by ÆGEON DAVIS
PESTILENCE
Book 2 of the Supervira Series
ÆGEON DAVIS
Copyright © 2018 by ÆGEON DAVIS
Gentrifiction Publishing.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For Cherise, Caillou, and all the readers. Thank you.
Contents
1. Nevada
2. The Twisted Sister
3. Edwards Air Force Base
4. Roadside Motel
5. Bump in the Night
6. SubSpace
7. The BoNaNzai
8. Necrotized
9. Dismantled
10. The Offering
11. Cruel Intentions
12. Transpiring Events
13. Havana Nights
Afterword
Acknowledgments
Also by ÆGEON DAVIS
1
Nevada
The spread of the Super virus had exceeded all of our expectations in the blink of an eye. From city to city, through sex and drugs, the blood-borne pathogen unfurled itself to the human race. Some thought for the better. Some thought for the worse. Me, I didn’t care. I had one mission: the eradication of all supervillains born from it.
Tessa, the most feared of all supervillainesses from the game I created called Supervillain, Me, was the genesis of this mutation. Now hidden away somewhere in the SubSpace, she had passed her strain along to the many women, and only women, we now hunted in the real world.
Our team was now forgotten lore— lost to history, despite the short amount of time we had been hunting. A metal monster of a man and his harem of superwomen, coming for the disdained, scattering the hordes of evil in days of flame and retribution. But like all things, when you devote yourself to an ideal and become more than a man, the history becomes legend and the legend becomes myth. They feared us more then we feared them. We were the ones that went bump in the night. And aggressive expansion was on our agenda.
I stood atop the spire of a dark, snowy abandoned church, magnificent and tall, radiant with the strength I exuded from every orifice, ready to pounce on my next victim—an infected supervillainess.
I ran my super vision over the windows of the brothel across from me, called The Twisted Sister. I could just make out the silhouette of a woman pulsing her head up and down on some poor man’s cock. They craved men’s spunk like vampires did blood. This place was full of villainesses on the run.
I watched closely as shadows on the ground seemed to move. My heart was heavy with feelings for each one. This was my team: Hera, Jess, and Gemini. Readying to strike fear into the heart of our next target.
Hera, the fastest and strongest of my superwomen, led the pack with her valor and speed, which amounted to distance in the field. She carried the cure to the villain virus within her body; something we have been trying to inoculate into a formula with little success, but it’s too early to tell in our efforts. She represented the best of us — the spitting image of what a heroine should look like. An all-American brunette with a Midwestern, thick-thighed beauty.
Behind her was Jessica, my once high school love, now a die-hard member turned from villainy. Her role on the team was to help construct the identities we’d need to pull the next job. She wanted to be called Corset, but we all laughed when she suggested it. Her altering abilities were still in their infancy, which was probably the reason she stuck so close to the ever-surprising San Francisco native, Gemini.
Gemini’s two-toned skin revealed the inner struggle within her psyche. She had not yet been turned to good . She was waiting — waiting to receive her full dose of the cure from Hera.
As for me, in the past six months, my behavior seemed to have changed. Not fully understanding what Hera’s supervirus is doing within my immune system, I had been experiencing variations — side effects. For good or bad? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that I was getting stronger, bigger, and more fed up with the hunt. I was fed up with the spreading disease among womankind. However, my anatomy was advantageously changing, and I liked it.
Gone was the ability to revert back fully to my soft skin, the flesh that made me human. When I did revert, patches of silvery metal still covered my body, slowly spreading the craggy quicksilver throughout me. The patches started on my chest and spread to my legs. My cock was like a hard, steel pipe when fully engorged. Hera and Jess had taken a liking to it. So much so, they had dubbed me ‘The Mantium’, named after my favorite metallic hero as a kid, Adam Antium. The moans Jess and Hera would cry out when I gave them a dose of the ‘new me’ had Gemini reluctant when it came time for her to ’session' down with me and get the cure.
Of course, there was no pressure on Gemini. She’d held a soft spot in my heart ever since we picked her up from that trashy strip club in San Francisco. I would burn that place down for her if she asked. I remember when I was full villain — channeling the hate, succumbing to the dark side — I would tap into that again, for her.
As long as Gem helped us roundup the next infected, and took doses of the new serum that was derived from Hera, she could stay. And when she was ready, she could have Hera administer her the cure with a girl-on-girl session.
But Gem wasn’t ready for a woman. She was as straight-edge as they came, save for her split personality and villainous pouts. She could woo the best of men with her voice. She even had me in her arms when I first met her. She was stunning. An amazing fighter, sleek and cunning, wrapped half in alabaster skin and a dark cinnamon complexion; she was like two girls in one. And both those girls only wanted me — a man.
Despite her beauty, Hera had repeatedly reminded us that there was always a chance she could turn on us, so we kept an eye on her, but I paid no mind to the fact she might betray us. The time with Hera would come sooner or later, and if she chose both of us, I would give her the loving she needed. No infection was too severe for my touch.
