Apocalypse: Fairy System by Macronomicon (fox in socks read aloud txt) 📕

forehead as a way of tapping out, prompting the melas to ease up on the pressure just a little.

“I spied on some of my friends having sex when I was a teenager. I knew it was wrong, but she had the biggest tits I’d ever—”

Pop. Jeb’s dislocating arm sent an unpleasant echo through his entire body. Not to mention the pain.

“AAAGH!”

A lot of people think of a tough guy as someone who can muscle through the impulse to scream, but those kinds of people don’t really exist outside of Hollywood.

A real tough guy sticks to the script after the screaming is over.

“...seen, and the way they were bouncing was just fan-fucking-tastic.” Jeb shuddered as adrenaline worked through his veins like battery acid.

The other ‘detective’ pulled up Jeb’s face and smacked him around, loosening Jeb’s teeth a bit and filling the inside of his mouth with coppery blood. Jeb’s vision was starting to get a little blurry.

I really hope they get my plan. Shit, why wasn’t step one of Plan C rescue my ass? Why didn’t I write steps!?

“Ever since your orphanage popped up, kids have started going missing at a prodigious rate. We have it on high authority that they’re going missing from your orphanage.”

High authority, huh? I wonder who specifically pushed that narrative.

“And really, the only time you can enjoy teenage tits completely guilt-free is when you’re also a teen, so I figured—”

Crack!

“AAAAAGH!”

There goes the other one. Damnit!

“Why does he keep talking about tits!?” the melas standing in front of him said, throwing Jeb’s face away in disgust.

‘A great way to get through grueling P.T. is to have something you can focus on really really good. I like to think about boobs.’ —Drill Sergeant Sean Morgan

“The reaper’s legal counsel has arrived,” a keegan woman said, peeking her head into the claustrophobic room. “Some uptight Keegan guy.”

That must be Zlesk! Jeb thought, eyes widening. Zlesk was gonna come in here and flash the badge and totally flip the script on these goons. One look at that and they’d be eating out of his palm.

If I could lift my palm, Jeb thought, glancing down at his slowly swelling arms.

“‘The reaper’? What happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty’, lady!?” Jeb demanded, burying his excitement.

“Thanks, Sue,” the interrogator said, waving her off.

The woman gave Jeb a dismissive glance and ducked her head back out the door.

“How the Roil did this scum get counsel?” the melas in front of him asked, scratching his head.

“I don’t know. I know this boy didn’t get a message out. He’s been by himself since we got him.”

“The sentinels said he was screaming something about Plan C on the way out.”

A grip tightened on Jeb’s skull and yanked his head back.

“I bet you’d like to talk to your lawyer, wouldn’t you?” the melas behind him demanded while the other one left the room.

“I would like that very much,” Jeb said, his first non-boob-related answer since they began.

“Well, tough luck, because if your lawyer isn’t a Citizen, then—”

“Um, Croz?” the other melas said, leaning back in the door. “The dude’s a Citizen.”

“Ehehehehe,” Jeb chuckled evilly. The dumbfounded expression on their faces was almost worth the busted arms.

Well, no, it wasn’t. Not even close. But it did help it hurt less for a couple seconds.

“Shit,” ‘Croz’ muttered, shoving Jeb’s head aside as he went for the door to the interrogation room.

“You’ve got an hour, reaper scum. Then we start over again.”

The two of them stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind them, leaving Jeb blissfully alone. If Jeb could move his arms, he would have steepled his fingers ominously, channeling his inner Hannibal and Keyser Söze.

This was the moment where everything went off the rails for these two. Less than a minute later, the door opened, revealing a keegan man in plain robes.

Notably not Zlesk.

Who the fuck is this guy? Jeb thought, raising a brow.

“Good evening, Mr. Trapper. I am your legal counsel,” the man said, reaching into his robe, presumably for legal documents, or a snack, or a pen, or something.

Jeb would have preferred any of those to the foot and a half of razor-sharp steel that emerged from the assassin’s robes.

Crap. Well, that can’t be good.

Desperately, Jeb reached under the table with his Myst and lassoed the man’s legs. As soon as the man decided to move at super-speeds, it was game over for Jeb. Jeb simply didn’t have the Nerve to perceive people moving at top speeds yet.

“I’m here to deliver a messa—ACK!”

The keegan flopped backwards, his feet torn out from under him. Mid-fall, the keegan whipped his arm out as Jeb seized the air in front of himself, creating a cone of telekinetic force.

The short blade bounced off the shield and hummed through the air, burying itself in the wall a few inches from Jeb’s cheek.

When the going gets tough, the tough start screaming.

“HEEEELLLP!” Jeb shouted at the top of his lungs, leaping out of his chair and yanking himself up with telekinesis.

The keegan hit the ground and drew another blade, swiping at Jeb’s feet under the table, cutting the fancy spring-loaded toe off of his expensive ‘Remónd’ brand prosthetic, which was too dumb to pull itself out of the way.

Another sword burst through the underside of the table, showering Jeb and the ceiling with wooden shrapnel and drawing a line of blood across Jeb’s good leg.

Goddamnit, I only got one of those! Jeb thought, aiming his fancy prosthesis at the table.

Jeb’s newest idea for the Annihilation lens was a void-gun. It was a fairly obvious application of two void lenses with a simple oscillation mechanism between them, rapidly shifting the focus of the lenses forward and then back.

By shifting the focus