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Merc's Metamorphs

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Chapter 4: The Good Guys?

During the delay between taking up positions and "action time", Merc had time to think and, as often was the case, his mind took great advantage of it, exploring off on some wild tangent of thought. On that particular mission, the Kangacobra's brain dredged up memories of his longest-time friend, and how odd it was when Chance first became a Metamorph, and took on the persona of 'Demon'.

Unlike Merc, both Demon and Bruiser ended up with powers which developed seemingly at random. Bruiser's combined powers made sense; being able to scan for minds and read surface thoughts along with the capacity for one and two-way telepathy was one thing, but Demon's two abilities were more like a grab bag-- matter transversal and fire control were quite the combo. The Pit Bull's ability to essentially walk through walls and summon up flame from nothing got him his Metamorph name the first time the press saw him.

There were times when Merc got a little jealous of both of his boyfriends; Bruiser's description of 'feeling' minds seemed like too amazing an experience to NOT have and Demon commanding fire with a thought-- there were elements of both that sounded like a lot of fun but, unlike the entire spectrum of other abilities, Merc couldn't duplicate those. He honestly didn't know if his boyfriends' powers were off limits to him because they had them, or if there were a subset of abilities that Merc couldn't use and those were the only ones those who 'caught' his Metamorph 'disease' might get. He honestly didn't know the answer, but the thought of testing his theories never seemed to strike him except when he was on a mission, which wasn't really the best time to experiment.

Then again, he reminded himself, what had happened to Bruiser and Demon had essentially been a 'one-off'-- his glove had misfired and they had ended up bearing the brunt of that effect. He remembered in his intro to physical science study class that an experiment needed to be able to be replicated and, up to that point, the mess-up with his glove had been a one-off event; even if he COULD replicate it he really wasn't sure he wanted to. Despite all that, however, Merc really couldn't complain: not only was he an awesome Metamorph, but both of his boyfriends were too, and they made a great team!

His time for musing was cut short soon thereafter as headlights of an approaching vehicle illuminated the side road around the food manufacturing plant. It was a nondescript moving van-- the usual choice (for some reason) for most weapon dealers. Merc smirked; it was honestly so cliche. Glancing across to where Demon was hiding, the Kangacobra caught sight of the Dog's eyes gleam faintly as they were caught in the headlights. Merc gave Demon a quick series of gestures, reminding him wordlessly that he should give the Kangacobra enough time to make an entrance and distract everyone inside after the newcomers entered.

Merc's Metamorphs had a general point of order to avoid killing whenever possible and coming up with an airtight plan helped them maintain that best practice. Juan liked to think of himself as a fairly nice guy and, even when he was Merc, the idea of killing someone wasn't very appealing. Likewise, Demon was really a big softy and Bruiser was more inclined to save a life than take one, and so the three of them worked together well when focusing on overpowering and disabling rather then slaughtering and murdering their way to success. It also didn't hurt their ratings with the authorities.

Once the four men in the moving van had exited the vehicle and started moving toward the building, Merc slid out of the culvert in which he'd been hiding and began inching his way closer to the entrance the men were approaching. He didn't emerge completely from cover until the door was open; at that point the four men would be more focused on the inside of the building than what was going on outside. The Kangacobra froze in place however as the last man in the line offered one final glance around the exterior fo the building. Once the door closed behind them, he stared moving in earnest.

Keeping an eye out on his surroundings, Merc saw Demon's silhouette slip around to the far side of the building; there wasn't a door there but the Pit Bull didn't really need one so it was hardly an issue. Bruiser, in the meantime, sent out a mental acknowledgement that he'd reached the fire escape and was scanning the warehouse. The fact that they hadn't set any lookouts on the roof was an obvious sign that the weapons dealers were either overconfident or stupid... or perhaps just plain sloppy, but Merc encouraged Bruiser to be careful.

