- Joined
- Mar 21, 2020
Godspeed, sir. I pirated it awhile back for the same reason but the first few pages were so bad I scrubbed the entire idea.
Kennel Club Book Club - The Megathread for all furry comic book, graphic novel and literature lunacy.
- Thread starter Roxanne Wolf
- Start date
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2024
Semper Fi to whoever reads a single Korps novel.
- Joined
- Oct 2, 2019
Assuming it is induction, I can understand why. The whole thing screams personal vendetta however the entire thing is so stupidly narrow-minded it is comedic. I did not spare myself the sanity and even did a live reading with some of my friends (without the gratuitous sex scenes), it was atrocious.
- Joined
- Mar 8, 2023
Redline's Downfall: Book 1
Induction
Here it is. For you, my friends, I subjected myself to what has to be the whiniest incel manifesto-turned-fiction I have ever had the misfortune of experiencing. Ladies & gentlemen, I read Induction so you don’t have to!
I had absolutely 0 knowledge on who and what “The Korps” were until I caught wind of this novel. For those who are like I once was, here is a quick primer on what I learned from this endeavor: The Korps is a furry shared universe that functions similar to Suicide Squad, but really, really dumb. In this universe, The Korps are a collective of supervillains who are actually the good guys (because they are queer tranny anarcho-communists), and the superheroes are actually the bad guys (because they are capitalist ‘normies’ who respect the law and love God). Created by a pregnancy & hypno fetishist who goes by “Karen” and Kraken on FA, the various official installments in the universe come in the form of comics and novels made by him and his friends, collectively known as the “Monster Fucker Book Club”, though there is ample unofficial content out there in the form of OC’s created by fans of his work. THIS installment is created by scat fetishist, Syntax Takes (AKA, Ajaxis), with a cover illustration by his boyfriend (also a man who likes to eat da poopoo) Eight-Stroke.
With that out of the way, let’s begin.
Our story begins with Austin/Volta lamenting about the fact that he doesn’t have tits to go under his power-suppressing breastplate. No, I am not joking. I am not being hyperbolic when I say this is literally how the book begins. As a True and Honest Female who was a teenage athlete, I immediately thought “peak coomer-brained” because you will never hear a real female athlete bemoaning how small her breasts are. You will, however, hear many bemoan having large ones, as they are cumbersome, and often very painful, in any highly active sport, but especially in those where you must wear some form of tight protection against your chest. This is the first of many instances where Volta spits on his good fortune.
I'd argue this is an excellent way to set the stage for the vibe of the rest of the book, as it’s one of the most egregiously sexist pieces of modern speculative fiction that I have ever read. Truly, it feels like an alien, who has never interacted with men or women, tried to write a book about sex and incidentally chose to base each of his characters on the most offensive stereotypes as possible. TERFs and chuds alike, be prepared to seethe in anger.
The reason for Volta’s magical power-dampening breastplate is that his electrokinetic powers are super unstable and have caused massive amounts of destruction to his family’s property in the past. He is currently training to be a superhero at a Texas superhero school (Texas Protectorate Assembly, or TPA), so, for the safety of the students, staff, and himself, he must wear a “Dampener” until he can learn better mastery of his powers. The one time where he is allowed full use of his powers is when he is being assessed in a training chamber where he is pitted against various dummies and drones that fire non-lethal bullets. This opening action sequence is confusing, to put it mildly. During this opening sequence, Volta is shot both in the shoulder and in his chest, right below the Dampener. Yet, he passes this test with flying colors. Were this a real fight, the shoulder shot would have been crippling, and the chest shot possibly lethal. I do not understand why he passed this test.
Following his (apparently????) good performance, his parents and his instructors congratulate him for his improvement, and he actually has the gall to internally lament and complain about this. The one not-so-nice thing they do after he passes the test is poke a little bit of fun at his proposed superhero name (“Redline”) in another sequence that had me scratching my head, as Redline is actually a cool name? His parent’s exact words are that it sounds “like a rockstar name” but, in a universe where superheroes are literally treated like rockstars, that should be a bonus. However, the author is so committed to making each antagonist, no matter how minor, into a total caricature that 90% of them make comments that make little to no sense and only serve to remind us they are conservative (and durr hurr conservative bad). For instance, Volta’s parents, who are ULTRA rich multi-millionaires who practically own the school he is attending, are hyper-controlling and insist on watching every one of these practice sessions. They also funded the creation of the Dampener, and use its GPS to track his every move. A major plot point of this book is how controlling and cruel they are, however, there is never a believable reason for them to act this way. They are said to have barely paid any attention to him and relied on nannies for his care until he developed superpowers, after which, they began beating and starving him for having anxiety and mild autism. Yet, they are also said to be grooming him into the perfect heir. The author seriously wants me to believe that these EXTREMELY wealthy people who clearly know a lot about superhero training are trying to mold their son into the perfect heir by…torturing him for having a very common mental disorder? Really? Why torture him in this way, especially since there is a 0% chance that money would get in the way of getting him a high-quality therapist for his obviously crippling anxiety? There is no logical reason for this behavior, other than the author’s juvenile logic of “Christian + wealthy = bad”. I can’t believe a fucking 40 year-old man wrote this shit. I wrote more nuanced and interesting stories when I was fucking 10.
After this sequence, we are introduced to Volta’s love interest, Carmen, a super buxom tabby cat (allegedly) working as a researcher at the facility. Carmen is actually an undercover Korps agent and she’s got an egg to crack. Though written & illustrated in a way that makes her seem like an actual female, she is ALSO a tranny, so calling this F/F is a bit of a misnomer – it’s actually two male sissies getting randy for each other. I'll be referring to Carmen with "she" pronouns solely for clarity's sake. Oh, and Carmen is also implied to be married to another Korps agent who seems to be a pooner. Said pooner bat character’s pronouns oscillate between “he” and “they” which makes reading scenes involving said individual very confusing.
The next almost 200 pages of book contain very little superhero content or action and a whole lot of Volta either hanging out with Carmen, who serves as his love interest and therapist who magically whisks away all of his issues, or whining about how he doesn’t have the bitchtits of his dreams. This is, at its core, an AGP incel wish fulfillment romance wherein the main hero has all of his problems instantly fixed solely because he finally gets with a
After nearly 200 pages of Volta pissing and moaning, Carmen, hoping to cajole Volta into joining the Korps, finally reveals to him that she’s an agent, and offers him a pair of RCG’s (AKA, Rose Colored Glasses, a type of mind control device hooked up to a supercomputer named ROSE who can dampen the feelings of anxiety, amplify powers, and reshape your body via nanotech). In response, he flies into a fit of rage and tries to shock her, but Carmen defeats him with time-slowing magic and by cradling him in her arms and whispering sweet nothings to him for hours. (LMFAO)
After this, he decides he’s joining the Korps, and their attempt at escaping the academy is so fucking retarded. They meet up on campus in broad daylight. Carmen attempts to hand off a pair of RCG’s to Volta, but they are seen by campus security, who promptly swoop in to stop Carmen. She escapes, but Volta is placed in a prison while awaiting his “deprogramming” sessions, which are implied to be like “conversion therapy”.
As you have probably assumed by now (this is incel wish-fulfillment fiction, after all) Carmen, with the help of pooner bat, breaks Volta out of prison – again, Volta can’t do shit on his own, he needs Mr. Tits to come save him – and Volta, after putting on his googoo goggles, SUDDENLY gains a backbone and defeats The Golden Gavel in a way that had me screeching in annoyance because it was something I had been thinking of the entire fucking time: dude’s powers turn him into solid gold. Gold is a great conductor. Volta is an electrokinetic. You do the math.
If Volta had just stood up to this dude earlier using his electricity as leverage, I feel like 90% of the bullying and hazing he suffers could have been avoided. Standing up would have made him actually likable. The reason we like certain "abused & downtrodden underdog" characters (ie: Oliver Twist, Little Orphan Annie, Heidi, The Baudelaire Children, etc...) is because, despite their horrific circumstances and terrible luck, they maintain a sense of optimism and/or behave resourcefully despite it all, and that endears them to us and makes us want to see them reach a happy ending. Volta, however, is never endearing, as he simply flops down and accepts his misfortune as inevitable, even though he can realistically change it with ease if he just spent some time reflecting rather than crying. There is no tension to the narrative, and no reason to support him. Hell, if this story operated on any actual logic, I would think his superiors would applaud him for creative and resourceful use of his powers had he stood up to GG earlier. But this story has little logic, so I’m just the proverbial old man yelling at the cloud.
After that, he absconds with Carmen and pooner, and they presumably become a tranny polycule. The-fucking-end.
Much like the videogame Dustborn, Induction approaches politics with a child’s black and white understanding of socio-political intrigue, to the point where a great source of Volta’s self-hatred stems from the fact that he is wealthy. Yes, this protagonist (and, presumably, the author) believes that Volta would truly be a more virtuous and happy person if he came from poverty. Even stock characters, like nameless guards, often refer to him as simply “rich kid”. He has a particular hatred and seething jealousy for his cousin, whose Twitter he frequently hate-reads. The cousin makes comments like “when will you join the percentage” to online trannies in addition to comments like:
“It’s days like these when you really have to wonder what direction this country is going in. Fir st all these new laws about Diversity, now the LGBT agenda attacking US citizens. For the crime of stating their opinion, of course. Guess which group of Inclusivity-First Terrorists is backing them up! If you ask me we need to start rounding up anyone threatening free speech, especially people like that. Our kids are in danger. We boys in blue won’t stand for it much longer. We need to clean them out before they get any more entrenched!”
Sounds like a cool and based af-guy. I’d have a beer with him.
He also resents his cousin for having confidence, something he lacks and makes 0 attempts at trying to develop:
Carmen got a knowing, bitter look on her face. “Lemme guess: Is he training to be a superhero too?”
“No, he’s a police officer. He joined the force in Dallas two years ago.”
“Ah,” Carmen said simply, tapping her chin. “Guessing he’s not all that friendly, considering the whole cop part.”
“I—I mean, just because he’s a cop doesn’t mean he’s rude,” Volta protested.
Carmen deadpanned and leaned toward her again. “But he is, isn’t he?”
“I—yeah. He constantly acts like he’s got something to prove. Every time I see him at family gatherings, he—he just struts around like he’s the one with superpowers.” Volta’s jaw tightened as she spoke. She felt her hackles raise a little. Cousin Jordan always put her on edge already—really spending time thinking about him was making her mad.
”He—he always brings a new girlfriend every time, and he always treats them so bad and laughs about it with his friends like—like it’s just a game to him. He drinks so much, he shoves his badge in my face, he makes jokes about—about queer people. Gay people, mostly, but sometimes about…” Volta blew out the rest of her breath. She was starting to feel hot all over, fur bristling. An electric hum rang in the back of her head.
“About trans people?”
Volta dug her hands into the bench, claws digging into the wood. She felt the hints of a snarl on her lips. “Yeah. About—He talks about arresting… he calls them ‘neckbeards wearing dresses.’ His parents and his friends laugh, and my parents think it’s so funny, they think he’s great, they think he’s the kind of person I should be. Like I need to be like him to be successful, to be worth any—”
“Volta,” Carmen interrupted, loudly. “Volta, you don’t need to keep going.”
“They always tell me how proud they are to have an officer like him in the family,” Volta muttered, a little quieter. “They call him a real hero. Like he’s actually helping people, when all he ever seems to do is—”
Carmen finally raised her voice proper. “Volta, stop.”
Volta finally looked back up at her, expecting the same domineering expression from before. She was taken aback by the sadness in her face. The humming noise faded away, and Volta realized just how tensed up on the bench she had become.
“Please, at least take a second.” Carmen bent down in front of her and very gently put a hand on Volta’s shoulder. “I get it. You really don’t need to put yourself through it like that.”
“S—Sorry…” Volta lowered her gaze again, a far more embarrassed heat pouring over her face.
“You don’t have to apologize, Volts, it’s infuriating when parents talk like that.” Carmen sighed, and sat down beside her on the bench once again. “I get how you feel. My mom said a lot of similar things to me for years.”
“I just…” Volta took another breath, relaxing her fists. “I don’t understand why they compare me to him so much, and everyone else they approve of. Is…” She trailed off, her face screwing up with a rueful scowl. “Is it because Cousin Jordan is just… so confident? So full of himself? Is he just better than me? What’s wrong with me that I look at that and I just feel so… angry?”
“He’s not better than you for that,” Carmen reassured, hand on Volta’s shoulder. “That’s not at all why they do it, that’s a promise.”
“Then why?”
“Because you’re not the perfect child for them, Volts. It’s the same thing we talked about from before. They want you to fit their mold, fit all their expectations and ambitions. All the things they try to push on you are things they want. They expect so much of you and they’re seeing some of what they want from you in Jordan. Just because they want you to be a certain way doesn’t mean you have to be, or even should be.”
“Why not? What’s the difference? They’re—They’re supposed to want what’s best for me, aren’t they?”
“What they want is what they think is best. It doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with your feelings or, honestly, your well-being. Every time I’ve seen you do anything they slightly disagree with, they have to make sure you feel guilty, make you less sure of yourself. Surely you’ve noticed that at least.”
Volta thought back to the day they first met, with Mom and Dad chastising her out on her hero name, for not taking the Korps seriously. She had felt like a child, standing there in front of them, reassuring them despite the doubts and worry their words instilled in her.
“...I-I guess so. But...”
“Remember when you told me about their feelings towards the Korps and LGBT people? You noticed that they don’t bother making a distinction,” Carmen observed. “That’s just one more part of it. If you were trans, Volts, you'd be part of that group to them, and on some level I think they’re worried you might be. They want to make it clear to you how evil all that is. They want you to constantly think about what they’ll do if you express that part of yourself, if you dare veer off the one path they’ve picked for you in any way.”
As Volta stared at the ground in front of her, a heap of memories began to bubble up all at once.
In most of them, she was still a child; in a scant few, a preteen. Most had Mom or Dad standing over her, sometimes shouting, sometimes dictating from the Bible, sometimes holding her by the jaw to make sure she didn’t keep lowering her head.
Sometimes it was the belt.
But one stuck out: when she was 14, finally more gangly than chubby, and starting to get bushier facial hair that she hated. One Sunday afternoon, she made the mistake of admitting to her parents that she didn’t want to live through puberty if it meant turning into a man.
The rest of the memory was one that she had re-lived in her sleep for weeks, months, years afterward, along with too many others. They all ended with her locked in her room, kneeling at her bed, praying like Mom instructed, begging a wall with a cross for mercy and forgiveness. Volta’s chest felt tight, and her head throbbed from the returning hum, louder than before. What did forgiveness even mean? Mom and Dad never showed any unless Volta went to bed with sore arms and a bruised back.
God never bothered to reply; the cross just hung there over her bed, as mute as the wall it was nailed to.
“No, he’s a police officer. He joined the force in Dallas two years ago.”
“Ah,” Carmen said simply, tapping her chin. “Guessing he’s not all that friendly, considering the whole cop part.”
“I—I mean, just because he’s a cop doesn’t mean he’s rude,” Volta protested.
Carmen deadpanned and leaned toward her again. “But he is, isn’t he?”
“I—yeah. He constantly acts like he’s got something to prove. Every time I see him at family gatherings, he—he just struts around like he’s the one with superpowers.” Volta’s jaw tightened as she spoke. She felt her hackles raise a little. Cousin Jordan always put her on edge already—really spending time thinking about him was making her mad.
”He—he always brings a new girlfriend every time, and he always treats them so bad and laughs about it with his friends like—like it’s just a game to him. He drinks so much, he shoves his badge in my face, he makes jokes about—about queer people. Gay people, mostly, but sometimes about…” Volta blew out the rest of her breath. She was starting to feel hot all over, fur bristling. An electric hum rang in the back of her head.
“About trans people?”
Volta dug her hands into the bench, claws digging into the wood. She felt the hints of a snarl on her lips. “Yeah. About—He talks about arresting… he calls them ‘neckbeards wearing dresses.’ His parents and his friends laugh, and my parents think it’s so funny, they think he’s great, they think he’s the kind of person I should be. Like I need to be like him to be successful, to be worth any—”
“Volta,” Carmen interrupted, loudly. “Volta, you don’t need to keep going.”
“They always tell me how proud they are to have an officer like him in the family,” Volta muttered, a little quieter. “They call him a real hero. Like he’s actually helping people, when all he ever seems to do is—”
Carmen finally raised her voice proper. “Volta, stop.”
Volta finally looked back up at her, expecting the same domineering expression from before. She was taken aback by the sadness in her face. The humming noise faded away, and Volta realized just how tensed up on the bench she had become.
“Please, at least take a second.” Carmen bent down in front of her and very gently put a hand on Volta’s shoulder. “I get it. You really don’t need to put yourself through it like that.”
“S—Sorry…” Volta lowered her gaze again, a far more embarrassed heat pouring over her face.
“You don’t have to apologize, Volts, it’s infuriating when parents talk like that.” Carmen sighed, and sat down beside her on the bench once again. “I get how you feel. My mom said a lot of similar things to me for years.”
“I just…” Volta took another breath, relaxing her fists. “I don’t understand why they compare me to him so much, and everyone else they approve of. Is…” She trailed off, her face screwing up with a rueful scowl. “Is it because Cousin Jordan is just… so confident? So full of himself? Is he just better than me? What’s wrong with me that I look at that and I just feel so… angry?”
“He’s not better than you for that,” Carmen reassured, hand on Volta’s shoulder. “That’s not at all why they do it, that’s a promise.”
“Then why?”
“Because you’re not the perfect child for them, Volts. It’s the same thing we talked about from before. They want you to fit their mold, fit all their expectations and ambitions. All the things they try to push on you are things they want. They expect so much of you and they’re seeing some of what they want from you in Jordan. Just because they want you to be a certain way doesn’t mean you have to be, or even should be.”
“Why not? What’s the difference? They’re—They’re supposed to want what’s best for me, aren’t they?”
“What they want is what they think is best. It doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with your feelings or, honestly, your well-being. Every time I’ve seen you do anything they slightly disagree with, they have to make sure you feel guilty, make you less sure of yourself. Surely you’ve noticed that at least.”
Volta thought back to the day they first met, with Mom and Dad chastising her out on her hero name, for not taking the Korps seriously. She had felt like a child, standing there in front of them, reassuring them despite the doubts and worry their words instilled in her.
“...I-I guess so. But...”
“Remember when you told me about their feelings towards the Korps and LGBT people? You noticed that they don’t bother making a distinction,” Carmen observed. “That’s just one more part of it. If you were trans, Volts, you'd be part of that group to them, and on some level I think they’re worried you might be. They want to make it clear to you how evil all that is. They want you to constantly think about what they’ll do if you express that part of yourself, if you dare veer off the one path they’ve picked for you in any way.”
As Volta stared at the ground in front of her, a heap of memories began to bubble up all at once.
In most of them, she was still a child; in a scant few, a preteen. Most had Mom or Dad standing over her, sometimes shouting, sometimes dictating from the Bible, sometimes holding her by the jaw to make sure she didn’t keep lowering her head.
Sometimes it was the belt.
But one stuck out: when she was 14, finally more gangly than chubby, and starting to get bushier facial hair that she hated. One Sunday afternoon, she made the mistake of admitting to her parents that she didn’t want to live through puberty if it meant turning into a man.
The rest of the memory was one that she had re-lived in her sleep for weeks, months, years afterward, along with too many others. They all ended with her locked in her room, kneeling at her bed, praying like Mom instructed, begging a wall with a cross for mercy and forgiveness. Volta’s chest felt tight, and her head throbbed from the returning hum, louder than before. What did forgiveness even mean? Mom and Dad never showed any unless Volta went to bed with sore arms and a bruised back.
God never bothered to reply; the cross just hung there over her bed, as mute as the wall it was nailed to.
His instructor, a retired hero named Adam “Golden Gavel” Tullis, is likewise portrayed as a dumb, cruel cop who…hates terrorists and loves public safety???: “Buncha ungrateful wimps, you ask me. Same guys who put flowers in their hair, combed their beards then put on frilly dresses before they marched in the streets singin’ for equal rights for the terrorists and the queers….These people are everywhere now. Every other news station’s a liberal one. They care more about feelings than they do about the law and public safety.”
Dunno about you, but I do, indeed, care more about my objective physical safety than your subjective emotions.
Tammy, a vixen technician who works on Volta’s tests, is unironically my favorite character because she’s based as fuck and says to Volta practically everything I’ve been thinking this entire novel:
The fox stalked towards Volta, still staring down at her on the chair. Volta straightened back up, almost leaning back to get further away from her as she looked down at the wolf with a disgusted expression. “You really don’t have any backbone, do you?” she snapped. “Is that all you have to say for yourself, you just didn’t know better?”
“Tammy, this isn’t necessary,” Dr. Mason chimed in from the side, barely raising his voice.
“I—”
Volta had no idea how to answer that. This was the most the fox had talked to her directly in a long time.
“You barely spent a month with her and you’re all pussywhipped. You’re such a limpdick most of the time anyway, it must have been easy. How’d you never guess what she was? Were you just too distracted by her assets and her smile? Some hero in training you are.”
That last part left a sting in Volta's chest. The wolf felt her face heating up; she looked away again. “It wasn’t like that, she just… I thought she was my friend, okay? W-why do you care?”
Tammy just snorted. “A friend, huh? Just a friend? You think people didn’t see you around campus? She really had you going, huh? What, did you think she’d take you to second base, too?”
“Stop it…” Volta mumbled, trying to turn away.
She sneered, turning her nose up as she went on. ”And tabby girls aren’t supposed to look like that. She had a pretty face, but no girl should have muscles like a man. You wouldn’t catch me alone in the locker room with that freak of nature, but I guess some wimp like you has to get his rocks off somehow, right? Is that why you never figured it out?”
A surge of anger made Volta finally look back at the fox, who was still sneering, just waiting for a reaction. The wolf’s ears rang, her clothes itched.
“Breathe, Volta.” Carmen’s voice echoed in her head. She swallowed, inhaling slowly and deeply.
“Why do you care so much?” she asked again, managing to keep the stammer to a minimum.
“Because guys like you piss me off,” Tammy spat. “Heroes are supposed to be strong and confident. You look like you’re gonna piss yourself anytime I touch you. You let a Korps agent butter you up for a whole month, and you didn’t do anything to stop him. You put everyone here in danger, you put real women in danger by letting a roided up freak walk all over you. Why do you think you’d be a good superhero? Who’s gonna get saved by a coward?”
“Tammy, this isn’t necessary,” Dr. Mason chimed in from the side, barely raising his voice.
“I—”
Volta had no idea how to answer that. This was the most the fox had talked to her directly in a long time.
“You barely spent a month with her and you’re all pussywhipped. You’re such a limpdick most of the time anyway, it must have been easy. How’d you never guess what she was? Were you just too distracted by her assets and her smile? Some hero in training you are.”
That last part left a sting in Volta's chest. The wolf felt her face heating up; she looked away again. “It wasn’t like that, she just… I thought she was my friend, okay? W-why do you care?”
Tammy just snorted. “A friend, huh? Just a friend? You think people didn’t see you around campus? She really had you going, huh? What, did you think she’d take you to second base, too?”
“Stop it…” Volta mumbled, trying to turn away.
She sneered, turning her nose up as she went on. ”And tabby girls aren’t supposed to look like that. She had a pretty face, but no girl should have muscles like a man. You wouldn’t catch me alone in the locker room with that freak of nature, but I guess some wimp like you has to get his rocks off somehow, right? Is that why you never figured it out?”
A surge of anger made Volta finally look back at the fox, who was still sneering, just waiting for a reaction. The wolf’s ears rang, her clothes itched.
“Breathe, Volta.” Carmen’s voice echoed in her head. She swallowed, inhaling slowly and deeply.
“Why do you care so much?” she asked again, managing to keep the stammer to a minimum.
“Because guys like you piss me off,” Tammy spat. “Heroes are supposed to be strong and confident. You look like you’re gonna piss yourself anytime I touch you. You let a Korps agent butter you up for a whole month, and you didn’t do anything to stop him. You put everyone here in danger, you put real women in danger by letting a roided up freak walk all over you. Why do you think you’d be a good superhero? Who’s gonna get saved by a coward?”
