Episode 4, Act 2 - Gnawing at Bones
=-July 27th, 2022-=
= 👓 =
Madeline Crisp was on a warpath. Don't look at me like I have control over her! She was going to find some calcium. That was a task which was easier said than done. Perhaps if she'd searched her fridge, she might have found some milk.
"Won't do." Black plumes of smoke escape Madeline's lips. "Not enough."
"Not enough what, Madeline?" Ah, there she is; Taylor Mayde, the CEO of Mayde Incorporated, now Magical Maid Incorporated. Not content with the superpower of being a wealthy businesswoman in America, she opted to ask for the far more dangerous superpower of being a rock. Now she pays for her crimes, bound to this very location.
"Not enough calcium," Madeline mutters. "Need more."
"You need some milk? That's fine. Just put some clothes on." Taylor Mayde folds her arms. She simply must put her foot down on this, it would seem. "There are standards and practices to uphold, and I can see your cunt. Put some clothes on and you can head out."
"Not enough time," Madeline grumbles, walking down the hallway in the buff. She's in serious pain, and has little time to worry about this.
"I think I need to be a little clearer, then. Madeline, you are not leaving this building until you put some clothes on." Taylor Mayde stomps, a wave of energy washing through the building. She was not about to let Madeline walk all over her. She would have order in her business.
Madeline Crisp stops in her tracks. "What are you going to do about it?" Her hoarse voice calls out, head looking over her shoulder. "Fight me?"
"...I just might." Taylor Mayde's fingers begin to twist, and the hallway shudders before it begins increasing in length. The elevator draws further away, and Madeline's eyes widen.
"You wouldn't." Madeline's whole body twirls to face Taylor now, her hands forming white-knuckled fists.
"I would, and I will win. When I do? You will wear clothes, and then I will allow you to grab breakfast." Taylor Mayde twists her neck, cracking the knuckles of her avatar. "Always wanted an excuse to put you in your place."
Divinity are, by their nature, creatures of violence. They wield power in their hands that makes them equivalent to the strength of a nation's army, and they are trained to use it. Frequent encounters with Malice have honed their tools of warfare into fine points.
When you have so many gods around, it is natural that they will come to disagreements. They are trained, both by their hostile environment and their own nature, to fight the obstacles which stand in their way. That is why it is unsurprising when Divinity come to blows; when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.
"Who is that talking in our heads?" Taylor Mayde finally speaks up, asking a question that she should have asked from the start.
"That's not important." Madeline starts winding up her arm as she approaches.
"Like fuck it isn't. What could be more important?" Taylor Mayde retorts, but she isn't keeping her eyes on the prize. It is unsurprising, then, that this happens:
"Me." A fist collides with Mayde's face, sending her head spinning a hundred and eighty degrees. She reaches up to grab her snapped neck, but the strike is followed by an elbow to her temple. Predictably, the CEO is decapitated.
"Damn it, Maddy! I was talking! Talking is a free action!" The headless body of Taylor Mayde continues to speak, even with her head lying on the floor. Her arms grip Madeline's shoulders, and she sends a knee into her victor's muscled gut.
Madeline is knee-slammed off the ground, still caught in Taylor's grip. She twists her body, performing a flip right over Taylor. Pulling on that momentum, she lands behind Taylor and uses the arm lock to launch her forwards.
Taylor's body makes a crunch as it impacts the wall of the hallway, large cracks opening at the impact zone. "Christ. Urgh. Never should have taught you martial arts." Taylor's body slumps against the stone wall, letting the cracks in her walls regenerate.
"Never should have taught this either." A plume of gray smoke escapes Madeline's lips before she kicks Taylor's head across the room. It spins and impacts with the body, launching it through the wall and creating a hole into the Abyss.
Point! Madeline 1, Taylor 0!
(Shut the hell up. I haven't forgotten about you.)
So very scary, Madeline Crisp walks to the elevator with deliberate steps. She presses the button, watching it light up, and looking at the numbers. One hundred floors of defense. The number begins to climb, in twos and tens, until stopping at level 73 and not raising a level higher. No matter how many times you press the button, it won't climb, Madeline!
Madeline Crisp emits a sigh of cancerous smoke, before reaching for the edges between the elevator doors. Her fingers sink into the metal, and she can feel it spark and resist as she tugs it apart. That was the worst thing about fighting Royalty. They weren't just their dolls.
Royalty were the whole damn dungeon.
Prying open the metal doors, Madeline Crisp looks down to see a long and dark shaft. In front of her, the electrified wire that holds the elevator up sparked aggressively, preventing her from using it as a firepole. But she wasn't about to use it, anyhow.
Madeline Crisp leaped down the elevator shaft and into the darkness below. There was a rush as she descended, air whistling as she reached terminal velocity. Leg extended outwards, she landed heel first and punched through the elevator.
When the shadowy form of Madeline Crisp crunched through the elevator ceiling, Martha was still inside. When she saw Madeline, she screamed. A few moments later, she sprawled in prayer. "Oh, oh Divine! Mad Maid, I'm sorry! I failed, you don't have to kill me, I'll do better, please don't--"
"I wasn't here." Madeline Crisp presses the button to open the door, and walks through to the 73rd floor. Martha kept her head down, whimpering, as Madeline Crisp entered the priestess lounge.
