"Took Biter and Cassie into the city. She found this piece of shit on a stall. Showed it to me and told me what it was about." She started pacing up and down my bathroom, while Bastard rested his head on his paws.

"Need you to find out who wrote this. Fucking spits on Taylor, making her some weak little shit I boss around. Tell me the name, and Bastard will give him the scare of his life."

I was rather surprised at Rachel's vehemence, but she did have a point about how this was treating Taylor's memory. I relaxed the walls on my power, and took a look. Book written for paycheck, not inspiration. Author has never seen Skitter. Author has never seen Bitch. Author has never been to Brockton Bay. Author used fake name. Author is Daniel Forrestor of Montreal.

"Well, Rachel, the good news is that I know who wrote it. The bad news is that he lives really far away, and you can't go around setting the pack on people." Seeing her go from angry to angrier, I quickly follow-up.

"But we can hurt him in other ways. Give me some time, and I'll think of something really humiliating we can pull." I shot her a closed mouth smile

"Fine." Rachel turned around and left, Bastard following her. I debated whether to finish my bath, but a toe dipped in indicated it was only lukewarm now. Well, time to think of how to ruin the life of some meddling hack.

Parental Pride

(Автор: Helpless Kitten)

It's been a long week, for everybody, really. As Jack Slash propped himself up against the ruined wall, he contemplated the girl in front of him, Skitter. Something about her nagged at his memory, a vague sense of dИjЮ vu tickling the edge of his awareness. When he had first met her, she promised him a fight, that his Nine would pull back stumps if they reached too far in this city. Maybe that was it. He had heard an endless litany of such threats in his time as North America's Most Wanted (Dead Only), and they began to run together after a while.

But where others were bluster, Skitter had delivered! And in such interesting ways, too! Burnscar was pulverized, teleported right into the path of that druggie tinker's invisible tank. Hatchet Face went down to one of the Wards. Turns out that the previous modifications the boy had used to make himself into a walking pile of muscle hadn't worn off when he stepped into Hatchet Face's Null field. Cherish and little Riley were nowhere to be found and someone had managed to replicate Greyboy's time bubbles with tinker tech and used it on Crawler. And the rest...

Skitter had taken down Shatterbird, William, and Mannequin. He understood how she could have killed Shatterbird and even Manton with insect control. Once you discovered that the Siberian was just a projection, well, the good professor was as vulnerable to spider venom as the next man. Shatterbird, for all her control and power, could still be taken by surprise, but the point Jack stuck upon was that he could not figure out how she beat Mannequin. He supposed that it didn't matter now that she was about to take his life, but it bugged him almost as much as the feeling that he knew her somehow.

She limped towards him with a shotgun in one hand and the other dangling at her side. The battles had taken their tolls and she was not unscathed. Her armored costume was bloody and ragged, the left lens of her mask was gone, showing her hauntingly familiar eyes and her beautiful hair was dirty and tangled. The sight of her hair sparked something, a long forgotten memory followed by a pulse of his power. Jack Slash grinned, this was too good!

"How is Annette, by the way?" She stopped dead.

"What."

"Your mother, dear thing. Met her once, a long, long time ago, about 16 years back. Such a delightful woman. It took me a bit, far too long if I'm being honest, to place why you seemed so familiar. It's your hair, you get it from your mother."

"She's dead. Car accident a couple years ago. I'd ask you to say 'hi' for me but you're not going anywhere near the where she is now." Skitter pumped the shotgun with her good hand and Jack's face fell.

"That's... Well damn. Kinda ruins what I was going to say next. You have my condolences."

Skitter paused for a moment and narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "You, Jack Slash, murderhobo extraordinaire, want me to believe that you feel sorry for, for, anything? Much less, my mother's death? What the actual fuck?"

Jack smirked, wryly. "What? A man's not allowed to feel regret when a former lover dies? Sure, it was just for a few days, but I feel entitled to that much, at least."

Skitter shook her head wildly. "No. No, I call bullshit. If only for the reason that that puts you in a position to be my father and that's not something..." She trailed off with a shudder of revulsion.

