Colin slid through the door into his workshop. Dragon was already there, her human interface sitting in one of the computer chairs, staring at the monitor. She glanced back as he approached, and he jerked his chin at the screen.

"It's quiet," she answered. "Nothing much going on in the Cage today."

He dropped into the chair beside her, setting the box of parts he was carrying on the floor.

"Nothing?"

She shrugged. Colin's mouth went a little dry at the languid way Dragon rolled her shoulders.

"Nothing big." Dragon clicked a button, changing the view into a mosaic of different camera feeds from within the Birdcage. She pointed to a few of the little squares, elaborating at each. "Cinderhands is trying his hand at art again. Can't figure out why. He incinerates the paper whenever he gets angry."

"And I'm sure he's just a model of restraint," Colin said, smirking.

Dragon returned his smirk. "Something like that. And here— group yoga in Lustrum's cell block. One of her better ideas, actually. Dropped the rate of violent incidents in her area by nearly 5%. And over here, the Faerie Queen is-"

Colin's eyebrows rose. "A tea party?"

Dragon clicked, enlarging the feed to fullscreen. The world's strongest villain sat across the table from a mousy young woman. Colin stared, the name coming to him after a moment. Panacea. She nodded, laughing softly at something Glaistig Uaine had said.

"I'll be damned," he murmured.

Dragon made a noise of agreement and returned the feed to tiles. She swapped through the screens rapidly, and he watched. Now and then, one of them would spot something significant and remark on it.

Marquis' weekly card game with Teacher. Genoscythe doing a backflip off the cell block railing. El Mariachi and Canary singing a duet to a small crowd, with La Manana doing backup. Where Manana had gotten a guitar, Colin didn't ask. Crane joined Lustrum's yoga group, going through the positions with boneless ease. Click, next screen and—

"Wait." Colin held up a hand. "Go back."

Dragon clicked back a page. Colin leaned in, scanning the little view windows. He'd seen something. Seen someone. But it couldn't be— not her. Where had it...

In the bottom right edge, two screens from the corner, a girl strode past the camera view, walking alongside a hulking man.

"There!"

Click. The picture bloomed to fill the screen, and Colin's jaw dropped.

"No."

The girl was tall and thin, her tangle of black hair worn loose. The man beside her was massive, head and shoulders above her. One tattooed arm was hooked protectively around her shoulders.

"No. It— no fucking way."

She turned, and the loose prison jumpsuit she wore couldn't disguise the swell of her belly.

Lung. Lung and HER.

A noise like air escaping a balloon hissed from Colin's throat.

"How?!"

Dragon was looking at him, looking slightly confused. After a moment, she blinked. "I guess I forgot to tell you. Skitter went to the Cage a while back."

"Not that, Dragon," Colin ground out. "She and Lung are— what in the hell is going on here?"

"That's the other reason I didn't tell you." Dragon said, sighing. "I didn't want to stress you out. Two ruthless, infamous supervillains, both of whom hate your guts, getting together... you were better off not knowing."

Colin's chair hit the ground as he jerked to his feet. "How is she pregnant!?"

A thin smile crossed Dragon's lips. "Isn't it obvious, Colin? I cut off Skitter's supply of contraceptives. You and I might not be ready for kids, but that doesn't mean I can't be the doting aunt to their children." The smile turned into a broad grin. "I've got to look after the next generation of dragons, after all."

Colin ran screaming.

Superbooze

(Автор: Biskoff)

So I joined the site, took a look around. I've seen rape, futa, suicide, incest, and quite few other things. But you know what the worst is?

Someone made the Tanuki a mod. You all disgust me. Honestly, that has got to be the worst

* * *

Taylor's eyes blearily opened. She hissed at the bright sunlight that was making its way through the expansive windows.

Wait. She didn't have expansive windows.

She slowly took a look around. She was reclining in a very large, very comfortable leather chair. Her bare feet were propped up on an equally expensive looking wooden desk. Her eyes glanced downwards. She was wearing... a very nice suit actually. It was a little ruffled and there were some stains on it, but it was definitely expensive.