I knelt down, keeping a closer eye on the action, and adjusted my already thick cock against my leg, thinking about Hera and Jess with Gem. I was sheathed in a custom black carbon fiber jumpsuit that Jess had hand-stitched. It was sleeveless, showcasing my hardened steel arms. On my chest was a large, dark purple “M” that terminated at my waist. I had fully embraced my power now, embraced who I was: a balance of good and evil, an anti-hero.
On the ground, the girls were approaching their mark. On the outskirts of Reno, Nevada, a horde of villainesses were posing as the ladies in a brothel. The arrangements were done up extra well, since the local comic convention was commencing in the city. You bet your ass the super geeks wanted to relieve their superheroine and villainess yearnings after a full day of con-going.
My super vision snaked along the never-ending road lit by small bulb lights, looking like the main drag at a carnival, eventually ending at a small dive bar. This was no ordinary dive bar. I could see from my position the large, empty pit behind the establishment, dug out nearly six floors.
Broken down trucks, bikes, and campers filled the trap-like pit like some kind of transportation graveyard. When I had Jess pull a scout earlier in the day, she had sworn some kind of temple had been built back there.
These villainesses aren’t fucking around.
With a front like this, they could double their infection rate on a good weekend. No longer did they have to seek out their victims; why would they, when drunken patrons from the nearby casinos, and bikers and truckers could seek out the wildest ride in town at The Twisted Sister?
The name of the establishment was pretty obvious and on the nose, to say the least, I though
t. That made it clear that the word hadn’t got out that my team and I had made it over the Sierra Nevadas and into Southern Lake Tahoe.
It was just past fall, and the snow had already begun to drop. While chasing two runners, we’d almost gotten caught in an impending blizzard. Almost had ourselves a Donner Party, but thanks to my heat vision, I was able to scorch our way through the drifts.
After we broke into Nevada, it wasn’t long until we started hearing stories about wicked witches and little hellion women running the desert. Talk of fires, men being burned at the stake for the crimes they’d committed against their kind.
Are they so wrong to be judge, jury and executioner? Payback is a motherfucker.
My girls had made it to the front of the brothel, remaining in the bushes so as not to spook the ten to fifteen bikers and drunkards partying outside. The place reeked with a fetid smell of stale beer and underarm body order that seem to permeate the wintery air.
These idiots don’t know what’s coming.
I raised my hand to my earpiece and waited for the feedback scratching to end. “Hera, you need to stay close to your team.”
She was reluctant to answer my directions. She was a leader through and through. The last thing she wanted was a male barking orders at her.
“How are we looking?” I asked.
“Twelve guys. None look infected,” Hera whispered in my earpiece.
“I can take em’,” Jess said.
“Easy there, Pistol,” I cautioned, though I admired her hot-headed approach. I heard Gem chuckle at my term of endearment used. “Remember Tahoe? You almost had your ass handed to you.”
They all chuckled.
“That was only because Gem dropped the ball on singing those guys to sleep,” Jess said. “And don’t call me Pistol. I told you my new name… Corset.”
There she goes again with that silly name.
“Hey, I did my job,” Gem interjected. “If it weren’t for Ms. Goodie Two Shoes holding me back, I would have had those men out for good.”
“Zero kills, ladies,” Hera said.
“Unless you have to,” I said.
“No,” Hera said. “Zero kills.”
“M is right,” Gem said.
My heart clenched with emotion at hearing her side with me despite still being evil.
“Both of you need to drop the dark side once and for all,” Hera said.
I could see Jess, and Gemini were now behind her. Jess was already executing the plan.
Ever since Iconoclast had gone belly-up from the all the lawsuits, it had been up to us to pony up the money to fund our little operation. In turn, we were not just curing the infected, but also robbing them. Hera hated it, but we had no other option. Have to get the money from somewhere. And tonight looked like a full house.
“Jess…er, Corset,” I said. “Time to suit up.”
The job was simple. Pose as a group of lesbians interested in a session, get the tour, scope the talent along with anything of value, and make the proposition.
Join us or die.
Not all of the women we cured had joined us. Hell, the last one to join only rolled with us til Sacramento. It was their choice once they had been cured. Some liked hunting, some didn’t.
I didn’t mind the change-up of teammates. It was fun seeing their reaction to my presence, my build. Some were overly excited to get to know me, and some were a bit cautious. Sometimes it took Jess and Hera to convince them of my merits.
Jess pulled three outfits from her small backpack. Each of the women threw one of the sultry outfits on over their carbon fiber bodysuits. Jess always made sure the disguises matched where we were. If it was a ladies’ night out, then it was skanky sluts. If we were at a biker bar, it was worn jeans, black leather, and sometime chaps to match. This time, since the con was happening, Jess was really excited to showcase some of her grand work.
Hera was snug inside a crimson unitard dazzled in swirling patterns of blue and white rhinestones. She was handed a matching red tiara that sparkled in the flashing tungsten bulbs of the brothel. The all-American look suited her well.
