Aphrodite City: Trash Television

By Psion

An Aphrodite City Story

All Rights Reserved

Aphrodite City, once the jewel of upstate New York. Now its splendor swept away by a conspiracy as insidious as it was juvenile. Two entities known only as The Brothers, two siblings as perverted as they were mysterious, have had the city in chaos for nearly three months. First came the supervillains, all of them carefully crafted to appease their patrons' completely tacky fashion sense and general lack of worldliness. Then came the heroines, sexualized to the point where their effectiveness as anything other then a pinup was questionable. For nearly three months, the two groups had clashed in what was little more then a glamorized superhero pornography; the villains causing horrific casualties and nearly endless amounts of property damage, the heroines showing up to try and stop them until the Brothers depowered them when the two of them felt it was most convenient for their "interests." Yet while the city endured and the fickle whims of fortune continued to protect the heroines, it remained to be seen if either would handle the latest scheme...

"Do you know what we need?" Tall, the taller of the two vulpine Brothers, asked as they went over the "scripts" for the next couple "adventures" together.

"I dunno, what?" Short, the smaller and arguably more simplistic of the Brothers, asked.

"We need a guy whose sole purpose is to follow our heroines around and take lewd pictures of them then broadcast them across the city." Tall replied, thinking of another cliché that would likely stop being funny within a week if it was even humorous to begin with.

"THAT'S A GREAT IDEA!" Short boomed with approval, apparently he felt the need to shout the few times he said something coherent that was more then a few syllables long.

"Brother, inside voices." Tall replied with forced patience as he tried to massage the headache that was starting to form thanks to that outburst. "I think I know where to get the ideal recruits as well..."

The "headquarters" of the Hedonist cult was pretty much what one would expect of a fraternity made up of perverted basement dwellers with no money and even less in the way of originality or decorative taste. An abandoned factory in the heart of the city's industrial quarter brought to life with a variety of stolen electronics and furniture, Loco's followers had turned the old metal fabrication plant into a debauched pleasure palace. Discarded beer cans were strewn across the floor, projector screens displaying a combination of skillfully taken "artistic photography" of the five heroines plus home movies of the cult's other... exploits lined the walls while a stereo sound system projected sounds that would drive purer men mad with the wanton chauvinistic depravity on display.

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! PLEASE STOP!" The red vixen screamed on screen seconds before a Hedonist's purple robes briefly blocked the camera...

The room filled with a malicious air as the audience cheered and watched events unfold with a bottle of beer in one hand and the other around wrapped around something better off left unmentioned, a sea of purple robes unzipped to allow their wearers to cool off as their bodies started to sweat due to a indecent increase in circulation. And then the film was interrupted mid-scene; a mysterious power spike causing the projector to sputter violently then shut itself off in a fit of pique.

Then, suddenly He was standing among them. A sharply dressed male fox in a two piece suit nodded to the audience and slowly walked towards the back of the main amphitheater where Loco sat on a high throne and overlooked his followers like a perverted king. There was no question among any of the Hedonists who this fellow was, their beloved god had come down from his place in "the high heavens" to visit them. Some chose to express their pleasure by throwing themselves at the stranger's feet in naked reverence, others stared paralyzed by disbelief as they were unable to believe this was really happening. The taller of the Brothers soaked up the attention as he stepped up and stood next to Loco's chair.

"Loyal Hedonists, thank you so much for your unwavering devotion, such devotion should be rewarded." Tall began, resisting the urge to smile as he watched his audience practically eat out of his hand. "Unfortunately, my power for such remunerations is limited so rather then simply ask who is the most devoted amongst you and have things devolve into an all-out brawl, I have come up with a relatively simple test to gauge your devotion..." He continued before starting to explain what he wanted of them. Judging by the smiles that started to cross most of the cultists' faces, he could tell most of them didn't need much prompting to get started...

Back at the Brothers' suburban command center, Tall returned after having successfully completed his errands. "It's done. The Hedonists have been given enough of an incentive and the various gangs we have built up have been successfully riled up. The Fitmen are on the prowl and I paid a visit to those two lovely madams, the Scarlet Countess and the Jade Empress, everything is ready."

"YAY! GOODIE!" Short yelled again, earning a long sigh from his taller brother. At least they didn't have to plan anything for a while....

