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Feedback Loop (Verse & obieblu)

He knew there were some wheels turning inside the pretty head once the cock vacated it. Almost pitiful, how he waited and longed down there. It seemed out of place that he'd be so attached to the piece of meat he'd try to melt with the low of his throat, eager already for its return. Though Critical knew how the desire had been implanted in Nico, it was still odd to see another human being so invested in giving him pleasure. So the saliva soaked cock waited while Nico tried to make sense of it all, what to do next. Because Nico did already know what he wanted, just not how to get it. The wind around them was calm, part because Tempest, despite being alive, had been put out of commission, but also because the energy of the planet was keeping the scene serene, within which the two former combatants, now victor and spoil, could explore the loser's new life and addiction.

A small smirk touched Critical's lips when Nico's tinge of thought was followed by true, eager initiative. He wanted to scold the hero for his useless antics of getting his tights off, but thought it was endearing to see such honest, dumb effort. Callyn enjoyed the imagery, of Nico's rock hard, inferior cock flopping while he got his legs naked. It was entirely pet-like and endearing. Perhaps the hero had always been destined to be something to that effect, with his exterior being being to the point of looking entirely harmless despite having powers.

He looked back when Nico turned his head over his small shoulder to stare at him. It was a very simple invitation, but that ass and it's mystic shadows was inviting. Critical squatted down, intent on teaching Nico something. His hand softly smacked the right cheek of his willing victim, and stayed there to squeeze, the thumb hooking into the cleft on that side to pull it aside, right over the anus, to make it wink at himself. His other hand stroked upward the exposed tailbone and depressed the low of Nico's back to present the taint and the hole better. Of course, the balls and cock would also rise, in that order.

Still soaked in heroic saliva, Critical's cock swayed as he aligned it toward that innocent, virginal pucker. He didn't have to ask about Nico's experience - an all American boy with a sweetheart for colleague wouldn't have tried this hole by himself. As though their interacting energies hadn't said that to the villain already. The fat head of the obese limb kissed Nico's dirty decimal, and started to dent it with pressure. Worlds apart from Critical's fingers.

"What do you want, hero?" he asked and kept the pressure as it was, and did not let go of the cheek since cock-to-shithole contact had been established. He didn't push forward more, though. "Should I just leave you here like a dog before mating?" he threatened.
 
Nico's asscheek was firm, but soft enough to jiggle at Critical's smack, a perfect mix of the two. Whatever the villain had been expecting with his violence today, the two toned globes and the tight, untouched sheath between them was most definitely a worthy reward for his effort. As Critical drew those smooth orbs apart, he unveiled a dark pink puckered star nestled within the caramel cleft. Nico's body responded like reactive clay, and he lowered his torso and arched his back, which caused his cheeks to part even further. Hanging below his inviting taut opening, Nico's sack hung, waiting to empty itself. With his hips at this exaggerated angle, his swollen ruddy shaft pointed at the ground like it was going to spear the hard dirt stained with Solaris's blood. A single drop of thin precum dripped off, a remnant of his previously interrupted orgasm.

The scene was right out of a well-angled porn shot, and, Nico's waiting hole was owned by the man that had beaten him. It was new, and tight, and promised to be as welcoming as Nico's mouth had been. The hero sucked in his breath audibly at the first touch of Critical's cock to his waiting flesh. "No, I want it," Nico said more clearly than his earlier mumbling. Critical's demand for even minimal problem-solving had roused the boy from that complete stupor. "I need it... why do I need it?" he was literally asking Critical, as his questioning eyes implored the villain. The small functioning part of Nico's really did want to understand why he yearned for something he'd never wanted, but it more wanted the insatiable emptiness left by the absence of Critical's cock inside his body. In this moment, Nico just wanted everything from Critical. He unconsciously pressed his body back slightly, but he didn't know what to do with his muscles and just increased the pressure of his tight virginal hole against Critical's swollen crown.
 
Critical looked at the presented visual. The asscheeks didn't dimple or draw in any show of muscular readiness to get away. He wouldn't have minded that, he was provably a violent man, but he liked when things went his way as well. He relished in the scene that split the hero's body. There was some autonomy left in Nico, but Critical had made sure he wanted this. Their powers were of the same language and make, but they were of different output. At best, Nico's power could feed Critical's. In a bad circumstance, Critical may rewrite and obliterate Nico, the way a flood can undo a brook. and its direction. And still that anus kissed his cock back when it could. While a virgin, Nico's body did not act like it. How ideal for both of them. The cockhead pulsated against the sensitive decimal. The adorable cock swayed like a rigid tail. To think they'd started this fighting, and now the poor hero was addicted to a cock he'd never had in his belly. The thought rewarded Nico with a splash of precum onto his eager shithole.

