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Aphrodite City: The Nightmare Begins

By Psion

All rights reserved

by their respective parties

Author's Note: Once upon a time, about two or three Halloweens ago, a friend of mine suggested taking a darkly satirical look at the superfur fandom as well as the clichés and troupes within it. The project has been in limbo since then, mostly because neither he nor I were entirely sure if people would be able to tell the difference between a lamp-shading parody and the real thing. However, I feel the time is right to see if this experiment was worthwhile... Finally, I would like to make a general apology to almost everyone reading this; if you self-identify as anything other then "White, heterosexual American male" and are not offended by the end of this chapter... just give it time as the bad clichés are only going to keep coming unapologetically from here on in.

_ Addendum for Sofurry Users: Hard to believe it's been almost two years since I typed the above paragraph out. In any case, enjoy the complete saga of Aphrodite City, now cleaned up from its original Fur Affinity posting. Some of you will invariably find this dark or offensive, to which I must repeat myself by saying, "that was the whole point." Fortunately for me, some of you will also find this hilarious, which was also the whole intended point when I first started this spinoff series._

Aphrodite City, a prosperous metropolis in western New York State. Situated in some of the finest wine country in the United States and home of Ambrosia Biotechnology, Aphrodite was a world away from the broken dreams and metabeing brawls of Silicon City. Indeed, by some strange whims of fate the city didn't even have a population of caped crusaders or criminal masterminds to call its own. For the most part its citizens preferred it that way, stubbornly managing to remain in isolation from the world around it. While this position was not without a number of benefits, it unfortunately made the city the perfect canvas for some to make their mark in the darkest way imaginable....

Deborah Autumns, beat cop of ACPD. Hardly on the force for a year and already she had come to one defining conclusion about Aphrodite City. Unless she got some serious action in her career, she was going to have to start hitting the gym or otherwise end up looking like the donut-chugging veterans responsible for showing her the ropes. The German Shepherd anthro shook her head as she stopped for breakfast on her way to work; it was undoubtedly something else to get assigned to Aphrodite City right out of the New York police academy. The city where nothing bad happened, no capes, no shadowy conspiracies, no registration political bickering; it was as if some invisible hand protected this city and kept the metabeing riff-raff out.

Deborah chuckled to herself as she sat down in a nice little Russian restaurant and ordered a quick breakfast. Riff-raff, now she was starting to think like Commissioner Phillips and the rest of the senior officers. Not that their distaste wasn't warranted, during her training at the academy she had been sent to New York to help restore order after a big supers brawl. The amount of carnage caused by just two teams of supers was ludicrous. Autumns arrived in the city and it looked like a war had shattered the city. Streets were torn apart, buildings were in ruins...

"Attention all units! Metabeing disturbance reported on the corner of Seventh and Main!" The Aphrodite City Emergency Dispatch barked over Debbie's radio.

The canine blinked and promptly swallowed the breakfast pastry in her mouth before grabbing her radio; she could not have heard that right. "This is patrolman Autumns on the corner of Twelfth and Main, please repeat."

Autumns' only answer was a burst of static as an explosion echoed from somewhere down the street. This wasn't happening, this could not be happening. Yet in an instant she downed her coffee, threw some money down on the counter, and was out the door before anyone could so much as say a word to her. Whether she liked it or not, this was her job....

The corner of Seventh and Main looked as if a bomb had gone off. A school bus had been turned on its side and set on fire while motorists caused a four-car pileup trying to avoid the chaos unfolding in the intersection. Sirens wailed in the distance, emergency services were five minutes out. The first one on the scene, the canine quickly took cover behind a mailbox and drew her service pistol. Peering around the corner, she surveyed the scene and tried to figure out where the "metabeing" was. Part of her was hoping this was caused by something relatively ordinary like a bomb or a crazed gunman but the other part knew there was something wrong here. Fortunately, the perpetrator was definitely a fan of the ostentatious school of supervillain costume design. Even if he weren't the only person standing in the midst of his handiwork she'd still have no trouble picking him out of a crowd.