Adrian knew he hit it lucky when the Hedonist cat realized he was the first to arrive at a fight between the Fitmen street gang and two of the city's heroines, Express Panda and Shield. The stench of sweat and mild constipation hung in the air as the bothersome cultist pulled out his camera and started to record the unfolding battle. Overuse of potent and allegedly experimental muscle supplements had turned the Fitmen into a troop of excessively over-muscled meatheads, their bodies so hideously overdeveloped the female members were almost completely indistinguishable from the males appearance-wise.

The bronze-tinted Doberman and jade-clad martial artist were so much more appealing. Slender arms flexed and contracted as breasts bigger then either girl's head bounced and jiggled seemingly in contempt of gravity as the heroines suppressed their opponents with a barrage of punches and kicks. And the way their butts looked in those tight outfits when the girls executed a perfect high kick that sent a flat-chested Fitwoman flying into a parking meter, loose change flying everywhere, or a ripped Fitman into a dumpster. God, the way Shield filled out that costume...

So engrossed in his perverted fanboyism, Adrian was oblivious to the 1987 Chevrolet thrown in his direction until it impacted with him, breaking bones and rupturing all sorts of important organs with the sickening squish of a ton of metal impacting with less then a hundred and fifty pounds of organic tissue. Fortunately it wasn't a direct impact; he was able to regain consciousness on the ambulance ride to the hospital despite suffering multiple factures and internal bleeding. He'd live... barely.

Benjamin was unknowingly doing much better then his fellow Hedonist Adrian. Having successfully located Wrench Wench, the fox carefully followed the masked mink. Demonstrating a rare level of intelligence that would be completely unheard of for a pervert in other stories about hormone-crazed losers chasing skirts long after it ceased to be funny, Ben decided to hang back and avoid filming her during a fight with a trio of Medicine Men still ticked about the loss of their lair. Her mighty sledgehammer rang true but the drug chemists were still able to beat a hasty retreat to their new hideout. Losing their trail, the skimpily dressed gadget mistress resumed her original route. The sliver fox slowly crept along behind her, feeling a smile cross his lips as she shouldered her hammer and stopped again, this time in front of a homeless shelter. Taking a moment to feel the contents of her utility belt and making sure everything was there, she walked up and was promptly greeted by the charity worker in charge of the shelter.

As the two started to talk, Ben crept closer before ducking around the corner of the brick building. Was this one of Wrench Wench's secret contacts that helped the heroine keep a finger on the pulse of the city? That would make sense, why else would she stop here to chat with someone shepherding a bunch of hobos? Curious, he leaned around ever so slightly to better listen in on their conversation.

"Thank you so much for stopping by." The shelter manager said with obvious relief in his voice.

"Not a problem, where's the heater and how long has it been out?"

"It's in the basement, it broke about a week ago and we need it working before the first snows. I'm really sorry to bother you with this but our normal maintenance guy is still in the hospital after that time Crimson Screamer and Hypothermia shot up a supermarket... seriously, who does that? And of course all the other contractors in the city are backlogged until this time next year so-"

"Mr. Hanes, breath." Wrench Wench interrupted calmly. "I said I'll see what I can do and here I am. I'll give it a look over. If I can't fix it, I'll send a friend over with the right parts." She reassured as they disappeared inside the building. Benjamin blinked as he leaned back behind his hiding place. Seriously, she was stopping to fix a piece of junk appliance for a homeless shelter. Of all the stupid, silly, non-heroic sounding things... He stopped in the middle of his silent diatribe when he realized he was completely missing the point.

Wrench Wench, bent over a machine, a cornucopia of opportunities for excellent butt and cleavage shots. This would get him the blessings of The Great One for sure and at no real risk to himself either. He just had to search the perimeter of the building for a good basement window and... jackpot, an open one that would take him right behind the white-furred mink. Just had to squeeze through and... avoid crashing into a shelf full of soup cans like he just did.

Wrench Wench turned around so fast the Hedonist could have almost sworn there were ball bearings on her stylized work boots. For a moment there was nothing but deathly silence, the costumed contractor glared at her opponent as the light of recognition shone in her eyes. She knew what those purple robes represented and it was immediately apparent to the sliver fox that the mink loathed the Hedonists. Her sledgehammer had just returned to her hands by the time he was halfway up the stairs, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor.

