Nick hated nights now. In the days since the widespread Character attacks, there had been a scramble to find ways to identify the enemy without causing a full-blown witch hunt. That had only been partially successful. Obviously, they could have Kennedy read people, or have Lira give their tooltip a look, hell, even try and get them in a room with Dreamboat, but those were slow processes, and more or less depended on people reporting of their own will, or at least be caught on camera when Lira was looking.

  So far, they hadn’t caught many Characters that way.

  Nick hadn’t realized it until he’d seen that eerily still forest of flesh on their patrol the day of the attacks, but he could tell the Characters apart too. Like every Altered, each one had their own signature to his Altered sense. That could be almost literally anything, the forms people’s powers manifested as when viewed could be as subtle as a glow or flashy as frozen lightning. What the Characters all shared, however, was a barely perceptible corona, white-yellow like aged paper.

  That alone, he wouldn’t even have been comfortable telling Director Swan about. It could have led to exactly what he was doing now. Hunting. He zipped and swung through the shadows between buildings, surveying people on the streets below, and what he really hated, spying on the people in the buildings themselves.

  It would be oversimplifying things to say Nick could see through walls. But it was true enough that walls mattered little to some of his senses, and his Altered sense was one of those. He was able to check the signatures of people asleep in their beds, completely unaware that a monster was watching them.

  He hated the thrill that sent down his non-existent spine. Every new thing he learned about what he was now just seemed to further prove that he actually was the monster he looked like.

  What had finally made him volunteer the information to the Director, was when he realized he could also smell the Characters. He’d noticed the scent, like an old venerable library, in the aftermath of the big fights. That was expected though, as the pages the made up their enemies literally covered the ground after every engagement. But hanging in the trees above that still and silent army, he’d realized he could smell it then, too, before a single kill had been made.

  With two points to identify the enemy by, he knew he needed to do his part. Especially since he’d now be the only wide-range identification option they’d figured out so far.

  Director Swan had been right, after the attacks, there had been no way to keep a lid on things. Every Altered that was willing had moved into temporary housing at AEGIS, after submitting to screening of course. They were in shacks and tents now, waiting on the apartments The Hobbyist had summoned to be converted into livable space. Even still, there had been panicked attacks. Some humans had just been waiting for an excuse to get even with a person they didn’t like, who happened to be Altered, and now was a valid target. Others were truly born of fear and confusion, as anyone acting even a little out of character invited fear they may be a Character themselves.

  The fucking Elevated Race assholes had also Elevated themselves from annoying to an actual problem, responding to any kind of threat against Altereds with massive force regardless of situation. More skirmishes against their enforcer gangs had kicked off than fights against the actual Characters threatening the city. Even now, Nick kept an eye out, both for regular civilians apt to do something stupid, and ER thugs looking to make an example of regular people.

  And so, Nick found himself stalking the shadows. Those Altereds who had declined AEGIS’ invitation to campus were free to do so, as the Director was unwilling to institute a police state, even in the midst of the unrest. However, while most of the holdouts would simply be the steadfast independents found in every society, the risk they were Characters was too great to ignore. They’d had Lira sweep security cameras, but that was far from a comprehensive view of the city. Nick was able to search passively, and ‘see’ places no public security camera would ever reach.

  He felt more and more like a pervert with each Altered he checked in on that didn’t have the telltale traits he was looking for. This evening, when he’d come across a man that did, he hadn’t been sure to be relieved or terrified.

  Director Swan had been clear. If he had a positive identification, he was to eliminate the target with alacrity and finality. He had been clear in turn that he was going to make goddamn certain he wasn’t just killing an unfortunately auraed librarian. As he stalked this man, going about painfully normal evening chores, he worried that might be exactly what he had here. But that aura, that scent, followed this seemingly normal man. He could see it when he greeted the cashier at the convenience store by name, smell it over the street noodles he grabbed for dinner.

  It was getting to the point he didn’t feel like he had many excuses left. Hell, he probably already would have struck, if it weren’t for the fact that the man didn’t even look Altered. He looked like a balding CPA in his fifties, which based on the office Nick had first noticed him coming out of, was exactly what he was.

  Bit of an Altered proof industry. Even before superpowers, people still had useful forms of autism.

  Now, Nick hung in the shadows under the stone trim of the roof on the apartment building the man had just entered. Expanding his senses, Nick tracked his movement. When the man stopped at an apartment door, Nick zipped to the window, thinned out a tentacle to flip the lock, and slipped in.

