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Chapter 08
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Max opened the door. “Mistress?” he whispered, with Sean standing behind him.

They found Maryann and Genine lying on the bed, the latter still clothed and alive while Mary’s skin had returned to normal, and her wings had retracted. Both slept, but their mistress heard Max. She placed a finger over her lips. Maryann’s smile was assuring, but her eyes were sad.

Genine gasped then. Repeatedly. She sat up with wide eyes when a moan escaped her lips. She looked around the room, and leapt out of bed.

“No, not again,” she said. Genine turned to Maryann, trying and failing to hide how wet she was below the waist. “I’m sorry, Mistress, but this is wrong. Kill me if you wish it, but don’t make me do dirty things.”

“I’m trying not to,” said Maryann. In fact, she was sure she’d done nothing more than kiss or cuddle the younger woman.

“I must wash up now. Good night, Mistress.” She darted past the male mages, who were uncertain if touching Genine was a good idea or not right now.

Maryann pinched at her brow. “I’ll see you all in the morning. Sleep well.” When her servants were all gone, she looked in the direction of where each man died just hours ago. “Rest in peace.” Mary slammed her head against her pillow. “Rest in peace.”

***

“Hey, Warren, you ready to go?” War Lagoon called through the halls of their base. There was no response. “Mortar, are you here?”

The computer system said, “Mortar Mage is presently: unavailable.” It startled War.

“I see he managed to get the voice system working.”

“Affirmative. Voice mechanism made operational: Five. Years ago. Completion of Interactive Voice System: Yesterday.”

“Did he at least say where he went?”

“Playing outgoing message from: Mortar Mage.”

Warren’s voice took over. “Hey, buddy, I know I said we could go patrolling for old times’ sake, but something required my immediate attention. I decided to check it out, and should be back before long. Don’t hold up if you don’t see me by eight. I know you have to work and all.”

The feminine voice said, “End of: message.”

It was at the instant that War Lagoon reached the room with the power generator and main computer tower. Both machines were as tall as the room like he remembered from close to six years ago, but now there was a third contraption. It reached just as high and took up even more room. It looked messy, whatever it was.

“I wonder what that is,” War Lagoon mentioned.

The computer said, “Please specify.”

“In the generator room, there is a third machine. What is it? And what is with this charred mess all over the floor?”

“Mortar Mage constructed a new device from salvaged parts, and has plans to replace it later. Four hundred. Eighty. FIVE. Projects remaining.”

“What does it do?”

“The new module serves two purposes. The first is to track, calculate, map, and record all anomalies or energy fields within twenty mile radius in a fraction of a second.”

“That sounds like it could be useful, though dangerous,” War Lagoon noted.

“The second purpose: blow up Paragon City’s power grid. Designated an accident and main cause for upgrades.”

War Lagoon felt his eye twitch. He remembered yesterday all too well. Metahumans had lost their powers for about half an hour across the main city, and Founder’s Creek had lost its electricity for a few hours following that.

“He tested it yesterday, didn’t he?” War asked.

“Affirmative,” responded the computer. “He constructed the module upon discovery: The Event; and activated it one-point-four-one-six seconds before the power disruption field disappeared.”

“Great. But, how did he even blow the entire grid?”

“In the event of an emergency, the generator uses a magic portal to leech off of an external power source. Mortar Mage flipped the override switch before testing the module, allowing for the Founder’s Creek power grid to share the burden before an emergency could arise.”

“Then everything blew.”

“Then everything blew,” the computer repeated.

“Sometimes, I hate that guy. I’m going out to clean some of the mess around the city. Tell Warren he owes me for the broom.” War cracked his knuckles and left.

***

Maryann was standing outside, enjoying a cup of tea with the morning sunlight. There was still an element of chaos in the city to the west, across the channel, but it did not touch the island that the estate was on, for the most part.

As if that thought were a cue, someone landed in the distance with technological armor and a green saber. He was skinny and moved fast.

“Oh look, an assassin,” said Maryann. She sipped.

The assassin ran for the succubus when, out of nowhere, Mortar Mage stomped into the would-be assailant from the air above.

“Oh look, a hero.” Maryann took another sip of her tea.

Max and Sean ran outside to protect their mistress. “Outsiders!” shouted Sean. “We’ll protect you, Mistress.”