By the time the Orca reached the roof, Bruiser confirmed that there were five men inside already with the four newcomers entering to meet with them. Nine total was not a bad opposition, but, as Bruiser got into position he indicated that there were two more still meeting with the new arrivals. Merc grumbled mentally "Eleven isn't my idea of a good time... but I should be able to draw their attention. Demon, give me to a thirty count before you join in... focus on making things hot-- the more distracted they get the better."

Demon offered a mental chuckle through Bruiser's connection. "Sounds like fun. Nothing TOO flammable in there, right?"

The Orca cut in "Just keep track of what your fire is doing and keep it away from any gas lines."

One amazing aspect of the Dog's power the three had learned since Demon obtained it was that he could do more than just summon fire; he was able to extinguish it, and even guide its movement. "No problem."

Merc cracked his knuckles, slinking up to the door the men had used scarcely two minutes prior. He took in a deep breath, grinning from ear to ear a he projected his thoughts to his boyfriends. "Alright... thirty seconds starting at the sound of the bell."

In that particular case case, the 'bell' was the metal door crumpling from a punch. Merc liked to make loud entrances and, considering his primary job at that point was to create a distraction and draw attention away from Demon's entrance, he liked to think he did a pretty good job. It also helped that the door he hit flew inward and knocked one of the men off his feet. Dramatic entrances, Merc knew, really kicked ass.

It took several seconds for the would-be arms dealers to recover from the surprise, and Merc further stalled their reaction by letting out a loud, roaring hiss. In his more ego-stroking moments he liked to think of it as something akin to a T-Rex movie roar but, his team maters had told him on multiple occasions it sounded more like an angry opossum but, either way, it had the desired result as each of the men facing him hesitated for a few extra seconds, giving Merc ample time to grab a nearby chair with his tail and send it flying across the room into one of the goons, who had just started to reach for his gun. After that things got wonderfully chaotic.

Merc had sensitive ears but he'd long since grown accustomed to the sound of gunfire in enclosed spaces; his invulnerability helped ensure that his ears wouldn't have any lasting damage from the sound waves but the universal thing about 'bad guys', he'd noticed, was that they just didn't get that guns worked differently in real life than they did in the movies, and the concussive damage from the multiple bullets firing took their toll-- even though he was the target they were affected more.

The Kangacobra felt each of the hits on him-- less than one in four shots landed but they were no more unpleasant than paintballs. Granted, Merc really didn't much care for the feel of them impacting against his impervious hide, but it was a car cry from what the poor gunmen-- one after another they fell before him. Wasting no time, Merc moved in to engage the poor humans who thought they could stand against a Powered individual-- spoiler: they couldn't.

The first he clobbered on the top of his head with a fist; the second got a broad Kangacobra foot to the chest, which sent him sailing across the room to collide with the wall; the third courageously brandished his gun and made to fire it again but Merc was having none of that-- a quick swipe from his tail later and the man was cradling his broken forearm, but a moment later, an elbow to his forehead sent him crumpling to the floor like a rag doll.

Confident that he'd made enough noise, Merc approached the door leading into the back and announced loudly "KNOCK KNOCK!"

The uproar of small arms fire preceding the multiple holes appearing in the wall separating him from the arms dealers was a very clear indication that he had their attention. Having been tracking the count in his head, Merc waited until the timer hit 26 before he planted an enormous foot paw against the door and, bracing himself with his remaining foot and his thick tail, the Metamorph kicked with all his might, crumpling the security door before sending it flying inward.

The renewed assault against him by bullets felt like standing outside in a hail storm, but he grinned, realizing that his would-be murderers had their back to Demon, and the gunfire came to a sudden and dramatic stop a scant two seconds later, accompanied by cries of fear and screams of terror. It was accompanied by an overtly dramatic bellow "You know where bad men end up, sinners!"

