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- Joined
- Sep 7, 2019
- Location
- Jurassic Park
Morphie was in her usual happy place today; the Mall in Washington DC in the middle of the summer, sitting on a bench, quietly listening to her music on her Bluetooth headset and hopefully not bothering anybody. Her heavy hoodie and baggy pants must have made her look like a weirdo, but she knew that she could withstand any looks and the sweat from the humidity that most people complained about in this city (even long time residents) in return for invisibility. The only thing she had to do to blend in was keep the eye on her forehead closed, something that would be hard if not impossible to do without her headset and the Spotify app on a phone she’d found in the trash. Here was the only place that Morphie could truly be Morphie; a place where nobody had yet noticed her, despite her hiding in plain sight in one of the busiest tourist destinations in the world.
That was, until someone bumped into her, knocking the slime girl to her feet and her headset to the ground. The song Someone to You by BANNERS, an anthem that she’d often thought about while masturbating to thoughts of pretty girls she’d seen walking around the city, abruptly ended as a result.
“Uh, hey excuse you!” Morphie squeaked in her smallest voice. Then she fumbled her way back up to a standing position- something that did not come as naturally to her as it would to vertebrates since they had a skeleton to support them- and realized that her phone had been snatched from her pocket.
“Hey! You! That’s my fucking phone!” Morphie yelled, blushing at the swear word that she’d just used as she charged after the figure in the baseball cap. In seconds, she reached out her left hand and it turned into a slimy tentacle sticking itself hard onto his left shoulder and slamming him onto the dirt pathway.
“Wait, uh...no no no no...” Morphie groaned as she started pulling him and various rocks into her slimy torso. “I didn’t mean it!” she cried as a crowd of people yelled, pointed and fled in terror. She was just thankful that the man could still breathe somehow as he attempted to escape and she tried to think of dropping him, but soon she sat back down on the bench, absorbing it and thereby expanding her torso until all her clothes ripped.
A few miles away, Gail Kramer and her stolen prototype Z50 Phantom were flying cloaked over the Potomac well below radar, monitoring transmissions from the growing Ragnarok Automated Drone Defense System (RADDS) that had just recently replaced the entire human Metropolitan Police Department. The theory being that eliminating human bias in law enforcement would be one way to end systemic racism and other issues. But Gail knew the truth...that Ragnarok was slowly absorbing parts of the military as well. And that anyone who resisted was being silenced. All that had changed, really, was that the people doing the enforcing were thousands of miles away, playing God from a computer screen.
This was the first time since a protest in Lafayette Square was put down in front of no cameras two weeks ago that Gail had picked up a RADDS alert on the Phantom’s scanner. That only meant one thing. Drones would soon be arriving and sweeping anyone who looked suspicious into a punitive dragnet with any actual criminals.
“Please don’t tell me you’re thinking what I’m thinking,” the Phantom’s onboard AI sighed.
“You know you won’t be able to change my mind on this,” Gail dismissed him (it? They? She needed to think on that one another time) and began setting a course for the Mall.
“I can’t just watch while Ragnarok turns this country into a police state,” she growled.
Or, to put a finer point on it, more blatantly one than it had already been. But again, she didn’t have time to ponder that right now. She decloaked and ordered Phantom to arm the miniguns and ion cannons; knowing that civilians would be clear of the area, Gail intended to unleash her full armament if Ragnarok thought they could terrorize innocent people again.
That was, until someone bumped into her, knocking the slime girl to her feet and her headset to the ground. The song Someone to You by BANNERS, an anthem that she’d often thought about while masturbating to thoughts of pretty girls she’d seen walking around the city, abruptly ended as a result.
“Uh, hey excuse you!” Morphie squeaked in her smallest voice. Then she fumbled her way back up to a standing position- something that did not come as naturally to her as it would to vertebrates since they had a skeleton to support them- and realized that her phone had been snatched from her pocket.
“Hey! You! That’s my fucking phone!” Morphie yelled, blushing at the swear word that she’d just used as she charged after the figure in the baseball cap. In seconds, she reached out her left hand and it turned into a slimy tentacle sticking itself hard onto his left shoulder and slamming him onto the dirt pathway.
“Wait, uh...no no no no...” Morphie groaned as she started pulling him and various rocks into her slimy torso. “I didn’t mean it!” she cried as a crowd of people yelled, pointed and fled in terror. She was just thankful that the man could still breathe somehow as he attempted to escape and she tried to think of dropping him, but soon she sat back down on the bench, absorbing it and thereby expanding her torso until all her clothes ripped.
A few miles away, Gail Kramer and her stolen prototype Z50 Phantom were flying cloaked over the Potomac well below radar, monitoring transmissions from the growing Ragnarok Automated Drone Defense System (RADDS) that had just recently replaced the entire human Metropolitan Police Department. The theory being that eliminating human bias in law enforcement would be one way to end systemic racism and other issues. But Gail knew the truth...that Ragnarok was slowly absorbing parts of the military as well. And that anyone who resisted was being silenced. All that had changed, really, was that the people doing the enforcing were thousands of miles away, playing God from a computer screen.
This was the first time since a protest in Lafayette Square was put down in front of no cameras two weeks ago that Gail had picked up a RADDS alert on the Phantom’s scanner. That only meant one thing. Drones would soon be arriving and sweeping anyone who looked suspicious into a punitive dragnet with any actual criminals.
“Please don’t tell me you’re thinking what I’m thinking,” the Phantom’s onboard AI sighed.
“You know you won’t be able to change my mind on this,” Gail dismissed him (it? They? She needed to think on that one another time) and began setting a course for the Mall.
“I can’t just watch while Ragnarok turns this country into a police state,” she growled.
Or, to put a finer point on it, more blatantly one than it had already been. But again, she didn’t have time to ponder that right now. She decloaked and ordered Phantom to arm the miniguns and ion cannons; knowing that civilians would be clear of the area, Gail intended to unleash her full armament if Ragnarok thought they could terrorize innocent people again.
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