And she knew she owned nothing like it. She shifted slightly. `Why do my legs feel all sticky. Oh god I can't remember how I got here. The fuck did I do? Oh god oh shit oh-'

As she was about to consider -not panic, certainly not panic— things further, the door on the other side of the room opened and a costumed man walked in. "Good morning, madam President."

And then her brain shut down.

She blinked once. Twice. "You're Eidolon." Another blink. "And what did you call me?"

Eidolon shifted slightly. "Ah. We weren't certain if you would remember. I'm sure the memories will come back soon. It seems to be a side effect of the superbooze. The more you drank the longer it takes for the memories to come back from when you were under its effects."

She stared. "Superbooze?" Seriously, what the hell was going on?

She shook her head and tapped a quick series of keys on the computer before her to bring up the day's headlines. Without thinking, Taylor leaned down and pulled out a glass and a bottle of whiskey from a desk drawer and poured.

Then she realized what she did and that she seemed to know how to do it. She slammed down the drink and let the burn in her throat focus her.

"Right." She drummed her fingers on the desk. "So. I'm the... President. Of America." Horseshit. This had to be a dream.

"Yes ma'am."

"Since when?" She asked lightly. All a dream.

"You were given a full pardon for all your crimes, ever, yesterday morning and inaugurated in the afternoon. Then you joined the celebrations here in DC." Shit. Maybe this wasn't a dream.

She pinched herself on the leg. The sticky... stuff on her fingers and the new pain in her leg, coupled with the tang of the whiskey in her mouth convinced her.

Not a dream.

Fuck.

"Neat." She licked her lips to stall for a moment. "Now... things are a bit blurry for me... so... care to tell me why I'm here?"

Eidolon paused. "... philosophically 'why are we here' or..."

Taylor's eye twitched as she raised a hand with her index finger extended. Then paused, retracted the finger, and lowered her hand. She tried to remember and came up with fragments. A halberd. A cockpit. Feathers. Golden light. The more complete memories were there, but just out of reach. It was like trying to catch a floating bubble without popping it.

"Let's just... start small. I can barely remember anything since that guy... Keg-man? ...showed up in Brockton."

"Ah. Kegger. He's been detained, but all things considered we probably won't charge him with anything. Too much good came from his actions, even if they were illegal. And expensive to clean up or repair."

Taylor took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Eidolon was answering her questions, which was just fucking bizarre, but wasn't getting to the point. "Ok. Let's get to the next part. What exactly happened that put me in the White House. Give."

"Long story short? You saved the world, madam President."

For a moment Taylor simply stared.

"What."

Eidolon gestured at the computer she had typed on and an image popped up. A young reporter began her broadcast.

"The parahuman known as 'Kegger' continued his drunken rampage up the east coast. The party in Times Square wound down only a day ago. His trip slowed in Boston, where the Slaughterhouse Nine were known to be-"

* * *

It had been a long week, one that he couldn't remember most of, but at least things seemed to be going well since Kegger's departure. It was odd, but the most he could remember at the moment was a feeling of profound freedom.

How strange.

Accord walked into one of his bases and stopped dead in his tracks. He sputtered in outrage for a moment before clenching his fists and shouting.

"What the hell is going on here? Where all of your clothes!?"

The question wasn't entirely accurate. Most of the people present were in fact wearing clothes. They just weren't wearing the suits or dresses he had assigned them. It wouldn't have been as bad if they were all naked. It would have been more acceptable to his sense of uniformity. No outfits were better than mismatched outfits.

"It's Casual Friday." Someone answered.

"Excuse me? We don't have Casual Fridays." Accord mocked. He prepared to continue his rant only for the young man who had spoken to point at the wall next to the door.

Accord turned a saw a notice taped to it. He walked over and read it.

Casual Fridays are now in effect. I expect a 3.13% increase in efficiency.

-Accord

"Who the hell put this up here?" Because he going to be having words with them. And then he'd kill them. Politely.

"But... you did. You signed it and everything. We all saw you put it up there."

Accord paused and looked at the note again. He did sign it.

"Fine. But what about them?" He pointed at the people not wearing anything.

In response, the same man pointed at the wall on other side of the door.