There was some irony that Chance's parents were highly catholic and, in fact, he'd gone to a catholic primary school for a few years before the two had met in public school-- mostly, however, it meant that, as Demon, the Metamorph was very convincing at spouting all sorts of scripture and religious doctrine; it was all for show and to further develop his brand but, truth be told, it got Merc a little worked up... few things were sexier than a proselytizing Pit Bull beating the crap out of bad guys.

Despite how much Merc wanted to admire his canine boyfriend he knew he had a job to do; despite Demon being the demoralizer, the Kangacobra was the one who had to keep the focus of the arms dealers with weapons. Thanks to the disruption caused by the Pit Bull's entrance, Merc had ample time to take stock of his targets. With a large crate in either arm, he took out two of the gunmen up in the warehouse catwalks and, as the three in front of him on the ground level took aim, he brought both of his outstretched paws together in front of him and created a clap-- but not just any clap: he imbued it with his sonic power, creating a concussive blast that knocked them completely off their feet.

Merc was pretty confident by that time to presume the arms dealers realized they were outmatched, and his assessment was further reinforced as he saw several of them begin to fall back. Their prospects weren't all that great since 'falling back' meant running into Demon; the Pit Bull had several walls of flame rising up in the middle of the concrete floor and up in the catwalks where there wouldn't be any risk of it spreading-- Demon was always so careful like that.

They also had to contend with Merc, who was advancing fearlessly toward them. The ultimate plan was to accept their surrender when they finally dropped their guns and begged for mercy. Unfortunately one of them was a little too stupid and a little too willful. Right about the rest of the time all his compatriots surrendered, one of the guys toward the back decided to play cornered-animal, and turned his gun on Demon. For Merc, watching the weapon swivel toward his unarmored, unprotected boyfriend, everything went in slow motion.

Demon's paws had just come up to channel more flame, presumably to surround those who had surrendered to further keep them contained, but the gun was suddenly pointed in his direction and the Dog barely had the time to create a little spark between his palms as the gun went off and he fell backward. Merc saw red.

The Kangacobra sprang forward with all his might toward the lone gunman, colliding with him paws first, gripping each of his forearms until he felt the man's bones crunch beneath his fingers. Hissing Merc squeezed even harder, feeling the sensation of salivating deep within his sinuses-- he'd only ever bitten someone once, and that was before he'd learned to control his venom; the would-be mugger died in agony, screaming as if he'd been set on fire... Merc regretted it ever since but, seeing Demon laying on the ground some ten yards distant, the Kangacobra began to realize that he might be willing to use his venom again... right up until the Pit Bull fidgeted, and sat up.

The man was dropped in an instant and Merc made his way to Demon's side, pulling him up to his feet and squeezing him in a tight hug. "Oh, babe... I thought he fuckin' shot you dead! Where were you hit? Dimé. Donde te lastimaste?"

Demon brushed his fur off, casually staring at Merc. "Hey-- you're talking in Spanish again, 'cabron'."

Despite having known one another for so long, Chance knew almost no Spanish and so it stood to reason that Demon didn't either-- 'cabron' being one of the few exceptions, and one he liked to pull out every now-and-again. Pushing that concern aside, Merc looked the Dog up and down. "Didn't you get shot? I saw him shoot you!"

Demon offered a cocky grin, and gestured with a paw to the carbon all over his fur. "I incinerated it before it got to me. Please tell me you didn't kill the asshole."

In that moment Merc took stock of what he'd done to the would-be murderer and his heart almost stopped. "God damn...I was about to fuckin' bite him."

The Dog patted him on the shoulder. "Well it's a good thing you didn't-- it'd suck to have to restart our streak. Hasn't 22 been the longest we've gone?"

Despite Merc's Metamorphs sticking to a strictly 'no killing' mission objective, there were rare occasions when such a thing was just not feasible. They had an incredible track record of no peripheral casualties and use of lethal force was strictly for those attempting to use lethal force but, still, whenever possible they avoided death. Demon was right, of course, and Merc smiled. "It'll be 23 after today, my man. Lucky number 23."