At one point, Carmen proves Tammy’s exact point towards the end when “she” breaks in and threatens to permanently maim Tammy in order to get info on how to disable the Dampener. Recall that Tammy is afraid that transwomen will cause her harm via the threat of physical assault…
Carmen slowly poked her head around the corner to see a blonde fox tapping away at a computer on a cart, headphones around her ears. pop-country music blared from them at a volume the cat would have considered deafening.
Someone burning the candle, all right—I recognize this girl. This is the snippy bitch who works with Dr. Mason!
“Have you talked before?”
If you call getting a lot of disgusted looks from across the room “talking,” then sure. I overheard her calling Volta a crybaby soyboy once, during one of her tests.
“Mmn, don’t like that. What’s your plan, then?”
I think I’m going to scare the shit out of her.
“Oh, I like this plan.”
Carmen slowly rose to her full height as she crept closer. She yanked the headphones off and threw them aside, an arm wrapping around the fox’s neck. Tammy yelped, hands coming up to claw uselessly at Carmen as the larger feline yanked her out of her chair and up onto her feet. Restraining Volta had been a little difficult; this girl was easy.
“Hello, Tammy,” Carmen purred into her ear as she extended her claws against the fox’s neck. “Remember me?”
“Y-you’re—How—!?”
“Scream for help and I put you in intensive care.” Her claws dug into the fur of the fox’s thin neck. “But really, go ahead and try. I’d love to have an excuse.”
“O-oh god, oh my god,” Tammy whimpered, trembling. “You’re going to feel me up, aren’t you?! I always knew you were—ghk!” Carmen cut her off with a tight clamp around the fox’s throat. Tammy went completely still.
“Pipe down and listen, okay? I don’t give a shit about you, I want info.” The fox kept quiet this time, clearly too scared to dare say anything else. “Your boss designed the Dampener, right?”
Tammy nodded slowly. Apparently this was not what she had been expecting.
“So the schematics, all the design notes—you still have them, don’t you?”
“Y-yes…?”
“You don’t sound super sure…” Carmen cooed, dragging the sharp tips of her claws along the fox’s jawline. “Why, Tammy; are you nervous about something~?”
“Wait, wait!” the fox stammered. “I know where they are, I swear!”
“Save me some time. Point them out to me, please.”
The fox raised a shaking finger toward a shelf on the other side of Dr. Mason’s desk.
“The big blue binder, on the third shelf…!” Tammy explained, wriggling uselessly in the cat’s rigid grip. “Please, please don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything you want!”
Carmen purred. “Take a nap, then.”
“Wha—”
In the blink of an eye, the tabby had her in a stranglehold. The fox kicked and gasped as Carmen not-so-gently squeezed her carotids, lowering her to the floor.
Someone burning the candle, all right—I recognize this girl. This is the snippy bitch who works with Dr. Mason!
“Have you talked before?”
If you call getting a lot of disgusted looks from across the room “talking,” then sure. I overheard her calling Volta a crybaby soyboy once, during one of her tests.
“Mmn, don’t like that. What’s your plan, then?”
I think I’m going to scare the shit out of her.
“Oh, I like this plan.”
Carmen slowly rose to her full height as she crept closer. She yanked the headphones off and threw them aside, an arm wrapping around the fox’s neck. Tammy yelped, hands coming up to claw uselessly at Carmen as the larger feline yanked her out of her chair and up onto her feet. Restraining Volta had been a little difficult; this girl was easy.
“Hello, Tammy,” Carmen purred into her ear as she extended her claws against the fox’s neck. “Remember me?”
“Y-you’re—How—!?”
“Scream for help and I put you in intensive care.” Her claws dug into the fur of the fox’s thin neck. “But really, go ahead and try. I’d love to have an excuse.”
“O-oh god, oh my god,” Tammy whimpered, trembling. “You’re going to feel me up, aren’t you?! I always knew you were—ghk!” Carmen cut her off with a tight clamp around the fox’s throat. Tammy went completely still.
“Pipe down and listen, okay? I don’t give a shit about you, I want info.” The fox kept quiet this time, clearly too scared to dare say anything else. “Your boss designed the Dampener, right?”
Tammy nodded slowly. Apparently this was not what she had been expecting.
“So the schematics, all the design notes—you still have them, don’t you?”
“Y-yes…?”
“You don’t sound super sure…” Carmen cooed, dragging the sharp tips of her claws along the fox’s jawline. “Why, Tammy; are you nervous about something~?”
“Wait, wait!” the fox stammered. “I know where they are, I swear!”
“Save me some time. Point them out to me, please.”
The fox raised a shaking finger toward a shelf on the other side of Dr. Mason’s desk.
“The big blue binder, on the third shelf…!” Tammy explained, wriggling uselessly in the cat’s rigid grip. “Please, please don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything you want!”
Carmen purred. “Take a nap, then.”
“Wha—”
In the blink of an eye, the tabby had her in a stranglehold. The fox kicked and gasped as Carmen not-so-gently squeezed her carotids, lowering her to the floor.
It kills me how this book is SO close to being self-aware.
Volta himself is this novel’s biggest weakness. He is absolutely INSUFFRABLE. Dude is born with practically all the resources one could ask for, yet he is so ungrateful and never takes action on his own in a way that could help him find happiness. It is impossible to have any sympathy for him, despite some of his hardships being beyond his control, as he is constantly (and I mean CONSTANTLY) berating himself for being “not man enough” due to having anxiety and being introverted. I am not exaggerating when I say you can not go two pages without some sort of internal monologue from Volta about how weak/unworthy/dumb he thinks he is. Every time something bad or unfair happens to him, he just sits back and chooses to let the bad things continue happening. His only reaction is to cry and berate himself for crying. The only time he ever displays an emotion other than misery is due to stuff Carmen does for or to him, rather than as a result of his own actions or choices. When he finally does show agency (talking back to and fighting The Golden Gavel) it doesn’t hit with the punch the author clearly wanted because I had no connection with this character who I had no real reason to support. Volta gives me the same vibes as beginner artists who bemoan how bad they are at art while never striving to improve. Of course you’re going to be bad forever if you don’t try. And Volta never tries; he just waits for Carmen to offer a solution.
The narrative tries to justify this display of weakness by reminding us that Volta cries like this in the face of bullies because “she’s actually a girl uwu” and men don’t cry. The author truly seems to think that men are immune from anxiety & feeling sad, and that by having these emotions (that humans of both sexes can feel and should be allowed to express appropriately without being belittled) he must be a woman. Additionally, Volta struggles socializing with other men, and also takes this as a reason why he must be a woman, rather than as a sign that he has debilitating anxiety and should seek counseling. In fact, when one of his classmates extends the olive branch of friendship, Volta shuts him down. The narrative also seriously wants me to believe that Volta (who is a super fan of a popular Canadian superhero) can't find any other guys in a superhero academy who have similar interests. Its approach to feelings and friendship between the sexes is so hilariously sexist towards both men and women that it astounds me that someone could think this way. It's so backwards and regressive. It feels like parody, even thought I know the author is being deadly serious. This sincerity, juxtaposed with it's broken logic and egregious sexism (of the truly misogynistic and misandristic varieties), made it extremely entertaining for all the wrong reasons. Additionally, a lot of the dialogue is full of caps lock, excessive use of repetitive letters, stuttering, excessive use of ellipses, lots of tildes where tildes don’t belong, or a combination of all of the above, all at once. It’s extremely amateur looking, even for something published by small press.
Volta’s romantic counterpart, Carmen, is barely a character outside of being his fairy god girlfriend who fixes everything with perfect words and AI magic. She comes across as creepy and groomerish, but the narrative plays it straight as if these creepily sexual qualities (she’s super happy to have men oogle her massive tits and flat-out tells the protagonist that doing such isn’t creepy or inappropriate at all…) are somehow normal and acceptable ways to behave in society. Her own reason for having been kicked out by her parents makes absolutely NO sense once it’s revealed that she is also a tranny. She tells Volta she was kicked out for “liking to kiss girls” but it’s also revealed that she trooned long AFTER being kicked out. This means “she” got kicked out by her conservative family for…being straight? What even lol.
It also utilizes the concept of anthropomorphism quite poorly. There is really no reason for these characters to be furries. Because the author isn’t very good at thinking critically about the animal portion of this book (ie: rarely describes expressions in terms of animal behavior/beastly characteristics, characters don’t seem to have bonus abilities based on species, no environmental worldbuilding related to how anthro characters would live in a society, etc…), I often forgot they were furries and not just humans. On the plus side, it is very brisk reading, albeit very bland.
And that concludes my autistic Ted Talk about how shitty this novel was. If you made it this far, kudos to you. Also, bonus shout-out to @Who-dare-wins? for providing me with a digital copy for comparison. (The major difference between the digital & print is the print ends before the digital, cutting off before the sex scene. This is, presumably, due to word count, and I imagine the cut scenes will serve as the opening for print book 2.)
- Joined
- Oct 2, 2019
@Lavender Moth
No problem regarding the copy, I will make a note that the digital version also continues with the 2nd book (which I believe is likely fully complete however is probably being hid to refine details, only goes up to chapter 6 I think?) and it does get even worse with a number of sex scenes and also just severe mental issues that psychiatrics would not fix and probably need antipsychotics. Best I can say is Carmen comes off as a control freak who even set up a mission (implied I believe) for volta to fail or something like that. Truly evil shit.
Some funny excerpts from chapter 8 (digital version)
Some of this might seem a bit odd, in terms of writing, however there is a number of tone indicators which I have not bothered to put in since there are so many. The author has a heavy over reliance on them (likely from writing fetish erotica) and it comes off as increasingly incompitent. There is no mentions of their ears flicking on their tails, animal features, often as Moth had pointed out.
Some other criticisms I can provide is how... the cartels don't exist? for some ungodly reason they seem to not exist despite this being texas, in the modern day. A very real issue and realistic problem, however this is never brought up or acknowledged. WOuld provide for something more interesting in terms of plot, something these people do not have.
Ah, but did he not:
" Sayyids, scholars, merchants who traded with the Mongols, and the Christians in the city on whose behalf Hulegu's wife Doquz Khatun, herself a Christian, had interceded, were deemed worthy and were instructed to mark their doors so their houses would be spared.[45] The rest of the city was subject to pillaging and killing for a full week."
Pulled from Wikipedia, but you get the idea. This fetishist has absolutely no idea on how history works and thus should not be interjecting his Gary Sue OC into history.
I could go on and on but my train of thought is all over the place, good review. Absolutely terrible piece of work and I love Tammy for being the only sane person in this sea of retardation. Syntax reminds me of dobson a bit, the whinging and bemoaning seems so common it comes off as far too personal to be made up for a character.
No problem regarding the copy, I will make a note that the digital version also continues with the 2nd book (which I believe is likely fully complete however is probably being hid to refine details, only goes up to chapter 6 I think?) and it does get even worse with a number of sex scenes and also just severe mental issues that psychiatrics would not fix and probably need antipsychotics. Best I can say is Carmen comes off as a control freak who even set up a mission (implied I believe) for volta to fail or something like that. Truly evil shit.
Some funny excerpts from chapter 8 (digital version)
“Hey Gary. Still nothing. How long’s the chief gonna make us wander around at night like this?”
“Lockdown’s only for a week, Mike. And knowing the chief, he’s probably gonna make us go for a few extra days, just in case they try anything. Might as well keep our eyes peeled, right?”
“Oh yeah, when I actually get to see a lady with a rack like the ones that spy had, I’ll make sure I’m lookin’ hard enough.”
“Pretty sure that’s how they hypnotize folks,” Gary laughed. “Don’t look too hard, you might fall in!”
“Okay, okay, let’s get outta this damn rain already.”
The guard turned at the door, waving to the camera and stepping inside.
“Lockdown’s only for a week, Mike. And knowing the chief, he’s probably gonna make us go for a few extra days, just in case they try anything. Might as well keep our eyes peeled, right?”
“Oh yeah, when I actually get to see a lady with a rack like the ones that spy had, I’ll make sure I’m lookin’ hard enough.”
“Pretty sure that’s how they hypnotize folks,” Gary laughed. “Don’t look too hard, you might fall in!”
“Okay, okay, let’s get outta this damn rain already.”
The guard turned at the door, waving to the camera and stepping inside.
“That’s far enough,” a low, gruff, smug voice called out, sending a chill down Volta’s back. A broad-shouldered, seven-foot-five silhouette loomed in front of the crescent of flood lights, taking slow, casual steps. Adam Tullis wore his usual security chief’s uniform and an even haircut, his slate grey eyes glinting in the reflected light. His rolled-up sleeves revealed his arms from the bicep down: every inch shining, reflective gold.
Of course it wasn’t going to be easy. For a brief moment, Volta became starkly aware of how wet her fur had gotten, how cold the air felt. It almost reminded her of the Dampener—but in an instant, ROSE quashed the memory, refocusing her on the security chief.
The Great Dane scowled as he stared the pair of them down. “And now you got those damn things on. Shit, Travers, she brought you those girly lookin’ goggles but couldn’t bring you a shirt?” he snorted. “And what’s with the pink lightning? Ah, what the hell, I’m not even talking to little Austin anymore, am I?”
If it had been any other day, Volta would stay frozen in place, at a loss for words. Now, she knew exactly what she wanted to say.
“Yes you are,” she began with a growl. “I’m right here, Tullis. I’m not going back.”
“They got you twisted up pretty bad, huh?” Tullis tutted. His shoulders and head drooped, both shaking as he chuckled and raised a hand, giving a signal.
Volta's head swiveled at the stomping of black boots all around them. Clusters of guards, some looking far more like SWAT than campus police, each with their weapons raised and several of them pointed at the wolf. She didn’t move—but she didn’t dissipate the magenta arcs crackling over her arms, either.
“Your parents aren’t gonna like this,” Tullis rumbled. “Once we tear that visor off, you’re gonna need twice as much deprogramming if you ever wanna be normal again, Travers.”
Of course it wasn’t going to be easy. For a brief moment, Volta became starkly aware of how wet her fur had gotten, how cold the air felt. It almost reminded her of the Dampener—but in an instant, ROSE quashed the memory, refocusing her on the security chief.
The Great Dane scowled as he stared the pair of them down. “And now you got those damn things on. Shit, Travers, she brought you those girly lookin’ goggles but couldn’t bring you a shirt?” he snorted. “And what’s with the pink lightning? Ah, what the hell, I’m not even talking to little Austin anymore, am I?”
If it had been any other day, Volta would stay frozen in place, at a loss for words. Now, she knew exactly what she wanted to say.
“Yes you are,” she began with a growl. “I’m right here, Tullis. I’m not going back.”
“They got you twisted up pretty bad, huh?” Tullis tutted. His shoulders and head drooped, both shaking as he chuckled and raised a hand, giving a signal.
Volta's head swiveled at the stomping of black boots all around them. Clusters of guards, some looking far more like SWAT than campus police, each with their weapons raised and several of them pointed at the wolf. She didn’t move—but she didn’t dissipate the magenta arcs crackling over her arms, either.
“Your parents aren’t gonna like this,” Tullis rumbled. “Once we tear that visor off, you’re gonna need twice as much deprogramming if you ever wanna be normal again, Travers.”
They had barely gotten their bearings before she was on them again. One swung the butt of his rifle at her; she caught it in one hand and grabbed at him with the other, sending several hundred volts right through his clothes with a searing crack. Another raised his gun, screaming as she rounded on him, blunted claws out and canine teeth gnashing as she shocked him back to the ground alongside the first. She moved faster and faster, ever more wild and excited.
One managed to squeeze off a pair of shots before she got close enough to deliver a charged up punch right to his throat. He crumpled, right as she heard yet another running up behind her. She swung around in a wild swipe, delighted as lightning trailed after her claws, and connected with him. He went rigid, twitching and yowling in pain. She closed the distance in a leap, her upper body lit up in magenta as she knocked him to the floor.
“Come on, come on!” she barked, rising to her feet and stepping over the guards. Her body seethed with warmth as magenta lightning crawled over her. The rain steamed off her fur as she broke into a sprint, searching for where Carmen had led Tullis.
One managed to squeeze off a pair of shots before she got close enough to deliver a charged up punch right to his throat. He crumpled, right as she heard yet another running up behind her. She swung around in a wild swipe, delighted as lightning trailed after her claws, and connected with him. He went rigid, twitching and yowling in pain. She closed the distance in a leap, her upper body lit up in magenta as she knocked him to the floor.
“Come on, come on!” she barked, rising to her feet and stepping over the guards. Her body seethed with warmth as magenta lightning crawled over her. The rain steamed off her fur as she broke into a sprint, searching for where Carmen had led Tullis.
“God damn,” Tullis grunted, straightening up again with his fists balled up, his whole upper body gleaming gold once more. “Mmh! That actually hurts, I’ll give you that.” He’d lost the self-assured smile from before. Now he glowered down at her as he rolled one shoulder and stepped toward her. “No wonder your parents are scared shitless. Fine, kid gloves are coming off. I’m gonna make you hurt, Austin Travers, mark my words. Don’t care what your parents say, you need to learn some manners or—”
“My name…” Volta hissed, her voice beginning to crackle with electricity as the edges of her vision turned pink, “Is. Not. Austin!” She sprinted toward him. The immense figure of Tullis cast a shadow over her as he raised his hand once more, and threw his giant fist straight for her.
All of Carmen’s training paid off, accelerated further by the RCGs. She ducked to the side and followed up with a fully-charged jab to his metal solar plexus, hitting him with an electric snap. He growled in pain, taking the backstep as his other twitching hand swung around to shove her away.
“They gave you a new name too, huh!?” he sputtered, the dog baring his own teeth in a cruel sneer. “Guess you must be special, if you get to be that cat’s little bitch. What makes you think you’d fit into the Korps, Austin?”
Volta gnashed her teeth as another clap of thunder rang out from the storm clouds overhead. He swung at her again, and this time she grabbed him by the wrist, glaring fiercely and defiantly into the Great Dane’s surprised face. “My name. Is. VOLTA.”
She pumped charge through her fingers, ran a circuit from one palm to the other through his arm. The sound was unmistakable, like a low, growling taser. Tullis yelled, yanking himself from her grip and taking pause at the fresh black marks across his golden forearm.
“You’re just another coddled rich boy,” he drawled, shaking out the pins and needles. “Don’t kid yourself.”
Before she could think of another response, Tullis suddenly landed a kick on Volta’s shoulder. It felt like a sledgehammer smashing into her, spiking pain through her arm as she finally doubled back, trying to catch her breath.
Fuck. Hurting too much, I’m losing a lot of charge. Just, dim my pain receptors; ignore them until I’m done.
Tullis kept going, rolling his shoulders as he approached her again. “Don’t make me laugh. You’re never gonna be anything more than your parents’ son, weak and alone and afraid of his own shadow. You got any reason for me to believe—”
She didn’t let him finish this time. She swung wide, magenta energy branching out until it finally collided with Tullis's stomach.
“FUCK YOU!” Her voice erupted like a thunderclap. She swung again and this time struck his side, watching with vindictive pleasure as she fed pink arcs into his body, making him yank back and go rigid as he yelled from the sting.
“Goddamn, enough of this shit!” Tullis grabbed her, one hard golden hand closing around Volta’s neck. She had just a second before the world became a blur. He threw her halfway across the courtyard, and she hit the ground tumbling. ROSE took over, urging her hands outward. She grabbed at soil, then at gravel before she smacked into something solid. She lay there, stunned for a moment as her brain caught up with the blunt throbbing pain breaking out over her body.
Shit shit SHIT. Hurting too much, feels like I’m starving…
She started to feel the extra drain—she was missing all the energy she’d pumped into Tullis. She felt tired, her body bruised in too many places to count now. Nothing was broken, ROSE assured her, but she’d gotten several scrapes on her arms and chest, and a gash on one leg. She was starkly aware of how wet and cold she’d gotten in the rain, her fur matted to her aching body.
She looked up through blurry eyes, chest heaving. It had started feeling tight again. Tullis’s unmistakable silhouette lumbered closer, slow and uneven, unsteady. He bared his teeth in a grotesque smile, his eyes unnaturally wide with excitement. He was taking his time—he was trying to enjoy this.
“Don’t pass out now, Travers! I ain’t done with you yet.”
Hands trembling, she tried to push herself off the ground. She got her bearings gradually, RCGs helping her along. She was on the other side of the quad; she’d hit the side of a building, just barely slowed down enough to avoid breaking something. She shakily rose to her muddy hands and knees, eyes struggling to focus in on the hard surface she’d hit.
Tullis continued as he stepped closer, laugh slow and mirthless. “You’ve been spoiled all your life. Ain’t a surprise you can’t even handle how supers fight—how real men fight! This is a promise, Travers: The Golden Gavel is gonna make you regret every step you took out of that cell.”
The admin building loomed over her. She’d hit the outdoor power supply box for the building, right beside the front steps. The junction box was giving off an enticing glow. Volta stared at it with a brand new pang of hunger.
“Ahhh, shit,” Tullis swore.
She had her hands on the metal door in a second. She felt the energy beneath, like a far-reaching root. The light circuits from before didn’t have greater grid access, but this did. The wolf stiffened, breathing in fresh air. She didn’t even have to open the box to pull at that widespread reservoir and feel it pour into her. She drank greedily, immersed in magenta light.
All mine.
The street lamps around them all died. The blaring alarms faltered and went silent. The lights in the admin building went next, then the R&D complex next to it. One by one, every structure in the TPA facility went dark. The storm clouds overhead illuminated in magenta, a distant and ominous rumble of thunder rolling closer and closer. Volta clutched that root and drank deeper.
“My name…” Volta hissed, her voice beginning to crackle with electricity as the edges of her vision turned pink, “Is. Not. Austin!” She sprinted toward him. The immense figure of Tullis cast a shadow over her as he raised his hand once more, and threw his giant fist straight for her.
All of Carmen’s training paid off, accelerated further by the RCGs. She ducked to the side and followed up with a fully-charged jab to his metal solar plexus, hitting him with an electric snap. He growled in pain, taking the backstep as his other twitching hand swung around to shove her away.
“They gave you a new name too, huh!?” he sputtered, the dog baring his own teeth in a cruel sneer. “Guess you must be special, if you get to be that cat’s little bitch. What makes you think you’d fit into the Korps, Austin?”
Volta gnashed her teeth as another clap of thunder rang out from the storm clouds overhead. He swung at her again, and this time she grabbed him by the wrist, glaring fiercely and defiantly into the Great Dane’s surprised face. “My name. Is. VOLTA.”
She pumped charge through her fingers, ran a circuit from one palm to the other through his arm. The sound was unmistakable, like a low, growling taser. Tullis yelled, yanking himself from her grip and taking pause at the fresh black marks across his golden forearm.
“You’re just another coddled rich boy,” he drawled, shaking out the pins and needles. “Don’t kid yourself.”
Before she could think of another response, Tullis suddenly landed a kick on Volta’s shoulder. It felt like a sledgehammer smashing into her, spiking pain through her arm as she finally doubled back, trying to catch her breath.
Fuck. Hurting too much, I’m losing a lot of charge. Just, dim my pain receptors; ignore them until I’m done.
Tullis kept going, rolling his shoulders as he approached her again. “Don’t make me laugh. You’re never gonna be anything more than your parents’ son, weak and alone and afraid of his own shadow. You got any reason for me to believe—”
She didn’t let him finish this time. She swung wide, magenta energy branching out until it finally collided with Tullis's stomach.
“FUCK YOU!” Her voice erupted like a thunderclap. She swung again and this time struck his side, watching with vindictive pleasure as she fed pink arcs into his body, making him yank back and go rigid as he yelled from the sting.
“Goddamn, enough of this shit!” Tullis grabbed her, one hard golden hand closing around Volta’s neck. She had just a second before the world became a blur. He threw her halfway across the courtyard, and she hit the ground tumbling. ROSE took over, urging her hands outward. She grabbed at soil, then at gravel before she smacked into something solid. She lay there, stunned for a moment as her brain caught up with the blunt throbbing pain breaking out over her body.