A grin on the villain behind Flow. He'd liked the way Nico positioned himself for his ministrations, but it was much better to hear him talk like this. The real Nico was under there somewhere, and he wasn't really fighting. There had been a true part like this in the hero. That was the amusing part of this. He may blame some kind of full mind control later, but right now Critical was only amplifying what was already there, albeit many times over. He looked back at the hero in crisis as that ass was pressed against his cock. It made the villain hiss with arousal, how the valley and just the give of the soft anus was taking good care of his cockhead already. "Because you've always wanted this." he explained to the bewildered do-gooder mind. He leaned over Nico's back and then pushed forward, one hand on Nico's waist and the other in his hair to keep him looking back at his assailant.

He wouldn't stop until the hero's ring was threading over his cock. He groaned and breathed through his nostrils. Their fields intersected. What might have been an existential itch of dissonance in Nico created by the nearness of Critical's power, would now become aligned and hum not only in Nico's psyche, but also through his nerves. A quacking of pleasure that increased as the cock made its way into the unused intestines, interacting with the feeling of being stretched and filled. "Because you've always wanted my cock. You were made for it. You can feel it, can't you?" he asked as he took care to push beyond the half-way mark of his cock's vast length. It would either make the hero mad or plunge him into distressed rapture.
 
Critical's hiss was a primal prelude to the hero experiencing a major life event. The villain's words felt true in the Nico's ear as his body was breached by a man for the first time. The profound truth that the hero's whole purpose, his entire reason for being, was to serve the dark figure's enormous cock, seemed to be exactly what Nico had needed. Like a cosmic puzzle piece falling into place, or an atom fitting perfectly into the electromagnetic hold of a larger molecule. It was both the most excruciating and the most fulfilling thing the young man had ever experienced.

Pain split through Nico's smothered mind as Critical's thick black-veined shaft split his virginal flesh. Soft brown eyes went wide, and Nico inhaled a long groan, but the larger man's hands on his back and in his hair were a grouding comfort, anchoring him in place physically while his purpose was revealed. Though, like birth, this transition was traumatic. Despite his own will being replaced by Critical's, Nico's body still had its unconscious reactions. The flared cockhead had already pushed past Nico's outermost ring of muscle, but now his body clenched. Of course, it was futile for slowing the penetration, but to Critical, it felt like a very strong thumb and forefinger squeezing his shaft as it passed through the dark golden orifice. "It's too big," the hero pleaded with watering eyes, but his voice didn't sound convinced of its own words. The muscles of his lower back stood out harshly, and his flanks quivered with the effort of enduring being pierced.

Nico's words were true, but nothing other than his own flesh cared. His fingers clawed into the blood-splattered dirt beneath him in his effort to stay in place while Critical filled his rectum past its limit. His inner muscles spasmed in response to the brutal invader, and it became a writhing dance of silky flesh around Critical's shaft. Beyond the agonizing pain, beyond the background sensation of having his newly-awakened prostate crushed, the feeling of the dark energy that monstrous cock emitted spread through Nico's body in dark waves. Like an oil slick, the energy expanded through Nico's torso and trickled up through his neck and around his mind like black skeletal fingers. It felt right, and Nico's nervous system stopped trying to protect his body in the way his conscious mind had long given up. "Yess... I can feel it... soo goood..." Nico's eyes rolled up, and his hole ceased its struggle. The hero's golden body opened and accepted Critical's corrupting manhood. Translucent precum flowed again, signaling that some part of him was experiencing pleasure beneath the pain of having his sensitive tissue torn, and it dripped onto the spray of Solaris's drying blood.
 
The change was instant in the hero. Callyn could feel it, the way his own field disrupted Nico's, it also sensed what it was doing to him. The change spread like a chill over summer seas, because Nico wanted to be like this. The independence of his power was a fluke, and only because it spread in humans could it have been isolated from Critical's for so long. The shifts in power around his cock when he dressed it in Nico's ass was soothing in a harsh way, because of the oppressive squeeze. All the tell-tale signs of a virgin was there, almost desperate, very animalistic, despite Nico's heart being invested in the act. Because Critical was fucking another human, and not just attaching a power to his. The flesh and blood that had joined with that power, however small in comparison, was an individual. Though, he might not be for every long. Critical had urges that he needed to hold back, ones to consume and enslave, that'd make this a lot more satisfying, short-term. But then where would the fun be? He could feel the taming of Nico's spirit though, through the guillotine opening, raking him, and the pulsing, gripping insides. Sometimes ass-fucking just felt like entering something vast through a tight opening, but Nico's worship felt like that inner tunnel not only bore down, but twisted to accommodate, and beg for more.

He pulled a bit more on that black hair, which turned the head a bit more toward him, straining that pretty neck to make the parcel of a hero he was fucking more into a distressed creature, which looked more and more toward this purpose. Because if Critical was some kind of god to Nico by merit of their powers, then Nico could only be a warm place for his cock, right now - that'd be Nico's function more than being in Vanguard, or being Amp's significant other, or his mother's son. That's why Nice felt good around Cirtical's cock. Nico wasn't just made to take it, but be grateful for the enormous cock. The last of his human cramps tried to punish Callyn's cock, adding only to tantalization, and then even the seasoned villain gasped as the crevice in the youthful victim only felt like tightly loving, slick silk muscles. He squeezed Nico's waist tighter, bruising pressure, and hooked his thumb into the valley formed by flexed tissue around the low of Nico's spine.