Casual Fridays are now clothing optional. I expect a 2.11% increase in efficiency.

-Accord

"Son. Of. A. Whore." The paperwork to cancel sanctioned events was a bitch to do. He just didn't have time to do it now. He didn't have time to do it this week or even this month. He'd have to either put up with this -he looked around at the sloppily dressed, or simply not dressed, Ambassadors and shuddered... or alter his entire schedule to properly end it.

He dropped to his knees. What was he supposed to do!?

* * *

A woman wearing bright pink, fluffy pajamas walked into the office. Eidolon went paused the recording and went utterly still.

Taylor looked at the woman. She was vaguely familiar. Skitter searched her memory as she looked her over. Her gaze fell onto the mouse ears on the top of her head.

Wait. She was—

Eidolon hesitantly spoke. "Mouse. How are-"

His voice cut out as her fist caught him in the throat. He fell to the floor clutching his throat and coughing. Taylor's eyes widened. The fuck. She had been at the door a second ago!

"Coffee." She deadpanned at Taylor.

"Wh-what?" Skitter nearly recoiled at the stare Mouse Protector was giving her. It was like looking at your own death. A pair of half shut, glaring eyes bore into her very soul and chilled her blood.

"I dunno where coffee is. Get some." Again, her voice didn't change pitch or tone. Taylor shivered.

She reached over and picked up the phone.

In a matter of minutes an aide was rushing into the room carrying a tray with a cup of coffee for Mouse Protector and tea for President Skitter. His hands trembled as he looked between Mouse Protector and Skitter. The longer he stayed, the longer he kept looking at either one of them, the worse his shakes seemed to get. He dropped off the tray quickly and turned without being dismissed. By the time he reached the door he was nearly crying.

Mouse Protector snatched the cup and began drinking in large gulps.

Taylor stared at her as she downed the steaming coffee. "Isn't that hot?"

The mouse-eared woman stopped guzzling long enough to answer. "Extremely." Then went back to finishing off the cup.

As she drank the ears on her head seemed to perk up and her eyes brightened. Her shoulders no longer slouched and a smile appeared on her face. She set the empty mug down with a whoop.

"Aw yeah! That's the stuff!" It was like she was a completely different person. "Yep yep! Villains beware; the Hero of Justice is back in action!"

The woman happily spun on her heel and headed back out of the door she had entered. "This Mouse is gonna trap you— hey why are you running?" She followed after one of the staff members who picked up his speed to get away.

Eidolon finally explained once he was sure Mouse was gone. "She's not a morning person. We learned that shortly after she joined the Wards. She needs coffee in the morning, but too much caffeine or any liquor and... well. Bad things. She's given one 8 oz. cup of coffee once a day between 6 and 8. Nothing else. Ever."

Taylor nodded. She could see why. She took a sip from her Earl Grey as Eidolon continued.

"She's also the Vice President."

She spit out her tea across the desk. "Why!?"

* * *

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?Topic: Mouse Slaughters Nine In Their Own House

In: Boards

Hurpdurp (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (Cape Groupie)

Posted on May 3, 2011:

So... this happened. The thread title explains just about everything.

... I think I shat myself halfway through the video.

Edit: Also @MouseProtector. I've always loved your puns. They're amazing and you're amazing and please don't kill me.

(Showing Page 1 of 287)

? ComeAtMeBro

Replied on May 3, 2011:

holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit

? SubtleImNot

Replied on May 3, 2011:

Oh my god look at all the blood! It's everywhere!

? XxVoid_CowboyxX

Replied on May 3, 2011:

Fake. Mouse can barely make decent puns and you want us to think she can take on the Slaughterhouse? Much less this onesided.

Calling it now.

Fake.

? Chevalier (Verified Cape)

Replied on May 3, 2011:

I was afraid of something like this. Mouse is forbidden from alcohol and caffeine for a reason. We'd hoped someone got her out before Kegger arrived, but at least she didn't hurt anyone important.

@MouseProtector Good job with the Nine. We're all celebrating for you over here. I'm sure you'll get rewarded for this. But I have to ask. Are you sober yet?