Shit shit SHIT. Hurting too much, feels like I’m starving…
She started to feel the extra drain—she was missing all the energy she’d pumped into Tullis. She felt tired, her body bruised in too many places to count now. Nothing was broken, ROSE assured her, but she’d gotten several scrapes on her arms and chest, and a gash on one leg. She was starkly aware of how wet and cold she’d gotten in the rain, her fur matted to her aching body.
She looked up through blurry eyes, chest heaving. It had started feeling tight again. Tullis’s unmistakable silhouette lumbered closer, slow and uneven, unsteady. He bared his teeth in a grotesque smile, his eyes unnaturally wide with excitement. He was taking his time—he was trying to enjoy this.
“Don’t pass out now, Travers! I ain’t done with you yet.”
Hands trembling, she tried to push herself off the ground. She got her bearings gradually, RCGs helping her along. She was on the other side of the quad; she’d hit the side of a building, just barely slowed down enough to avoid breaking something. She shakily rose to her muddy hands and knees, eyes struggling to focus in on the hard surface she’d hit.
Tullis continued as he stepped closer, laugh slow and mirthless. “You’ve been spoiled all your life. Ain’t a surprise you can’t even handle how supers fight—how real men fight! This is a promise, Travers: The Golden Gavel is gonna make you regret every step you took out of that cell.”
The admin building loomed over her. She’d hit the outdoor power supply box for the building, right beside the front steps. The junction box was giving off an enticing glow. Volta stared at it with a brand new pang of hunger.
“Ahhh, shit,” Tullis swore.
She had her hands on the metal door in a second. She felt the energy beneath, like a far-reaching root. The light circuits from before didn’t have greater grid access, but this did. The wolf stiffened, breathing in fresh air. She didn’t even have to open the box to pull at that widespread reservoir and feel it pour into her. She drank greedily, immersed in magenta light.
All mine.
The street lamps around them all died. The blaring alarms faltered and went silent. The lights in the admin building went next, then the R&D complex next to it. One by one, every structure in the TPA facility went dark. The storm clouds overhead illuminated in magenta, a distant and ominous rumble of thunder rolling closer and closer. Volta clutched that root and drank deeper.
Some of this might seem a bit odd, in terms of writing, however there is a number of tone indicators which I have not bothered to put in since there are so many. The author has a heavy over reliance on them (likely from writing fetish erotica) and it comes off as increasingly incompitent. There is no mentions of their ears flicking on their tails, animal features, often as Moth had pointed out.
Some other criticisms I can provide is how... the cartels don't exist? for some ungodly reason they seem to not exist despite this being texas, in the modern day. A very real issue and realistic problem, however this is never brought up or acknowledged. WOuld provide for something more interesting in terms of plot, something these people do not have.
By this rule as well, The overlord, leader of the korps, would be the worst person imaginable as he was every world leader from mesopotamia to before napoleon. Let's say he would have been ghengis Khan, since he is the most powerful and closest person to ever take over the world regarding post-roman times and before now. Let's see what he did...
Ah, but did he not:
" Sayyids, scholars, merchants who traded with the Mongols, and the Christians in the city on whose behalf Hulegu's wife Doquz Khatun, herself a Christian, had interceded, were deemed worthy and were instructed to mark their doors so their houses would be spared.[45] The rest of the city was subject to pillaging and killing for a full week."
Pulled from Wikipedia, but you get the idea. This fetishist has absolutely no idea on how history works and thus should not be interjecting his Gary Sue OC into history.
Something something they have bulletproof suits or dumb shit like this when this is not the case even in superhero movies lol.
Wasnt there a point he mentioned that he had a gf? like a high school gf that he "pushed away" for being a socially stunted autist despite her actually sounding not that bad of a person? I mean, he has everything given to him on a silverplate. Maybe this story could have been written about how being given everything is in fact not a good way of living life. I have seen some other korps authors detest "oh I was expected to carry on a family legacy" when it was probably working in dads automotive shop or something.
In other stories (like change of heart) it is implied Austin kills Tullis on TV (EDIT: not the cousin, should have specified regarding the qoute. He does show up in some other story briefly). Quite sad that an incompitent, insolent little shit does this.
I could go on and on but my train of thought is all over the place, good review. Absolutely terrible piece of work and I love Tammy for being the only sane person in this sea of retardation. Syntax reminds me of dobson a bit, the whinging and bemoaning seems so common it comes off as far too personal to be made up for a character.
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Cave Fisher
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 11, 2021
Wait, so after Carmen reveals she's been tricking and grooming him to join the Korps, offers to brainwash him, and stops him with time slowing magic, he decides to join her and put the glasses on? That makes no sense, being kinda anxious and having shitty parents doesn't turn you into fanon Shinji Ikari when pretty much everything else in life is going great for you.
Am I crazy or do most people obsessed with writing troons turn out to be huge sexists? I swear to god it happens EVERY time.
It's often that I see people writing troons in ways that that make you think "Man, who's side is the author on?" because Carmen just looks like a creepy and violent predator.
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- Joined
- Aug 6, 2022
I mean a large number of troons were most likely incels at one point who have now gone completely off the deep end and decided that hating women isn't enough, they have to become "better" than women. And by becoming "better" they mean skinwalking as them along with infiltrating and subverting their spaces.
California Newt
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Feb 7, 2024
@Lavender Moth Thank you for that review.
The first thing that I'd like to say is that this book seems like the exact, polar opposite of Tom Jones' Fallen World. If you want a palate cleanser, I recommend you go read that. It's like an author cut from a similar cloth interpreted the same kinds of struggles under a very different framework. I recently finished chapter 10, and there aren't even any sex scenes until chapter 7 (they're always portrayed negatively, especially in the chapter 8 Diddy mansion).
The second is that I don't think saying "she" is a good idea here, because—for reasons that you've alluded to—it confuses what we're actually talking about. Trannies generally don't want women; they have no concept of "women". They want AGP gender-transformation-fetish'd boyfriends.
Trannies like this are a lot like cuckolds (notice the overlap) in the sense that the female body is only there as a medium through which two or more male sexualities interact. The AGP fursona is a holographic projection from the phallus—a spiritual dick pic.
He's literally me. Someone call Ryan Gosling's agent immediately
The first thing that I'd like to say is that this book seems like the exact, polar opposite of Tom Jones' Fallen World. If you want a palate cleanser, I recommend you go read that. It's like an author cut from a similar cloth interpreted the same kinds of struggles under a very different framework. I recently finished chapter 10, and there aren't even any sex scenes until chapter 7 (they're always portrayed negatively, especially in the chapter 8 Diddy mansion).
The second is that I don't think saying "she" is a good idea here, because—for reasons that you've alluded to—it confuses what we're actually talking about. Trannies generally don't want women; they have no concept of "women". They want AGP gender-transformation-fetish'd boyfriends.
Women wouldn't act like this (they'd be much more selective about who's supposed to be looking), but gay men absolutely would; that's the point.
Trannies like this are a lot like cuckolds (notice the overlap) in the sense that the female body is only there as a medium through which two or more male sexualities interact. The AGP fursona is a holographic projection from the phallus—a spiritual dick pic.
> seven-foot-tall heckin' transphobic steely-eyed gigachud made entirely out of solid gold
He's literally me. Someone call Ryan Gosling's agent immediately
- Joined
- Oct 2, 2019
There is another funny segment with him as well. Let me get it
“Adam? You have some time to talk?” The meek Dalmation stuck his head in the door of the hospital room, ears hung low as he looked at the Great Dane propped up and glowering at the TV on the wall. The one eye not swollen shut swiveled over to him. Tullis bared his teeth in a humorless grin.
“Sure, Jack, you’re just the guy I wanted to see.”
The campus president shuffled into the room and pulled up a chair beside the hospital bed, making sure to keep out of arm's reach of the huge, albeit still battered security chief. He sat down, and very slowly met Adam Tullis’s withering glare.
“Well? Don’t keep me waiting, Jack, I only got so much morphine.”
“I’ve been talking with the TPA board, and they're making the capture of Austin Travers and the cat agent who abducted him a top priority.”
“Finally,” Tullis grunted, looking back up at the TV. “But that wasn’t an abduction, Jack. That kid walked out of there on his own two feet—after wreaking havoc with my entire team and doing this to me.” He gestured to the hospital bed. “Goddamn embarrassment, wasn’t the Dampener supposed to stop this from happening?”
“That’s only if it’s not broken, Adam,” the Dalmatian sighed nervously. “I don’t know how the damn thing works, that’s Mason’s job—”
“Crusty old man. Tch. He better be making a sturdier one right now or I’m gonna rip his horns off.”
“He is, but it’s slow-going. Funding approval is dragging, and we’re trying to build a version that works on Travers while someone else is wearing it.”
“Now there’s an idea,” Adam snorted. “Maybe that way he won’t just get his girlfriend to cut it off. Damn, Mason’s a fucking genius, what will he think of next?”
“He’s working with what he has, Adam, for Christ's sake.”
“Never should have let you talk me into letting that kid have any charge anyway,” Tullis growled, sitting up straight now. “Everyone’s too damn soft in this business—if he wasn’t able to taze Olson everything would have gone smoother.”
“Th-the point is,” Richardson tried feebly to refocus, “TPA command is removing you from the faculty here, and instead wants you in an active position, to go after the Travers kid. As the Golden Gavel.”
“Oh, well now that I have their permission…” He chuffed. “Alright, thanks for the promotion, I accept, I’ll take the full benefits package, et cetera. Now give me the new Dampener and I’ll take care of it,” the Great Dane muttered, picking at one of the bandage wrappings on his torso idly.
“That’s the plan for when it’s ready, in about four months.”
“I’m gonna be back on my feet before then, Jack. Did Mason forget how to make the damn thing?”
“According to Dr. Mason, the Dampener needs very specific and very refined precious metals to be useful at all, especially if someone else is going to wear it like a piece of armor.”
Tullis rolled his eyes in exasperation. “For God’s sake, Jack, where’d all the money go?”
“We can’t requisition more funds just on a whim, Adam! These things take time…”
“That wasn’t a problem when you built it the first time,” the Great Dane grumbled, idly picking at the bandage wrapping on the side of his face. “I’m only going to be holed up in here for so long, and when I get out I want a rematch ASAP, before they turn him into some kinda freak of nature like that cat bitch.”
Richardson bristled. “And do you have any idea where Travers is now? His parents would sure like to know, they’re furious over this entire thing, and their estate was just broken into by the Korps last night.”
“Heard about that on the news, yeah. No shit they’re mad,” Tullis snorted. “Their brat’s a wanted criminal now—and they’re out a hefty sum thanks to him. They’ll want this fixed fast, the rich types always do, but this whole shitshow’s not gonna be fixed by pleasing two old purebreds. And no, of course I don’t know where the little freak is.”
“The Travers family paid for most of the Dampener’s development the first time. If you want the new Dampener made faster, why not ask them for help? They’re on the financial board already. Promise to bring their son back from the terrorists, they’d pay us a king’s ransom.”
“Thing is…” The Great Dane straightened up in his hospital bed, gritting his teeth. “I ain’t gonna commit to bringing him back in one piece.”
“Adam…” Richardson bowed his head and began to rub his temples.
“That kid could’ve killed me, Paul. I’m gonna put him in his place one way or another and if he’s too fragile, it ain’t on me.”
“Adam, I can’t just tell the higher-ups that you’re going to go out and give this kid an execution. I can’t tell his parents that. This is why you got benched in the first place.”
“I got benched because of sniveling cowards like you not standing up for protectors of the law, Paul!” the Great Dane snapped, grunting in discomfort as he leaned forward.
“I got thrown under the bus ‘cause the Color Guard needed a scapegoat. I should’a been a martyr! Years, Paul, years of my life dedicated to protecting America’s people and what do they do? Whine about methods and due process. I WAS the damn due process, Paul. If I’m not allowed to bring down a spoiled pup having a tantrum, then who else are you going to send after him, his nanny? Are you just gonna ask if he wants to come back home like a good little boy?”
Richardson knew better than to try and interrupt Tullis when he started to raise his voice like that. Shoulders rising and falling with agitation, he shook his head. “You at least have to act like you’re going to bring him back alive, Adam, or no one’s paying you anything. You have to understand that.”
“Alright, fine, I gotta cozy up with James again…” the Great Dane grunted, looking out the window for a moment. “Schmoozing and diplomatic bullshit always gets in the way of everything. I’ll play nice, Paul, for old time’s sake, but let them know that if the brat puts up a fight, I’m not holding back this time. I ain’t giving him another chance to go off like that again, unlike everyone else around here.”
The Dalmatian heaved his shoulders in a sigh, unwilling to push the issue any further. “Fine, fine. I’ll contact Bradley Group, let the Color Guard know you’re... coming out of retirement. Are we going to have to start paying for everything else you’ll need, too?”
Tullis gave him a broad grin, a real one this time. “Hell, if James covers the overpriced hubcap, I’ll hammer this one down for free.”
“Sure, Jack, you’re just the guy I wanted to see.”
The campus president shuffled into the room and pulled up a chair beside the hospital bed, making sure to keep out of arm's reach of the huge, albeit still battered security chief. He sat down, and very slowly met Adam Tullis’s withering glare.
“Well? Don’t keep me waiting, Jack, I only got so much morphine.”
“I’ve been talking with the TPA board, and they're making the capture of Austin Travers and the cat agent who abducted him a top priority.”
“Finally,” Tullis grunted, looking back up at the TV. “But that wasn’t an abduction, Jack. That kid walked out of there on his own two feet—after wreaking havoc with my entire team and doing this to me.” He gestured to the hospital bed. “Goddamn embarrassment, wasn’t the Dampener supposed to stop this from happening?”
“That’s only if it’s not broken, Adam,” the Dalmatian sighed nervously. “I don’t know how the damn thing works, that’s Mason’s job—”
“Crusty old man. Tch. He better be making a sturdier one right now or I’m gonna rip his horns off.”
“He is, but it’s slow-going. Funding approval is dragging, and we’re trying to build a version that works on Travers while someone else is wearing it.”
“Now there’s an idea,” Adam snorted. “Maybe that way he won’t just get his girlfriend to cut it off. Damn, Mason’s a fucking genius, what will he think of next?”
“He’s working with what he has, Adam, for Christ's sake.”
“Never should have let you talk me into letting that kid have any charge anyway,” Tullis growled, sitting up straight now. “Everyone’s too damn soft in this business—if he wasn’t able to taze Olson everything would have gone smoother.”
“Th-the point is,” Richardson tried feebly to refocus, “TPA command is removing you from the faculty here, and instead wants you in an active position, to go after the Travers kid. As the Golden Gavel.”
“Oh, well now that I have their permission…” He chuffed. “Alright, thanks for the promotion, I accept, I’ll take the full benefits package, et cetera. Now give me the new Dampener and I’ll take care of it,” the Great Dane muttered, picking at one of the bandage wrappings on his torso idly.
“That’s the plan for when it’s ready, in about four months.”
“I’m gonna be back on my feet before then, Jack. Did Mason forget how to make the damn thing?”
“According to Dr. Mason, the Dampener needs very specific and very refined precious metals to be useful at all, especially if someone else is going to wear it like a piece of armor.”
Tullis rolled his eyes in exasperation. “For God’s sake, Jack, where’d all the money go?”
“We can’t requisition more funds just on a whim, Adam! These things take time…”
“That wasn’t a problem when you built it the first time,” the Great Dane grumbled, idly picking at the bandage wrapping on the side of his face. “I’m only going to be holed up in here for so long, and when I get out I want a rematch ASAP, before they turn him into some kinda freak of nature like that cat bitch.”
Richardson bristled. “And do you have any idea where Travers is now? His parents would sure like to know, they’re furious over this entire thing, and their estate was just broken into by the Korps last night.”
“Heard about that on the news, yeah. No shit they’re mad,” Tullis snorted. “Their brat’s a wanted criminal now—and they’re out a hefty sum thanks to him. They’ll want this fixed fast, the rich types always do, but this whole shitshow’s not gonna be fixed by pleasing two old purebreds. And no, of course I don’t know where the little freak is.”
“The Travers family paid for most of the Dampener’s development the first time. If you want the new Dampener made faster, why not ask them for help? They’re on the financial board already. Promise to bring their son back from the terrorists, they’d pay us a king’s ransom.”
“Thing is…” The Great Dane straightened up in his hospital bed, gritting his teeth. “I ain’t gonna commit to bringing him back in one piece.”
“Adam…” Richardson bowed his head and began to rub his temples.
“That kid could’ve killed me, Paul. I’m gonna put him in his place one way or another and if he’s too fragile, it ain’t on me.”
“Adam, I can’t just tell the higher-ups that you’re going to go out and give this kid an execution. I can’t tell his parents that. This is why you got benched in the first place.”
“I got benched because of sniveling cowards like you not standing up for protectors of the law, Paul!” the Great Dane snapped, grunting in discomfort as he leaned forward.
“I got thrown under the bus ‘cause the Color Guard needed a scapegoat. I should’a been a martyr! Years, Paul, years of my life dedicated to protecting America’s people and what do they do? Whine about methods and due process. I WAS the damn due process, Paul. If I’m not allowed to bring down a spoiled pup having a tantrum, then who else are you going to send after him, his nanny? Are you just gonna ask if he wants to come back home like a good little boy?”
Richardson knew better than to try and interrupt Tullis when he started to raise his voice like that. Shoulders rising and falling with agitation, he shook his head. “You at least have to act like you’re going to bring him back alive, Adam, or no one’s paying you anything. You have to understand that.”
“Alright, fine, I gotta cozy up with James again…” the Great Dane grunted, looking out the window for a moment. “Schmoozing and diplomatic bullshit always gets in the way of everything. I’ll play nice, Paul, for old time’s sake, but let them know that if the brat puts up a fight, I’m not holding back this time. I ain’t giving him another chance to go off like that again, unlike everyone else around here.”
The Dalmatian heaved his shoulders in a sigh, unwilling to push the issue any further. “Fine, fine. I’ll contact Bradley Group, let the Color Guard know you’re... coming out of retirement. Are we going to have to start paying for everything else you’ll need, too?”
Tullis gave him a broad grin, a real one this time. “Hell, if James covers the overpriced hubcap, I’ll hammer this one down for free.”
Cave Fisher
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 11, 2021
What do they actually do in the story that's so bad, anyway? Everybody working for them seems pretty reasonable, only seeming kinda dickish against people way worse than them.
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2024
The best thing about this is when you take away the furry troon fetishism, it's just a bad superhero novel. That is the only thing that makes it special.
- Joined
- Mar 8, 2023
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
The entirety of their "villainry" completely hinges on the author's expectation that the audience will agree with the notion that you are "bad" if you are Christian, conservative, love your country, and/or aren't a tranny.
At the worst, Tullis/Golden Gavel is sometimes unfair in how he trains Volta (ie: he frequently pits featherweight Volta against the biggest, strongest, most hulking student there is and then gets all WHAT'S WRONG, JUST TRY HARDER, BRO when Volta is, predictably, flattened by a man who is implied to be like twice his size) but that reflects more on Tullis as a person, rather than the superhero collective as a whole, as that superhero student himself is the one who tries to befriend Volta because he (the student) recognizes that "him vs Volta" in hand-to-hand, no-powers combat is unfair.
- Joined
- Feb 8, 2024
Everything about the latest NoP2 chapter is so abrupt that I'm getting the impression that SP is racing for the finish so he can get it over with. It does feel like the end's in sight, despite the fact it's half the length of NoP1 - unless he pulls some shit with the Fed remnants or farsul, we might be wrapping this up sooner than expected. The opening was pretty chilling, though. He should do more horror writing. It's a shame that this is the first bit of infantry combat he's written in a while and it's against fuckin' gimped robots that can barely fight back. Big cliche at the end, too. Man, NoP2 really hasn't worked in the same way NoP1 did...
- Joined
- Mar 21, 2020
It really lacks a lot of the charm NoP1 had. I agree that it feels a lot more rushed, whereas the original you could tell he was actually passionate about working on it.
- Joined
- Feb 8, 2024
I'd chalk it up to a general lack of detail. Kemono was updated with all the missing pages, so I've been reading the arxur story, and despite the fact this is our first real look at Wriss, SP is glossing over a lot of the crunchy worldbuilding stuff to focus entirely on his latest Goof Troop. For example, the arxur insurrectionists have hundreds of tanks, but the tanks are not described in any capacity, outside of them having tracks. To steal a comment I read - "Are they squat, or hulking? Do they have a ponderous advance, or do they prowl ahead? Are they bristling with weapons, or do they have a sleek single gun? Are they belching acrid smoke from roaring engines, or can they detect the sickly-sweet scent of coolant from their whining fans?" these are alien tanks from a guy who supposedly loves his warslop but he's missing a golden opportunity to geek out about what an alien tank might look like. Also, everyone and their mothers seems to love Hysran (who features heavily in the arxur story before she appeared in the main tale) but I think she's unbearably annoying. Comments are full of people gushing about what an angel she is but I've always despised the 'literally will not stop making light of absolutely everything' character archetype. Also, her puns are terrible. Not 'groan and cover your eyes' terrible, but 'really badly written and don't make much sense' terrible. Either way, SP isn't lovingly painting a picture of a vivid sci-fi world, but churning out content. His quantity-over-quality mindset is bogging down NoP2 and its bonus works. Maybe he wants to move onto other things?
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- Joined
- Oct 2, 2019
Champion: book 1,
Change of heart
Inspired by @Lavender Moth I decided it was of my best interest to actually review this absolute retarded shitfest book possible. Although not out in print, it is out currently online, for free! No need to drain your dollars on this novella. Either way, with a bit more knowledge on the korps (due to subjecting myself to this far longer than I should have), I will give a slight bit of background.
Barring the author (who I have not bothered to look into extensively), is a late 30's tranny who admits that he is writing the character the book focuses on (Madison Heartwood) as a means of coping due to transitioning far later in life due to being dweeb in a 9-5 office job and discovering AGP later on. I will admit, this individual seems to be into a fair share of stuff (futa, BDSM, calling people faggots etc) that show he is not very mentally adjusted.
with that out of the way, let's get into the story!
Madison heartwood is a local hero for the People's hero organisation (PHL). He is an individual who is of a half bear-half sheep mix of some sort, however has horns which implies he is a ram... But I am getting ahead of myself. From what I can tell, PHL is more or less a larger publicly funded or state funded organisation by the state of ontario for their own hero league, with the Aurora being the federally based canadian superhero unit, similar to bradley and it being the US wide hero org (why is it not DoD? Or FBI adjacent? Where the fuck are SFOD for supers? It is implied most of what happens is mostly funded by taxpayers but the DoD doesn't have their hands in this? Anyways). Madison had joined after leaving Grande Praire in Alberta to join the org. (s)He is also the first trans xister superhero for the PHL! Thus there is the name of the book considering his last name. The entire thing already reeks the moment this is realised, as the book opens with Mad (as I will call him) conducting an interview with a site called "Xtra", presumably a pro nigger faggot tranny online news outlet similar to buzzfeed. Right out of the gate, the book immediately starts with "hard hitting questions" (for trannies) as the book quickly descends into an odd sort of madness.
She perked up. “That’s cool? I didn’t realize; Ontario’s Heroes told me I was the first, not counting Sunrise, but I guess they might not have been counting unregistered supers either.”
The owl nodded. “Or they might not have a great grasp on queer history generally,” they said with a raised eyebrow. “Although the way they treated Sunrise and distanced themselves from her, that’s not surprising. Or consider their own history, I mean; when the first Barrage died a few years ago, I remember it turned out he was a police detective in his civilian identity, and took part in Operation Soap—the bathhouse raids.”
Maddy wrinkled their nose. “That’s terrible. I’m glad that’s not happening any more, at least; I mean, I would never want to be on a team that’s still hurting that community like that.”
Frost looked slightly askance at them. “Mmmm. Now, speaking of police and Ontario’s Heroes—are you aware of Pride Toronto’s decision last week to ban heroes from attending their events in costume?”
Maddy’s heart sank again. “…Wait, what?”
The owl looked to a handwritten notebook at their side, and shuffled through some printed pages before finding the right one. “Okay, one sec…here we go. The Annual General Meeting was last week. 85% of members voted to extend the ban on police attendance to include heroes, on the basis that most operate as extensions of the police. That’s true, isn’t it? As an active member of the OH roster, you have certain provincially-delegated peace officer powers in addition to your, uh, talents?”