Standing in the middle of the carnage with a psychotic grin on his face, his hands wreathed in flame, was a short brown field mouse. Standing a little over four feet tall, he seemed practically invisible inside his sombrero and blanket-like sarape. Indeed, were it not for the brown-furred ears as big as saucers sticking out of convenient holes in his hat, she'd have a hard time guessing what species he was.

"Buenos dias chica!" The rodent greeted with sadistic glee as he spotted her, blasting her out of cover and forcing her to dive behind a parked car with a perfectly aimed fireball.

Flicking off the safety and chambering the first round in the magazine, the Doberman shook her head. "God damn it... Cultural sensitivity class here I come." She grumbled and readied herself.

Sliding herself across the pavement, Deborah sighted the pyrokinetic and fired. Please don't be bulletproof, please don't be bulletproof... She silently prayed as her training kicked in and she emptied the magazine into her opponent.

While her opponent was indeed normal flesh and blood, the canine in turn clearly needed to spend more time at the target range. Most of her bullets failed to find their mark, instead sinking harmlessly into the pavement or metal debris of wrecked cars. Fortunately two managed to bite into the mouse's amber-furred flesh, nailing him in the left shoulder and lower right side.

The short pyrokinetic screamed in pain. "PUTA! MALDITO PUTA! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?" He shrieked while channeling a fireball through his good arm.

Deborah sucked in her breath as she reached for a spare magazine kept in her pocket for these occasions. "No but I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyway so by all means, please enlighten me." The shorthaired canine panted sarcastically as she quickly went through the motions of reloading.

"I am Gonzales! The Mexican firestorm! The male who will dance in the ashes as this city burns to cinders." He exclaimed with a maniacal glint in his eyes.

What you are is a hammy little piece of shit. She thought to herself, rising to her feet. Her opponent merely stared in her direction, something about her suddenly causing him to forget about his pyromania. Autumns looked behind her, expecting to see a battalion of cops or the National Guard, and saw nothing. Turning her gaze downward however... her brown pelt had turned a metallic copper in color. Instead of her normal c-cup breasts, a pair of figurative basketballs bulged out of her chest. She looked back at her still spellbound opponent before glancing one more time at her gravity-defying breasts. Really, was this how Aphrodite City's first supervillain was going to be brought down?

Sighing, she saw her opportunity and took it. Moving surprisingly unhindered by her endowed bosom, the metallic police dog charged Gonzales and punched him with a strength that was not entirely her own. The mouse took her hardened knuckle squarely in the jaw and flew backwards, colliding with a parking meter in an explosion of spare change before falling unconscious. With the enemy out of the way, Deborah ripped open the rear emergency door on the burning school bus and drug the injured occupants to safety. She had just rescued the driver and the last of the children when suddenly the world started to spin and her vision blurred...

And suddenly she was back at her precinct, sitting at her desk, as the rest of the squad room was a flurry of uniforms with police officers responding to reports of metabeing activity all over the city. Deborah herself had no sooner stood up in response then one of the other officers put a hand on her shoulder.

"Autumns! I just finished processing this one female's statement and the chief needs me out with the others to handle the mess on Seventh and Main. Can you see that she gets home safely?" The voice asked. The canine turned around to see Officer Franklin, one of her coworkers at the precinct. The raccoon cop looked fit to be tied, as frazzled by the sudden explosion of activity as the other officers in the squad room. Come to think about it, this looked like a horrible time to volunteer for a busy-work assignment...

Franklin saw her hesitation. "Come on, if the chief asks I'll tell him it was my call. Please, this lady nearly got done up by some muscle freak roaming Evergreen Park and I'm pretty sure she's still a little crackers from the experience."

"Crackers?" The Doberman asked quizzically. Franklin had a way with words, only he would find a way to poetically say that he just finished filling some paperwork with someone who nearly got raped and was still unnerved by the experience. Still, with Franklin "crackers" covered a broad spectrum of mental instability from "slightly anxious" all the way to "stark raving mad." Better make sure she was dealing with the former and not the latter before the ring-tailed officer shoved a complete stranger onto her lap.