The instant he stepped into the shelter proper, Ben knew he made a mistake. Almost immediately all conversation stopped as charity workers, homeless bums, and families that had lost their homes in various supervillain rampages looked up and stared at him. Emotions ranged from cold hatred to casual contempt and in that instant he knew, Wrench Wench could easily kill him if she was angry enough and no one would care; no one would say anything except maybe lament how much bleach it took to clean his blood off the floor. He had to get out before they decided they weren't going to wait for the masked mink.

The violet-clad cultist didn't even make it a foot before they were on him; a mob of dirty street urchins all jumped up and tackled him in a writhing heap of raw vengeance. A vagrant pulled out a baseball bat from somewhere and was about to hit him when a strong, feminine arm reached through the dog pile and roughly dragged him to his feet. Ben put on his most disarming smile as he found himself face to black-haired, blue-eyed, extremely angry face with Wrench Wench. Wench soon smiled back, an evil grin positively dripping with malicious intentions. Faster then the robed fox could blink, he was violently stripped to his underwear and thrown out of the shelter. "Hope you don't live far from here sugah." Wrench Wench said with a smirk before heading back inside to finish what she came to do.

As his misfortune would have it, Ben lived on the other side of the city from the homeless shelter, leading to a very embarrassing bus ride and an equally humiliating walk to get home. By the time he returned to his apartment, one of the other heroines beat him to the door, taping his wallet to his door with a note. We know who you are and where you live. If we see you again, we're forwarding your membership in the Hedonists to your employer in the Department of Public Works and you can enjoy unemployment with the rest of the city. - Signed S, A, EP, Pvt. D, and WW.

Ben trembled as he read the note in his apartment; perhaps it was time to rethink his life. At the rate things were suddenly going the Hedonists probably weren't going to be around for very long anyway...

Matthew was one of the more hardcore Hedonists, one that really should have learned from the failures of his fellows Adrian and Benjamin if he had the opportunity. Fortunately he had the perfect idea to prove himself to The Great One, it took him a while but then again, he had been collecting video footage of the heroines for his own reasons almost since the crisis began. As he was supposed to set up a citywide network capable of broadcasting his exploits as well as take pictures of the heroines, the slender jackal decided to get to work on the technical side of things while his competition was out getting beat up by those damn contrary bitches.

Rubbing his hands together as he looked over his basement setup, the canine carrion-feeder mentally went through a quick checklist. Transmitter was activated and broadcasting a clear signal, the video was edited and properly synced; all that was left was to hit play and start broadcasting. Hmmm, did he disable geo-tracking? Ah what difference did it make? If he had it on that meant they knew where to send the fan mail. Time to go live and introduce the world to Matthews Davis...

By his personal account, the broadcast went well. All of his equipment held up and there were no technical glitches, even managed to put a little money into his online account. It looked like he might actually have a career at doing this sort of thing, maybe he should consider getting more pictures to add to his collection. As a matter of fact that sounded like a great idea. Grabbing his camera and getting ready to leave the house, he opened his front door just in time to save a group of four police officers the trouble of knocking.

"Matthew Davis?" The officer in charge asked calmly.

"Yes, how can I help you?" The Hedonist replied politely, thinking he had nothing to worry about.

"Matthew Davis, you're under arrest for the illegal sale of pornographic material unless you can produce signed consent forms from the heroines Shield, Amp, Express Panda, Private Doll, and Wrench Wench. You're also in possession of an illegal television transmitter unless you can show us a valid license from the FCC."

"What consent forms? I don't need any consent forms. Don't you have anything better to do then bother me?" Davis rebutted.

"Yeah, yeah, tell it to the judge. I'm sure he'll be happy to explain how you violated the Decency Act of 1994 and at least three FCC regulations." The cop replied dismissively as his partner handcuffed Matthew and hauled him out into a waiting squad car....

Thomas presently stood a very good chance at proving himself to be the most "devoted" of the Hedonists. It took a lot of planning, tracking, and tense negotiations with a being that could snap him like a twig with just his pinky finger, but everything was coming together beautifully. It took the better part of a day, in which time three of his cohorts had been judged unworthy by the whims of fate, but now he had everything he wanted within his grasp. The camera was set up, his fellow Hedonists were gathering as fast as they could once they heard the news, and Panzer Beast, his partner in this endeavor, was looking perfectly pleased with the fruits of their combined effort.

