaturized systems booting up and syncing with the armor in less than a second. His social queue program flashed a warning. “May I try, detective?”

“Go ahead, it should be interesting,” Fisher shrugged.

If pistol caliber kinetic energy had been insufficient, then it was doubtful even a power assisted swing using the sharpest conventional blade would be enough. So he would have to resort to extremely high temperatures.

A flick of the eyes in the appropriate direction, including disarming the safeties and the plasma blade ignited. He stepped forward and brought the blade down carefully, aiming to just cut a small piece from the corner of the plinth.

The plasma was immediately parted by the granite and flared off, easily deflected by the inexplicably unyielding stone granite.

His HUD immediately began flaring with… impossible readings.

No temperature or energy transfer to the material.

He kept the blade in contact for a further five seconds then pulled it away and extinguished it.

There wasn’t even a burn mark.

“I take it that’s not normal?” Fisher asked wryly.

“The materials that can resist my plasma blade are experimental super alloys so expensive they don’t see use outside a lab. The only explanation now is that we are looking at an exotic effect or expression of a parahuman power.”

“That’s fine to say, but to what purpose? What could this possibly achieve? Not to mention I’m still struggling to actually find a crime to charge our parahuman statue builder with, besides lacking permission from the city to display this statue.”

“That is a question that I’ll be sure to ask them,” Armsmaster asserted. Anyone who could make this material or power expression was a potential boon that was not cast aside lightly. “Where did the statue’s footprints disappear?”

“Western edge of the park, Grant street.”

“Do your investigators have a timeline?”

Fisher sighed, “It was reported by the Park ground staff supervisor yesterday, best guess considering we had a bit of light rain last night… the footprints are thirty-six to forty eight hours old.”

“Thank you detective, that should be enough to work with. I’ll keep you apprised of my findings. I suggest you keep the area cordoned off for now. A PRT team will be arriving as soon as possible. My scans have shown nothing immediately hazardous, but it’s best to be cautious about these things.”

Armsmaster turned on his heel and headed back to his motorbike, already beginning the process to get access to the traffic cameras around Lord’s Park.

This mystery was exactly what he needed and if it should net a parahuman who could either make the material the plinth was made out of or more likely imbue the invulnerability effect onto any material - that would make a nice feather in his cap to distract from his recent troubles.

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