Her eye twitched, and she hoped her outrage wasn’t obvious; she took a deep breath before she replied. “I… well, that’s interesting, and that’s the board’s call, I suppose? I just think it’s disappointing to be painted with the same brush as bad cops, just because I’m trying to help people in my own way.” (And it wasn’t as if she was actually a cop herself, she fumed silently, even if she happened to be allowed to arrest suspected criminals under certain circumstances. She was better than the cops. She’d never cause the harms they did, she was certain.)
“Not the board, the membership,” Frost corrected, still looking down at the page. “The executive director and several board members spoke against the motion, actually, but the vote was 316-55 in favour.”
Maddy grimaced briefly before rallying with a forced smile. “I guess that just means I’ve got work to do, then! I’m a nonbinary trans lesbian, and I want to show everyone that there’s a place at the table for us serving the community. Superpowered queer and trans folks should be able to feel included as heroes, just like everyone else—if we did, maybe the bad guys would have a harder time recruiting.”
“Is it just about recruiting, do you think? Last poll I saw, trust in and support for registered superheroes was still hovering around 30% among all self-identified LGBTQ2+ respondents. The other 70% clearly aren’t all Korps members, right? It’s a role where you’re at least working in parallel with traditional law enforcement, a lot of the time.”
“I think,” they said, gathering their thoughts and suppressing the urge to huff with irritation, “that heroes have historically not done a great job protecting everyone, and that undoubtedly has an effect on perceptions from those who’ve been ignored or excluded. That’s part of why I’m with OH; like I said, I want to change those attitudes.”
Frost nodded. “Speaking of which, Ontario’s Heroes recently announced that you’re their first ‘LGBTQ2+ Champion.’ Is that a position you wanted? Is that something that’s compatible with the other expectations of your job?”
“It wasn’t something that I expected, I’ll be honest! But I’ll tell you the same thing I told Director Hagen when he approached me about it—I’m honoured to be the first in that role, and hope I can be a resource for mutual education and respect between OH and the community.”
The two chatted on for another half-hour in much the same vein, touching on the hero’s favourite pop culture touchstones (The Hunger Games and Vanderpump Rules); costuming thoughts (the OH tailors had suggested the bold reds of her father’s gear, while she’d insisted on subtler shades of white and maroon and cerise); family (her homemaker/part-time dental clerk mom, university athlete little sister, and the grandparents and aunts and uncles she’d seen much less of in the years since moving to Ontario); and even some teasingly semi-scandalous inquiries about her taste in women. Eventually, the questioning trailed off, around the time she finished her latte.
“I think I have what I need for my piece,” Frost noted brightly as their eyes scanned up and down their screen. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”
Maddy shook their head. “No, I’m good! It was great chatting with you; really just a breath of fresh air compared to some other outlets,” they chuckled.
The owl nodded. “Hey, happy to! I can give you a heads up when it’s all edited and ready to post—mind if our social team tags you? It should be up in a week or two.”
The sheep-bear enthusiastically agreed, said goodbye, and beamed to herself as she clicked off the video call. That went well, she thought, before pondering what to order for dinner.
The owl nodded. “Or they might not have a great grasp on queer history generally,” they said with a raised eyebrow. “Although the way they treated Sunrise and distanced themselves from her, that’s not surprising. Or consider their own history, I mean; when the first Barrage died a few years ago, I remember it turned out he was a police detective in his civilian identity, and took part in Operation Soap—the bathhouse raids.”
Maddy wrinkled their nose. “That’s terrible. I’m glad that’s not happening any more, at least; I mean, I would never want to be on a team that’s still hurting that community like that.”
Frost looked slightly askance at them. “Mmmm. Now, speaking of police and Ontario’s Heroes—are you aware of Pride Toronto’s decision last week to ban heroes from attending their events in costume?”
Maddy’s heart sank again. “…Wait, what?”
The owl looked to a handwritten notebook at their side, and shuffled through some printed pages before finding the right one. “Okay, one sec…here we go. The Annual General Meeting was last week. 85% of members voted to extend the ban on police attendance to include heroes, on the basis that most operate as extensions of the police. That’s true, isn’t it? As an active member of the OH roster, you have certain provincially-delegated peace officer powers in addition to your, uh, talents?”
Her eye twitched, and she hoped her outrage wasn’t obvious; she took a deep breath before she replied. “I… well, that’s interesting, and that’s the board’s call, I suppose? I just think it’s disappointing to be painted with the same brush as bad cops, just because I’m trying to help people in my own way.” (And it wasn’t as if she was actually a cop herself, she fumed silently, even if she happened to be allowed to arrest suspected criminals under certain circumstances. She was better than the cops. She’d never cause the harms they did, she was certain.)
“Not the board, the membership,” Frost corrected, still looking down at the page. “The executive director and several board members spoke against the motion, actually, but the vote was 316-55 in favour.”
Maddy grimaced briefly before rallying with a forced smile. “I guess that just means I’ve got work to do, then! I’m a nonbinary trans lesbian, and I want to show everyone that there’s a place at the table for us serving the community. Superpowered queer and trans folks should be able to feel included as heroes, just like everyone else—if we did, maybe the bad guys would have a harder time recruiting.”
“Is it just about recruiting, do you think? Last poll I saw, trust in and support for registered superheroes was still hovering around 30% among all self-identified LGBTQ2+ respondents. The other 70% clearly aren’t all Korps members, right? It’s a role where you’re at least working in parallel with traditional law enforcement, a lot of the time.”
“I think,” they said, gathering their thoughts and suppressing the urge to huff with irritation, “that heroes have historically not done a great job protecting everyone, and that undoubtedly has an effect on perceptions from those who’ve been ignored or excluded. That’s part of why I’m with OH; like I said, I want to change those attitudes.”
Frost nodded. “Speaking of which, Ontario’s Heroes recently announced that you’re their first ‘LGBTQ2+ Champion.’ Is that a position you wanted? Is that something that’s compatible with the other expectations of your job?”
“It wasn’t something that I expected, I’ll be honest! But I’ll tell you the same thing I told Director Hagen when he approached me about it—I’m honoured to be the first in that role, and hope I can be a resource for mutual education and respect between OH and the community.”
The two chatted on for another half-hour in much the same vein, touching on the hero’s favourite pop culture touchstones (The Hunger Games and Vanderpump Rules); costuming thoughts (the OH tailors had suggested the bold reds of her father’s gear, while she’d insisted on subtler shades of white and maroon and cerise); family (her homemaker/part-time dental clerk mom, university athlete little sister, and the grandparents and aunts and uncles she’d seen much less of in the years since moving to Ontario); and even some teasingly semi-scandalous inquiries about her taste in women. Eventually, the questioning trailed off, around the time she finished her latte.
“I think I have what I need for my piece,” Frost noted brightly as their eyes scanned up and down their screen. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”
Maddy shook their head. “No, I’m good! It was great chatting with you; really just a breath of fresh air compared to some other outlets,” they chuckled.
The owl nodded. “Hey, happy to! I can give you a heads up when it’s all edited and ready to post—mind if our social team tags you? It should be up in a week or two.”
The sheep-bear enthusiastically agreed, said goodbye, and beamed to herself as she clicked off the video call. That went well, she thought, before pondering what to order for dinner.
After this, Mad ends up getting an extensive barrage of hate from "the usual right-wingers" but also the "queer community" over being le hecking naive and supporting muh opression and being what is effectively a faggot version of uncle tom. This is where the book goes into machiavellian-1984 territory, as it seems to be the main crux/turning point of this book is to more or less justify that, no matter what you do in life, if you do not align with the majority you will always be hated. It counts significantly later on, but I will get to it.
We then meet Neal "Salton" Slider, a very kniving rat who is presumably a vegan and at best meant to effectively be a stand in for the half-hearted shitlib who is truly just in there to be a secret chud or something like that. He more or less comes off as a thinly veiled wheraboo later on (in the book snowflake, an utter shitshow I might review later on as that is truly horrifying) however in this book he is more or less a total sleazy Italian. such quotes as well, see for yourself how the author describes them:
It was Neal Salton, the team’s snickering twerp of an infiltration and stealth specialist, who operated under the callsign “Slider.” He irritated Maddy, not least because he insisted on always using they/them pronouns for the sheep-bear, and called her things like buddy and friendo and pally as if he was a second-rate wiseguy in a direct-to-streaming gangster film. She closed her eyes and flexed her wrists slightly, concentrating for just a second until
We then continue to meet the director of the PHL itself and answering to the crown, Director Caleb Hagen. Noted for being in a series of super-soldier experiments done by the RCMP (Why? Wouldn't this be CSIS? Canadian military?) and became quite the powerful superhero, however having a hatred/victim complex similar to Walter White due to True North II (who was a guy with gadgets, known as Arthur simmonds, the most famous superhero from Canada) havng more popularity. However this does not line up much with his behaviour, as he generally seems to be utterly hellbent on destroying the korps and frquently flies into fits of absolute seething rage, thus making most people working for him fearful of him or not willing to push back to not set him off. Hagen would be described as such, alongside an interesting bit of dialogue and introduction to him
Ten minutes later, Maddy stood awkwardly in the office of Caleb Hagen—formerly the nigh-bulletproof hero Canadian Shield, and since his retirement from the field years prior, the Queen’s Park-appointed operational head of Ontario’s Heroes. The director was most frequently known amongst his subordinates for his episodes of unhinged rage against OH’s perceived nemeses; not just criminals or organized supervillains like the Korps, but also Aurora Squadron and the late Minister Simonds, protestors and activists, civil rights lawyers, or indeed any rival authority figures he felt intruded on his turf with the PHL, or bogged down “getting the job done” with rules and regulations.
Maddy didn’t care for Hagen, but had to admit that (unlike Slider, for one) he’d at least been… polite to them, for the most part, and he said some of the right things about having an “inclusive team that truly represents Ontario.” Sometimes. Usually when he was on camera at a press conference with his boss, the organizational head of OH, Lawrence Rockwell – like the one the previous summer where Maddy had been introduced as a new prospect on the developmental team, or the time earlier that year when they’d been announced as a fully-fledged hero with an OH callsign. In private was another story.
It was for that reason that Maddy tried to avoid being alone with the man; the anger in his eyes, and the way he physically dominated spaces with his volatile energy, made the sheep-bear nervous. Being called on the carpet had their heart racing, even before Hagen spoke a word, and it was necessary to restrain the impulse to throw up a protective telekinetic barrier.
The wolverine’s voice was steely with fury, and he held a pencil to his temple. “Heartforce, what in the fuck did you think you were doing, taking an interview like that without running it by Comms first?”
Maddy shrank into herself, but managed to squeak out a reply. “You—Comms—you and Martha told me I could talk to the media on my own now! We had that meeting last month…”
He squeezed the pencil in his grip, snapping it in half. “The media, yes. Softballs from Breakfast Television or Chatelaine, not…” he enunciated very carefully through gritted teeth, “…political shit from your community’s gossip rags.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t call Xtra a gossip rag—”
“I don’t fucking care what you call it, Madison. I’m disappointed,” he muttered darkly. “Martha’s team is doing what they can to head off the more pointed inquiries, and we can probably have this blow over without a press conference, but you’re clearly not ready to be off the leash. I don’t need another bloody Sunrise boondoggle. We’ve got to get ahead of this, get you some more face time in action, interviews with the friendly outlets; really ram you down the public’s throats. Plus, starting Monday, you’re leading Team B in operations until I tell you otherwise.”
She didn’t understand; being given more responsibility didn’t sound like a punishment. “...Sir? What about Lightbox? Where’s he going?”
“Nowhere.” He raised a sullen eyebrow, realizing Maddy’s confusion, and sneered with cruel delight. “Oh, did you think this was a promotion? Not a goddamned chance, Oakes. Lightbox will still be giving the orders, and keeping an eye on you, from base. We’re just going to pretend for the cameras that you’re good for something other than the ‘diversity’ piece. Do you understand me?”
Her eyes watered with shame and embarrassment. “Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.”
“Good. In the meantime, you have an assignment,” he sneered, handing the hero a standard-issue tablet showing a street map; there was a marker downtown, not far from Toronto City Hall. “All the details are there. Break-in at a high-profile biotech firm, police couldn’t investigate. Find out what happened, and if there’s a risk any dangerous information might have fallen into the wrong hands. This one ought to be perfect for you.”
Maddy didn’t care for Hagen, but had to admit that (unlike Slider, for one) he’d at least been… polite to them, for the most part, and he said some of the right things about having an “inclusive team that truly represents Ontario.” Sometimes. Usually when he was on camera at a press conference with his boss, the organizational head of OH, Lawrence Rockwell – like the one the previous summer where Maddy had been introduced as a new prospect on the developmental team, or the time earlier that year when they’d been announced as a fully-fledged hero with an OH callsign. In private was another story.
It was for that reason that Maddy tried to avoid being alone with the man; the anger in his eyes, and the way he physically dominated spaces with his volatile energy, made the sheep-bear nervous. Being called on the carpet had their heart racing, even before Hagen spoke a word, and it was necessary to restrain the impulse to throw up a protective telekinetic barrier.
The wolverine’s voice was steely with fury, and he held a pencil to his temple. “Heartforce, what in the fuck did you think you were doing, taking an interview like that without running it by Comms first?”
Maddy shrank into herself, but managed to squeak out a reply. “You—Comms—you and Martha told me I could talk to the media on my own now! We had that meeting last month…”
He squeezed the pencil in his grip, snapping it in half. “The media, yes. Softballs from Breakfast Television or Chatelaine, not…” he enunciated very carefully through gritted teeth, “…political shit from your community’s gossip rags.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t call Xtra a gossip rag—”
“I don’t fucking care what you call it, Madison. I’m disappointed,” he muttered darkly. “Martha’s team is doing what they can to head off the more pointed inquiries, and we can probably have this blow over without a press conference, but you’re clearly not ready to be off the leash. I don’t need another bloody Sunrise boondoggle. We’ve got to get ahead of this, get you some more face time in action, interviews with the friendly outlets; really ram you down the public’s throats. Plus, starting Monday, you’re leading Team B in operations until I tell you otherwise.”
She didn’t understand; being given more responsibility didn’t sound like a punishment. “...Sir? What about Lightbox? Where’s he going?”
“Nowhere.” He raised a sullen eyebrow, realizing Maddy’s confusion, and sneered with cruel delight. “Oh, did you think this was a promotion? Not a goddamned chance, Oakes. Lightbox will still be giving the orders, and keeping an eye on you, from base. We’re just going to pretend for the cameras that you’re good for something other than the ‘diversity’ piece. Do you understand me?”
Her eyes watered with shame and embarrassment. “Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.”
“Good. In the meantime, you have an assignment,” he sneered, handing the hero a standard-issue tablet showing a street map; there was a marker downtown, not far from Toronto City Hall. “All the details are there. Break-in at a high-profile biotech firm, police couldn’t investigate. Find out what happened, and if there’s a risk any dangerous information might have fallen into the wrong hands. This one ought to be perfect for you.”
To me at least, Hagen sounds more like a guy who is utterly fed up and knows that Mad is a total fucking retard who cannot keep his mouth shut (fat people rarely shut their mouths, have you seen them eat?) and thus is mad about it. of course, this break in is investigated by mad right away! This is where the group gaslighting comes in, with Mad eventually being given an interesting treatment. Either way, we learn the truth of what is going on, that being the break in is done by Salton where he pushed some shit over and it instigated the fact of needing him to check the place out. We later learn this is actually meant to be a diversion tactic in order to get Mad in contact with the korps to start up a infiltration op (this is also where it is heavily implied Caleb Hagen gets his rocks off to faggot orgies but, I digress, seems to just be more seething hatred to me). Below is an excerpt from it.
Anyway. It’s Maddy, right? Please, call me Grace.” The deer paused briefly. “And just to be clear, in case these antlers and volunteering my pronouns weren’t enough of a tip-off, I’m trans too. I’m asking why you’re here, because the incident happened twelve hours ago, and we didn’t report it to police; they only showed up because our landlord called about a trespasser in the common areas,” the doe snapped. “When we declined their help, the cops were happy to—if you’ll pardon the expression—fuck right the fuck off. We’re privately held and self-insured, so we didn’t need to make an official report for insurance purposes. As you said yourself, our work is highly confidential, and our leadership values privacy. This wouldn’t appear, prima facie, to be an incident so unusual or potentially hazardous that it requires the attention of supers like yourself, and we’ve also already completed our own investigation. Given all that, what makes you think HBS is in need of your services?”
They were unnerved by the deer’s gaze; she seemed to see right through them. They were, admittedly, also somewhat relieved to have confirmation of the suspicion they were talking to another trans woman. The two factors didn’t quite cancel one another out, and the hero was left still feeling slightly anxious. “Well, I…” Maddy cringed, looking to a small deskside ficus to avoid eye contact. “...You completed your investigation already? Are you sure there’s nothing I could do to help?” they asked incredulously.
HBS’s chief counsel cocked an eyebrow. “Quite. You’re not here to help us; you’re here because—among other things—your handlers thought it might result in earned media, and push the shitshow over that interview out of the news cycle. Am I wrong?”
“I’m not sure what you—”
“We have a very good reputation with the community, between our philanthropy with LGBTQ2+ causes and our dedication to patent-breaking the meds queer and trans folks desperately need. We also have a nonbinary CEO who people don’t say ‘eat the rich’ about, because they publicly take a very modest salary, and at every possible opportunity they shame their industry peers for not doing the same.” The deer spun her chair a half-rotation towards the window, and looked down to the traffic on University Avenue. “You, personally, could use our help; being associated with us would give you more credibility as a trans hero. We don’t need your help, and frankly, being associated with you is neutral PR at best for us. Probably a negative, all things considered. Have you considered why that is?”
The two sat in silence. Maddy hoped that the deer would answer her own question; they didn’t like it hanging in the air. Eventually, she did.
“You’re a cop, Heartforce. I’m sure you don’t like thinking of yourself that way; the Xtra piece made that clear. But you’re effectively in law enforcement, and work hand-in-hand with the TPS, OPP, RCMP, CBSA, CSIS…you’re still upholding systems that oppress your own community. And the thing about being a queer cop is that your own people have very good reason to presumptively distrust you, no matter how good your intentions.”
“I’m…I’m making a difference. From the inside,” Maddy said, unsure why she felt the need to justify herself to the calmly dismissive older woman.
“Oh, I’m sure that was the sales pitch. Do you think they’ll really let you be more than a token, though?”
“…Ms. Dunlop—”
“Grace, please.”
“Grace. Please. I understand why you’re hesitant,” she pleaded. “But I have a gift, and—I think—a responsibility to use it for good. That’s how I was brought up. I’m sure it’s not what you’d do if you had my powers, but isn’t it positive for the public to see trans superheroes, and not just villains and criminals?”
Grace pursed her lips, sighing disappointedly. “Maddy…watch this, would you?” She turned to her laptop and tapped something out on the keyboard, humming to herself. After a moment, she turned it around to show her guest; the screen was frozen on a scene of what the hero recognized as one of HBS’s corridors. Except, Maddy quickly realized, it wasn’t paused; a shadowy figure slipped by alongside one edge of the video. The timestamp read 11:21 PM.
The lawyer raised an eyebrow. “Notice anything?”
“…No? You clearly had an intruder, and I don’t understand why you don’t want anything done about it?”
“Just keep watching,” the deer said archly. She slid back in her chair, tenting her fingers, expression unreadable.
The figure crept back into the frame, clearer this time. The intruder was clad in dark gray and matte black tactical gear, but was still unidentifiable, head entirely concealed by a hood. Then, they pulled it back and craned their neck over their shoulder, peering up at the camera with a satisfied sneer. It was a brown rat. It was a very familiar rat, one she’d met with just hours before. It was Neal Salton. Fucking Slider.
Maddy narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists against her muscular thighs, rage rising up from deep within her. “What. What,” she seethed through gritted teeth.
Grace scrubbed the video back to pause it on the rat’s clearly-captured face. “I told you we completed our investigation,” she said mildly. “We know exactly who broke in—the Ontario’s Heroes operative Slider—and we know that he didn’t meaningfully do anything. He thought he disabled our security system, and then rifled through some desks and knocked over a recycling bin; just enough to leave evidence of a break-in, such that the police would get called, OH would hear about it officially through your information-sharing protocols, and someone like you would have an excuse to come knocking at our door this morning.” She met Maddy’s gaze with a sympathetic expression. “Given your reaction just now—and I’m sorry, but it’s true: a general lack of investigative subtlety—I’m satisfied you had no idea until just this moment.”
“But that’s—”
“Yes, it is.” She again let the moment linger; the sheep-bear’s skin crawled with discomfort. “I’m not going to tell you it’s impossible to deepfake something like this—of course it isn’t—but this is real, and I bet you can think of some way to verify it on your own. And, frankly, I don’t need to justify anything to you; you showed up on our doorstep unannounced.” A pause, and then she continued, with a faint note of genuine concern in her voice. “I don’t think they trust you, Maddy. If they did, don’t you think you’d have been in on the whole plan here? Whatever it is?”
They fumed, teeth gritted, and looked out the window. The round central courtyard of Grange Park was visible in the distance. “I don’t…why aren’t you more upset about this?”
The older woman shrugged noncommittally. “We have the situation well in hand. No actual harm was done, and the PHL, the police, and our industry competitors all being what they are, it’s not in our strategic interest to take this public right now. So, how fortunate for me that you just happened to stop by, hmm?” She cleared her throat, and then reached over to close the laptop. “I think we’re done here. By all means, please pass on that we’re not terribly impressed.”
“Um. Thank you…?”
“Any time,” the deer said unctuously, grinning as she stood up to usher the sheep-bear out of her office. “Lovely to meet you, Heartforce. Have fun with your bosses, eh?”
They were unnerved by the deer’s gaze; she seemed to see right through them. They were, admittedly, also somewhat relieved to have confirmation of the suspicion they were talking to another trans woman. The two factors didn’t quite cancel one another out, and the hero was left still feeling slightly anxious. “Well, I…” Maddy cringed, looking to a small deskside ficus to avoid eye contact. “...You completed your investigation already? Are you sure there’s nothing I could do to help?” they asked incredulously.
HBS’s chief counsel cocked an eyebrow. “Quite. You’re not here to help us; you’re here because—among other things—your handlers thought it might result in earned media, and push the shitshow over that interview out of the news cycle. Am I wrong?”
“I’m not sure what you—”
“We have a very good reputation with the community, between our philanthropy with LGBTQ2+ causes and our dedication to patent-breaking the meds queer and trans folks desperately need. We also have a nonbinary CEO who people don’t say ‘eat the rich’ about, because they publicly take a very modest salary, and at every possible opportunity they shame their industry peers for not doing the same.” The deer spun her chair a half-rotation towards the window, and looked down to the traffic on University Avenue. “You, personally, could use our help; being associated with us would give you more credibility as a trans hero. We don’t need your help, and frankly, being associated with you is neutral PR at best for us. Probably a negative, all things considered. Have you considered why that is?”
The two sat in silence. Maddy hoped that the deer would answer her own question; they didn’t like it hanging in the air. Eventually, she did.
“You’re a cop, Heartforce. I’m sure you don’t like thinking of yourself that way; the Xtra piece made that clear. But you’re effectively in law enforcement, and work hand-in-hand with the TPS, OPP, RCMP, CBSA, CSIS…you’re still upholding systems that oppress your own community. And the thing about being a queer cop is that your own people have very good reason to presumptively distrust you, no matter how good your intentions.”
“I’m…I’m making a difference. From the inside,” Maddy said, unsure why she felt the need to justify herself to the calmly dismissive older woman.
“Oh, I’m sure that was the sales pitch. Do you think they’ll really let you be more than a token, though?”
“…Ms. Dunlop—”
“Grace, please.”
“Grace. Please. I understand why you’re hesitant,” she pleaded. “But I have a gift, and—I think—a responsibility to use it for good. That’s how I was brought up. I’m sure it’s not what you’d do if you had my powers, but isn’t it positive for the public to see trans superheroes, and not just villains and criminals?”