The strength stored in Callyn from the planet itself made him a formidable physical opponent. Not everyone here had gotten to experience it first hand, because of other aspects of his might, but Nico would now. He let go of Nico's hair dismissively, all but tossing it forward to have that hand grab the other side of Nico's waist. A firm, traditional grip. He kept the low of the hero's spine bent downward, to have that pliable and loving asshole pointed up. He snickered when the perverse smaller cock drooled from being fucked. Critical fed the bigger limb harder into that stretched hole and obsessive inside. He slapped Nico's buttocks against his own hips, stirring the hero high up in his stomach with meeting thrusts, making sure to drag his cock rhythmically and brutally over the other side of Nico's prostate, over and over.

"You're a disgrace to your people." he accused. As much as he could deal out rapture that felt like forgiveness, he could stir Nico's guilt - talk to a true part of him. And guilt, as they all knew, was a perfect compliment to physical pleasure, especially for someone who was taking it in the ass like Nico. "You let them die and here you are, enjoying the fuck of your life. And you can't even bring yourself to stop. Disgusting." he went on, but didn't slow down his filling of the smaller body, and his relentless focus-fucking on Nico's pleasure, and that outline prostate inside. It'd be heartbreaking, but it would also be budding sexual euphoria.
 
Now that they were physically aligned as well as being vibrationally attuned, the full beauty of Critical's effect on Nico's body blossomed. The hero's physiology had adjusted to be a sink for the villain's energy, and then also his living tissue. No longer just a passive conduit and mirror, Nico's physicality demanded more. A thrum inside him gradually built, and few other than Critical would have noticed. The silky void beyond Nico's distressed asshole seemed to pull on the aberrant cock like it was caught in a current.

Nico accommodated any manipulation Critical demanded of him, whether physical or psychological. From raising his ass like an animal in heat to grinding his cheek into the abrasive ground just to look more submissive than he already did. The devotion in the hero's warm brown eyes never wavered as he stared up at the freakish man that was at and in the center of his whole world.

The rhythm of Critical's thrusts were easy to sync with, and Nico's demanding hole seemed to pulse with its own life. The tender skin stretched even more as the length of Critical's shaft pulled out, then seemed to swallow the grotesque organ when it plunged back in. The pull on Critical's cock from within Nico's silky depths, in contrast to the rest of his submissive body, demanded the energy emanating off of the toxic instrument.

Every bit of Nico's body was firm and toned, except his entrance which Critical had destroyed and turned into a gaping maw. Critical's fingertips left divits in in Nico's lower back. As the hero was already whimpering out high pitched groans each time Critical plunged back into him, his only reaction to the new painful pressure was for his eyebrows to rise slightly more. Nico's golden cheek jiggled once with the impact of the villain's hand, but it didn't disrupt the rhythm of his hips rocking and rotating up into each thrust. Critical's words, rather than induce guilt, induced more of a dependance on his own validation.

"For you," Nico's brow wrinkled even more deeply with the strain of speaking while being fucked so brutally. He didn't deny the humiliating words, but pleasing Critical was more important than any shame or guilt. "I needed you, more. I can't stop. Please don't stop," his plea turned into a whine, even as the surge of emotion sparked the heat of release to start tingling behind his balls, where the villain focused the brunt of his thrusts. Nico would come soon, without any need to simulate himself, this time. Another drip of precum fell onto the rusty-colored dirt, but it didn't break, and clung to the tip of Nico's penis like a spiderweb, bouncing with each impact of Critical against Nico's ass.
 
In some ways, the continued unfolding of the hero was beyond Critical's control. Like violence can go beyond the practitioner if the rage is great enough. While inspired by Critical's thought and wants, Nico was yielding in a way that Callyn hadn't even thought of. He gasped and coughed at the unusually accommodating sensation of Nico's asshole not just sucking him in, but suckling from his energy emanating from his cock as well. It tickled a bit through his cock-woven nerves when their fields got familiar. He looked down at the feral hero, who lowered his lower back and mashed his cheek to the ground to pay more tribute as though giving up his recently virgin sphincter hadn't been enough.

He laughing quietly at Nico's agreeing words, he slapped the athletic, taut ass again. While a harsh spank, it was actually a compliment from the taller superhuman. Their powers hummed and Nico's reared to submit more. If Critical wanted to obliterate and rewrite this novice do-gooder, it wouldn't be hard. In fact, he needed to guard himself against this impulse. It'd be a full conquering, but then there'd be no more fun like this. He savored the friction on his way out, and made sure he tried out the depth's of Nico's belly, thrusting. He saw a it from the side how the un-heroic organs was confessing to how close Nico was to release, as though his broken pleading didn't do that already.