  It was immediately clear he had the right guy. This was due to the fact that the man currently entering the apartment also sat in a blood soaked recliner, a dime sized hole cleanly punched through his forehead. As Nick recoiled at the sight, his target noticed him.

  The man gave a groaning sigh, then the same voice that had been following them since the Characters appeared spoke. “I was hoping my Granddaughter would track this one down, but I get the mascot.”

  He shook his head, giving Nick a disturbingly genuine pleasant smile. “Ah well, like attracts like I suppose.”

  Then his clothes were empty, falling to the ground as a flesh colored blob shot out of a pant leg. It tried to hide under the couch, but Nick said a silent prayer of thanks that how his senses worked weren’t public knowledge, easily tracking its movement.

  He lifted the couch, another tentacle cocked back to strike, but was forced to dodge as a forest of needle-like tendrils shot out at him. He hissed as they shredded the appendage he had holding up the couch, and didn’t hold out hope it did any damage as the furniture crashed back down on the thing. In fact, the Character zipped up to the ceiling directly above him, deploying more flesh thorns.

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  “Have you considered dying, mascot?” it said conversationally, through an upsettingly human mouth that simply appeared in its fleshy mass. “Joining my story? What sense of belonging does this world offer something like you?”

  Nick couldn’t exactly grin anymore, but he hoped whatever his mouth did got the point across. He thought of the last five messages he had from from Gwyn, all complaining about having no one to cuddle but Salad when he was out hunting, and the debate he was still having with Cait about whether The Fast and the Furious series worked better when it was about racing or heists. Secretly, he agreed with her, Fast7 was a masterpiece, but fuck did she ever get animated about it.

  MORE THAN IT EVER DID BEFORE

  He dodged the next wall of spikes, but had anticipated them, whipping a tentacle down to sever them. His opponent let out a gurgling shriek that sounded all too familiar.

  This guy tried, but whoever he was, he hadn’t spent enough time with this body. Nick trained every single day to make himself feel comfortable in his new form, and had probably done more actual exercise in the past month than he had for 20 years. What the Bookkeeper’s doppelganger did with quantity, often dedicating half of its mass to an attack, Nick did with speed and precision. He drew out strikes, already having a tentacle in place to yank himself out of the way, and another ready to counter towards the doppel’s center mass.

  Can’t use the blastrings here, otherwise this would be over. As it is, I’m liable to melt a kindergarten.

  The fight should have been more one sided than it was, save for the fact that this piece of shit was gooey as hell. All too often, it managed to squish a hole in its body to avoid his pinpoint strikes, which were usually so lethal.

  To the observer, it probably looked like a fight between two particularly aggressive kids toys, the combatants zipping around the room and bouncing off walls as each tried to land a decisive blow on their resilient opponent. The end came as Nick made a feint, aiming high and forcing the doppel to let go of the ceiling. Nick was ready, he whipped around, turning himself into vertical sawblade and shredding the disgusting flesh ball as it fell. Its pieces were pages before they reached the ground.

  Nick took stock of the apartment. It hadn’t fared well, and the body of its owner had fared worse. More than one of the bursts of spiky tendrils had opened holes in its skin, weirdly bloodless with no pulse to push. It had also lost an arm, Nick’s fault, from a slightly overzealous whip counter.

  Probably gotta call this in.

  ARMOR, said his stupid text-to-speech voice, THIS IS BREAST MAN. TOOK DOWN A CHARACTER THAT HAD DISGUISED ITSELF AS A CITIZEN. CITIZEN WAS DEAD IN APARTMENT, NEED SCENE CLEANUP.

  The officer that answered made a good job of hiding his laughter, which seemed inappropriate anyway given the content of Nick’s report.

  Alright, fuck this place, my job here is done.

  He latched to the window, and threw himself back out into the night.

  Director Swan can eat my purple ass, I’m gonna go spend some time with Gwyn.

  He felt it when he zipped past the wall of the AEGIS compound. He’d been wondering for awhile how AEGIS defended itself from aerial attacks, besides the obvious of the ‘Shell and the fact it was the stupidest conceivable target to attack. He'd brought it up when he and Director Swan were finishing up one of their sessions, and she’d given him one of those wry smiles.