"Think about it. Think about your ability to lead, your ruthlessness. How about this; Brutally effective leader of a criminal group of parahumans with a seemingly weak power that, never the less, curb stomps those above his/her weight class. Which one of us does this describe?"

"Is this the part where you tell me to join you and rule the world as murderhobo and daughter? Because I'm not buying it ." She raised the shotgun. Jack's smile softened.

"Heh, thought not. I'm proud of-" the gun barked out a sharp report and Jack's lifeless body slid down the brick. Despite the upper half of his head being gone, his content smile was still there. Not even a 12-gauge could wipe it off.

What a Nice Guy!

(Автор: Darik29)

Taylor had known today was going to suck. Yesterday, after the Trio had managed to get her to sit on super glue, she'd gotten home only to discover her pants were unsalvageable, the super glue not coming off no matter what she tried. She'd been so frustrated, she'd actually forgotten to do laundry, forcing her to wear a Skirt off all things. Normally she would just use a set of pants from the pile, but somehow, all of her current choices were either to rank to pass muster, or had some form of identifying stain on them. So she had been forced to go into the back of her closet, and pick out one of the few skirts she owned, as a last resort. Knee-length, the skirt looked a little like something worn in old music videos, but beggars can't be choosers.

One bus ride later, Taylor was proven correct in her hunch when the hangers on of the Trio proved Especially vicious, commenting on her chicken legs, how slutty the skirt made her look, how prudish she was for wearing such a long skirt. They actively contradicted themselves in their insults, but they didn't care, they just wanted to hurt her. After a particularly vicious comment from Emma in the halls, Taylor had had enough. She couldn't deal with school today. So she left, in the break between second and third period, just headed for the bus. She knew she couldn't stay at school today, else Something would break, and she didn't want to give the Trio the satisfaction.

When the bus finally arrived, it was almost empty. There was an old lady in the front, sitting as close to the exit as possible, and an average looking man sitting in the middle. Taylor headed for the back, planning to spend a few circuits on the bus before getting of at her house. Leaning back in her seat, Taylor watched the world pass outside the window, just letting everything blur.

"Excuse me," called a voice. Taylor startled, so caught up in her staring that she completely missed someone approaching her. She turned to look, and there was the man from the middle of the bus, sitting next to her.

"I can't help but notice you seem remarkably down. Mind telling me what's wrong?"

Now, if any other person had asked her this, Taylor would have blown them off. In particular, some strange man on the bus coming up to her and asking her her problems would have her on the defensive immediately. But this man, somehow, Taylor knew she could trust him utterly.

"... My best friend-" Taylor started, before the man interrupts. " I'm sorry dear, I can't seem to hear you. Could you speak up a bit?"

" I said, my ex-best friend-" The man interrupts again, this time even more apologetic than before. "I'm sorry dear, I think my hearing might well be going. Would you mind sitting on my lap while you tell me your problems?"

Taylor could see nothing wrong with this request, and was moving to relocate when the man stopped her. Instead of having her move to him, he had her stand up, scooted underneath where she had been sitting in the back corner, and sat her down on his laps, hands circling her waist apparently at ease.

"Ah, much better dear. Now then, you were saying?"

Taylor then restarted her speech, telling the man about how her Best Friend Emma had turned against her one summer, turning her out in favor of another, and then spending the entire Year making her life a living hell. The man sat and listened attentively, face open and caring. Of course, throughout the story, his hands had moved, going from holding her waist to exploring her body. He started by rubbing her chest from the outside, feeling the lumps that barely qualified as breasts, before moving down and up, sliding his hands under her shirt to cup her breasts directly, toying with her nipples. Taylor had trouble speaking at this point, but the man was completely trustworthy, and he'd asked her to tell him her problems. And well, of course he was feeling her up while she sat on his lap. That was perfectly natural, wasn't it?

By the time the man had reached under her skirt to begin rubbing at her mound through her panties, Taylor had managed to string out most of her biggest issues, and was now going through the many and varied tortures visited on her on a daily basis.

"-and of course Mr. Gladly doesn't do a single t-thing to stop it, he's one of the popular teachers, he's got to look out for his repute-"Once more, after several minutes of venting, Taylor is interrupted.