Critical fucked the offered hole rhythmically for another spell. He was relentless in gouging out the anus and collapsing it by spearing inward. There was enough strength in the villain to do horrible things to the human cannon ball that had been of the same power as him. Just looking down between the asscheeks to see his giant cock easily make a rough home out of Nico's insides was enough to inspire an orgasm, but Critical had enough control to stave it off, and simply enjoy the feeling, instead of loosing to it. Nico wasn't doing as well.

So Critical secured himself deeply into the ass, and held tighter around Nico's waist. Critical sat back and stretched his legs forward. This meant Nico was now sitting in his lap, ass full of cock. The smaller dick would be standing right up, ready to swing if they continued the motions they'd been going through, that Nico never wanted to stop. But Callyn had stopped. There was only him and Nico in reverse cowgirl now. And whatever long range cameras that didn't belong to Virgil, aimed at them.

"You think I'm going to do everything for you, hero?" he asked while his cock was pulsating inside the young body. He reached up to grab Nico's hair to give him more stimulation, and remind him of his subservience, not because he was failing in it, but because being reminded would make it feel even better for the victim. "Show me your allegiance." he ordered. "My cock or your group?"
 
Nico felt a sudden sense of vulnerability as he sat in Critical's lap, the villain's massive cock still buried deep within him. Somewhere deep in his rational mind, he knew that all of Vanguard's encounters were recorded for analysis and improvement. And, by now, normal government surveillance had arrive, though kept a distance. Some civilian news agencies had also picked up story of the confrontation and were doing their best to capture anything of interest to the public. Still, despite the exposure and indignity of Nico's position, sitting pantless with a supervillain's cock up his ass and his own dribbling uselessly against his stomach, he knew this was right, and Callyn was that justification. Nico felt himself slipping further and further into the villain's grasp, that craved the pain and humiliation that the villain inflicted upon him, and there was a newfound comfort in that descent.

Just minutes ago, Nico had been entirely inexperienced with sex between men. Now, with this new position, and Critical's ceasing to be the active partners in their fuck forced Nico to do some sex-clouded problem solving. He extended his arms, planting his hands firmly against the blood-stained ground on either side of the villain. It took a few clumsy adjustments of his hips, adjusting his internal cocksheath around Critical's formidable length within him, but Nico gradually established a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure coursing through himself, again. He lifted his hips up a couple inches, then dropped back down into Critical's lap. It was far from the fluid movements of a professional, more of a modified squat.

Nico was focused on his desperate gyrations when the villain grasped his dark curls. As his head was pulled back, he finally finding an angle that gave him a modicum of the pressure against his prostate that Critical had effortlessly accomplished. "No, please, just let me have it," Nico pleaded through pained desperate gasps each time he lowered himself onto the monstrous organ. Is that good for you?" Until this moment, Nico hadn't considered asking the dark magnificent being if he was pleased. What even was his group? Critical's question caused a brief glimmer of disquiet across Nico's concentration. "Your... cock... always... your cock," he said as his insides thrummed around as he impaled himself on it with increasing fervor. The semen leaking out of his own bouncing cock had turned a bright sickly yellow-green. It seemed that even his biology had changed in response to the corrupting manhood plunging deeply into his gut.
 
The smaller male in his lap cut a perfectly nice shape. Naturally larger than Nico, Callyn worked more as a background than a participant in this activity. It painted the whimpering mess, formerly strong adversary of humanity as the now submissive toy he'd become. The automatic recordings, news outlets, and high-powered lenses would get a nice clip to save. He couldn't help but pet Nico's shoulder and arm possessively, part to congratulate himself too, to have rendered the pristine do-gooder this way in no time at all. Beside them, Solaris seemed to fill and vacate her chest still, though erratic and weakly. He threw her a short smile and then returned attention to Nico when he tilted forward to hold on to the ground. It made the villain groan as the healthy and pliable asshole now pinched his cock in a new way. Critical petted Nico's spine as the smaller male started moving. It did feel good, and he got o look down as the hero's shithole worshipped his dick, taking it rather deeply and holding on on the way out. Flow had become quite the glutton.

It was fascinating to see how the mind-teased man was discovering the physicality of it. Nico didn't have much experience in sex at all. Amp would have been a willing but unadventurous partner, and even now with all the motivation in the world, Nico didn't really know what to do with it all. In time, Callyn planned to cause all kinds of perversion in him, but for now, he wanted to see the real outlook of the slavering victim, impaling himself on Callyn's monster. He reassured Nico he was doing well enough, at least for a few bounces, by petting his back as it moved. But he had to help the witless twink eventually. Pulling his hair would make for better images for the masses, as though their hero wagging his cock while a bigger one was in his ass wasn't sensational enough. But the pull was also to get control. Nico needed to learn the addictive delights of giving himself up. Hairpulling was on par with throat grabbing, to activate a submissive state of mind, and to encourage it.

