[a short video of Jack's new babies in their playpen gnawing on frozen meaty bones and purring loudly.
Jack's voice comes in from off screen "Does that feel good? Does that feel good on your achy gums?" She reaches into the playpen to pat their heads and they all growl like angry little kittens.
Byte has '+1hp' appearing over their head in green text every few seconds.
Bitty is making little 'nyam nyam nyam' noises.
And Crumb is laying flat on her tummy, halfway using the bone as a pillow.]
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>The footage plays onto the dashboard, collected by a number of cctv camera around the small town. The walls are high and crude, but new constructions, built on the backs of abducted farmers and merchants. The good news is that half of it is already demolished. Several bloody piles flicker by in the slideshow, each one a bandit guard that's been plowed through the solid limestone embankments until they were a sticky red paste, and crumpled bits of metal and fabric. Merc wasn't kidding about considering slavers free game. Civilians scatter, only barely saved from her equal opportunity wrath by rallying slavers, laying down covering fire against the single worst wrath a man could bring down on Wayouddy: The desert witch.
>Between her own superhuman durability, and her jury-rigged, overclocked bodyshield, the bullets either bounce wildly off her, or crumple against Merc's well-defined abs. There's a growing storm on her face, a dark look that seems to shroud her features with inscrutability of murderous intent, as she turns to face this rallying defensive band. Even in the cool winds of the desert night, Merc seems to wobble, her image distorted by the psionic maelstrom pooling behind her teeth, on the tip of her tongue. Clutching a chipped-red fire ax in her left hand, her gaze locks in on one of the six men in front of her, surrounding her as if they've got the woman they haven't yet wounded cornered. The man's gun begins to tremble, as his finger slips from the trigger guard of his gun, and his compatriots loose their confidence in kind. To the cameras, to the men in front of her, Merc suddenly loomed as a giant, her breathing suddenly heavy, the foul look on her face cracking into a sort of manic glee.
>And then she lets out a blood-curdling howl, rippling through the thick air around her into a chorus of feral screams and wails, an a capella tidal wave, rushing through streets and buildings as her ax runs down the first man. His nerve shattered by the fury of a living legend of the wastes, he'd turned an ran like a man possessed, and the ax kissed his spine before any compatriot could gun him down for cowardice. Fully into a rage now, Merc's arm whips out, knocking the next man's head from his shoulders like she'd served a beach ball. Her other arm grabs the man's shoulder, fingers digging through a metal pauldron and grabbing the dead man's collar bone directly, before flinging him with brutal force behind her. The first man the corpse hits is bisected horizontally, the second man's head cracks on impact with the hard rock ground.
>Merc's instincts appear to be sharper in her raging state, because her left hand moves before her brain could clear it for take off, dragging her entire body up in a serpentine spiral just to catch a hand almost twice the size of her own. The impact rattles the nearby work tents, shatters the crude glass windows of new houses.
>The next punch is less respectful of property, however. The camera slows the frames down, moving deeper and deeper into a freeze-frame cutaway: The king of slavers and his bent, gold-plated crown is a huge man, with a military bearing and a savage look behind a long white beard. His free hand, a graceless prosthetic wrenched from a saintworks construction bot, moves with the same superhuman swiftness that Merc possesses... but not the same in the way that really matters. The penultimate frame has his left hook coming in hot, but literally within the next microsecond frame, Merc's free hand has already made the first atom-to-atom contact with the "king's" face. It would be the last gentle touch he'd ever experience.
>The footage resumes pace as the video cuts to a different camera, one not zoomed in on the place where Merc's knuckles seem to explode the man's jaw on contact, a spray of blood and teeth and too-pink bits launching in the direction of the shockwave, which flattens three more slave-built houses and the last solid piece of wall. The video cuts there.*
>Bellamy's posted a first-person video of her bare arm. Her right arm is suntanned and freckled, and surprisingly large. The woman's jacked, from all her exploring and training, and her on-job experience, with tiny scars here and there to prove it. With her palm to the sky, Bellamy's thick fingers seem to idly curl in and out from her palm, until she puts her left hand to the inside of her right elbow, and braces her hand in a taught, open grasp.
>There's a pulse of green light, eerie and cool, under her skin. The light pulses down her arm and terminates at her fingers, before the upper layer of her skin gives off a cloud of green-burning ashes, obscuring her arm for just a second.
>When the cloud clears, Bellamy's entire right arm has become monstrous. Like some kind of movie monster, Bellamy's arm is green and scaly, three times as large as it was before, with sharp-edged ridges over dangerous muscles, and talons at the end of a hand big enough to crush a human head. Bellamy's voice ends the video, harsh and scratchy, but with the same giddy energy of a girl's first skirt twirl: "Pretty fahkin' cool, huh?"