Grace pursed her lips, sighing disappointedly. “Maddy…watch this, would you?” She turned to her laptop and tapped something out on the keyboard, humming to herself. After a moment, she turned it around to show her guest; the screen was frozen on a scene of what the hero recognized as one of HBS’s corridors. Except, Maddy quickly realized, it wasn’t paused; a shadowy figure slipped by alongside one edge of the video. The timestamp read 11:21 PM.
The lawyer raised an eyebrow. “Notice anything?”
“…No? You clearly had an intruder, and I don’t understand why you don’t want anything done about it?”
“Just keep watching,” the deer said archly. She slid back in her chair, tenting her fingers, expression unreadable.
The figure crept back into the frame, clearer this time. The intruder was clad in dark gray and matte black tactical gear, but was still unidentifiable, head entirely concealed by a hood. Then, they pulled it back and craned their neck over their shoulder, peering up at the camera with a satisfied sneer. It was a brown rat. It was a very familiar rat, one she’d met with just hours before. It was Neal Salton. Fucking Slider.
Maddy narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists against her muscular thighs, rage rising up from deep within her. “What. What,” she seethed through gritted teeth.
Grace scrubbed the video back to pause it on the rat’s clearly-captured face. “I told you we completed our investigation,” she said mildly. “We know exactly who broke in—the Ontario’s Heroes operative Slider—and we know that he didn’t meaningfully do anything. He thought he disabled our security system, and then rifled through some desks and knocked over a recycling bin; just enough to leave evidence of a break-in, such that the police would get called, OH would hear about it officially through your information-sharing protocols, and someone like you would have an excuse to come knocking at our door this morning.” She met Maddy’s gaze with a sympathetic expression. “Given your reaction just now—and I’m sorry, but it’s true: a general lack of investigative subtlety—I’m satisfied you had no idea until just this moment.”
“But that’s—”
“Yes, it is.” She again let the moment linger; the sheep-bear’s skin crawled with discomfort. “I’m not going to tell you it’s impossible to deepfake something like this—of course it isn’t—but this is real, and I bet you can think of some way to verify it on your own. And, frankly, I don’t need to justify anything to you; you showed up on our doorstep unannounced.” A pause, and then she continued, with a faint note of genuine concern in her voice. “I don’t think they trust you, Maddy. If they did, don’t you think you’d have been in on the whole plan here? Whatever it is?”
They fumed, teeth gritted, and looked out the window. The round central courtyard of Grange Park was visible in the distance. “I don’t…why aren’t you more upset about this?”
The older woman shrugged noncommittally. “We have the situation well in hand. No actual harm was done, and the PHL, the police, and our industry competitors all being what they are, it’s not in our strategic interest to take this public right now. So, how fortunate for me that you just happened to stop by, hmm?” She cleared her throat, and then reached over to close the laptop. “I think we’re done here. By all means, please pass on that we’re not terribly impressed.”
“Um. Thank you…?”
“Any time,” the deer said unctuously, grinning as she stood up to usher the sheep-bear out of her office. “Lovely to meet you, Heartforce. Have fun with your bosses, eh?”
"It would have worked better as a slow burn with a more substantial public profile, and if you didn’t know it was a setup—more organic that way, and you’d have had an easier time getting through their telepathic screens—but Salton had to make a fucking soup sandwich out of covering his tracks,” Director Hagen grunted, pondering. “We can still do something with this, though. Scratch the Team B plan, you’re going to go to the Infirmary right away; Doc Gallant has an experimental, new and improved psi-blocker formulation he’s been working on, to protect you from their mindfuckery. I’ll have Lola clear my schedule for a strategic briefing next Monday—”
“But that’s not what I signed up for! I want to help people…”
Hagen stared her in the eyes, and spoke at first with terrifyingly calm intensity. “Madison Skylar Oakes. Listen very carefully to me, you ungrateful little pissant. You would not even be part of this organization if not for your father’s good name, and your usefulness as a…a mascot for the God-forsaken wokeness that’s taken over this country. I knew Roger. He wasn’t the best or the brightest, but Jesus, that was a hero you could point at a soft target and just watch him charge in and win. That was his strategy; he’d win. He’d never get bogged down in this bleeding-heart shit; he knew that there are white hats and black hats, and if you’re not ready to shoot it out with the black hats, you’re a liability. Like Sunrise,” he sneered.
As the wolverine worked himself into his trademark rage, he became louder and louder, until it was a bellow that shook the coffee in the PHL-branded mug on his desk, and made Maddy cringe with every word. “Get your head right, Heartforce. You want to contribute to the public good? You want to ‘help people?’ Then you’re going to do whatever I bloody well tell you to do. If I tell you to infiltrate the Korps, the next words out of your mouth should be ‘How many tasteful snapshots of the stomach-churning reefer-den hypno-slave orgies can I surreptitiously take for you, sir!’”
They nodded their head, furiously, and again fought back tears.
“But that’s not what I signed up for! I want to help people…”
Hagen stared her in the eyes, and spoke at first with terrifyingly calm intensity. “Madison Skylar Oakes. Listen very carefully to me, you ungrateful little pissant. You would not even be part of this organization if not for your father’s good name, and your usefulness as a…a mascot for the God-forsaken wokeness that’s taken over this country. I knew Roger. He wasn’t the best or the brightest, but Jesus, that was a hero you could point at a soft target and just watch him charge in and win. That was his strategy; he’d win. He’d never get bogged down in this bleeding-heart shit; he knew that there are white hats and black hats, and if you’re not ready to shoot it out with the black hats, you’re a liability. Like Sunrise,” he sneered.
As the wolverine worked himself into his trademark rage, he became louder and louder, until it was a bellow that shook the coffee in the PHL-branded mug on his desk, and made Maddy cringe with every word. “Get your head right, Heartforce. You want to contribute to the public good? You want to ‘help people?’ Then you’re going to do whatever I bloody well tell you to do. If I tell you to infiltrate the Korps, the next words out of your mouth should be ‘How many tasteful snapshots of the stomach-churning reefer-den hypno-slave orgies can I surreptitiously take for you, sir!’”
They nodded their head, furiously, and again fought back tears.
We then follow what is probably even worse than induction, more absolutely banal shit shit which involves the character self loathing about their lot in life and how bad it is for being a part of the le oppressors. The issue with Mad is that he simply comes off as either far too naive to operate in normal society, having a significant amount of self loathing due to other issues, or very clearly holds mentally deranged desires to hurt people. More or less a retardedly bipolar racemix. I feel there is a racial comparison to half-blacks here but I digress. The only thing of note in the chapter is A: His dad was a violent wife-beating (family abusing too) cantankerous drunk who also got into screaming fits about leftists, trannies, the korps etc to the point that his cause of death was an anger induced heart attack (guess that's where heartwood comes from?) about yelling about trannies. Yes, I am dead serious, he dies because he was yelling about environmentalist trannies so much he dies. On live TV, however not live as usually they would delay his conferences by half an hour so they could cut off when he started ranting (and presumably no one told him to stop, for some reason, despite it being highly unprofessional and I am not too sure if TV stations were even allowed to do such or had enough tape to have hours of him screaming his lungs out about muslim immigrants). B: Orwellian behaviour.
it was indeed from a cable network—CBC Newsworld—and the on-screen graphics indicated the date: Wednesday, August 3, 2005. Maddy recognized the scene; it was a press conference on the steps of the Alberta Legislature in Edmonton, the banner of the Prairie League (with waving PHL pennants) strung proudly across the building’s central pillars. They’d watched a hundred press conferences just like it in Dad’s clippings, but had never seen one from this date. There hadn’t been any League media availabilities recorded for the week before his death, as far as they knew.
And she did know, because Granddad had made certain of that. She—“the boy,” as he’d usually called her to her mother—would need to understand the legacy of the man she’d have to live up to, the martyred Heartwood. He’d drilled her on her father’s exploits every day, those summer weeks she and Brianna spent at the Oakes family cabin as children. In between swimming in the lake and playing in the woods, she’d been sat down on the dock and quizzed on Roger Oakes’s superheroing statistics. She knew her father’s career from front to back, Alpha to Omega; a closed circle, his whole life fitting inside. And it was, therefore, freaking her out the tiniest little bit to peer up at the giant screen and see Dad lumber in from out of frame, to join a group milling around a podium, in a way that didn’t quite match any of the press conferences in her memory.
The anchorwoman spoke, offscreen. “Coming up in just thirty seconds, we’re waiting on the Prairie League spokesperson and the heroes Heartwood and The Reclaimer discussing successful enforcement operations today against illegal logging protests in Kananaskis. Okay, I see now—thank you, Tony, yes, I have confirmation, we’re live with PL media officer Alexis Westerhaven now.” The audio clipped out abruptly as the feed zoomed in to the conference, where a blonde wolf in a pantsuit approached the lectern.
Grace looked solicitously to Maddy. “Still doing okay there?”
“Fine, thank you,” they lied.
After Alexis spoke briefly to the details of the day’s activities against the so-called “eco-terrorists,” including arrests handed over to the local RCMP detachment—Alexis who had come to Thanksgiving Dinner for years, Alexis who’d babysat for Maddy and her sister while the family grieved in Calgary, afterwards—it was Dad’s turn. The massive brown bear grew animated quickly, denouncing the activists as if they were plotting sedition, rather than merely trying to halt provincial approval for old-growth logging permits. This wasn’t quite like anything she’d ever seen before; he was beginning to rage like Hagen, for God’s sake, all jowly and spittle-flecked and white-hot incandescent with fury. A vein in his forehead throbbed rapidly in close-up 1080p.
“…AND I SWEAR TO YOU, NO COWARDLY GODDAMNED TREE-HUGGERS WILL BE PERMITTED TO IMPEDE THIS WORK VITAL TO THE ALBERTA ECONOMY, IT JUST ISN’T, WON’T—”
At that point Roger Oakes began to pant rapidly, roaring and gasping, and finally his eyes rolled back and he toppled face-first into the spray of microphone mounts, limp. Audible gasps arose from the crowd, with a faint yell to call 911 audible in the background as the audio signal blipped back to the unseen anchor.
“Ladies and gentlemen—Tony, cut away, cut away now—we’re going to come back to this in a moment, it appears one of the speakers may need medical attention.” The video changed again to show the anchor in-studio, a severe-looking hawk in a sober blue blazer. “Returning to national headlines now…”
Grace paused the video a few seconds before the end. “It was a ruptured brain aneurysm. He worked himself up so much that he burst a blood vessel in his head, and died not long after being transported to Emergency at the U of A Hospital. The PHL pressured the networks to withdraw the footage, and go along with a cover story that your father died of injuries from a fight. Too embarrassing, you see; normally they could just bury it and move on, whenever your dad went off half-cocked on a hot mic, but raging himself to death live and on-camera required extra effort to fix for public consumption.”
The sheep-bear said nothing, stunned.
“The next Prairie League press conference,” Grace continued, “And I’m betting you have seen that one, was the next day. Ms. Westerhaven announced that Heartwood had succumbed to wounds sustained in the previous day’s battle. And that battle was no longer just a beatdown of passively resisting protestors, but mysteriously now also included a local villain and his henchmen.”
Maddy stared straight ahead, gazing into the beady eyes of the avian anchorwoman on screen. “I don’t…no…? How can it have been like that…? I’ve never seen him that angry when he wasn’t even in an actual fight…”
The doe shrugged sadly. “The PHL gets a lot of embarrassing shit buried. Easier to manufacture consent to law enforcement-by-Übermensch that way. Our archive and records division saves as much as we can of what they try to memory-hole, and it usually comes in handy at some point.” She tentatively, gently patted the sheep-bear next to her on the shoulder. “Maddy? Are you going to be okay…?”
They took a deep breath. “There’s more like this? More of him being fucking terrifying, that nobody ever showed me?”
Grace nodded.
“I want to see everything.”
And she did know, because Granddad had made certain of that. She—“the boy,” as he’d usually called her to her mother—would need to understand the legacy of the man she’d have to live up to, the martyred Heartwood. He’d drilled her on her father’s exploits every day, those summer weeks she and Brianna spent at the Oakes family cabin as children. In between swimming in the lake and playing in the woods, she’d been sat down on the dock and quizzed on Roger Oakes’s superheroing statistics. She knew her father’s career from front to back, Alpha to Omega; a closed circle, his whole life fitting inside. And it was, therefore, freaking her out the tiniest little bit to peer up at the giant screen and see Dad lumber in from out of frame, to join a group milling around a podium, in a way that didn’t quite match any of the press conferences in her memory.
The anchorwoman spoke, offscreen. “Coming up in just thirty seconds, we’re waiting on the Prairie League spokesperson and the heroes Heartwood and The Reclaimer discussing successful enforcement operations today against illegal logging protests in Kananaskis. Okay, I see now—thank you, Tony, yes, I have confirmation, we’re live with PL media officer Alexis Westerhaven now.” The audio clipped out abruptly as the feed zoomed in to the conference, where a blonde wolf in a pantsuit approached the lectern.
Grace looked solicitously to Maddy. “Still doing okay there?”
“Fine, thank you,” they lied.
After Alexis spoke briefly to the details of the day’s activities against the so-called “eco-terrorists,” including arrests handed over to the local RCMP detachment—Alexis who had come to Thanksgiving Dinner for years, Alexis who’d babysat for Maddy and her sister while the family grieved in Calgary, afterwards—it was Dad’s turn. The massive brown bear grew animated quickly, denouncing the activists as if they were plotting sedition, rather than merely trying to halt provincial approval for old-growth logging permits. This wasn’t quite like anything she’d ever seen before; he was beginning to rage like Hagen, for God’s sake, all jowly and spittle-flecked and white-hot incandescent with fury. A vein in his forehead throbbed rapidly in close-up 1080p.
“…AND I SWEAR TO YOU, NO COWARDLY GODDAMNED TREE-HUGGERS WILL BE PERMITTED TO IMPEDE THIS WORK VITAL TO THE ALBERTA ECONOMY, IT JUST ISN’T, WON’T—”
At that point Roger Oakes began to pant rapidly, roaring and gasping, and finally his eyes rolled back and he toppled face-first into the spray of microphone mounts, limp. Audible gasps arose from the crowd, with a faint yell to call 911 audible in the background as the audio signal blipped back to the unseen anchor.
“Ladies and gentlemen—Tony, cut away, cut away now—we’re going to come back to this in a moment, it appears one of the speakers may need medical attention.” The video changed again to show the anchor in-studio, a severe-looking hawk in a sober blue blazer. “Returning to national headlines now…”
Grace paused the video a few seconds before the end. “It was a ruptured brain aneurysm. He worked himself up so much that he burst a blood vessel in his head, and died not long after being transported to Emergency at the U of A Hospital. The PHL pressured the networks to withdraw the footage, and go along with a cover story that your father died of injuries from a fight. Too embarrassing, you see; normally they could just bury it and move on, whenever your dad went off half-cocked on a hot mic, but raging himself to death live and on-camera required extra effort to fix for public consumption.”
The sheep-bear said nothing, stunned.
“The next Prairie League press conference,” Grace continued, “And I’m betting you have seen that one, was the next day. Ms. Westerhaven announced that Heartwood had succumbed to wounds sustained in the previous day’s battle. And that battle was no longer just a beatdown of passively resisting protestors, but mysteriously now also included a local villain and his henchmen.”
Maddy stared straight ahead, gazing into the beady eyes of the avian anchorwoman on screen. “I don’t…no…? How can it have been like that…? I’ve never seen him that angry when he wasn’t even in an actual fight…”
The doe shrugged sadly. “The PHL gets a lot of embarrassing shit buried. Easier to manufacture consent to law enforcement-by-Übermensch that way. Our archive and records division saves as much as we can of what they try to memory-hole, and it usually comes in handy at some point.” She tentatively, gently patted the sheep-bear next to her on the shoulder. “Maddy? Are you going to be okay…?”
They took a deep breath. “There’s more like this? More of him being fucking terrifying, that nobody ever showed me?”
Grace nodded.
“I want to see everything.”
Maybe it was a trap, she considered; maybe she’d be kidnapped and taken to a secret facility at the top of the CN Tower, held down and brainwashed out of every deeply-held belief she’d ever had. Sunrise would be there, she was sure; the lioness would probably even try to seduce her to the dark side, grinding those gigantic tits in her face. Maybe they’d just interrogate her until she spilled her (admittedly limited) knowledge of OH tactical operations, then kill her. Maybe it was only a psych-out, an exercise in humiliation, and she’d be brought before dozens of Korps agents just so they could point and laugh at the silly, useless babytrans who somehow had the delusion that she was actually a decent person who helped her community, let alone a superhero. It hardly mattered, the sheep-bear huffed to herself; all Hagen thought she was good for was PR (and holy shit, had she ever whiffed on that front) or being a double agent (unlikely, as a laughably bad liar). But at least she could maybe find out something—anything—new about her dad, and maybe that would help her figure out what she wanted her own legacy to be. In any event, the two walked back to the HBS office together.
On their second trip to the 21st floor, Maddy realized something was different, but couldn’t place what, exactly. They’d passed the boardroom, and stopped just long enough in the doorway for the deer to vaguely gesture to Maddy and breezily note to her fellow executives that everything was under control. It was only after following the doe a different direction through the cubicle maze that they twigged to it: they weren’t getting the stink-eye from anyone this time. Not the tinily intimidating receptionist, not Grace, and not even Mx. Gorgoni or the other senior staff.
Well, maybe still a little, from the anole.
On their second trip to the 21st floor, Maddy realized something was different, but couldn’t place what, exactly. They’d passed the boardroom, and stopped just long enough in the doorway for the deer to vaguely gesture to Maddy and breezily note to her fellow executives that everything was under control. It was only after following the doe a different direction through the cubicle maze that they twigged to it: they weren’t getting the stink-eye from anyone this time. Not the tinily intimidating receptionist, not Grace, and not even Mx. Gorgoni or the other senior staff.
Well, maybe still a little, from the anole.
At the end of the first chapter (or well, epilogue I presume) we are actually shown where the actual places in the story take place, which I will attach below.
The rest of the book then follows along as Mad has to lie to salton, continously, as there is little in the way of superhero action in the book. You just effectively get what is more or less continuous talking, dragging on and on as they go through the somewhat rushed beuracratic process of eventually getting through into the korps. From this point, Mad is more or less an inconsistent asshole. He hates his coworkers, he hates his boss, he sort of hates his organisation, but at least has the backbone to back up his family. It is over seemingly minor things too, a true trope of tranny writers where evil must exist even in the minute and insignificant. it does also feel maddy is being "rail-roaded" through the whole thing, as the character still comes as very beaten down and continously apologising. You would also think as well that someone who is being told a majority of their life being a lie would have a far more overblown reaction. Maybe refused to go on the operation due to the emotional angle making it unsuitable for them to continue in good conscious. Either way, the story thus continues with mad figuring out that yes, being a le hecking tranny is good and I must not be muh uncle tom for muh trans allies. Alas I digress.
This review has been split up into two parts, especially for what needs to be covered.
Last edited:
- Joined
- Oct 2, 2019
Some other good tidbits (and to follow along the story) ois a game of cat and mouse between him, his handler Salton and somewhat to an extent Hagen as eventually he would meet up with Carmen from induction, the two of them talking to each other about what was going on and eventually guaranteeing the safety of his family if he was able to join the korps, then there is him getting into the KDS (Korps Downsview site, based below the old downsviw airport that is now being turned into a property development complex and as seen here in the KF thread for the korps, they are at the taco bell entrance). Eventually mad would get to a halloween party hel;d at "the domino nightclub" in the KDS base, and meeting none other thaaann.... Redline! Yes, our lovely autist Austin makes another appearance in this line of absolutely shitty novels. The two of them have a "heart of hearts" over the whole "oh we need to uphold tradition", this is also where it is implied Austin actually killed the Golden Gavel on live television, making me at least a bit sad a man fed up with the system he is in died (although Adam see's himself as willing to be martyred, so in the end the Golden Gavel always wins).
After this, Neal is then in the home of Mad and is holding a knife, using the excuse of "Oh I am juuuusstt checking in!" and coming off as an oddly obsessed freak (as the author intends), however this is utterly nonsensical as more than likely anyone would be furiously banging on the door demanding to hear back from you so as t not blue your cover or to try and check you are alive and not been taken out by the group you are infiltrating. He comes off more as a contradicting character than anything, as a snivelling coward would not be one to confront them in a violent situation where he knows his target has powers that are against him, and he could have likely killed off mads and covered it up as the korps killing them for being an informant (then we wouldn't get this story would we? plus his telekinesis seems more underpowered than what the author intends).
Eventually mads drives back to her town of Grande Praire, thus we get this total gem. Also before this the author notes that the vast expanses of Saskatchewan were "alien horror" proving once more the meme of suburbanites hating the outdoors remains alive and strong! but again, the juicy bit and highlight of this novel:
After this, Mad eventually goes about to masturbating, blowing up the monument to her father (which is skipped) and eventually going back to Toronto where eventually she deals with the rat (in a highly violent manner). There is not too much action besides literally the very end of the book, making this just a tad bit more bearable as there is situations with actual high stakes involved. However the scenes involve salton breaking into his home, twice, and being for utterly nonsensical reasons. Especially as Salton has all the time in the world to set up mad to be taken down for wanting to convert and fully admitting to wanting to convert fully. An incredibly dumb end, but I will post the other tidbits from this novel down below and give my "glowing" review.
We then get an epilogue, then the end.
Similar to other pieces of media like induction, it still provides a very black and white perspective on the issue regarding politics, socio-economics, ego and personality etc. The entire story comes off as exceedingly a violent AGP fantasy for the author to write down all of the things they could have been able to rewrite the past earlier in life and somehow become an even better troon than they are now. Mad as a character, like the later version of Austin (and many korps trannies) come off as simply wanting to hurt people. Even for some reason, in the end of the novel, beliebe that their highly aggressive character is actually "coweardly" and did not stand up for themselves, resorting to pretty much force choking Salton and accusing "fascist wine moms" and the likes of being "afraid of being aggressive". No I have seen women proclaim death to groups they hate far more than men, however assuming a tranny knows this is moronic at best.
They continuously wish nothing but violence upon the enemies they hate and despite trying to be all nice and courteous, they have a sense of righteous revenge only ISIS fighters seem to have. On top of that as well, the character of Madison is at best an individual who has been twisted by an enemy over wanting to protect his family to join evil (and for self serving sxual reasons), but most of the time comes off as very aggressive, cantankerous and non-sociable. Mostly a lot of the time is spent talking in the novel or in his head, the thought process which he possesses is one that is also sickening as well. most of the time he is thinking back to past experiences and being mentally raped by his past traumas, or he is lashing out and half-assed confronting people over what is occuring. The motivations of protecting family feel half-hearted as the author wanted something to make the character likeable while the true motivation (social acceptance amongst his sexual partners) is rather obvious but not explicitly stated. Even then, what isn't to say he could not join Aurora? That is a federal canadian unit which supports trannies (it is an odd occurance how it is always state level groups who do not support trannies or publicly funded organisations). Or even go to a different department of OH (Ontario Hero's). He is an adult, if he was thrusted into this job he did not want then he can resign. I figure a lot of workplaces would love someone with psychic abilities who can do all sorts of insane shit, so what is to say they would not want him? Even despite how the canadian economy is utterly collapsing, he would have a far better chance if his CV has "I can do super powers!".
The other point is, why is Salton even on this operation when he knows that Salton although loyal, is a fucking rat? It makes little narrative sense as Salton also had multiple opportunities to kill him, cover it up, get some heat from Hagen but let things die down in the end. Does Hagen not understand a tranny is more than likely going to sympathise with trannies? there is a reason you want someone hwo fits the psych profile not totally, but provide some level of pushback or have a psychological backbone to not give in and remain resilient. How do they always think the goggles are brainwashing? You think that in this day and age, intel would be far better and that those would merely just be rumours the public repeat. Plus if Hagen is so unlikeable as a hero, then how come he rises to become the leader of the PHL? Seriously, you think having someone as a leader means good optics and not wanting a violent raging wannabe spec ops operator (I believe the entire thing of him being obssessed with the korps sexual aspects is just a tranny projecting sexual fantasies and adds zero value to the story, enough said).