Between the two males, Amp squirmed and struggled against her binds, her mouth tied shut to prevent her from unleashing her sonic scream. Both men looked at one another with a glint of malice in their eyes, their monstrous expressions the stuff of horror movies as Thomas twirled a switchblade in his hand. Just a little cut and they'd be able to take off the last barrier between them and their prize. Just one last step and they will be able to enjoy the rewards of their efforts in front of the entire order...

And then it all went wrong. Someone tipped off... pretty much everyone there was to tip off. The other four heroines arrived behind the crowd while somewhere, that infernal marksman the Castigator had set up a secret perch and took a shot at Panzer Beast. Thomas had no idea what kind of weapon the unknown sharpshooter was using but whatever it was managed to put a hole in a supposedly bulletproof supervillain. One minute Panzer was just standing there, the next the giant bull was falling over with a bullet piercing his left lung. Blood spluttered from the exit wound and splattered all over their bound prisoner. The Hedonist canine scanned the roofline in an attempt to find the mysterious shooter but it was futile, the Castigator had moved. Besides, what was happening on the ground was quickly becoming more important.

Of the four heroines, Pvt. Doll froze in place as her mind struggled to process the horror of what almost just happened. However only one thought overcame Shield, Express Panda, and Wrench Wench; save their friend. All three females began to tear through the dense crowd of cultists like women possessed. Raw, unadulterated fury ran through them as they forced their way through the mob of Hedonists thinking they had a shot at the three women. They did not. Even after the Brothers depowered the girls to make them vulnerable... There are stories of adrenaline allowing mothers the strength to lift cars to save their children, of everyday people finding the strength to do the impossible simply through a stubborn, single-minded refusal to accept the alternative. Such power was what radiated through the three of them at that moment. Kick, punch, block, hammer swing, parry, head butt, no quarter was given though it was certainly begged for once it became clear that the girls' way was the only way the brawl was going to go.

Undisciplined and with their enemy's offensive digging deep into their morale, the remaining Hedonists broke and scattered, leaving the grassy park strewn with injured and moaning purple-robed perverts and the lingering smoke of a teleported Panzer Beast. With black and purple bruises covering their bodies and numerous small tears into their already immodest costumes, Shield gave her cohorts a meek smile before staggering over to the park bench to offer some comfort to a sobbing Amp. Too close, that was way too close....

Epilogue...

Thomas was running as fast as his feet would carry him. The Castigator had found him, it wouldn't be long before that muscle-bound male bear would be... -BANG!- A single shot rang out from the barrel of a 9mm pistol loaded with armor piercing ammunition, sending a metal slug through the back of the canine's head and out between his eyes. His work finished, the masked Stanley Dewpond holstered his sidearm and did his best to appear inconspicuous as he disappeared deeper into the back alleys of Aphrodite City.

Rachel Arsenel, the "friend" of Wrench Wench, smiled as she finished fixing the homeless shelter's heater. It was a simple problem of a faulty starter, didn't even take her more then half an hour at the most. She was just about to pack up her tools and leave when Mr. Hanes took her aside and brought her upstairs. There, one of the women living in the shelter picked up a folded quilt she was sewing and presented it to the mustelid mechanic.

"Ms. Arsenel, you're a friend of Wrench Wench and that Amp girl right? We heard about what happened at the park, could you give this to her to let her know people are still thinking about her?" The middle-aged porcupine asked politely as she handed the younger female the finished quilt.

"I can do that." Rachel replied stoically as she unfurled the quilt to examine it. What she saw took her breath away.

Surrounded by a purple border that looked suspiciously like it was cut from a Hedonist's robes, the focal point of the quilted blanket was a five by five foot azure square as detailed as a medieval tapestry. Against a navy blue background, quilted versions of the Aphrodite heroines walked towards the viewer. Behind them, a shadowy figure with angelic wings flew overhead, wings spread wide as he kept watch over the heroines.

"She'll love it." Rachel said at last. "But who is the angel supposed to be?"