He laughed when the desperation to please tumbled out the cock-tasting mouth. From where he sat he could see the dribblings of cum changing hues out of Nico's cockslit. He was long gone now. "That's good." he awarded and then finally dug his heels in to thrust up once, making sure to crush that prostate as the cock moved. "Faster, then." he ordered and let go of the black hair dismissively. It was good to stir up some fear in Nico's heart, that he may be failing, to have him perform better. Callyn leaned back to enjoy what would now be a frantic ass for about a minute before he Tsk'ed dramatically and finally wrapped his arms under Nico's squatted knees. He locked his hands behind Nico's head, thereby cinching the full anal nelson position.

He turned to face Solaris. And then he started pumping his arms up and down, and thrust upon their descent, which meant that the poor hero in his lap would be fucked at double speed, and no longer had any say on the pace. All that was guaranteed was the orgasms of the already embarrassed and beaten hero, and how those shooting strands might lash his fallen mentor. It'd turn from a rhythmic fucking to a brutal one eventually, Nico ending up a blurred ragdoll with a flopping, inferior cock as his sphincter was being used to it utter capacity, his prostate ever bullied. Though addled already, the addition of stacked climaxes would fry Nico's brain irrevocably, and leave memories and scars and a deeply set addiction, even when other influences might fade, changing the hero's very mental base forever.
 
Caught in a mind-clouding sexual addiction, Nico desperately clawed at the overwhelming pleasure only Critical could offer. Absorbed in the thrill of submission, he basked in Callyn's approving touch, his pace quickening in response. A multitude of unseen eyes and lenses, both from government agencies and civilian sources, were documenting the unfolding spectacle. Nico's shame would be unbearable once he surfaced from this intoxicating surrender.

Critical's orders became the governing force in Nico's psyche. His affirmations, his directives, ignited a desperate desire within the hero. He was compelled to gyrate faster on Critical's expectant shaft, but the rhythm was not necessarily more sensually effective. Pleasing Critical was reward itself, but when the villain took hold of him in such a commanding way, Nico melted into the contortion. Like the first moment Critical choked him and every fiber of Nico's being knew to surrender. Nico's legs were splayed open, fibrous tissue stretching and tearing match the condition of his over-stuffed asshole.

Solaris's nearly dead eyes twitched, indicating she could probably still see her youngest mentee practically spread eagled and drunk from the huge putrid cock in his ass. She saw the frothy mess of a supervillain's precum oozing out of her subordinate's over-stretched hole.

The abrasive stimulation of his overused hole, the jackhammer crush of Critical's cock tenderizing his prostate, the demand flowing into his body from his beloved villain finally erupted out of Nico like a burst water balloon.

Seeing Flow ejaculate was the last thing Solaris saw. Nico's mouth was stuck open in a wide silent scream while his skin was blazing red from strain. His newly energized semen shot out of his flailing cock like an unmanned firehose. Glowing yellow-green spunk landed on Solaris's face and torso, and she twitched with pain. There was a sizzling sound if anyone was bothering to listen, as the malicious energy Nico had been absorbing through the entire sexual encounter was released in physical form, like acid.

Nico's body slumped, the physical and physiological abuse of his body and the nervous intensity of his cataclysmic orgasm was too much. His eyes rolled up, and he sagged back against Critical as much as the villian's hold allowed. His own shaft, not softening, continued to spill out toxic seed continued to seep out in small spurts, as if he was continuing to orgasm while practically unconscious.
 
He stayed with Nico for it. This moment of the zenith of their intimacy. There was always a peak, a limit, even to the deeply rooted obedience Nico offered him. How much could he take, and how much could Nico, before it was too much. Such a pliable anus, suckling him and allowing his forceful cock to piston in and out, gathering delightful and delicious friction on every way. He locked Nico in and started an unbearable pace, repeatedly echoing the claps of his hips against Nico's ass with the slaps of Nico's cock against his own stomach. A festive, perverted rhythm. All culminating in pleasure for Critical.

He chuckled shortly, truly sadistic but also entirely amused, when the poor hero quaked and then shot out his now fantastically colored seed onto his mentor. There was a rise and tension in the brows of the fallen, maternal heroine when she was stained by her student. The laughter bubbled and clucked in Critical's throat when the hero's prick lost its contents. Some of it would of course stain Flow's costume, as well. Callyn was quite happy with the fact that Nico was christening Solaris as she expired. There could be very few betrayals on that level, whether it be Nico's meaning or not. And the energy vibrated back from Nico and through Critical's cock. He tied his arms tighter, which folded Nico harder.