“There’s no need. We’re in good company. Well, maybe not that person on the ground, but I think we can trust this hero. Isn’t that right, Mortar Mage?”

Max protested, “But, Mistress Mary . . .”

“It’s alright, really. Do me a favor and escort the failed assassin into town in nothing but his underwear.”

They shrugged to one another, and the two mages carted off the unconscious intruder.

Mortar Mage said, “I don’t believe we’ve met, though you seem to know my name.”

“Yes, I suppose I do look different from the last time we met. What brings you to my humble abode?”

“Scientific curiosity. Sorry for dropping in so suddenly.”

“You’ve been hanging around Wyatt too often.”

“What? Who are you?”

Maryann had finished her tea already. Drat. “You know, something I never understood is why you never flew after Toyenna that first time you saw her. You were clearly interested.”

“Someone was too busy telling me who and what she was, and she was gone before I had the chance to get to know her.”

“Technophile.” She smirked.

The hero looked closer at her face. His head budged sideways a few times before he said, “It can’t be. You know more than is possible, and have the same eyes as a friend of mine. He’s dead, though, or he's supposed to be according to some friends of ours.”

“I suppose a knife in the chest should have done the trick. Sometimes, I wonder.” She looked down at her chest, which she would have found very appealing not even a week ago. Screw that, it was still appealing.

“David! You’re alive.” Mortar Mage stepped closer for a hug.

Maryann stepped back, and said, “Whoa, whoa, whoa . . . You don’t want to do that.”

“It’s just a hug, David. What, do you have more guards or something?”

She responded to him by pointing to her horns with both hands.

“Some sort of demon?” said the hero. When Maryann rolled her eyes and gestured toward her boobs, Mortar exclaimed, “Oh, a succubus! Let’s see, you’re worried about me touching you, which means you fear what it could do.”

Mary held a hand up to stop him, “Men can’t control themselves when they do. I have no idea how long it lasts, or if it even wears off at all.”

“That’s rare. So men just give in like that, and don’t stop until they’re satisfied?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

Mortar laughs to himself, picturing David in his old form wearing a corset.

“It’s not funny,” said Maryann. “Once I start, it becomes a high, and I lose control as much as they do. It’s that, or not feeding at all, and then I lose my mind until who knows what happens.”

“A little energy can always be recovered in time with the right treatment,” said Mortar.

“They don’t stop!”

“Oh? Ah. Oh, David, I’m sorry. I know how much you hated the idea of killing anyone.”

“Thanks, but I still need time to get over it. The change too, but let’s be honest. How the hell does anyone get used to these things?” She indicated her boobs again.

“Maybe a woman’s name would help.”

“I already picked one out, you smartass. It’s Marylesquedothahan’gowearatutu.”

“Really?”

“No, see, I’m making half of that up. It’s Maryann, or Mary.” She smiled. “Why don’t you come inside? We’ll talk somewhere more comfortable.”

Mortar followed his transformed friend into the big house through a set of doors made from glass framed with wood that had been painted white. These doors led specifically into the kitchen.

“Were you out patrolling, or did something specific draw you here?” asked Mary.

“I built an anomaly scanner in the base. I only had to wipe out the power in Founder’s Creek in activating it, but at least they were able to get things working again. No worries.”

“Warren.”

“It recorded a nice map of the Paragon area just before The Event ended. Tell me, were you still able to use your powers during that time?”

“Not my ice armor or related abilities, not since my rebirth. But, my strength and speed remained intact. The mages here were able to cast and retain certain spells as well. What’s with that smile. You knew I’d hold on to my power during that time, didn’t you?”

“Do you remember all those times Walter and I wondered where exactly the base was since it had been assigned to the League? Well, it turns out there was a protective bubble with you at its center, and the meeting room of our base at the bottom of the sphere. Or, to be more precise, the bubble stopped a few inches short of the stone table. Given the size of this island, I can easily calculate how far down the base sits.”

“So you came here to find out the source of the protective bubble. Somehow that last part doesn’t sound very scientific.”

“I’m used to layman’s terms. Besides, it’s not like I’m writing or editing for that magazine of mine right now, so I think I can get away with that.”

“Just don’t turn me into one of your articles.”

“No touching, no articles; anything else?”