Jess handed Gemini a green and yellow striped one-piece with long, cape-like billows sown up the side from the waist and down her arm. She looked like an Irish, two-faced flying squirrel until she pulled the green mask over her face. Good call by Jess to add that feature for her, just in case any villainesses had heard about the two-faced banshee who was helping us.
That left Jess. I didn’t expect anything less when she pulled out another one-piece, this one covered in small cogs and grease marks. This must be the ‘Gear Girl’ she’s been wanting to create. It was a perfect display for her abilities: super jumping and deadly sight. She could throw a knife from three hundred yards away and hit the target square in the eyes.
One time, I affectionately called her ‘Bullseye Bitch’, and she almost nailed me straight in the eye. These women were fun to roll with.
They hopped out from the bushes, just behind a large RV, and muscled their way inside. I heard everything over my comm as they were greeted.
“We’re in,” Hera reported after.
“Good. Give me a layout of the scene inside when you can. Be discreet.”
“Copy,” she said.
A few minutes passed, and I watched the drunkards outside begin to get riled up. I waited patiently until I would have to go down there and set them straight. I wasn’t going to let some hooligans spoil our prizes this evening.
“Fuck you, man,” one man’s voiced echoed up to me.
Shit. Things are escalating.
“Hera,” I said into my comms. “Do you copy?”
The static hissed, and I was left to silence.
Men were now throwing punches. It was only a matter of time before someone called the authorities, and then our gig would be up.
“Hera,” I said again into the comms. “Shit is going down out here.”
I thought I heard a cricket in the brisk high desert air.
Why aren’t they answering? Hera had proven she could handle herself in the toughest of situations. A place like this should be a walk in the park. However, she did have a rookie with her.
The two men were rolling on the ground, while others ran up, cheering them on. One of the sparring men’s girls came running out, trying to stop the fight. She was backhanded by an onlooker who was holding money in his hand.
God dammit. I felt anger burning in the pit of my stomach. It’s head bashing time.
I leapt from the three-story spire, smashing my feet and one fist into the soft dirt, melting what snow was left from the previous storm. Gaining my composure, I tilted my head up to lay eyes on the prey before me. My eyes started to steam a bright red, and I could feel the heat begin to swell.
As I walked, my heavy, metal frame left large imprints in the ground. My crushing weight was ready to send some people to their maker. I tried to fight the nasty thoughts in my head. The fantasies I’d been having lately of ripping men’s spinal columns from their bodies. It was a mutation of Hera’s cure, and she wasn’t here now to stop me.
The cheering stopped when they got a load of me. I gritted, showing my sharp metal teeth, and hardened my jaw, accentuating every vein of hate within me. My metal arms swelled to the size of the onlookers’ heads.
“You knocked her down,” I said. My voice rumbled with the depths of hell. “Why don’t you try knocking me down.”
The men rolling on the ground, the once chanting crowd, and even the scorned woman were frozen in place like deer in headlights. Silence blanketed their wits.
I knuckled up my fists.
Then laughter burst from the larger fellow still holding a small bunch of cash. His cowboy hat was large, his flannel shirt hastily tucked over his beer belly into his dirty jeans, fitted into cowhide boots probably more expensive than the pick-up he drove. The kind of guy they called big hat, no cattle type.
I caught the glare of the small knife hidden just under his foot.
>
“Jesus, boys. Would you look at that,” the man said, his accent thicker than the red neck of an inbred mountain boy. “Who called the fucking circus to town?”
I twisted a smile just as his stocky friend said, “Nah, Hank. That’s one of them comic book conventioneers.”
I took two steps forward and smashed the cash man’s friend’s face inward. He flew twenty feet, crashing into a row of parked Harleys. I spared him a glance, making sure he was still breathing. The ruckus caught the attention of more assholes just around the corner. The crowd gasped in terror. I grabbed the wise-ass cash man with my large hand and picked him up. Dangling by his neck, he kicked me with his bladed boot, but the small knife snapped off when it met my hardened skin. He screamed in horror as I tossed him against an RV.
Have to remember my promise to Hera. Zero kill count.
Three more bikers ran up on me, and with a twist of my abdomen, arms outspread, they were laid out clean for a semi-permanent nap. I checked to see if they were alive. All was good to go.
They watched in horror, still on the ground, as I walked up to the poor disgruntled woman. I knew she could feel every step of mine as my feet pounded across the ground. I was a metallic beast of a man, and she felt it.
I knelt down to her level, looking her square in the eyes. I pulled from a pocket a small slit of purple-tinted plastic and held it over my eyes. This filtered out oncoming light into different wavelengths. I scanned her up and down.
Knowing these money-hungry cowboys, they were probably hired by the villainesses inside to help bring her here. Paid to round ‘em up. It’s like a modern day rodeo in this cow town-turned-city.
Something caught my eye. On her wrist was a small insignia. A hex. She was still human, but a villainess had promised to turn her if she made good on some evil deeds.