Ruthlessly, and quite frankly cruelly, Callyn used this new, harder grip, having tightened Nico into a smaller pretzel, to fuck him harder, even though the hero was obviously lost to darkness. His body would remember the continued torture of rapture, wracking his cock and balls, forced to produce more of the toxic seed, which would of course be so orgasmic it'd hurt on the way out. Humans weren't really built to withstand this kind of delight, it'd feel like cuts, eventually. Critical, though, could savor and encompass his own side of it. He chased it brutally, all but inverting Nico's ass, despite how welcoming it was trying to be.

But soon he stopped. His cock was still lodged into the dark body of the hopeless, defeated hero. He was still for a moment, Nico's weight inconsequential to him, before he slid his arms off and thereby let Nico fall to the ground. This meant the bigger cock swung free from Nico's ass. It was a simple matter for the taller being to grab Nico's hair and hold his limp body up, and grab his own cock and jerk twice - thanks to the good treatment Nico had given it already - so he could drown and splash Nico's face with his cum. It was a rather vulgar amount, which would sink in and stay inside the unconscious male. The pleasure was spasmic and primal, and Critical savored it with the triumph.

He held Nico there for a while, smaller cock out, and with a visage entirely saturated in the other man's sperm, forever soaking in and taking root. It was for the benefit of the news outlets recording. After letting go he continued to deface Solaris, by ripping her clothes further, making sure anyone who'd ever wondered got to see her nude, while still lashed by her pupil's cum. The Vanguard symbols had fallen. Critical stuck himself back into his suit and secured it as it should be before the power of the earth itself lifted him into flight. There'd be a new world there, when Nico woke up.
 
A wide-winged transport descended from the sky, announcing the arrival of another superhero team. At the forefront was Warden, a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark brown skin and a commanding presence. Hovering in the air in a similar way to how Solaris used to, Warden took in the scene with grim focus, his eyes moving stoically across the devastation. "We're late," he muttered, his voice low but resolute. "Get to work." His team dispersed on his command. A hulking figure moved toward the largest pile of rubble, using her immense strength to shift debris and free Tempest and Amp. Others swept the crash site with scanners and various enhanced senses, attempting to trace Critical's energy signature, while Warden hovered above, tracking everything with an unrelenting gaze.

Synapse, a slender woman with shimmering purple skin, placed two fingers to her temple. Her eyes glowed faintly as she reached out telepathically. "Solaris is gone," she said quietly, the weight of the words settling over the group. "Flow is alive but unconscious. I'll keep him that way."

Warden's jaw tightened, and he muttered, "Small mercies" to himself. With a final command to keep searching, he descended toward the bodies of Solaris and Nico. Then, he crouched to examine the scene. Solaris's corpse was still in a semi-kneeling position. Her face and chest were burned badly from Nico's super-energized fluids, but the exact nature of the fluid wasn't immediately apparent to the observers. From the chest down, her formerly white uniform was soaked in her own blood. Warden bowed his head for a brief moment, acknowledging the magnitude of the loss and starting to process that no one, not even himself, was safe from someone who could kill her. Just to the side, Nico lay where he was dropped, splayed out, without pants, Critical's semen congealing on his face. His costume glowed with the sickly yellow of how he 'digested' Critical's energy, and spots were burned into the top from splatter of his own corrosive seed. Warden sighed deeply, for a combination of reasons that all blended together, then his expression hardened as he gestured for Synapse to join him. "Keep your guard up," he said. "He's not safe—not yet."

The medical staff was hesitant to approach Flow, half-expecting him to jump up and attack them, like it seemed he'd attacked Solaris. Both Warden and Synapse had to reassure them to get them to do their jobs and carry Nico off, strapped to a stretcher, and Solaris, in a body bag.

Tempest was barely alive, and Amp was rescued from under Tempest's crushed body. She was conscious but hysterical, screaming about what Nico had done, her voice breaking under the weight of grief and disbelief. Vigil stood apart, emotionless as ever, already transmitting his drone-collected data to the military and other superhero teams. Obsidian was nowhere to be found.

The surviving members of Vanguard were loaded into one medevac while Nico was loaded onto a separate one. They were all flown to a secure military hospital under heavy guard. Soldiers watched Nico like a threat rather than a victims. Nico's unconscious form, strapped to a gurney with advanced restraints, was kept a high-security wing in an EM-shielded room. Electric pads dotted all across his skin, and monitors tracked every flicker of energy. Armed guards, dosed with mood stabilizers, stood watch inside and outside his room. There was no way to know if Flow would still be under Critical's influence when he woke, if he ever did.

Despite the authorities' efforts to suppress the footage, clips of the battle began surfacing online within hours. The most incriminating moments, Flow fatally rocketing into Solaris and several positionings of Flow seeming to love having Critical's dick in his various holes, went viral on social media and on the more rebellious news outlets. The more thoughtful commenters rallied to defend Flow, insisting it was obvious that the hero was a victim of Critical's mind control, his actions not his own. Others were rabidly accusatory, even those who said things like 'He let himself be used.' The only commonality across the country, and then the world, was fear of Critical. Newscasters all competed to outdo each other in their solemn words about Solaris's accomplishments and sacrifice. Then, all conversation turned to the seemingly unstoppable threat of Critical, and what the villain even wanted.