"Sorry, her name is Sonya Winters." Franklin began as he led her to where Sonya was waiting. "Afghan Hound, female, mostly works as a musician in the clubs along Ritz Boulevard. Says she was jogging along the edge of the park when this huge bovine male showed up. Description is kind of vague but seems to match several other reports that are coming off the bandwidth. Anyway, Big Foot lifted her off her feet and ripped her pants off before she, and I quote, 'screamed like if Tarja Turunen and Annette Olzon mated with an angel.' Any idea who those people are?"

"Two European rock musicians I think." Deborah replied as she followed along.

"More then I know. In any case, if she wasn't imaging the whole thing, her voice stunned him and allegedly set off every car alarm within a block radius."

His coworker blinked as she mentally processed what he was saying. "Did... did a super just come in to report that her powers developed?"

Franklin laughed. "I know right? Part of the reason why I think the stress was getting to her. Probably just managed to give Big Foot one good kick in his manliness and the rest is just the stress talking, guess the asshole isn't so tough after all."

"I wouldn't bet on that given the kind of day it looks like we're going to be having Franklin." She cautioned, still trying to figure out what happened. Did she really fight with a psychotic mouse dressed like a bad ethnic stereotype or was it just a dream?

The other officer snorted, he never had a particularly fond view of rapists. "Deborah, anyone who targets women jogging alone in the early hours of the morning is never anywhere nearly as tough as he thinks he is. We'll get him, most likely sooner then later if he's dumb enough to try this in broad daylight."

The canine wished she were just as certain. No matter how she looked at it, she couldn't shake the feeling that something big was going on. Stepping into the office where Franklin left Sonya Winters, the policewoman went through the motions of introducing herself and taking the other female home. Perhaps a busywork assignment wasn't such a bad thing after all. At the very least it afforded her some time to clear her head and listen to the police radio without looking suspiciously eager. Just what the hell was going on?

Elsewhere, in the suburban neighborhoods surrounding the city, two mysterious figures watched events unfold thanks to the power of a magically enhanced television. The frame of the giant flat-screen TV was painted with arcane runes, the screen split between dozens of smaller images. On one, the battle between Gonzales and Deborah's metallic, muscular, hyper-endowed form was looped in slow motion. Another image showed Sonya stunning her attacker with a piercing shriek that would have made a siren jealous. Others still showed the current activities of promising candidates for the show as well as individuals they needed to keep an eye on. Overall, more of a success then the two brothers dreamed of.

"Oooooh, porn time!" One of the figures cooed with child-like enthusiasm. "More! I want more! Give me more!"

"Patience brother, patience. It took us a while to put even this much together. And there is still much to be done if we want more entertainment. At least two more heroines need to be made, several more villains need to be recruited, and we have three individuals who need to be watched very closely." The other individual replied as the television highlighted the images of Commissioner Philips, the ursine Mayor O'Connor, and Dr. Alexander Townes, the tiger CEO of Ambrosia Biotech.

"Cockblockers..." The first conspirator hissed, sounding more like a fantasy goblin then a mentally well-balanced specimen of anthrokind.

"Indeed, we will have to keep an eye on them, especially Dr. Townes. There is something about that tiger that tells me he will be quite an annoyance if we give him the chance. In the mean time... let's see, we have Shield and Amp appropriately baited, we still need to bring Express Panda to the city, and I think we need at least one more..." The smarter one mused.

"Oooh, ooh! I know, how about a British vixen with a weakness to caramel, just one bite will cause her to inflate like a balloon." The first one replied eagerly.

"That would be retarded... but I like the idea of an inflating vixen. Perhaps she could be British, the city does have a few expats from the United Kingdom living here. Hmmm, now about the villains; the two mercenaries are both inbound, the hero-hunter Venom has been appropriately enticed, just need a few more..." His cohort pondered.

"How about a big Russian? Those are always scary." The dumb sibling asked, clearly just saying whatever came to his mind first.