  Honestly, he had thought that was all he’d get, but she’d actually deigned to continue. Apparently, one of their ritual spellslingers had woven a alarmed detection dome over the walls. This wasn’t public knowledge, even to Guardians. The only people in the know were the Guardians that might trip it, and had reason to do so.

  It followed that it was at this point she’d asked him to go hunting, making him one of the lucky few that needed to know. She put a simple rune on him that marked him as friendly. It glowed slightly in his Altered sense, and there was a faint heat from it whenever he passed the wall.

  I bet Rose was a fucking nightmare until they put one of these on her.

  He landed on their balcony, taking a second to take in the campus. He gave a contented sigh, picked the lock on the door, and silently made his way inside. Sure, he could bring a key, but it was good practice and he didn’t have pockets. From the other side of the door, he’d been able to tell that Gwyn was in the waterfall shower, the heat from her ass still detectable on the couch, and Salad still upset he’d been moved from her lap. Nick slithered up the wall and onto the ceiling above the bathroom door.

  Gwyn had been pouring on the horror education heavy lately, and had been doing her best to actually spook him whenever she got the chance. Well, now it was time for revenge.

  He waited, wishing Salad would stop watching him. It made him feel judged.

  Finally, the bathroom door opened.

  The instant she stepped out of the door, ten tentacles wrapped her up, doing a vertical rug pull up to his dripping maw. He gave his best xenomorph hiss, and then he realized Gwyn was naked.

  “Finally,” she purred. She was completely immobilized, but that expression and the scent coming off of her didn’t give him a lot of wiggle room on her meaning.

  His hiss turned into a shaky ‘eep!’ and he dropped her.

  Immediately, he scrambled to catch her again as her eyes went wide and she flailed mid-air, cartoon style.

  SORRY, he said, holding her up, but now very conscious of her…. entrances.

  “Make it up to me?” she asked, with a slow smile Nick had only ever seen women give Cait. He knew he must be black with blush right now.

  But that thought was a distraction. He wanted to make it up to her, and wanted to do it in the way she meant. Over the course of a couple sessions with Director Swan, he’d even mostly gotten over his self-image issues. If Gwyn was into him, who cared what he looked like?

  No, the issue now, was the other things we was worried he might want during the act. He’d come to terms that the difference in sensation he felt when fighting versus fooling around were only separated by emotion. It would be so goddamn easy to lose control, and while the genius he held might normally be able to handle that, he doubted she could do it when he was already inside her.

  Worse, what a rational person might take as warning signs, she was liable to take as good progress. She’d, on purpose he was certain, left her browser open recently. Based on the art displayed, he assumed she was hoping he’d take inspiration. The unfortunate thing was that those artists had taken some real liberties with what a human body could handle. If she wanted him to go up her asshole and out her throat, he was 99% sure she’d be dead or dying by the time it was accomplished.

  Obviously, Nick saw that as an unacceptable downside to the act. To whatever he’d become though, it was all gravy, baby. He heard Gwyn sigh.

  “Its alright, babe,” she said, doing her best to keep the frustration out of her voice. He knew she’d picked up on his thoughts as he’d frozen.

  Fuck, its like I have erectile dysfunction. I don’t know how long she’s going to wait.

  He held her, still tight, feeling almost all of her body. He extended his tongue, best he could do for a kiss, and she took it into her mouth. Her hunger was barely restrained, and he felt like he could taste her disappointment. Shaking it off, lest this night be a total loss, he held onto her, swinging them both onto the couch.

  MOVIE? He asked lamely.

  Gwyn smiled, giddy from the roller coaster like experience of the swing, and nodded. He unwrapped her enough that she could pull him tight to her, still naked, chest. The visual might not mean as much as it once had, but damn, the feel of those big beautiful boobs.

  The situation was still dangerous, but he had to give Gwyn something. Multitasking, he put on a found-footage favorite with one tentacle while two more wrapped those mammoth mammaries, massaging their tender skin while the tips swirled around her nipples. Going lower, he worked at her clit with another, and soon he was the only one paying any attention to the movie.

  Thank you to whatever god made her able to have rolling orgasms.

  They woke in a tangle the next day, couch still…. damp.

  Gwyn smiled down at him as she stretched.

  “Heh, looks like Lira beat us up again,” she chuckled through a yawn.

  She plucked a sticky note off of Nick’s hat.

  “So. Lewd!!!” she read, as her eyes shot wide.

  “Oh my god!!! I’M STILL NAKED!!!!!!”

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