I have my own criticsms with this world as a whole. You are talling me that this world would not have the DoD crawling up the ass of canada and funding intitatives to take them down, especially as the korps becomes an increasingly large organisation and canada has seemed to "let it spill over"? The might of the US govt would do far more, likely throwing every one of these cunts into gitmo and torturing them until they became compost in orange jumpsuits. The whole PHL, OH hierarchy makes little sense even to represent bureaucracy as it becomes convoluted and confusing which organisation is a federal and state, no explanation is actually given to the PHL name as I had to look it up elsewhere amongst the korps, and there is little mention as to what the organisation is very much like as well during the whole book. The korps come off as increasingly lucky, to the point of it being mathematically impossible, with what seems to be the hero's being both incompetent at their jobs/corrupt assholes but then flipping on a dime to throw them down when it fits the narrative. The wishy washy way this is all dealt with is moronic, especially as there is absolutely zero involvement of defence, national security organisations, federal police etc on what have been deemed time and time again as "terrorists". This is a guy in his late 30's. Writing is clearly not suited for any of these people at all. They should just stick to slowly rotting away via daily masturbation and shitty 9-5. My mind had far more depth and whimsy when I had shower thoughts during my early teenage years.
Even in the notes of the epilogue, the characterisation for mad comes off as absolute copium. I can attach everything below but it is nothing more than a crock of horseshit. There is little "bombastic" cool shit as even the climax of the story is completely skipped over. yes, SKIPPED. The whole thing feels flimsy, the author admits the character is nothing more than being made to fit in and link up with xir friends in their sexual fantasy realms of today, while admitting mostly to want to do the rest of "muh historical korps because muh historical queer voices MATTER REEEE". I should also make a final note that there are some grammtical errors in this novel too, with it having been out for at least 2 years at this point. More than enough time to actually check it through, but considering it is being shipped out for an actual price tag and seeing what furplanet did with induction, I doubt this is going to be actually properly edited or checked at all and still left with the errors in.
>Green voter
LOL! They cannot even represent the usual shitlib right. Their crosshairs will always be off, they never seem to get the enemy down pat. They always make them far cooler than they usually are, and even ones to aspire to in some cases. Good job retard.
I again thank @Lavender Moth for doing the first review, alongside everyone in the korps thread who helped post about them and bring them to light for the farms to laugh. I have done my job, thus I will be clocking out for now since I have actual things to do unlike rotting old trannies. Thank you all.
Maddy didn’t dare consciously move a muscle, for fear they might lose their focus and drop the barrier. Their hands continued to tremble, regardless. They fixed their eyes on Carmen, and hissed at the tabby through gritted teeth. “YOU’RE DATING REDLINE?!”
“Volta,” said the wolf mildly, before turning to her partner with a sardonic grin. “God, Carm, you weren’t kidding about how tightly wound this one is.”
Every impulse drilled into Maddy Oakes by her training – the Prairie League Cadets to the Ontario’s Heroes junior development program to the constant intel briefings she’d endured as a fully-fledged hero – told her to keep her back up, and be prepared for life-or-death combat at any second. Suddenly, she was second-guessing everything Carmen had told her at the Taco Bell; was it all enticing lies, an attempt to seduce her into becoming like the monstrous figure before her, a brutal, unrepentant murderer? Had Grace been lying to her too? Was the doe’s kindness merely an act to get Maddy to let her guard down, and listen to – to the kind of cold-blooded puppetmaster who could love someone like Redline? Was she being used yet again, manipulated by the Korps just like her grandfather and Hagen?
Lost in spiraling doubt, heart pounding in their chest, the sheep-bear suddenly realized that someone was repeatedly calling their name.
It was Carmen, who had stepped directly in front of them, and was waving gently. “Maddy. Maddy. Come back to us, honey,” the cat said soothingly.
The sheep-bear cleared her throat, and peered around Carmen, sputtering frantically. “B-But – I mean – she…!”
“Maddy. I can make you calm down, but I don’t think you’d like it,” the tabby said matter-of-factly. “Anyway, just think about it. You’re surrounded by supervillains who have a wide variety of abilities, including a whole fucking lot who could take you down without powers, and without breaking a sweat. If the Korps wanted to hurt you, you wouldn’t have been invited to the party, believe me.”
Some of the tension in the sheep-bear’s body dissipated, and their stance relaxed slightly. The recruiter was right, of course – they wouldn’t stand a chance if they actually got into a real fight, here, in the heart of this secret underground base, festively decorated for Halloween though it might be. Swallowing, Maddy lowered their hands; the telekinetic barrier collapsed.
Carmen grasped Maddy’s shoulder. “I promised that you’d be in no danger here, and I keep my promises. If you gave it a moment’s thought, you’d realize that your physical, mental and emotional well-being are safer right now, in this room, than any time you’ve been within six feet of Caleb Hagen. Now come on, let’s try that again,” she said firmly, maneuvering the sheep-bear in front of her to face Volta. “Maddy, meet my girlfriend, Volta.”
“Never mind Hagen, I’m standing next to fucking Redline,” Maddy mumbled, teeth still gritted.
The giant red wolf shrugged, eyes narrowed, and downed the rest of her drink. “Yeah, and I’m in my Urbosa costume. What’s your point? I’m not here to fight.”
“One more time,” Carmen whispered in the sheep-bear’s ear, more than a hint of menace in her low, honeyed tone. “You say ‘Hi! I’m Maddy,’ and then she says ‘Hi! I’m Volta.’ Can we please do that,” the tabby said, squeezing her shoulder hard. Maddy swallowed again, and looked up.
“H-Hi, I’m Maddy,” the sheep-bear forced out bitterly, offering an anxious wave.
“Hi. Volta. Seems like my reputation precedes me, though.”
“You! You – you killed – on live television – you electrocuted him to death—”
Volta huffed, clearly irritated, crossing her broad arms in front of her massive torso. “Look. I know what the media and Bradley Group and the PHL says about me. Somehow I’m both a mindless, unhinged beast rampaging around, and a calculating, cold-blooded mastermind, right? Well, I’ll tell you this: He had it coming. I gave that asshole every opportunity to realize he was beaten and should quit, every opportunity to stand down, and he just wouldn’t. So I made an example of him, and I’d fucking do it again.”
Maddy thought back to everything she knew about Redline, all the briefings and news reporting she’d taken in during the course of her brief hero career, even the (clearly, bombastically exaggerated, and vilely transphobic) Rebel News and Breitbart clippings that Hagen had insisted the intel officers include alongside more sober items from CBC and Postmedia and CNN. She’d known the red wolf was with the Korps – she was hard to miss, considering her size and the destruction left in her wake – but it had been so easy to put specific wanted criminals out of mind, when Grace and then Carmen had been so earnestly pitching her on switching teams. She’d wanted to believe there was a better option than her OH career, and hadn’t wanted to consider who in particular she might end up rubbing shoulders with, if she did.
And yet…
The sheep-bear frowned, and gazed up at Volta’s peeved lupine face, with what they hoped was an appropriately forceful, judgmental expression. “Why, though?”
Carmen raised a sleek feline eyebrow. “Volts? I really think you two should talk,” she said, gently pushing the red wolf and sheep-bear towards a nearby couch with an intense, sharp-looking grin. The two sat down, awkwardly. “Tell Heartforce about how you got here, and why. I’m going to go get another round…after I make sure the maintenance drones clean up that broken glass.” She gave the two a meaningful nod before disappearing back into the Dominion Club crowds.
“Heartforce? That’s…huh,” Volta said, sneering with bemusement as she lounged into her seat. “You pick that out yourself?”
Maddy grimaced, rubbing the sides of her muzzle with irritation, avoiding eye contact. “Hardly. My dad was a PHL hero, Heartwood. The Ontario’s Heroes marketing department came up with the name, to make sure everyone could see I was ‘upholding his legacy,’ after I refused to be Heartwood II. I never really wanted to be a hero at all, but…family, eh?”
“Yeah, I fuckin’ know how that goes,” Volta sighed. “Let me tell you about family and legacy. I actually wanted to be a hero, you know? Helping people, protecting people, all that. Shit, I idolized True North. Got made fun of a lot for that; Canadian heroes don’t get much love in Texas. My parents put up with it as long as being a fanboy kept me quiet, and they could keep me and my powers under control at the academy. But y’know what they really wanted me to do, more than anything? The only real purpose I had for them? Breed. Make them a whole bunch of pure-blooded red wolf pup heirs, to take over the family business someday. So yeah, ‘Heartforce,’ I know something about getting manipulated into upholding a legacy.”
Maddy’s jaw dropped. “That’s – that’s awful,” they choked out. They’d never seen that particularly eugenicist tidbit in any of Redline’s profile information, even the classified sections they were cleared for. “I didn’t realize…”
Volta nodded bitterly. “When they finally figured out I wasn’t getting with the program, that was I was some kind of goddamned queer, they were about to send me to conversion therapy. Hell, they’d threatened to already, the first time I tried to come out to them. So right when I was going to be tortured back into being their perfect, obedient son, and giving them their legacy, that’s when Carmen saved me. The Korps saved me.”
Maddy’s fear and loathing of the giant wolf woman ebbed away, gradually displaced by deep fury and empathy at what she’d gone through. The sheep-bear swallowed, realizing how lucky she’d been to at least have Mom and Brianna in her corner when she was figuring herself out, even if she’d been dragooned into her OH career at the same time. She began to feel guilty that she’d listened to any of those briefings, even after discounting the more hatefully clickbaity press clippings – ‘Redline and the Violent TRA Vanguard,’ for instance – for the propaganda they were. (To say nothing of that one ‘ripped-from-the-headlines’ docudrama Hagen had screened at their last team retreat in North Bay, Turned Against His Family: The Austin Travers Story.)
They could hardly blame the wolf for being angry, under the circumstances. Did Redline – Volta – actually have good reasons for what she’d done? If pressed, would they – could they – have done the same?
What if everything she thought she knew about the Korps was just as skewed as the parts she’d already learned were untrue, first-hand?
Maddy cleared their throat, and made an effort to look the wolf in the eyes. “But…the execution…?”
“Volta,” said the wolf mildly, before turning to her partner with a sardonic grin. “God, Carm, you weren’t kidding about how tightly wound this one is.”
Every impulse drilled into Maddy Oakes by her training – the Prairie League Cadets to the Ontario’s Heroes junior development program to the constant intel briefings she’d endured as a fully-fledged hero – told her to keep her back up, and be prepared for life-or-death combat at any second. Suddenly, she was second-guessing everything Carmen had told her at the Taco Bell; was it all enticing lies, an attempt to seduce her into becoming like the monstrous figure before her, a brutal, unrepentant murderer? Had Grace been lying to her too? Was the doe’s kindness merely an act to get Maddy to let her guard down, and listen to – to the kind of cold-blooded puppetmaster who could love someone like Redline? Was she being used yet again, manipulated by the Korps just like her grandfather and Hagen?
Lost in spiraling doubt, heart pounding in their chest, the sheep-bear suddenly realized that someone was repeatedly calling their name.
It was Carmen, who had stepped directly in front of them, and was waving gently. “Maddy. Maddy. Come back to us, honey,” the cat said soothingly.
The sheep-bear cleared her throat, and peered around Carmen, sputtering frantically. “B-But – I mean – she…!”
“Maddy. I can make you calm down, but I don’t think you’d like it,” the tabby said matter-of-factly. “Anyway, just think about it. You’re surrounded by supervillains who have a wide variety of abilities, including a whole fucking lot who could take you down without powers, and without breaking a sweat. If the Korps wanted to hurt you, you wouldn’t have been invited to the party, believe me.”
Some of the tension in the sheep-bear’s body dissipated, and their stance relaxed slightly. The recruiter was right, of course – they wouldn’t stand a chance if they actually got into a real fight, here, in the heart of this secret underground base, festively decorated for Halloween though it might be. Swallowing, Maddy lowered their hands; the telekinetic barrier collapsed.
Carmen grasped Maddy’s shoulder. “I promised that you’d be in no danger here, and I keep my promises. If you gave it a moment’s thought, you’d realize that your physical, mental and emotional well-being are safer right now, in this room, than any time you’ve been within six feet of Caleb Hagen. Now come on, let’s try that again,” she said firmly, maneuvering the sheep-bear in front of her to face Volta. “Maddy, meet my girlfriend, Volta.”
“Never mind Hagen, I’m standing next to fucking Redline,” Maddy mumbled, teeth still gritted.
The giant red wolf shrugged, eyes narrowed, and downed the rest of her drink. “Yeah, and I’m in my Urbosa costume. What’s your point? I’m not here to fight.”
“One more time,” Carmen whispered in the sheep-bear’s ear, more than a hint of menace in her low, honeyed tone. “You say ‘Hi! I’m Maddy,’ and then she says ‘Hi! I’m Volta.’ Can we please do that,” the tabby said, squeezing her shoulder hard. Maddy swallowed again, and looked up.
“H-Hi, I’m Maddy,” the sheep-bear forced out bitterly, offering an anxious wave.
“Hi. Volta. Seems like my reputation precedes me, though.”
“You! You – you killed – on live television – you electrocuted him to death—”
Volta huffed, clearly irritated, crossing her broad arms in front of her massive torso. “Look. I know what the media and Bradley Group and the PHL says about me. Somehow I’m both a mindless, unhinged beast rampaging around, and a calculating, cold-blooded mastermind, right? Well, I’ll tell you this: He had it coming. I gave that asshole every opportunity to realize he was beaten and should quit, every opportunity to stand down, and he just wouldn’t. So I made an example of him, and I’d fucking do it again.”
Maddy thought back to everything she knew about Redline, all the briefings and news reporting she’d taken in during the course of her brief hero career, even the (clearly, bombastically exaggerated, and vilely transphobic) Rebel News and Breitbart clippings that Hagen had insisted the intel officers include alongside more sober items from CBC and Postmedia and CNN. She’d known the red wolf was with the Korps – she was hard to miss, considering her size and the destruction left in her wake – but it had been so easy to put specific wanted criminals out of mind, when Grace and then Carmen had been so earnestly pitching her on switching teams. She’d wanted to believe there was a better option than her OH career, and hadn’t wanted to consider who in particular she might end up rubbing shoulders with, if she did.
And yet…
The sheep-bear frowned, and gazed up at Volta’s peeved lupine face, with what they hoped was an appropriately forceful, judgmental expression. “Why, though?”
Carmen raised a sleek feline eyebrow. “Volts? I really think you two should talk,” she said, gently pushing the red wolf and sheep-bear towards a nearby couch with an intense, sharp-looking grin. The two sat down, awkwardly. “Tell Heartforce about how you got here, and why. I’m going to go get another round…after I make sure the maintenance drones clean up that broken glass.” She gave the two a meaningful nod before disappearing back into the Dominion Club crowds.
“Heartforce? That’s…huh,” Volta said, sneering with bemusement as she lounged into her seat. “You pick that out yourself?”
Maddy grimaced, rubbing the sides of her muzzle with irritation, avoiding eye contact. “Hardly. My dad was a PHL hero, Heartwood. The Ontario’s Heroes marketing department came up with the name, to make sure everyone could see I was ‘upholding his legacy,’ after I refused to be Heartwood II. I never really wanted to be a hero at all, but…family, eh?”
“Yeah, I fuckin’ know how that goes,” Volta sighed. “Let me tell you about family and legacy. I actually wanted to be a hero, you know? Helping people, protecting people, all that. Shit, I idolized True North. Got made fun of a lot for that; Canadian heroes don’t get much love in Texas. My parents put up with it as long as being a fanboy kept me quiet, and they could keep me and my powers under control at the academy. But y’know what they really wanted me to do, more than anything? The only real purpose I had for them? Breed. Make them a whole bunch of pure-blooded red wolf pup heirs, to take over the family business someday. So yeah, ‘Heartforce,’ I know something about getting manipulated into upholding a legacy.”
Maddy’s jaw dropped. “That’s – that’s awful,” they choked out. They’d never seen that particularly eugenicist tidbit in any of Redline’s profile information, even the classified sections they were cleared for. “I didn’t realize…”
Volta nodded bitterly. “When they finally figured out I wasn’t getting with the program, that was I was some kind of goddamned queer, they were about to send me to conversion therapy. Hell, they’d threatened to already, the first time I tried to come out to them. So right when I was going to be tortured back into being their perfect, obedient son, and giving them their legacy, that’s when Carmen saved me. The Korps saved me.”
Maddy’s fear and loathing of the giant wolf woman ebbed away, gradually displaced by deep fury and empathy at what she’d gone through. The sheep-bear swallowed, realizing how lucky she’d been to at least have Mom and Brianna in her corner when she was figuring herself out, even if she’d been dragooned into her OH career at the same time. She began to feel guilty that she’d listened to any of those briefings, even after discounting the more hatefully clickbaity press clippings – ‘Redline and the Violent TRA Vanguard,’ for instance – for the propaganda they were. (To say nothing of that one ‘ripped-from-the-headlines’ docudrama Hagen had screened at their last team retreat in North Bay, Turned Against His Family: The Austin Travers Story.)
They could hardly blame the wolf for being angry, under the circumstances. Did Redline – Volta – actually have good reasons for what she’d done? If pressed, would they – could they – have done the same?
What if everything she thought she knew about the Korps was just as skewed as the parts she’d already learned were untrue, first-hand?
Maddy cleared their throat, and made an effort to look the wolf in the eyes. “But…the execution…?”
Volta paused for a long moment with an almost-imperceptible sigh; her gaze drifted away from Maddy’s, until catching herself, and pointing her muzzle back at the sheep-bear’s. When she spoke, it was as if from a very faraway place. “My parents are hateful assholes, but he was a bigoted shitheel creep. He hated people like us, but he treated us even worse. He had to prove that we’re beneath him. I did everyone a favour.”
The wolf grumbled, shifting in her seat with a shiver to fold her arms again, and seemed to become more present. “Look, Maddy. I understand, okay? I know how it feels to suddenly realize that, like, the whole hero establishment was never actually on your side. I was tricked into thinking that maybe it could be a place for someone like me there, but really, I was all alone.” She sighed again, but her expression became a happier one. “At least, until Carmen showed up.”
The sheep-bear winced, looking away, afraid that a twinge of jealousy showed on their ursine face. What they wouldn’t have given for a beautiful, intense, powerful woman to parachute into their own life, and decide out of the blue that they were worth saving, and worth loving. That, however, felt like it might not be the healthiest thought to dwell on, and Maddy pushed it aside, sighing.
“They…they really got into my head, yeah. Be visible, be positive representation, be the face of the new, modern, inclusive Ontario’s Heroes. A PR fix, after Sunrise. Is she here tonight, actually…?” With a headshake, Maddy pressed past the temptation to fangirl. “But that’s all Hagen ever wanted me for. Well, that and infiltrating…um…you know, I’m still not sure exactly where I am other than ‘underground…?’”
Volta nodded sadly. “Some people are fine with being nothing more than tools. Fuck, I know a few who like it. But they’re getting a choice.”
Maddy huffed. “Anyway, it was plausible, at least? It’s Canada, we have to at least pretend we’re oh-so-progressive and benevolent and better than Americans; why wouldn’t the PHL have a trans hero? I tried to believe it could be real for so long; you have no idea how hard I tried. But you know who’s had my back? Nobody. So I’ve…I’ve been all alone, too.” The sheep-bear snorted, a sound equal parts anguish and derision. “And I’m so fucking sick of trying to fit in where I’m not wanted.”
It was at that moment that Carmen emerged from the crowds behind the couch, to lean over the back and hand each of Maddy and Volta a new drink. “So? Have you figured out how much you two have in common yet?”
The sheep-bear shrank from the looming tabby, but gratefully accepted the cocktail glass and took a swig, wetting her dry mouth. She looked down at the floor. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it; thank you, and I’m sorry you had to talk me down from that freak-out. And I’m, uh, also realizing that I might have gotten some bad intel,” she mumbled.
“No shit, hon,” the tabby smirked. “Fuck, just think about how the media and the PHL covered up how your dear old dad bit it. They lie. They lie all the time, about shit that hardly even matters in the grand scheme of things. Roger Oakes would have still had a hero’s funeral either way, but they still lied, just to keep his myth alive. Just so you wouldn’t doubt that you had to be a hero too, and carry on, for his sake.”
Maddy fidgeted uncomfortably in their seat. They…needed to talk to Granddad, they realized. They needed to understand why he’d taken part in the deception as he had. The sheep-bear closed their eyes and downed the rest of their drink in a few brief gulps.
She then took a deep breath before she turned back to the supervillain on the couch next to her. “I’m sorry, R–Volta,” the sheep-bear said, sheepishly. “Even for how much trying to be a hero has fucked me up, I’ve never had to face the things you have. And it was stupid of me to still believe that you were uniquely dangerous, already knowing how much I’ve been lied to by…well, everyone.” She tentatively extended a hand to the towering wolf. “So, uh. Sorry I, um, called you a murderer. Truce…?”
Volta reached out, nodding, and shook just a little more roughly than necessary. Her giant hand dwarfed the sheep-bear’s. “Truce. Heartforce,” she snickered.
“And with that,” Carmen sniffed, taking Volta’s hand as the wolf rose from the couch, “We ought to be turning in for the night. We’re heading out to New Jersey in the morning, to fill in on a KDARC extraction op. Quick in-and-out, probably not even a fight if we play our cards right.”
“Kay-dark…?”
Carmen smiled that fierce, cryptic Cheshire Cat grin once again. “You’ll learn about them later. Assuming you want to, that is.”
Maddy nodded nervously, biting her lip. She did want to; it wasn’t just the second Cosmo talking. (Maybe.) She was onboard; she wanted to be part of all this. (Probably.) At that point she spotted Grace and Rin again, making their way through the crowd, and waved; the two waved back, and changed direction to approach the trio by the couch.
“You’ve already made some friends here,” Carmen said with satisfaction, looking at the K-LAW agents as they approached. “Good. Stick with them.” She called out to the anole and deer. “Hey, Backchannel! Grace! I can leave the hero with you, right? I’ve made my pitch, but I think they could use some ‘local liaisons’ right now.”
“Of course, hon!” “Oh, yes, by all means!”
“Cool, cool,” Carmen murmured. “Be seeing you,” she said with a wink of an amber eye and a tip of her broad-brimmed red hat, as she and Volta put their arms around each other’s backs and began to walk off.
The red wolf looked back over her shoulder as they moved. “Hey, Heartforce?”
Maddy swallowed. “Y-yes?”
“Good luck with making the right decision,” she said with an easy lupine grin. The pair walked off through the crowd, which parted with respect – and not a few affectionate nods and waves – to let them pass.
As the night wound on, Grace and Rin introduced the sheep-bear around to many more people, all of whom were just as enthusiastically friendly about the potential recruit. They had another Cosmo, and another, along with a quite good cinnamon appletini (before the anole insisted, in a kindly but avuncular tone just slightly discordant with their Madame de Pompadour costume, that that was quite enough for the evening), and began venting at length to their companions about their plans. Maddy would ride out to Alberta first thing Monday morning, they tipsily explained. They’d talk to Granddad, confronting the old bear where he lived, and demand an explanation…even if they were afraid of what the answer might be.
Laughing, smiling, aching with the joy of feeling more connected to a community and alive than she had in…well, ever, frankly…she didn’t want the evening to end. Eventually, however, Maddy drunkenly drifted off to sleep while sitting in one of the Dominion Club’s plush booths, leaning against Grace. The soft bulk of the deer’s body felt safe, somehow.
The wolf grumbled, shifting in her seat with a shiver to fold her arms again, and seemed to become more present. “Look, Maddy. I understand, okay? I know how it feels to suddenly realize that, like, the whole hero establishment was never actually on your side. I was tricked into thinking that maybe it could be a place for someone like me there, but really, I was all alone.” She sighed again, but her expression became a happier one. “At least, until Carmen showed up.”
The sheep-bear winced, looking away, afraid that a twinge of jealousy showed on their ursine face. What they wouldn’t have given for a beautiful, intense, powerful woman to parachute into their own life, and decide out of the blue that they were worth saving, and worth loving. That, however, felt like it might not be the healthiest thought to dwell on, and Maddy pushed it aside, sighing.