>It's a video of a whirling, gray-black sky, under which gray-brown snow, infused with rocks and sand from the tearing winds all around, has piled wet and sloppy, quickly forming into dirty blocks of sloping ice. Jagged, black rocks climb and clamber over the weather, up above the blackened, petrified trees, into the clouds of the violent storms above.
>The sky is really only highlighted by the dim, round-ish glow of Momma Out-There, the searing white-hot sun that Wayouddy orbits. But the clouds are truly oppressive today, and much more easily scared away by the nearer glow of ominous green light. The clouds seem to billow downwards, almost in the way the ground bucks up during a volcanic eruption, filling with a dull green color that soon burns brighter than sun beyond.
>The clouds split in a vortex, scattering outwards and interrupting the storm with green energy and the warm rays of the sun, both filling any gap in the dark they can as a pillar of light slams between two of the towering forms of rocks below the sky. In the full light of the day (and the laser), for just a frame, the fuller outlines of the valley all around can be taken in, including the massive, fresh landslide that appears to have consumed the other exit, far across the valley. In the next frame, the landslide itself is instantly consumed by an inconceivable amount of raw energy, focused into a tight beam that vaporizes an inconceivable amount of fallen rock and snow.
>There's not much left after the impact, the camera is consumed in the resulting flash of light, and the massive squall of snow and ice and sleet thrown Merc's way by the aftershock forms visible white-noise over the camera (except for that baby-sized rock that nearly hits her), but she stays perfectly still in the mess, so that when the dust settles, she can take in the northern end of the valley. The clouds are quickly closing back in, the rays of sunlight dwindling on a canyon of black glass, glittering under any scrap of light it can and marked with deep, molten-green glows.
[a video of Jack's baby Crumb in a little rocking cradle made out of half of a giant walnut shell that has been stuffed with soft bedding.
Per usual Crumb is experiencing zero thoughts per sometimes, her tongue is poking through her lips and she's purring as she's being rocked back and forth. She's slow blinking at the camera, or nodding off, it's very hard to tell.]
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[A short video of the new babies in their nest. All three babies are clustered together, ears back, eyes wide, tails fluffed.
Jack's paw slowly slides into frame.
The babies clump up tighter and start hissing and spitting like angry little kittens. Crumb musters all of her bravery to swipe at the offered paw, while Bitty stomps his feet in alarm.
Byte is just making tornado siren noises in between hisses.
The camera flips to face Jack, his hair has been bleached white but he looks otherwise normal. He gives the camera a wry smile before pointing it back at the babies. Electricity crackles between Bitty's ears.
Jack purrs at the babies and they seem very skeptical about the sound. 'I hear Bibi but I don't SEE Bibi...'
Jack's voice comes from off screen, "Oh it's gonna be a long day huh?"]
I let the sheep out to graze and they immediately started scarfing grass like they haven't eaten in a million billion years bc I'm a cruel and terrible shepherd who never ever feeds them π
Look at them
Look at how I starve them
[A picture of Jack's herd of sheep. They're currently grazing on fresh spring grass, and wild flowers. The sheep are fluffy, healthy, and maybe even a little fat. Several of the ewes are visibly pregnant or being followed by brand new lambs. Very much not starving.]
Thresher is holding Bitty carefully in both hands, Bitty is experiencing zero thoughts per sometimes. Jack sticks a small syringe into a bottle of light colored liquid medicine and draws up a dose.
He approaches Bitty and Thresher.
Jack carefully opens Bitty's mouth and gives him the dose of medicine.
The reaction is instantaneous.
Bitty tries and fails to spit the apparently very very yucky medicine out, flailing in Thresher's grip and making angry little static noises about it. He paws at his little mouth and sticks his tongue out, electricity dances between his ears as he flattens them. Bitty glares up at Jack with pure and clear betrayal. Thresher is also looking at Jack with that same exact betrayal as if he was given the medicine instead.
A jump cut to the next kid.
Byte is being held this time.
When Jack gives them the medicine they glitch out, briefly turning into a ball of spikey polygons and noise. Once Byte reconfigures they make the same disgusted face as Bitty, while "-1 hp -1hp -1hp" shows over their head.
"oh no... Buddy it's ok! You're gonna be ok." Jack says, petting them gently.
Another jump cut.
It's Crumb's turn now.
Jack gives her the medicine and... Nothing happens. She swallows it with no resistance or adverse reaction and kinda just sits there looking around the room before she gets bored and falls asleep in Thresher's hands.]