Several women were standing in wait for her arrival. Priestess candidates, all of them, handed a single mission from Taylor Mayde: to prevent Madeline Crisp from leaving the building. Madeline, for her part, just rolled her shoulders. "You're all in my way. Move."
"Divine Mad Dog, we have orders to stop your advance here." Taylor's own priestess, Evangeline, spoke up. A stern face wrapped in a headdress glared at her, blonde hair peeking out from under the robe she wore. "A scandal will chase this company around for ages. We might even be censored by the government. Put on some clothes."
"Need calcium, now." Madeline Crisp spared no hesitation, charging for the group of armed nuns as black smoke spilled from her lungs. Retractable batons came out, and the nuns began their counterattack.
Each strike on a Divinity wears away at their will to fight. Divinity often call this force Will, but it is more properly known as Plot Armor. Three things could break down the Plot Armor of a Divinity: intent to harm, emotional injury and the forces of the world.
Let us talk about intent to harm. Under normal circumstances, mortals would not be able to inflict serious damage to a Divinity. Their force of will would be too great, their body injurious to pain. The intent to kill would not exceed a Divinity's will to live.
These were not normal circumstances. Each of these priestesses were trained to act in concert, and together they formed a unit underneath the Head Priestess. By acting as a single unit, they could measure against Divinity, despite their mortality, by combining their desires and expressing them through their unit leader.
Their minds enmesh together and their willpower becomes great enough to pose a threat to gods. Humanity has not completely grasped this ability, or perhaps the necessity of Divinity would be lesser; in any case, only those trained and sensitive to their own latent psychic abilities could tap into this mesh to produce an intent to harm capable of threatening Madeline Crisp.
Evangeline Cypress did just that; with a trained palm strike to Madeline's raw abdomen, Madeline was sent flying backwards and tumbling into the elevator shaft. The Retcon could feel her ribs crack under pressure, the chill of her back slamming into the cold metal, hear Martha squeak again.
"Martha. Are you tired of failing your priestess exams?" Mad Dog pried herself from the wall, rethinking her brutish strategy.
"Y-yes. Divine Mad Dog, where are you headed with this...?" Martha blinked. She was tired, as it happens, of always failing the same exams. Mad Dog was the one who failed her each time. It had started to develop into an insecurity complex, if she was being honest with herself!
"You're my priestess now." Madeline Crisp cracks her neck, glaring at Evangeline. "On your knees. Pray for me."
"Yes, Divine Mad Dog!" Martha Lutz didn't hesitate, grasping this opportunity and kneeling. Her energy began to flow outwards, filling Madeline Crisp with faith.
"Oh yeah. That hits the spot." Madeline belches out a cloud of black smoke, obscuring the elevator in her own miasma.
Evangeline's eyes widen as she realizes what is happening. "She's receiving prayers! Take out Martha, quick!" Her words came too late. Two priestesses stood at the doors, intending to ambush Martha as soon as the cloud of smoke cleared, only to be clotheslined by Mad Dog.
Two priestesses down, eight to go. Madeline Crisp flicked her wrist, a feather duster slipping into her palm. With a clean slap across the face, another priestess is sent spinning silly.
"Madeline! It is NOT okay to use your wand on others!" Evangeline Cypress stomps, face red with frustration. "How would you feel if we used our guns on you?!"
"Amused?" Madeline answers with a gray and haze-filled question.
"Alright. No more nice priestess." Evangeline Cypress snapped, and an assault rifle landed in her hand. The other priestesses exchanged a look, before some of the less sheepish ones drew their pistol on a wide-eyed Madeline Crisp.
Probably shouldn't have egged them on?
(Shut up. This doesn't involve you.)
"This involves all of us, Madeline! Just back down!" Evangeline looks at her through the scope of her rifle. Madeline shook her head, clenching her fist. She'd face them, guns or not.
You know what that means, dear readers!
It's time for me to impart another of my famous recipes!
Make sure to follow along!
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You will need...
First step! load your firearms. Make sure to heat the room. Use aggressive language if necessary! We need at least 5 angry priestesses, or your cheese won't settle! Once the room is properly heated, add 2 gallons of corruptive smoke. This should provide proper cover for the ensuing shots fired! inhale the smoke. While waiting for the ensuing fight to ripen, distract the priestesses! Be sure to use witty banter. We need two seconds. Then, add your strong magical warrior to the mix! drown her in lead. Make sure the warrior gets into the real thick of things! Then, you need to cut the curds! Take care of 3/8ths of the remaining priestesses. A simple beating to the ribs will do! strike her down. Distribute your remaining violence evenly. About 1/3rd of the beatings you just gave to skim the whey. You need to buy time for that soft flavor! do me a favor. Dry out their strength. Slowly add violence. Let them settle and consolidate into a single unit! treat her like cheese. Next, drain their faith! Make sure to snap her rifle. Now choke the life fight out of her! make swiss with the bullets. |