Bruiser's thoughts entered Merc's head and, judging from the slight lift of Demon's floppy ears, the Dog was receiving the same mental broadcast. "Ringleader's not interested in a lack of casualties, boys-- he's in the office at the front of the warehouse up on the second floor trying to arm the nuke!"

Merc glanced in that direction; while the catwalk followed the walls of the warehouse the section at the far side had extra supports and it stretched out some twenty feet from the wall, creating a small room on the second floor. The stairs and ladders leading up to the catwalk were interspersed throughout the warehouse but, depending on how long the activation code took to input, they were not looking good on time. The Kangacobra could only come up with one plan. "Ready to try a wall dive?"

Not waiting for an answer, Merc grabbed hold of Demon's arm and began spinning. The centripetal force picked the Dog right up off the ground and, by the third rotation, Demon had picked up quite a bit of speed. Aiming carefully, Merc wondered idly why he never tried out for the shot-put team. With that thought in his mind (creating mental laughter from Bruiser), he released the Pit Bill. Demon soared toward the front of the warehouse, gaining plenty of height as his forward momentum carried him the distance to the enclosed office.

Before impacting with the wall Demon 'phased out'. Bruiser narrated the action within for Merc's benefit. "He got there in time-- punched out MacKay-- that's the arms dealer... and soldered the activation switch so it can't turn on."

Merc was finally willing to call that a victory. "Fuck yeah!"

Both of his teammates repeated his exclamation and, just like that, the exciting part of their job was done. Sending the readied text from his cell phone, Merc let out a long sigh; what followed was the boring twenty minute wait for the relief time to arrive.

* * * * *

Different Metamorph and Altered groups had a variety of ways when it came to neutralizing opposition. The one universal thing they all had to deal with was handing off prisoners to the proper authorities-- in the case of working through the 'official channels' it meant waiting for the police, Legendary Unlimited, or a Metamorph squad hired specifically for prisoner transfer. When working for a group like the Dire Legion... well... Merc really didn't like thinking about what prisoner transfers entailed.

In the case of the arms dealers and would-be buyers they handled that night, Merc's contacts said that they'd be doing a hand-off to a group of Metamorphs who would handle the transfer of the apprehended criminals to the authorities. While that made their job easier, there was still the matter of keeping control of the suspects (Merc always hated that term; how could they be 'suspects' if they were caught right in the middle of the transaction? Wouldn't that make them verifiable criminals?)-- fortunately, Merc's Metamorphs had a tried-and-true method for easy-mode prisoner control.

As the three of them waited for the team to come in and relieve them of the 'innocent-until-proven-guilty-because-a-jury-that-wasn't-there-trumps-the-first-hand-account-of-a-Metamorph-who-caught-them-in-the-act-suspects', their job was exceedingly easy... just as it always was, thanks to Demon. Merc, Bruiser and Demon sat at the loading dock of the warehouse playing with the cards that the arms dealers' guards had apparently been using earlier in the night with all of their prisoners 'stored', as Demon liked to call it.

Having cowed, incapacitated, or otherwise rendered-inactive each and every 'suspect', Merc handed them over to Demon, who used his Metamorph matter transversal power to fuse them with large, empty metal drums. So long as their prisoners remained immobile and didn't struggle the experience would feel like having incredibly tight bands around their chest, biceps and thighs but, if they tried to struggle or wriggle free it'd feel like they were working their body against razor wire.

Most prisoners learned to be complacent and comply with capture after less than a minute-- the more willful ones had no greater chance of escape, dealt no lasting physical damage to themselves, and accomplished little other than self-torture. It was a very efficient compromise for Merc's Metamorphs between getting the job done and being lazy at the end of their shift.

The best part was that there was no way the prisoners could get free of their mobile prison short of someone with Matter Transversal removing the drums, and very few Metamorphs had Demon's ability, so it was also job security for Merc's Metamorphs since their employers couldn't cut and run without paying the tab... at least, not if they wanted their prisoners drum-free. On that particular night, however, they were dealing with professionals, so there was no worry about that. The prisoner transfer happened on time and in good order... except for one small snag.