“They…they really got into my head, yeah. Be visible, be positive representation, be the face of the new, modern, inclusive Ontario’s Heroes. A PR fix, after Sunrise. Is she here tonight, actually…?” With a headshake, Maddy pressed past the temptation to fangirl. “But that’s all Hagen ever wanted me for. Well, that and infiltrating…um…you know, I’m still not sure exactly where I am other than ‘underground…?’”
Volta nodded sadly. “Some people are fine with being nothing more than tools. Fuck, I know a few who like it. But they’re getting a choice.”
Maddy huffed. “Anyway, it was plausible, at least? It’s Canada, we have to at least pretend we’re oh-so-progressive and benevolent and better than Americans; why wouldn’t the PHL have a trans hero? I tried to believe it could be real for so long; you have no idea how hard I tried. But you know who’s had my back? Nobody. So I’ve…I’ve been all alone, too.” The sheep-bear snorted, a sound equal parts anguish and derision. “And I’m so fucking sick of trying to fit in where I’m not wanted.”
It was at that moment that Carmen emerged from the crowds behind the couch, to lean over the back and hand each of Maddy and Volta a new drink. “So? Have you figured out how much you two have in common yet?”
The sheep-bear shrank from the looming tabby, but gratefully accepted the cocktail glass and took a swig, wetting her dry mouth. She looked down at the floor. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it; thank you, and I’m sorry you had to talk me down from that freak-out. And I’m, uh, also realizing that I might have gotten some bad intel,” she mumbled.
“No shit, hon,” the tabby smirked. “Fuck, just think about how the media and the PHL covered up how your dear old dad bit it. They lie. They lie all the time, about shit that hardly even matters in the grand scheme of things. Roger Oakes would have still had a hero’s funeral either way, but they still lied, just to keep his myth alive. Just so you wouldn’t doubt that you had to be a hero too, and carry on, for his sake.”
Maddy fidgeted uncomfortably in their seat. They…needed to talk to Granddad, they realized. They needed to understand why he’d taken part in the deception as he had. The sheep-bear closed their eyes and downed the rest of their drink in a few brief gulps.
She then took a deep breath before she turned back to the supervillain on the couch next to her. “I’m sorry, R–Volta,” the sheep-bear said, sheepishly. “Even for how much trying to be a hero has fucked me up, I’ve never had to face the things you have. And it was stupid of me to still believe that you were uniquely dangerous, already knowing how much I’ve been lied to by…well, everyone.” She tentatively extended a hand to the towering wolf. “So, uh. Sorry I, um, called you a murderer. Truce…?”
Volta reached out, nodding, and shook just a little more roughly than necessary. Her giant hand dwarfed the sheep-bear’s. “Truce. Heartforce,” she snickered.
“And with that,” Carmen sniffed, taking Volta’s hand as the wolf rose from the couch, “We ought to be turning in for the night. We’re heading out to New Jersey in the morning, to fill in on a KDARC extraction op. Quick in-and-out, probably not even a fight if we play our cards right.”
“Kay-dark…?”
Carmen smiled that fierce, cryptic Cheshire Cat grin once again. “You’ll learn about them later. Assuming you want to, that is.”
Maddy nodded nervously, biting her lip. She did want to; it wasn’t just the second Cosmo talking. (Maybe.) She was onboard; she wanted to be part of all this. (Probably.) At that point she spotted Grace and Rin again, making their way through the crowd, and waved; the two waved back, and changed direction to approach the trio by the couch.
“You’ve already made some friends here,” Carmen said with satisfaction, looking at the K-LAW agents as they approached. “Good. Stick with them.” She called out to the anole and deer. “Hey, Backchannel! Grace! I can leave the hero with you, right? I’ve made my pitch, but I think they could use some ‘local liaisons’ right now.”
“Of course, hon!” “Oh, yes, by all means!”
“Cool, cool,” Carmen murmured. “Be seeing you,” she said with a wink of an amber eye and a tip of her broad-brimmed red hat, as she and Volta put their arms around each other’s backs and began to walk off.
The red wolf looked back over her shoulder as they moved. “Hey, Heartforce?”
Maddy swallowed. “Y-yes?”
“Good luck with making the right decision,” she said with an easy lupine grin. The pair walked off through the crowd, which parted with respect – and not a few affectionate nods and waves – to let them pass.
As the night wound on, Grace and Rin introduced the sheep-bear around to many more people, all of whom were just as enthusiastically friendly about the potential recruit. They had another Cosmo, and another, along with a quite good cinnamon appletini (before the anole insisted, in a kindly but avuncular tone just slightly discordant with their Madame de Pompadour costume, that that was quite enough for the evening), and began venting at length to their companions about their plans. Maddy would ride out to Alberta first thing Monday morning, they tipsily explained. They’d talk to Granddad, confronting the old bear where he lived, and demand an explanation…even if they were afraid of what the answer might be.
Laughing, smiling, aching with the joy of feeling more connected to a community and alive than she had in…well, ever, frankly…she didn’t want the evening to end. Eventually, however, Maddy drunkenly drifted off to sleep while sitting in one of the Dominion Club’s plush booths, leaning against Grace. The soft bulk of the deer’s body felt safe, somehow.
Eventually mads drives back to her town of Grande Praire, thus we get this total gem. Also before this the author notes that the vast expanses of Saskatchewan were "alien horror" proving once more the meme of suburbanites hating the outdoors remains alive and strong! but again, the juicy bit and highlight of this novel:
Maddy grew louder, gesturing angrily with their free hand, and stood up to berate their grandfather. “I never fucking wanted to be Heartwood, or Heartforce. I wanted to play hockey with my friends! I wanted to write dumb little stories about Olivier Armstrong kissing Izumi Curtis! I wanted to have a life, and you and the fucking PHL took that all from me, when you forced me into being a replacement for your stupid raging asshole son, when I was all of twelve! I couldn’t quit even when we moved to Ontario, because it was only since I was so ‘responsible’ and ‘mature’ that Mom let me start transitioning at fourteen! And now, here I am at twenty-three; I never got a chance to go to college, and I’ve never had a relationship that lasted longer than a month. I have no useful skills outside my telekinesis, and an encyclopedic knowledge of Heartwood’s career and Ontario’s Heroes policy, most of which is just fake. It’s made up! Dad was a monster, and so are my bosses! The only friends I’ve made in years are…well, they’re criminals! And they’re still better people than you, or Dad, or anyone I’ve ever worked with from the PHL!”
She paused, taking a breath, now panting, spraying spittle as she spoke. Granddad looked unnerved. “And do you know what the worst thing is about this job? I’m basically just a cop! And I hate being a cop! Pretty much every other queer person in the country hates me being a cop too! So yeah, old man, the hero career thing? It’s going like shit.”
The sheep-bear roared furiously, and lashed out with one hand, flailing with their powers to topple a nearby tree to the ground; the old bear shuddered at that, but kept looking downwards. “I am so glad I changed my name to Gillespie. Who would want to be a member of this fucking family?” They huffed, eyes wide, and downed the rest of their beer before letting the bottle bonelessly slip through their fingers, landing on the scrubby grass.
Finally, Garth Oakes spoke, hesitantly, looking up at his granddaughter with damp eyes. “I did what I thought was best for everyone,” he said, in an almost pleading tone. “You needed – you needed him to be a legend, to inspire you. You had powers, and you needed training to keep them under control. We were all so proud of you, of what you could do, and carrying on his legacy was, well…it just made sense! And Roger was – he was gone, he wasn’t going to hurt Deborah any more…”
Maddy’s reserve momentarily weakened at seeing her grandfather like this…almost expressing contrition, regret, for once in his long life. Was this necessary? Did she have to take this out on him? It was then that she remembered how Mom had broken down weeping in her bedroom, as she’d ashamedly forced out an admission of how her husband had hurt her. It had broken something in her. She huffed.
“You know what she told me, Granddad? He nearly beat her to death, one time in Ottawa. He couldn’t catch some villain, a liz–” Maddy’s breath caught in their throat, as pieces came together in their mind, and the sheep-bear’s jaw dropped. One hand flew up to their mouth, and they began to cry. “Oh my fucking god, both of them in the same night…”
Granddad peered at Maddy quizzically. “Both of who…?”
The sheep-bear turned her gaze back to the elderly bear, incensed, teeth bared and nostrils flaring. “Shut up. Shut up. Just shut the fuck up, old man. Just tell me this. How long did you know about him hurting Mom?”
He shifted uncomfortably in the plastic chair, jaw set defiantly. “Roger…had a temper. He told me he had it under control. That was just something men used to do, when I was a cub. When I came home from the war– ”
“That was 1954. You got back from Korea in 1954. When was the first time that you knew your youngest son, Roger Keith Oakes, who was fucking born in 1972, liked to hit women? Liked to bash queers? Was a bully?”
The old bear growled, pained. He tipped up his beer, swallowing the rest, and then hurled the empty into the woods. There was a faint sound of shattering glass. “He had super-strength! How was I supposed to stop him? The last time I tried to correct him was when he was seventeen. He broke my arm.”
Maddy was incredulous. “He hurt you too? And you still went along with letting the world think he was a great man, once he was dead?”
“We did it for you, Mad– Maddy…” The bear’s face showed his age, now that they were looking closely; his eyes were sunken, and he trembled in the fading dusk. Granddad seemed small, almost frail, weak, despite his massive ursine bulk. He couldn’t meet his granddaughter’s gaze.
The sheep-bear took a deep breath, and gazed out at the scrubland. The sun was now dipping below the horizon, and a chill wind blew.
“Goodbye, Granddad,” Maddy said coldly as she walked away.
She paused, taking a breath, now panting, spraying spittle as she spoke. Granddad looked unnerved. “And do you know what the worst thing is about this job? I’m basically just a cop! And I hate being a cop! Pretty much every other queer person in the country hates me being a cop too! So yeah, old man, the hero career thing? It’s going like shit.”
The sheep-bear roared furiously, and lashed out with one hand, flailing with their powers to topple a nearby tree to the ground; the old bear shuddered at that, but kept looking downwards. “I am so glad I changed my name to Gillespie. Who would want to be a member of this fucking family?” They huffed, eyes wide, and downed the rest of their beer before letting the bottle bonelessly slip through their fingers, landing on the scrubby grass.
Finally, Garth Oakes spoke, hesitantly, looking up at his granddaughter with damp eyes. “I did what I thought was best for everyone,” he said, in an almost pleading tone. “You needed – you needed him to be a legend, to inspire you. You had powers, and you needed training to keep them under control. We were all so proud of you, of what you could do, and carrying on his legacy was, well…it just made sense! And Roger was – he was gone, he wasn’t going to hurt Deborah any more…”
Maddy’s reserve momentarily weakened at seeing her grandfather like this…almost expressing contrition, regret, for once in his long life. Was this necessary? Did she have to take this out on him? It was then that she remembered how Mom had broken down weeping in her bedroom, as she’d ashamedly forced out an admission of how her husband had hurt her. It had broken something in her. She huffed.
“You know what she told me, Granddad? He nearly beat her to death, one time in Ottawa. He couldn’t catch some villain, a liz–” Maddy’s breath caught in their throat, as pieces came together in their mind, and the sheep-bear’s jaw dropped. One hand flew up to their mouth, and they began to cry. “Oh my fucking god, both of them in the same night…”
Granddad peered at Maddy quizzically. “Both of who…?”
The sheep-bear turned her gaze back to the elderly bear, incensed, teeth bared and nostrils flaring. “Shut up. Shut up. Just shut the fuck up, old man. Just tell me this. How long did you know about him hurting Mom?”
He shifted uncomfortably in the plastic chair, jaw set defiantly. “Roger…had a temper. He told me he had it under control. That was just something men used to do, when I was a cub. When I came home from the war– ”
“That was 1954. You got back from Korea in 1954. When was the first time that you knew your youngest son, Roger Keith Oakes, who was fucking born in 1972, liked to hit women? Liked to bash queers? Was a bully?”
The old bear growled, pained. He tipped up his beer, swallowing the rest, and then hurled the empty into the woods. There was a faint sound of shattering glass. “He had super-strength! How was I supposed to stop him? The last time I tried to correct him was when he was seventeen. He broke my arm.”
Maddy was incredulous. “He hurt you too? And you still went along with letting the world think he was a great man, once he was dead?”
“We did it for you, Mad– Maddy…” The bear’s face showed his age, now that they were looking closely; his eyes were sunken, and he trembled in the fading dusk. Granddad seemed small, almost frail, weak, despite his massive ursine bulk. He couldn’t meet his granddaughter’s gaze.
The sheep-bear took a deep breath, and gazed out at the scrubland. The sun was now dipping below the horizon, and a chill wind blew.
“Goodbye, Granddad,” Maddy said coldly as she walked away.
After this, Mad eventually goes about to masturbating, blowing up the monument to her father (which is skipped) and eventually going back to Toronto where eventually she deals with the rat (in a highly violent manner). There is not too much action besides literally the very end of the book, making this just a tad bit more bearable as there is situations with actual high stakes involved. However the scenes involve salton breaking into his home, twice, and being for utterly nonsensical reasons. Especially as Salton has all the time in the world to set up mad to be taken down for wanting to convert and fully admitting to wanting to convert fully. An incredibly dumb end, but I will post the other tidbits from this novel down below and give my "glowing" review.
“You owe me a report, valued teammate,” the rat said testily, not even pausing for the pleasantry of a ‘Hello.’ “Made any effort to do your one fucking job lately?”
Maddy snorted, watching the traffic pass by in the distance. “Good afternoon to you too,” they mumbled.
“You think I don’t goddamn mean it, pally? You want Hagen on your case? Don’t get snide with me. Come on, chop-chop, I want to hear all about it, since you couldn’t be bothered to even half-ass a voicemail yesterday. What have you accomplished in infiltrating the Korps in the last thirty-six hours?”
“Well, after I went to their Halloween party last week dressed up as Katniss from The Hunger Games, and got drunk after having a heart-to-heart with Redline, they gave me a set of RCGs. I finally tried them on last night. Felt pretty good, very comfortable fit on the muzzle, no brainwashing to report; the virtual fox lady interface even helped me get to sleep, after I told her all about my defection plans,” the sheep-bear snarked.
He made an angry whining noise. “Funny. Real funny. My sides are splitting. Now try again.”
Maddy took a deep breath, and repositioned their broad bottom on the saddle of their beloved V-Max. “You know what? Fuck off. After the Dr. Seuss shit, just entirely fuck off. I’m tired of playing these stupid little games. Do you like this, Neal? Do you like being the way you are?”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, the rat spoke, with more than a hint of defensiveness in his voice. “I’m good at what I do.”
Maddy turned, looking at a harried crane woman trying to keep her chicks from playing with shopping carts as she loaded a box of air filters into their minivan. “Are you? Are you, though? Because I feel like I’ve seen a lot of evidence to the contrary lately. What exactly are you reporting to the boss, if I’m such a fuckup? He’s just letting you ineffectually give me shit periodically, good job, no notes?” She hesitated, before grinning, and deciding to twist the knife as hard as she could. “Hell, you’re a joke to the Korps, you know. They weren’t concerned at all about your little break-in at HBS. Threat level on par with a small-town cop, maybe? Just beneath contempt.”
“At least I fucking want to be here,” Slider snapped. “You don’t. I pay attention, Oakes! It could not be more obvious that you’ve never wanted to be part of the team! I don’t think you’ve ever even wanted to be a hero!” He growled into the phone, exasperated. “But no, ungrateful little shits like you win the lottery with powers, and then you were oh-so-fucking-convenient to Hagen – a twofer of a diversity hire and someone for his black ops Captain Ahab thing with the Korps. Did you know he’s been planning this mission since you were on the junior prospect roster? He’s goddamn obsessed, he’s only thinking about getting the best headlines of his career – who ever fucking liked him when he was Canadian Shield, god – and he’s willing to give you enough rope to hang yourself with. No skin off my nose.”
“Neal. Hagen hates me, but he doesn’t like you much either. Why are you so loyal, if you know he’s gone off the deep end? And if you think I’m like…a disgrace to OH, or whatever…why wouldn’t you just leave me alone to fail? To get fired – or quit, even – if I can’t hack it? Why are you standing in my way, if you think I’m just a fucking useless ‘diversity hire?’”
“Most people never get the things they want, Madison. Why should you be any different?”
The line went dead.
Slider was going to be a problem once she got back to Toronto, the sheep-bear realized.
Maddy snorted, watching the traffic pass by in the distance. “Good afternoon to you too,” they mumbled.
“You think I don’t goddamn mean it, pally? You want Hagen on your case? Don’t get snide with me. Come on, chop-chop, I want to hear all about it, since you couldn’t be bothered to even half-ass a voicemail yesterday. What have you accomplished in infiltrating the Korps in the last thirty-six hours?”
“Well, after I went to their Halloween party last week dressed up as Katniss from The Hunger Games, and got drunk after having a heart-to-heart with Redline, they gave me a set of RCGs. I finally tried them on last night. Felt pretty good, very comfortable fit on the muzzle, no brainwashing to report; the virtual fox lady interface even helped me get to sleep, after I told her all about my defection plans,” the sheep-bear snarked.
He made an angry whining noise. “Funny. Real funny. My sides are splitting. Now try again.”
Maddy took a deep breath, and repositioned their broad bottom on the saddle of their beloved V-Max. “You know what? Fuck off. After the Dr. Seuss shit, just entirely fuck off. I’m tired of playing these stupid little games. Do you like this, Neal? Do you like being the way you are?”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, the rat spoke, with more than a hint of defensiveness in his voice. “I’m good at what I do.”
Maddy turned, looking at a harried crane woman trying to keep her chicks from playing with shopping carts as she loaded a box of air filters into their minivan. “Are you? Are you, though? Because I feel like I’ve seen a lot of evidence to the contrary lately. What exactly are you reporting to the boss, if I’m such a fuckup? He’s just letting you ineffectually give me shit periodically, good job, no notes?” She hesitated, before grinning, and deciding to twist the knife as hard as she could. “Hell, you’re a joke to the Korps, you know. They weren’t concerned at all about your little break-in at HBS. Threat level on par with a small-town cop, maybe? Just beneath contempt.”
“At least I fucking want to be here,” Slider snapped. “You don’t. I pay attention, Oakes! It could not be more obvious that you’ve never wanted to be part of the team! I don’t think you’ve ever even wanted to be a hero!” He growled into the phone, exasperated. “But no, ungrateful little shits like you win the lottery with powers, and then you were oh-so-fucking-convenient to Hagen – a twofer of a diversity hire and someone for his black ops Captain Ahab thing with the Korps. Did you know he’s been planning this mission since you were on the junior prospect roster? He’s goddamn obsessed, he’s only thinking about getting the best headlines of his career – who ever fucking liked him when he was Canadian Shield, god – and he’s willing to give you enough rope to hang yourself with. No skin off my nose.”
“Neal. Hagen hates me, but he doesn’t like you much either. Why are you so loyal, if you know he’s gone off the deep end? And if you think I’m like…a disgrace to OH, or whatever…why wouldn’t you just leave me alone to fail? To get fired – or quit, even – if I can’t hack it? Why are you standing in my way, if you think I’m just a fucking useless ‘diversity hire?’”
“Most people never get the things they want, Madison. Why should you be any different?”
The line went dead.
Slider was going to be a problem once she got back to Toronto, the sheep-bear realized.
Deborah sniffed, wincing. “I know. But you’ve been progressing so fast in your career, and until…until recently…you seemed to be more or less happy about it? I mean, you got to be the LGBT Champion! That’s something,” she said, patting her daughter’s hand.
“LGBTQ2+, there’s more letters now. Not that it matters; I was only ever window dressing, to make Ontario’s Heroes look less backward. They’re still like Dad. They don’t really like me or want me around, and honestly, the coworkers I have to deal with most often are still pretty bigoted. And I found out that I wouldn’t even be on the team if Mr. Hagen wasn’t planning to use me to – uh, use me like that.”
“LGBTQ2+, there’s more letters now. Not that it matters; I was only ever window dressing, to make Ontario’s Heroes look less backward. They’re still like Dad. They don’t really like me or want me around, and honestly, the coworkers I have to deal with most often are still pretty bigoted. And I found out that I wouldn’t even be on the team if Mr. Hagen wasn’t planning to use me to – uh, use me like that.”
The sheep-bear grasped the living room rug with her powers, and pulled it sharply; Slider tried to steady himself, but stumbled and fell on his chest with a grunt. She strode into the living room, and mentally pinned him to the ground. “I thought I told you to keep your skeevy ass out of here,” Maddy growled. “How’d you know I was back in town, anyway?”
The rat chuckled smugly into the floor. “What, you think I haven’t been watching your mom’s house?” As he craned his neck over his shoulder to face the sheep-bear, he looked Maddy up and down with an expression of disgust. “I knew it,” he screeched upon registering that they were wearing a pink visor, before his expression turned to panic. “Wait, shit, already? You’ve already got a set? Oh fuck, Hagen’s gonna be pissed…”
The sheep-bear folded her arms, looking down her muzzle at Slider. “Hey, about that. How much of the past couple weeks of jerking me around has been from our fearless leader, and how much was just you freelancing?”
The rat struggled, whining in a thin, scratchy voice when Maddy responded by holding him down even more tightly. “All of it was me, okay? All of it! I figured you were planning to defect for real if you could, once I saw the pills. I was going to let it happen, then ambush you once I knew you had a pair of RCGs, and show Hagen the bottle. You’d at least be in deep shit for not following orders, enough to get kicked off the team; and maybe, if I got lucky and it triggered you into a big public meltdown or whatever, you’d catch a couple of conspiracy and terrorism charges on the way out too. I didn’t think you’d actually done it yet, though, knowing how fucking useless you’ve been until now,” he whined bitterly.
“So Hagen, right now, he thinks I’m doing what exactly?”
“Still tailing that fat dyke deer,” he sneered, rolling his eyes. Neal then began hacking and coughing, as if he was trying to clear his throat without success. It took several more seconds before he realized that the cause of the obstruction was Maddy, slowly tightening her telekinetic grip around his neck with the gesture of a closing hand. “What’re – you – thhhhhk – doing…?”
“Oh, I’m choking you out. You know, Reclaimer always wanted me to practice this, when I was in the Prairie League Cadets? ‘Just in case,’ he’d say. They even rigged up this whole dummy with a crushable windpipe for me. I refused, because I thought – I thought, in the infinite wisdom of a squeamish thirteen-year-old! – that I could never do that to a person. I’d never be in a situation where I’d have to seriously hurt anyone for real; there would always be an option to fight defensively, and take opponents down without doing lasting damage.” They scoffed, and flexed their control slightly to allow Slider a deeper breath, tilting their broad ursine head to flash Slider a menacing grin. “Kids, eh? So innocent. So optimistic.”
The rat stared daggers at the erstwhile hero as he scrabbled at his neck with both hands, fruitlessly trying to gain purchase on the invisible force of Maddy’s powers. “H-how are you even this strhhhhk…”
“Oh my god. Do you not get it yet? Neal, you colossal asshole, I have been holding back. I have been restraining myself for years, because I knew that podcasting maniacs, and fascist wine moms, and insecure little fuckboys like you, would bitch about how being aggressive – being powerful – means I’m ‘really a man,’” Maddy roared, as she telekinetically lifted him off the ground and tightened her grip around his throat.
“I have repressed so much to keep other people comfortable. Do you know what that got me? All that caution and restraint and ‘respectability,’ making myself smaller, being polite and earnest and not making waves, and just forever, endlessly volunteering to patiently educate you people that I’m a real person with a right to exist? Nothing. Nothing! It was worthless, you abusive piece of shit! It made Hagen see me as a pawn for his stupid cloak-and-dagger game, it made my family think they could railroad me into carrying on a wife-beating bigot’s legacy, and it made you think you could gaslight and manipulate me for this…this petty little ego trip.”
The sheep-bear panted, teeth bared, nostrils flaring in anger. “You know what, ‘pally?’ I don’t deserve to be barely tolerated as OH’s pet diversity mascot. I deserve to thrive. I deserve to have a goddamn life, and love, and a motherfucking purpose. One that isn’t betraying my fellow queers as, basically, a cop. The only people in the super business offering me any of those things are the Korps.”