Authorities and military forces struggled to comprehend the implications of Vanguard's defeat and the threat that Critial represented, an unknown villain with an unknown agenda. Those who lurked in shadows reacted just as strongly. Younger villains, emboldened by the absence of Vanguard, seized the moment to begin their nefarious careers. Older villains who had lain dormant for years reemerged from the shadows. The military and remaining superhero teams scrambled to keep up with them all, their efforts stretched thin with the sheer quantity of villain activity. Even though the world lost only one superhero group, the psychological balance of power.
 
Callyn was satisfied after that day. He came home to rubble of many man-made atrocities that they'd tried to interupt his earth with. An old complex of bomb shelters, in a nation that was far more interested in attack than defense, these days. As he felt the ether, and all the news surrounding his deeds, he continued to do his work to cleanse this planet of impurities and interruptions. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't amused by the impact he had on other humans. His work was more important, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the little things. On a small, fat TV, he could see how the world tossed and turned about what to think of Nico. Once or twice, Critical would stroke himself off to footage of Nico cumming on the dead Solaris. A spectacle, and he hadn't even meant it. He'd just been there for that infernal satellite. Would they have all been alright, if they had just let him break it and then leave? A shame, though, if little Nico had never discovered their compatibility. Callyn though about it during his solitary flights to other debris in the atmosphere. He had collected the materials after he'd rendered them useless for their original purpose. A scrapyard had built ontop of the bunker her claimed. He wandered it quietly, some times, listening and feeling the earth for his next mission.

About a month after the big event, he was in a big city again. Not the one where Vanguard had their headquarters, but not too far. He had a lot to do, but he made his own time. Dressed in large clothes to hide the metal inserts protruding from his body, he haunted the streets. It was easy locating an apartment that had been vacant long enough that he'd be sure he could have it. Denser populated areas had a lot of clues as to how far civilization reached into the earth. He could clean away obstructions as an afterthought here. It was a bit like gardening. Mostly, it was just like a vacation for him. Critical was, after all, trying to clean up the earth itself. It was good to simply just be, sometimes, even if he was always engaged with his mission. While he didn't miss his old life, some of the things he'd gotten attached to during it, still lingered.

Like the pizza on the table. He only ate for pleasure, and even though no police force could hold him, his idyll would be disrupted by blue lights, sirens, and gunshots, so higher profile eateries were out of the question, since his face, or some semblance of it, was constantly on the news. He didn't even bother to suppress most of his field, since no one had yet to decipher and track it.

Callyn toppled over, head on the armrest of the couch. The couple who lived here had a cat, but they'd cleaned after themselves before going where they were. He was grateful, but could still smell the creature on the furniture. He thought about it briefly, dressed only in boxer briefs that the man had left behind, as the later shows on the television lulled him into an easy sleep. He slipped into rem while the world was still in an uproar about it, moving about outside the window in chaos as he slept soundly.
 
When Nico finally woke, he was thrust straight into a relentless barrage of debriefings. The government needed answers about this new threat, and they needed them immediately. Interrogators bombarded him with questions, each one sharp and precise, cutting through the haze of his weary mind. The inquiries came rapid-fire, demanding explanations for his actions during the confrontation with Critical. Before and after he was seemingly controlled by the villain. Every question felt like an accusation, even the innocuous ones about whether Nico had any idea how Critical anticipated his attacks. He couldn't explain himself. All he could say, over and over, was some variation of "I had to."

When that ordeal ended, he was ushered into another room. This one was colder, its walls lined with state-of-the-art lie detection equipment. The machines hummed and flickered as if dissecting him on a cellular level. The questions here were worse. Did you cooperate with Critical willingly? Did you enjoy it? Could you have resisted? Do you want to again? Do you feel remorse? The machinery buzzed louder with every answer, dissecting his truth while amplifying his shame.

But even that wasn't the worst of it. The telepaths came next, one after another, each slipping into his mind with unsettling ease. Their presence was invasive but oddly gentle, like a surgeon's scalpel cutting cleanly but leaving no wound. They sifted through his memories, plunging past his surface thoughts and into the raw, unfiltered chaos of the battle. They made Nico relive every moment of his humiliation. Each time, Nico grew painfully hard inside his hospital scrubs, and the telepaths know. One even might have enjoyed re-experiencing the sexual violation. The realization of what he had done, and what he had been made to do, crashed over him again and again, as sharp and relentless as the questions.

Through it all, his answers never wavered. He told the truth, always the truth, but it offered no comfort. Each repetition of his confused and horrified account only made the weight of his actions press harder. The chilling echo of himself under Critical's control lingered in his mind, and how he enjoyed it, was a ghost he doubted he would ever escape.