“Just one.” Maryann added, “Be careful what questions you ask around me. That’s when my demonic memories surface. It could be just as dangerous for you as a man touching me.”

“And women?”

“They’re safe from my touch and feediness.”

“’Touch and feediness.’ Hahaha. Very well, very well. I think I can live with those three rules.”

“Great, I’m happy for you.” No hugs, no pats on the back, no handshakes. She could think of two people she'd love to scratch that rule for, but they were both gone or missing.

“Are you going to be alright like this?” Mortar Mage asked.

“I don’t know. I know there are plenty of people out there who would rather be one gender or another, but that’s not me. I could have lived being born a girl, I think, though I’m not sure I’ll ever truly find out. This is different, though. I need human contact. I yearn for being a hero again. There’s just so much to this that I can’t put words to if I were a scholar of language and literature.”

“Being a succubus is tough, even for ones without your level of tactile hypnosis. I’ve read about a few being who wanted to shed their demonic powers, knowing full well of the risks to their livelihood or loved ones.”

Maryann said, “Is it possible? To become human, I mean.”

“Beyond outward appearances, I’ve yet to hear or read of any true success stories. But, I’ll look out for you if you wish it.”

Maryann trembled. Some part of her feared what that would mean. “You mentioned risks.”

“Well, yeah, the loss of demonic powers, the chance of demonic brethren going after you and everyone you care for. The chance that it would fail entirely, and destroy your soul. Things of that nature.”

“You’re a little scary when your tone gets serious, you know.”

“True, I am the last person you want to turn serious. I mean, shit, look what happened when I concentrated on a single project long enough to construct that scanner. I wiped out a chunk of the city’s power in an already dark and scary time. That’s only recently.”

They nodded in an awkward silence for a moment. Maybe two.

“Well,” said Maryann, “look at the chatterboxes we’ve become. Care for a drink?”

“I’m good right now, thanks,” responded Mortar Mage. “This is a nice place. You even got a television in the kitchen.”

“Of all the silly places. A cook would love it, if we had one.”

“These days? Your chef would need a cast-iron stomach for the television programming we have on the air.”

“Sigurd Volsang has a cooking show now.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I more or less had the same reaction.”

And then they laughed.

“Mistress?” Genine had entered the room.

“Ah, Genine,” said Maryann, “I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine. This is Mortar Mage. A man of many talents.”

“Oh, Mistress Mary has friends. That’s wonderful.”

“Not to mention unusual, right?”

Genine hiccoughed out of amusement. “Mary, you make such jokes. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise,” said Mortar. “A friend of Adamast’s is a friend of mine.”

“Adamast! So what you said was true.”

“Of course it was,” Mary stated. “Did you think I was lying?”

“No, Mistress, I would never. Don’t think ill of me.”

“There you go again. Genine, it’s fine. Even I was at a loss. I still am, in a way, but all of my memories as David or Adamast Cross are still here. Some of them will just take some digging if I need them. Was there something you needed? Breakfast perhaps?”

“I suppose it has been a while since my last meal.”

Mortar Mage said, “I guess the only mystery left is figuring out what happened. I mean, as far as how this conversation happened.” He really did mean to express his curiosity in a harmless manner.

Maryann’s tone of voice changed. “I can tell you exactly what happened. The hero sacrificed himself in the middle of the ritual when it was the young woman who’d been marked and meant for me.”

Genine started to panic. Mortar said, “Mary, you’re starting to scare me.”

“My essence broke free from its bindings, but it split in two. I was a demon with hardly a soul, destined for greatness before I was trapped in that horrible artifact. Hundreds of years with myself as my only company. I tore so easily. Too easily. I entered the dying hero, repairing the body at the cost of my identity. So then, who am I now? Who is he?

“One body, one personality, but two sets of memories. And you, Mortar Mage, made the mistake of allowing this side of me to take over.”

Mortar replied, “You said not to ask the wrong questions. That wasn’t a question.”

“Oh, but it was.” Mary walked closer to the hero in a seductive manner, causing Genine to scream out and flee the kitchen. “Just because there was no question mark doesn’t mean there wasn’t a question. Isn't that right? Isn’t this what you wanted?” She leaned toward Mortar, who had fallen back into a chair. She bared some cleavage at him. “You got your answers, now what am I going to do with you in return?”

Her gaze met his. Her hand moved forward.