The rat sputtered weakly, kicking his legs in the air. With a glance, the sheep-bear’s rage shaped itself into a cage of force around his lower body, locking down his movement there, too – forcefully enough that they heard the sickening snap of a tibia. Tears streamed from Slider’s bugged-out eyes, and for once – for once! – Maddy could see in his expression that he was truly afraid of something.
Maddy cackled with sinister glee, lowering her RCGs to give the rat a direct, baleful leer. “How’s that for a goddamn ‘diversity hire,’ huh?” With a flourish of her hand, she contemptuously flung him to one side – leaving a Slider-shaped dent in the drywall – and then released him entirely, letting the rat crumple to the ground on his back, sobbing and gasping.
“You’re…you’re fucking crazy, you bitch,” he roughly croaked through moans of pain, nose bleeding and face bruised. “You’re – aaaagh – just as fucked up as Hagen about this Cold War shit!” At that, Slider began making deep, gurgling heaving noises, interspersed with his coughs.
Maddy, disgusted, half-kicked the rat with a sturdy motorcycle boot to flip him onto his front. She’d felt no compunctions about hurting him after all he’d done, but she wasn’t going to let Neal Salton – vile little creep though he might be – die from aspirating his own vomit. Her timing in tipping him over turned out to be impeccable, as he began weakly puking on the hardwood floor. With a gesture, she telekinetically pulled his communicator earpiece to fly into her hand; dropping it, the sheep-bear proceeded to crush it under her heel.
“I am telling you this once, Neal. Pass it on to Lightbox, to the director, to the deputy minister, to fucking CP24 if you want. I’m done. I’m out of the hero game. I’m not being a double agent, and frankly, I don’t feel up to committing any more crimes past this – what would a Crown call it, aggravated assault? – today. Leave me alone, especially leave my family alone, and you’ll never hear from me again; I’ll just chill at those Korps ‘reefer-den hypno-slave orgies’ Hagen likes to get worked up about,” Maddy growled. “If you or him or the PHL ever give me a reason to want more catharsis than I’m experiencing at this exact moment, though…well, you’re not going to like it, the next time you see this ‘diversity hire.’ Are we understood?”
Slider, still heaving and shaking, said nothing. Maddy used her powers to forcibly lift and turn his head in her direction. She bent low, and howled in his face; he shrank away, sobbing.
“I said, are we fucking understood?”
“Hrrrrk – yes, fuck, okauuuuurgh…”
“Yes who? What’s my goddamn name, Neal?”
“Y-yes, hngh, Madi–Maddy…”
The sheep-bear released the pathetic rat to slump back down to the floor, where he continued to periodically gurgle into the puddle around his snout, moaning in pain.
Maddy made one last sweep of the apartment – ignoring the piteous noises Slider was making from the floor – before throwing the now-stuffed duffel bag over her shoulder, and opening the front door. She looked back over her shoulder, and feeling the briefest pang of sympathy for the rat, awful as he was, huffed.
“Uh. ROSE? Can you make an anonymous call for an ambulance after I leave? I don’t actually want this asshole dead.”
[Of course.]
“Thanks, ROSE.”
The sheep-bear casually walked down the stairs and out to the parking lot, where snow was beginning to lightly fall. They straddled their motorcycle and gunned the engine, pulling out to the street in the direction of KDS.
It was time to start enjoying her new life.
The rat chuckled smugly into the floor. “What, you think I haven’t been watching your mom’s house?” As he craned his neck over his shoulder to face the sheep-bear, he looked Maddy up and down with an expression of disgust. “I knew it,” he screeched upon registering that they were wearing a pink visor, before his expression turned to panic. “Wait, shit, already? You’ve already got a set? Oh fuck, Hagen’s gonna be pissed…”
The sheep-bear folded her arms, looking down her muzzle at Slider. “Hey, about that. How much of the past couple weeks of jerking me around has been from our fearless leader, and how much was just you freelancing?”
The rat struggled, whining in a thin, scratchy voice when Maddy responded by holding him down even more tightly. “All of it was me, okay? All of it! I figured you were planning to defect for real if you could, once I saw the pills. I was going to let it happen, then ambush you once I knew you had a pair of RCGs, and show Hagen the bottle. You’d at least be in deep shit for not following orders, enough to get kicked off the team; and maybe, if I got lucky and it triggered you into a big public meltdown or whatever, you’d catch a couple of conspiracy and terrorism charges on the way out too. I didn’t think you’d actually done it yet, though, knowing how fucking useless you’ve been until now,” he whined bitterly.
“So Hagen, right now, he thinks I’m doing what exactly?”
“Still tailing that fat dyke deer,” he sneered, rolling his eyes. Neal then began hacking and coughing, as if he was trying to clear his throat without success. It took several more seconds before he realized that the cause of the obstruction was Maddy, slowly tightening her telekinetic grip around his neck with the gesture of a closing hand. “What’re – you – thhhhhk – doing…?”
“Oh, I’m choking you out. You know, Reclaimer always wanted me to practice this, when I was in the Prairie League Cadets? ‘Just in case,’ he’d say. They even rigged up this whole dummy with a crushable windpipe for me. I refused, because I thought – I thought, in the infinite wisdom of a squeamish thirteen-year-old! – that I could never do that to a person. I’d never be in a situation where I’d have to seriously hurt anyone for real; there would always be an option to fight defensively, and take opponents down without doing lasting damage.” They scoffed, and flexed their control slightly to allow Slider a deeper breath, tilting their broad ursine head to flash Slider a menacing grin. “Kids, eh? So innocent. So optimistic.”
The rat stared daggers at the erstwhile hero as he scrabbled at his neck with both hands, fruitlessly trying to gain purchase on the invisible force of Maddy’s powers. “H-how are you even this strhhhhk…”
“Oh my god. Do you not get it yet? Neal, you colossal asshole, I have been holding back. I have been restraining myself for years, because I knew that podcasting maniacs, and fascist wine moms, and insecure little fuckboys like you, would bitch about how being aggressive – being powerful – means I’m ‘really a man,’” Maddy roared, as she telekinetically lifted him off the ground and tightened her grip around his throat.
“I have repressed so much to keep other people comfortable. Do you know what that got me? All that caution and restraint and ‘respectability,’ making myself smaller, being polite and earnest and not making waves, and just forever, endlessly volunteering to patiently educate you people that I’m a real person with a right to exist? Nothing. Nothing! It was worthless, you abusive piece of shit! It made Hagen see me as a pawn for his stupid cloak-and-dagger game, it made my family think they could railroad me into carrying on a wife-beating bigot’s legacy, and it made you think you could gaslight and manipulate me for this…this petty little ego trip.”
The sheep-bear panted, teeth bared, nostrils flaring in anger. “You know what, ‘pally?’ I don’t deserve to be barely tolerated as OH’s pet diversity mascot. I deserve to thrive. I deserve to have a goddamn life, and love, and a motherfucking purpose. One that isn’t betraying my fellow queers as, basically, a cop. The only people in the super business offering me any of those things are the Korps.”
The rat sputtered weakly, kicking his legs in the air. With a glance, the sheep-bear’s rage shaped itself into a cage of force around his lower body, locking down his movement there, too – forcefully enough that they heard the sickening snap of a tibia. Tears streamed from Slider’s bugged-out eyes, and for once – for once! – Maddy could see in his expression that he was truly afraid of something.
Maddy cackled with sinister glee, lowering her RCGs to give the rat a direct, baleful leer. “How’s that for a goddamn ‘diversity hire,’ huh?” With a flourish of her hand, she contemptuously flung him to one side – leaving a Slider-shaped dent in the drywall – and then released him entirely, letting the rat crumple to the ground on his back, sobbing and gasping.
“You’re…you’re fucking crazy, you bitch,” he roughly croaked through moans of pain, nose bleeding and face bruised. “You’re – aaaagh – just as fucked up as Hagen about this Cold War shit!” At that, Slider began making deep, gurgling heaving noises, interspersed with his coughs.
Maddy, disgusted, half-kicked the rat with a sturdy motorcycle boot to flip him onto his front. She’d felt no compunctions about hurting him after all he’d done, but she wasn’t going to let Neal Salton – vile little creep though he might be – die from aspirating his own vomit. Her timing in tipping him over turned out to be impeccable, as he began weakly puking on the hardwood floor. With a gesture, she telekinetically pulled his communicator earpiece to fly into her hand; dropping it, the sheep-bear proceeded to crush it under her heel.
“I am telling you this once, Neal. Pass it on to Lightbox, to the director, to the deputy minister, to fucking CP24 if you want. I’m done. I’m out of the hero game. I’m not being a double agent, and frankly, I don’t feel up to committing any more crimes past this – what would a Crown call it, aggravated assault? – today. Leave me alone, especially leave my family alone, and you’ll never hear from me again; I’ll just chill at those Korps ‘reefer-den hypno-slave orgies’ Hagen likes to get worked up about,” Maddy growled. “If you or him or the PHL ever give me a reason to want more catharsis than I’m experiencing at this exact moment, though…well, you’re not going to like it, the next time you see this ‘diversity hire.’ Are we understood?”
Slider, still heaving and shaking, said nothing. Maddy used her powers to forcibly lift and turn his head in her direction. She bent low, and howled in his face; he shrank away, sobbing.
“I said, are we fucking understood?”
“Hrrrrk – yes, fuck, okauuuuurgh…”
“Yes who? What’s my goddamn name, Neal?”
“Y-yes, hngh, Madi–Maddy…”
The sheep-bear released the pathetic rat to slump back down to the floor, where he continued to periodically gurgle into the puddle around his snout, moaning in pain.
Maddy made one last sweep of the apartment – ignoring the piteous noises Slider was making from the floor – before throwing the now-stuffed duffel bag over her shoulder, and opening the front door. She looked back over her shoulder, and feeling the briefest pang of sympathy for the rat, awful as he was, huffed.
“Uh. ROSE? Can you make an anonymous call for an ambulance after I leave? I don’t actually want this asshole dead.”
[Of course.]
“Thanks, ROSE.”
The sheep-bear casually walked down the stairs and out to the parking lot, where snow was beginning to lightly fall. They straddled their motorcycle and gunned the engine, pulling out to the street in the direction of KDS.
It was time to start enjoying her new life.
The clip in the post, however, was…decidedly not that speech. It was instead a compilation of what appeared to be raw cable news footage from the early aughts, and Ray scrubbed through it, horrified. The burly bear in the red-and-white uniform was screaming himself hoarse in most of the clips, and none made him look particularly heroic, to say the least.
“—NO COWARDLY GOD-DAMNED TREE-HUGGERS—”
“—DIRTY FUCKING ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS—”
“—SHARIA LAW, IN OUR SCHOOLS—”
“—IF MY SON TURNED OUT TO BE A FAGGOT, I’D—”
“—THE GLOBALIST BANKERS’ CABAL—”
Panicked, Ray deleted every one of the Heartwood posts, but it was too late; scanning through trending topics, he found dozens of reposts. Briefly clicking over to YouTube, it seemed as though several copies were already posted there too.
The orca removed his hand from the mouse and leaned back, staring at the wall. He took a deep breath, sipped his coffee, and waited for the phone to ring.
“—NO COWARDLY GOD-DAMNED TREE-HUGGERS—”
“—DIRTY FUCKING ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS—”
“—SHARIA LAW, IN OUR SCHOOLS—”
“—IF MY SON TURNED OUT TO BE A FAGGOT, I’D—”
“—THE GLOBALIST BANKERS’ CABAL—”
Panicked, Ray deleted every one of the Heartwood posts, but it was too late; scanning through trending topics, he found dozens of reposts. Briefly clicking over to YouTube, it seemed as though several copies were already posted there too.
The orca removed his hand from the mouse and leaned back, staring at the wall. He took a deep breath, sipped his coffee, and waited for the phone to ring.
We then get an epilogue, then the end.
Similar to other pieces of media like induction, it still provides a very black and white perspective on the issue regarding politics, socio-economics, ego and personality etc. The entire story comes off as exceedingly a violent AGP fantasy for the author to write down all of the things they could have been able to rewrite the past earlier in life and somehow become an even better troon than they are now. Mad as a character, like the later version of Austin (and many korps trannies) come off as simply wanting to hurt people. Even for some reason, in the end of the novel, beliebe that their highly aggressive character is actually "coweardly" and did not stand up for themselves, resorting to pretty much force choking Salton and accusing "fascist wine moms" and the likes of being "afraid of being aggressive". No I have seen women proclaim death to groups they hate far more than men, however assuming a tranny knows this is moronic at best.
They continuously wish nothing but violence upon the enemies they hate and despite trying to be all nice and courteous, they have a sense of righteous revenge only ISIS fighters seem to have. On top of that as well, the character of Madison is at best an individual who has been twisted by an enemy over wanting to protect his family to join evil (and for self serving sxual reasons), but most of the time comes off as very aggressive, cantankerous and non-sociable. Mostly a lot of the time is spent talking in the novel or in his head, the thought process which he possesses is one that is also sickening as well. most of the time he is thinking back to past experiences and being mentally raped by his past traumas, or he is lashing out and half-assed confronting people over what is occuring. The motivations of protecting family feel half-hearted as the author wanted something to make the character likeable while the true motivation (social acceptance amongst his sexual partners) is rather obvious but not explicitly stated. Even then, what isn't to say he could not join Aurora? That is a federal canadian unit which supports trannies (it is an odd occurance how it is always state level groups who do not support trannies or publicly funded organisations). Or even go to a different department of OH (Ontario Hero's). He is an adult, if he was thrusted into this job he did not want then he can resign. I figure a lot of workplaces would love someone with psychic abilities who can do all sorts of insane shit, so what is to say they would not want him? Even despite how the canadian economy is utterly collapsing, he would have a far better chance if his CV has "I can do super powers!".
The other point is, why is Salton even on this operation when he knows that Salton although loyal, is a fucking rat? It makes little narrative sense as Salton also had multiple opportunities to kill him, cover it up, get some heat from Hagen but let things die down in the end. Does Hagen not understand a tranny is more than likely going to sympathise with trannies? there is a reason you want someone hwo fits the psych profile not totally, but provide some level of pushback or have a psychological backbone to not give in and remain resilient. How do they always think the goggles are brainwashing? You think that in this day and age, intel would be far better and that those would merely just be rumours the public repeat. Plus if Hagen is so unlikeable as a hero, then how come he rises to become the leader of the PHL? Seriously, you think having someone as a leader means good optics and not wanting a violent raging wannabe spec ops operator (I believe the entire thing of him being obssessed with the korps sexual aspects is just a tranny projecting sexual fantasies and adds zero value to the story, enough said).
I have my own criticsms with this world as a whole. You are talling me that this world would not have the DoD crawling up the ass of canada and funding intitatives to take them down, especially as the korps becomes an increasingly large organisation and canada has seemed to "let it spill over"? The might of the US govt would do far more, likely throwing every one of these cunts into gitmo and torturing them until they became compost in orange jumpsuits. The whole PHL, OH hierarchy makes little sense even to represent bureaucracy as it becomes convoluted and confusing which organisation is a federal and state, no explanation is actually given to the PHL name as I had to look it up elsewhere amongst the korps, and there is little mention as to what the organisation is very much like as well during the whole book. The korps come off as increasingly lucky, to the point of it being mathematically impossible, with what seems to be the hero's being both incompetent at their jobs/corrupt assholes but then flipping on a dime to throw them down when it fits the narrative. The wishy washy way this is all dealt with is moronic, especially as there is absolutely zero involvement of defence, national security organisations, federal police etc on what have been deemed time and time again as "terrorists". This is a guy in his late 30's. Writing is clearly not suited for any of these people at all. They should just stick to slowly rotting away via daily masturbation and shitty 9-5. My mind had far more depth and whimsy when I had shower thoughts during my early teenage years.
Even in the notes of the epilogue, the characterisation for mad comes off as absolute copium. I can attach everything below but it is nothing more than a crock of horseshit. There is little "bombastic" cool shit as even the climax of the story is completely skipped over. yes, SKIPPED. The whole thing feels flimsy, the author admits the character is nothing more than being made to fit in and link up with xir friends in their sexual fantasy realms of today, while admitting mostly to want to do the rest of "muh historical korps because muh historical queer voices MATTER REEEE". I should also make a final note that there are some grammtical errors in this novel too, with it having been out for at least 2 years at this point. More than enough time to actually check it through, but considering it is being shipped out for an actual price tag and seeing what furplanet did with induction, I doubt this is going to be actually properly edited or checked at all and still left with the errors in.
Author’s Notes
As ever, many, many thanks to @korpspropaganda for the Korps setting and for the use of Caleb Hagen. Thank you also to the following, for the use of their characters:
@SyntaxTakes: Volta, Carmen Rayne
@VisorVixens: Vixie Foxpaw, Ellen Foxpaw
@Caela_Argent: Caela
@Thunderwolf14: Jasmine
@henchgirls: Beatrix
@kakeroyale: Kake
@damonicleopard: Vic
The original genesis of Maddy was, basically, that I wanted to have a contemporary OC to interact with my friends’ characters. I enjoy writing in the “Historical Korpsverse” niche, but it ended up that the characters I’d spent a lot of time fleshing out – and who were intimately tied to, e.g., the specific historical context of being a closeted queer public servant in 1990s Ottawa – didn’t make much sense to write doing cool bombastic supervillain shit or spy intrigue in a “fifteen minutes into the future” setting. Now I’ve finally got Maddy in a joined-up-now-what space, and I couldn’t be happier about that.
As to Maddy’s characterization, I’ll excerpt this bit from my author’s note in Champion:
I also wanted to work out some complicated feelings about career success in my old job, since coming out as trans in 2018. I rationalized away some things about that until I just couldn’t any more, along the same lines as Maddy’s reasoning here - better me here doing this job than someone worse, right? If I’m offered a “LGBTQ2+ Champion” role, am I not responsible for trying to effect change from the inside, even if I am a token? In the end it was just too toxic; I quit in June 2021 for a job where I don’t feel obligated to be the Diversity & Inclusion component of middle management.
I guess I have more to vent about on this topic after all, the further away in the rearview mirror it gets, huh?
Relatedly, my fursona Grace is very close to a pure self-insert character in these stories, and she’s specifically spun out from a wish-fulfillment answer to the question: “What if I’d transitioned earlier, and not made certain life and career choices I regret?” What I realized in writing Change of Heart is that Maddy (while fundamentally not me in the same way as Grace) is actually something of a rebuttal to that fantasy. Even if I’d had the knowledge and self-awareness and necessary epiphanies to transition earlier than I did, I surely would still have made other bad choices. And so Maddy did!
Similarly, let’s talk about Slider. I was very happy to see how much readers enjoyed him as a medium-threat-level antagonist, and I won’t say it didn’t influence me; I was considering all kinds of directions for him as I wrote. In any event, that reaction is part of why I left him alive at the end, and folks are welcome to use him in their own stories as that kind of Toronto-area PHL tool who’s active in the 2010s-2020s.
In the end, though, I think it was a good call to just write him as a very ordinary, boring jerk of a coworker, as Maddy’s nemesis? That Guy who can’t be written off solely as your usual right-wing maniac, like Caleb Hagen or Roger “Heartwood” Oakes himself, but remains an obnoxious asshole to work with as a trans person. Neal Salton is smart and basically competent (if prone to the arrogant overconfidence that’s his repeated undoing), and clever enough to keep his harassment plausibly deniable around others. That’s a much more difficult kind of transphobe to deal with in some ways, because they better understand how to carry out their antagonism under the radar of supposed ‘allies.’
Anyway, thank you, everyone, for reading along these past several months. I’m very happy with what writing serially produced, and I may come back to it again in the future. For now, though, I think I’ll be writing another unserialized short or two.
As ever, many, many thanks to @korpspropaganda for the Korps setting and for the use of Caleb Hagen. Thank you also to the following, for the use of their characters:
@SyntaxTakes: Volta, Carmen Rayne
@VisorVixens: Vixie Foxpaw, Ellen Foxpaw
@Caela_Argent: Caela
@Thunderwolf14: Jasmine
@henchgirls: Beatrix
@kakeroyale: Kake
@damonicleopard: Vic
The original genesis of Maddy was, basically, that I wanted to have a contemporary OC to interact with my friends’ characters. I enjoy writing in the “Historical Korpsverse” niche, but it ended up that the characters I’d spent a lot of time fleshing out – and who were intimately tied to, e.g., the specific historical context of being a closeted queer public servant in 1990s Ottawa – didn’t make much sense to write doing cool bombastic supervillain shit or spy intrigue in a “fifteen minutes into the future” setting. Now I’ve finally got Maddy in a joined-up-now-what space, and I couldn’t be happier about that.
As to Maddy’s characterization, I’ll excerpt this bit from my author’s note in Champion:
I also wanted to work out some complicated feelings about career success in my old job, since coming out as trans in 2018. I rationalized away some things about that until I just couldn’t any more, along the same lines as Maddy’s reasoning here - better me here doing this job than someone worse, right? If I’m offered a “LGBTQ2+ Champion” role, am I not responsible for trying to effect change from the inside, even if I am a token? In the end it was just too toxic; I quit in June 2021 for a job where I don’t feel obligated to be the Diversity & Inclusion component of middle management.
I guess I have more to vent about on this topic after all, the further away in the rearview mirror it gets, huh?
Relatedly, my fursona Grace is very close to a pure self-insert character in these stories, and she’s specifically spun out from a wish-fulfillment answer to the question: “What if I’d transitioned earlier, and not made certain life and career choices I regret?” What I realized in writing Change of Heart is that Maddy (while fundamentally not me in the same way as Grace) is actually something of a rebuttal to that fantasy. Even if I’d had the knowledge and self-awareness and necessary epiphanies to transition earlier than I did, I surely would still have made other bad choices. And so Maddy did!
Similarly, let’s talk about Slider. I was very happy to see how much readers enjoyed him as a medium-threat-level antagonist, and I won’t say it didn’t influence me; I was considering all kinds of directions for him as I wrote. In any event, that reaction is part of why I left him alive at the end, and folks are welcome to use him in their own stories as that kind of Toronto-area PHL tool who’s active in the 2010s-2020s.
In the end, though, I think it was a good call to just write him as a very ordinary, boring jerk of a coworker, as Maddy’s nemesis? That Guy who can’t be written off solely as your usual right-wing maniac, like Caleb Hagen or Roger “Heartwood” Oakes himself, but remains an obnoxious asshole to work with as a trans person. Neal Salton is smart and basically competent (if prone to the arrogant overconfidence that’s his repeated undoing), and clever enough to keep his harassment plausibly deniable around others. That’s a much more difficult kind of transphobe to deal with in some ways, because they better understand how to carry out their antagonism under the radar of supposed ‘allies.’
Anyway, thank you, everyone, for reading along these past several months. I’m very happy with what writing serially produced, and I may come back to it again in the future. For now, though, I think I’ll be writing another unserialized short or two.
>Green voter
LOL! They cannot even represent the usual shitlib right. Their crosshairs will always be off, they never seem to get the enemy down pat. They always make them far cooler than they usually are, and even ones to aspire to in some cases. Good job retard.
I again thank @Lavender Moth for doing the first review, alongside everyone in the korps thread who helped post about them and bring them to light for the farms to laugh. I have done my job, thus I will be clocking out for now since I have actual things to do unlike rotting old trannies. Thank you all.
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- Joined
- Sep 16, 2018
NoP1 hasn't worked the same way NoP1 did since chapter 140 either tbh.
I read somewhere that SP was writing NoP since he was like 15 an had been refining it and the characters for a very long time. I have an easy time believing that until 140 is all he had writen since he started writing it originally (i.e. it was ready ahead of time), and everything afterward is the wallace and grommit railroad meme.
- Joined
- Feb 8, 2024
I can believe it. The New Arxur was kinda shit, but Sovlin's Transcripts (which focused heavily on characters from early chapters) was REALLY good. Dude's gotten out of his own element with his new characters.
Cave Fisher
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 11, 2021
Remember when capeshit was about fighting aliens and monsters and shit? That was nice.
Where the fuck does the L come from? peopLe?
"In practice, I'm 100% a cop, but nooo, I'm a Good Guy unlike them!" there aren't a lot of shining beacons of morality saying that shit.