Nights were the worst, emotionally. Every time he managed to sleep, Nico dreamed of his body being contorted and impaled by Critical. In his dreams, he loved it. Sometimes Nico came in his sleep, but he tried to not be obvious about it when he woke because of the cameras. The times he woke without climaxing, he yearned to feel terrible pain and pleasure of Critical inside his body until the next time he slept. It was mortifying.

After days of relentless interrogations, Amp finally worked up the courage to visit Nico in his heavily secured hospital room. The silence between them was deafening in between her attempts at small talk about his well-being. She didn't stay long. The unspoken words hung heavily in the air, the weight of them making it painfully clear that whatever they'd had, whatever they'd been to each other, was over. The nausea hit him the moment the door clicked shut. Amp's heartbreak and disgust that he'd unwillingly siphoned churned inside him, and his body rejected them violently. He barely made it to the bathroom before collapsing on the cold tile floor, curling into himself as waves of loss and self-loathing tore through him. He stayed there for what felt like hours, drowning in his and her emotions.

The first week passed in a blur of questions and scrutiny. After Amp's visit, the guilt over Solaris's death flooded Nico's mind. The second week brought a mix of evaluations: brain scans, physical assessments, and long sessions with a psychotherapist. Vigil's meticulous recordings clearly showed that Critical had placed Solaris in the path of Flow's attack. Nico's role in her death was clearly accidental. By the third week, the experts concluded that Nico no longer posed a threat. Whatever had happened, it was entirely the result of Critical's uncatalogued power. And that guaranteed he would never face Critical again.

By the fourth week, the brass shifted their focus. They didn't care about guilt or grief. They wanted to know if Flow was still an operational asset. On a training field, Nico learned the answer the moment he tried to use his powers. Something was different. Something inside him had changed. The nervous energy of the unmedicated guards and scientists barely registered, tasting bland and hollow where it once might have fueled him. The first time he expelled a charge, it sparked bright yellow-green, crackling against the pavement like a live wire. The runway scorched under its force, but it didn't propel him forward. It was raw, destructive, and unstable.

The display earned him another series of body scans. The psychotherapist prescribed heavy prescriptions over his already fragile psyche. But by the end of the week, Nico was flying again. His energy signature remained changed, the sickly hue of Critical's influence lingering in every burst. Each of his impacts left marks like lightning strikes. It felt like a power upgrade, but it scared everyone, especially himself.
 
Callyn had a certain relationship to his power. Unlike the craft that the made heroes of this world were gifted, his had its own purpose. Maybe they were not so different, him and the registered and celebrated few, other than how connected to his abilities he was. He nurtured them, and answered to them. They had given him his mission. While he could do miracles, it wasn't the amount of power that mattered to him, not even the devastating result of it, but how his power was doing, that was important. Sometimes, the volatility of his output was exactly because the energy in him was in dissonance. He knew how to use it, and for fighting it was easy to release ballistic bursts. But in order to tune, he needed to garden the entire planet.

Eventually it would be right. He touched a metal protrusion on his shoulder as he looked at himself in the mirror. They were dull and thin, coming out of him. The energy they supplied him with kept his body trim, used what fat he had to fuel itself, and when there was no more of the man, they drew from the earth. The tall mirror in the hall didn't cast back an image that drew to mind his meager beginnings. Whatever this kingship was, it had cost him everything. But he didn't care. He was happy to do this because it was important. Even now the asymmetry in energy movement in the world called out to him to fix it by destroying whatever humans had built to disrupt it.

He put on a large jacket and roomy jeans to hide the insertions after he'd put on his black suit. He went outside to make sense of things. He needed to rid a field from powerlines not too far from here, but there'd just be another mission waiting, after that. He ended up on a park bench, overlooking what was likely usually lush, well tended greenery, when the season was right. He could tell you how much he could draw from this space, that it was enough to topple the highrise next to it, and that in turn would let him do all manner of things to this area. But he wouldn't know what events took place here during the summer. What concerts, what games.

He dropped his head back and listened to the ether. Things were a bit quiet about him now. His ego had relished in the attention for a while, but the wild speculations from the news was getting tiring, so he was a bit relieved he was fading. That's how it usually was. He did something inexplicable, and reporters would have their theories on why things went so critical, but eventually both press and science lost interest. It wasn't like the world wasn't full of wonder these days, so the odd natural anomaly wasn't really selling unless you could reliably connect it to an individual. And how would they know?

He felt the nagging itch to go visit that field and rid it of metal skeletons that was getting in the way of the earth's own power, but he chose to ignore it. He might dedicate his life to cleansing the fields, but that didn't mean he couldn't procrastinate, too. He thought with his libido shortly, and then he smiled to himself as he got up. Passing by a couple, they looked at him with both intrigue and disgust. He supposed that's what he was worth, even if they'd know who he was. He continued his stride for one of the paths through the trees. Something about the wind in the leaves calmed him.
 
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