"Weh-heh-hell! What do we have here? Can it be? Merc's Metamorphs? And here I thought I was gonna have a boring night!"

Merc felt his mood drop immediately. "Hey, Torpedo. I guess you're serving as our prisoner transport tonight then?"

The Dolphin Metamorph stepped into the light, approaching from the front of the warehouse with two others flanking him; the Lion was Vasilias, a Grecian Metamorph known for jumping from group to group as the mood (and contracts) struck; the Wolf to Torpedo's right, however, was a new one. Priding himself on knowing most of the who's-who among the Metamorphs, Merc had to ask. "So... who's your new friend?"

Rather than let Torpedo introduce her, the Wolf handled the matter herself. "Diana. I'm not new-- we just run in different circles... Merc."

The Kangacobra took a moment to recall where he'd heard the name. Taking a quick glance toward Vasilias, he was just starting to put things together when Bruiser hopped down from the catwalk. "Boreite na cheiristeite ta paragmata apo edo, sosta?"

The she-Wolf flicked an ear, her whiskers perking in the faintest hint of a smirk. "Fysika. Poso Evgeniko."

Vasilias' tail flicked one way, then the other, his ears raising. "I Orka milaei ellinika?"

Bruiser must have realized that Merc was starting to get agitated at the foreign language. Switching back to English, he winked at the Lion and Wolf. "I am a telepath... it's all Greek to me."

Torpedo gave the Orca a light punch to the shoulder. "Yeah-- Dolphins represent!"

Demon snorted. "Bruiser's a Killer Whale, not a Dolphin."

Rather than correct him, both Cetaceans just rolled their eyes. Torpedo wasn't done though, taking a step forward to rest a hand on Demon's shoulder. "Hey... you may not know your animals that good, but at least you got a pretty face."

The Pit Bull shrugged the hand off his shoulder. "Bite me."

Torpedo let out a dolphin-like clicking laugh. "Here? Now? Not sure about that, doggy-- last time I did that you got REALLY turned on."

Vasilias glanced over to Diana. "Ti symvainei?"

She responded flatly "Ta agoria einai agoria."

Demon blurted out "English, please!"

Bruiser gave the Pit Bill an elbow to his side. "Pendejo. Be more polite."

Torpedo slid up beside the Dog, winking. "Yeah, doggy... we both know you could bear to be a little more... collaborative."

Rather than say it aloud, the group's telepath broadcast his next statement among just the three of them. "You fucked Torpedo... didn't you?"

Demon went into a coughing fit and disengaged from the overtly familiar Dolphin. Taking a step away from everyone else, the Pit Bull glanced toward the wall. "I'm gonna go do a quick once-around the perimeter... make sure we didn't miss anything."

Before anyone could object, Demon stepped through the wall and was gone. Bruiser didn't let him off the hook. "Hey-- when we're back at the hotel you have a story to tell us."

Rather than wait, Demon was quick to provide a brief preview, using their mental connection to defend himself with some damning testimony. "It was four months back and it was convenient. It was during The Convention and was a ONE TIME THING."

Having a healthy, open relationship meant that jealousy was not usually part of the equation. Each of the three were able to act in a mature and responsible manner when it came to their individual sex lives. They were able to function as well together as they could separately and each had the ability to veto a would-be inclusion into their collective relationship if such a situation were to arise. It was a very secure arrangement-- progressive and comfortable.

That didn't, however mean that they couldn't make fun of Demon for a bad decision. Merc was going to make the most of it. "Dude... you're gonna have to give us some pretty significant details, you realize that, right?"

Demon continued the conversation in their mental head-space but, even though he wasn't within view, the overall impression of his deep scowl made it through in his response. "Do I realize it? Yes. Do I like it? Hell no."