"The angel's supposed to be that vigilante fellow that's been following those girls around for about two weeks now. Preacher at church has been talking a lot about him, believes he's an angel sent from Heaven to punish the wicked men that have descended upon this city. I'm not so sure, for one if he really was an angel he wouldn't need a gun, but I can see how some people can think that way. Your guess is as good as mine as to who he really is. Still, the six of them are the only hope any of us have anymore of turning things around. Hope they don't mind if I took some liberties with their costumes, felt the girls would look more heroic if it looked like there was more fabric on their outfits."

Rachel was speechless, at that moment the only thing she felt capable of doing was giving the quilter a hug and thanking her for the gift. A simple token, but one that meant more to the mink and her friends then the gift-giver would ever realize.

For the first time in a long time, Samantha Summers's mind wasn't in the game. No matter what she did, she couldn't help but think about how things went down in the park. As her game ended with her as the worst player on the losing team, she found she didn't care. It had finally gotten through her thick head, why Shield was always so high-strung and why Amp was always so close to a mental breakdown. Letting the controller fall on the carpet floor, she buried her face in her hands. Damn it, she was supposed to be a superhero. She was supposed to be powerful and making rights from wrongs and... except she never was and she was only now just starting to realize how wrong she had been.

Squatting in an abandoned suburban home, three individuals finished editing video and quickly started packing equipment into a van that would be vaguely familiar to any heroine of Silicon City.

"Oi you Smith scallywags, careful with that box of camouflaged cameras. After surviving fireballs, cars, sound waves, and bloody hell what else, I would hate to lose one of them just because you two tripped out on your own damn feet." Pirate Pete ordered; for the purveyor of scandalous spandex shots, every time the stout rat wore his privateer-themed costume was Talk Like A Pirate Day.

It had been a while since anyone had seen a sign of Pirate Pete, most had presumed his failed misadventures in Silicon City had ultimately bankrupted him. That could have hardly been further from the case. Bunkering down, Pete took a vacation as his alter ego Keith Quikmoor and spent time thinking about what had gone wrong. Ultimately, the king of perverted paparazzi concluded that he had strayed too far from his core principles; he took too many risks and didn't hedge his bets. And that nearly cost him. If he wanted to avoid embarrassing himself by getting caught in the same rookie mistakes as these Hedonist jokers, he needed to get back on his game.

Ending up in Aphrodite City was the latest in a string of incredibly good fortune for a male in his profession, beginning with the discovery that the presumed dead sister of his last sidekick Maurice Jacob Smith was alive if only barely. Getting her up to snuff to the point where he could use her to blackmail the coyote Maurice back into his service and making sure he had the appropriate leverage to keep his henchman under control required him to cash-in more then a few favors in the criminal underworld but one back alley doctor and a pair of biofeedback collars later, everything was as it should be. Hell, Claire Smith proved to be useful beyond keeping her brother in line, having the kind of eye Pete needed to get the kind of shots he needed to break into the "rich and sexually frustrated housewives" market.

Aphrodite City itself was an interesting proposition for Pete. There was the opportunity to make some good money on a few episodes but at the same time he had to be realistic about what he had. Based off of some of the Internet addresses Claire managed to back trace, he estimated that a tenth of his viewers were lawmen in the FBI, the DSA, or their overseas counterparts. And he doubted they signed up for a membership on a "company account" just to have something to beat off to when they finished their paperwork. Heaven only knew how many of the rest were vigilantes with an axe to grind against him. Still, at least he was going to get their money once he got out of here.

He knew the only reason the ringmaster or ringmasters of this freak show had been getting away with what they were doing with Aphrodite City was because they somehow cut all major communication traffic in and out of the city. The instant he smuggled his hard drives out of the city and uploaded the first episode of his adventures here online would be the end of that whole charade. After that the fuse was lit and he didn't want to be anywhere near this powder keg when it went off. At least two borderline crazy women, a bunch of frat boy villains that didn't know the difference between evil and stupid, and God only knows what whoever in charge was like.

Yes, they certainly couldn't leave here fast enough. And though he tried to stay completely to the shadows, he couldn't resist tipping Shield off about what was going on in the city park. After all, if any of Loco's followers truly wanted to have a shot at being the next Pirate Pete, they needed to have someone teach them the number one rule of the profession: your cash cow was not your sex toy....