"That sounds terrible dear, but I have a question.", says the nice man. His head is resting on her shoulder, Taylor having leaned back so he could hear her better, and to give him better access to her body. By this point, Taylor was actually quite flushed, both from her quiet breakdown over whats been happening to her, and the man's hands rubbing and prodding her in all the right ways.

"Is it normal for your panties to be so soaked?" asks the man. Taylor flushes brilliantly, knowing the man would notice how his actions had been affecting her, but unable to stop him.

"I-I I'm sorry, its just..." Taylor stops, unable to continue her sentence. Not because she cannot think of how to continue, but because the mans hands really Do feel that good, rubbing her lower lips, teasing her body in just the right way.

"It's no trouble dear. Your problems sound terrible, simply horrible. I'd love to hear more about them, but first, I think you should remove these wet panties before they stain your skirt." The mans voice is reasonable, believable, and yet... Something feels off. Taylor can't tell, exactly, but Something feels wrong. She asks the man, " But where would I put my panties, if there soaked through? And wouldn't removing them just stain my skirt directly?"

Taylor wasn't exactly sure why she was arguing with the man, but his laughter eased her fears. Surely, he would say something that would make everything better?

"My dear, you are a treat. Still able to think? How rare." Taylor was confused by the mans words, but then he started talking and she stopeed being confused.

"Girl, Stand up for me will you?" Taylor complied, standing up from the mans lap, face towards the front of the bus. The old lady was gone, and the bus was starting to fill up a little, but nobody was paying any attention to the two of them in the back corner. Taylor could feel the mans hands reach up her skirt, pull down her panties, and set them aside. She helped, of course, lifting her legs so he could remove the stained cloth, before the man pulled her back down slowly. He lifted her skirt as she sat, so that nothing would be between her bottom and his jean covered crotch. Only, as Taylor sat down, she realized the man had at some point opened his pants, his dick sticking straight up into the air outside his pants. She sat anyway, the mans dick sliding across her pussy lips, causing her to shudder at the heat and the friction. Taylor was somewhat confused now, wasn't she telling the man all about her problems?

"Now girl," panted the man. He seemed quite agitated, his breath coming out harsher, his hands seeming to tremble a little as they massaged her breasts. " I feel as if you've had a bad year, and I've just the thing to make it better!"

"Whats that?" Asks Taylor, panting a little herself as the man starts grinding his dick up against her, rubbing himself right on her clit, which was exposed from all the stimulation she'd been going through.

" I feel as if everything would feel better for you after a nice fuck. How about it?" The man says eagerly, not quite mauling her tits, but coming close. At this point he's somehow unhooked and removed Taylors bra from under her shirt and setting it aside, his hands underneath her shirt, gripping her breasts directly. Taylor moaned, the sensations unlike anything she'd felt in her life, but even still, something was troubling her. Was she forgetting something? Oh wait.

"I-isn't, I-isn't doing something like this, in p-public, wrong?" Taylor manages to squeak out, the wonderful feeling of the mans hands combined with his rock hard erection rubbing all over her pussy causing her to flush up even more. The man snickers at this point, almost outright laughing, before managing to get ahold of himself. He leans forward, adding a delightful twist to his fingers on her nipples, and whispers into Taylors ears. "Girl, if your so worried about being caught, then don't make a sound."

So saying, the man's patience wears out. He has Taylor stand up a bit, which she complies with nervously, while the man grabs himself and lines up his shaft with the girls incredibly moist opening. Rubbing himself against her a bit to get things lubricated, the man suddenly yanks down, forcing himself deep within Taylor, who sort of yelps at the rude entrance, and nearly screams as the mans thrust pierces her cherry in one go.

"Oh maaaaan," the man sighs out, thrusting himself up a little before settling, allowing Taylor to get used to being stretched around his dick. "I'll admit, girl, your pussy is top quality. A+, even. Sure, you don't have tits to speak of, but we can work on that later." Taylor is too busy panting, her breathing the only thing preventing her from crying out at the mans sudden entry, and sheer size. She has never felt anything quite like this before, and the feeling is enough to get her to completely miss how suddenly the man's voice has changed from a caring mask to simply using her. Taylor squeaks a little, as the man pulls her back by her breasts, leaning her on his chest with his dick buried inside her.