Merc smirked, giving a wink and a farewell wave to Torpedo and his companions before turning to follow after Demon with Bruiser in hot pursuit. "Which means you're going to?"

"Only because I know you two won't shut up about it until I do... yeah."

Demon really DID know his boyfriends.

* * * * *

In order to avoid attracting attention Merc, Demon and Bruiser waited until they were clear from observation and slipped back into the trainage tunnel leading under the highway. They made good on getting back to their clothes and, with time to spare Merc gathered his team together and activated the effect to revert them back to their Human forms. Unlike the Metamorph transformation, the shift back into their natural shapes were relatively unspectacular, especially since they weren't cutting it close, which could have... interesting side effects.

Frank never failed to be surprised at what the night air felt like on his bare naked body compared to how it felt against scales and fur; judging from the faint shudder from Chance, he wasn't the only one. Juan, who was already getting dressed again apparently also noticed. "Yeah... colder in here because of all the metal. Let's finish up here then get back to the motel."

Chance quickly followed suit, getting his pants on without even bothering with his underwear. "Sounds good to me... man, this tunnel stank a LOT when I was in Metamorph form... gotta say, being nose-blind as a Human isn't all that bad."

Frank didn't miss the fact that there was a certain amount of mostly-dried 'gunk' on the bottom of the circular pipe in which they stood and, for a long moment he weighed on whether or not he wanted to risk getting it all mover the inside of his pants when he stuck his feet in but he ultimately came up with the obvious answer: when he got back to their room he could take a shower and change pants while going naked on the streets would result in questions at best, or jail time at the worst. "Damn... we really gotta start finding better places to do this in the future."

Juan offered a sardonic smirk. "Well, I've said it before: we should start saving up for an airship."

It HAD been a passing joke from time-to-time-- not only because Legendary Unlimited made them famous for the 'big time' groups, but because no other Metamorph group had decided to get the kind of high-profile mobile base; unlike Legendary heroes, Metamorphs often had to go the extra mile to protect their secret identities... or even have them in the first place. Metamorphs were all but vulnerable as Humans and their need for discretion was even more important. An airship was a joke; they all knew it, and it would remain one.

Chance smirked as the three of them emerged from the culvert, continuing the discussion in that line of thought. "If we DID have an airship then Frank wouldn't have to waste a day with the whole teleportation thing."

Juan shot back almost immediately. "Don't think we didn't forget about the whole Torpedo thing. You owe us a story."

Chance's expression immediately went sour. "I know... I know..."

Although Frank wasn't particularly displeased by hearing about his boyfriend's conquest, he couldn't help but get on his case... just a little. "You didn't clear him with us beforehand, you know."

The white guy shrugged. "It wasn't really planned... and he was pretty damn insistent. Kinda reminded me a lot of Juan when he gets into it-- well... Bruiser, anyway."

None of them had to hide the fact that they were not completely 100% the same people when they were in Metamorph form. It was a combination of hormone shifts and power madness with just a dash of freedom-due-to-anonymity that gave them the capacity to become different people when they changed. They were still the same at the end of the day but, as Juan had once put it, there was more of a sense of 'freedom'-- the result was that they each exhibited a certain degree of openness and extroversion that none of them had as Humans.

The idle discussions (lacking specifics) continued until they got to the parking lot of the motel, at which point they all went quiet until they arrive at their room. Unlocking the door, Frank motioned his boyfriends in. "Shower first, then Chance has a story to tell."

The three of them took their shower together. It was a relatively small stall but they didn't need a lot of room and, truth be told, the enclosed space helped lead to the right kind of mood. The three were definitely more sexually active in Metamorph form, but they had a strong relationship-- mentally, emotionally AND physically, and they enjoyed the shower to the fullest.

Once it was over, the three of them settled down in the motel room and, after a little more insistence, Chance was given the floor and he made good on his promise to tell the story of how he and Torpedo got to 'know' each other at the Convention.