"Yes, because nothing says 'Murica' like a cold war reject from a country that hasn't been a major threat to the stars and stripes for over two decades. I suppose the idea has merit though, we do need another brute villain; one that's hopefully smarter then Panzer Beast. Hmmm, but I feel like we're missing something, a key role for making this all flow together." The intelligent brother responded.

"Don't we need a planner?" The dim one blurted.

"A what?" His co-conspirator replied, clearly confused.

"You know; a planner, a thinker, a... the word you are always using." Simple Brother continued.

"A mastermind?" His smarter brother asked, finally starting to understand the other's mad rambling.

"That's it, we need a mastermind!" The dumb one cried out, looking pleased with himself for providing some contribution to the conversation.

The smart one stroked his chin. As much as it pained him to admit it, his brother was right. They either needed someone to make plans for them or step in and do it themselves. As wonderfully promising as Gonzales and Panzer Beast had proven on their first day, they were far too impulsive to be trusted for the long term. And the brothers were only interested in the long term. They had been quietly planning this for the better part of three years, nothing was going to be left to chance, absolutely nothing....

Later that day...

Sweat began to condense on the canine's brow as Sonya Winters finished tuning her guitar. Night had fallen on Aphrodite City and people were gathering in the clubs, trying to not live in fear despite getting their first real taste of the Metabeing Age that morning. The pyrokinetic on Main Street had done a great deal of damage, over a dozen people were hospitalized and the entire street had been shut down to clean up the damage. And then there was Him... the blond Afghan hound felt a sudden chill run through her body despite the muggy heat of the basement nightclub. He was still somewhere out there, that bull...

Shaking her head, the tall, slender female forced the unwanted thoughts out of her head the best she could. The police said they had the matter in hand and she believed them, at least she wanted to believe that they had things under control. In any case, she had to stop worrying about it and try to move forward. People were depending on her to put on a show to help forget today's troubles after all....

Picking up her electric guitar and walking out from backstage, she quickly surveyed the crowd while going through the motions of plugging her instrument into her amplifier. The basement club was a relatively diminutive affair; fifty people and the floor was already packed, one bartender moved briskly to supply patrons with a steady source of cheap beer, and the stage was barely big enough to hold a proper four-man band. Taking a sip of water from a bottle provided by the barkeep and sitting down on a wooden stool, she imagined how she must of appeared to the audience as the canine rocker warmed up with a metal rendition of Greensleeves.

The audience slowly swayed in time with the music as the ancient melody began with a slow, soothingly somber pace before Sonya woke them up with a screeching finish any guitarist would have been proud off. Winters stood up to her full height, at six-foot-four she had gotten used to being something of a circus freak. Clothes that fit were always a pain to find but being tall helped make a presence on stage. Long blond hair hung freely, flowing like a river of pure gold as her bright blue eyes shone with an inner fire. "Alright metal heads, are you ready to ROCK?" She shouted, the tight confines of the venue meant she didn't need a microphone to project her voice.

For a small crowd, they had no trouble roaring with approval. The canine guitarist smiled and nodded her head. "Alright then, time for a little number that's a personal favorite of mine." She replied loudly, getting cheers as she opened up with Halestorm's "You Call Me A Bitch Like It's A Bad Thing."

Only Elizabeth Hale herself could have sung a better cover then what Sonya had blasting out of the club. Club-goers began to bounce and headbang in time with the music as she switched from Halestorm to Lordi with "The Riff" and "The Devil is a Loser" before winding down with a cover of Blind Guardian's "Sacred Worlds." An eccentric selection to be sure but Sonya always did like challenging herself with a variety of ranges and styles, the better to show off to recording producers.

And frankly, neither she nor the audience seemed to care that much. Her long blond mane bobbed violently as she bounced around in time with the music, the rockers starting to sing along with her even if they didn't know or were too drunk to remember the words. Particularly enthusiastic partygoers were either throwing up the "devil's horns" or holding up lighters way in the back.

Finally, after finishing her last chord, the longhaired canine looked up at the spectators while sweat began to drip down her face. The swarm of metal heads cheered and Sonya drank up their adoration like it was an endless bottle of hard liquor. Finally, the weirdest part of the morning's tribulations began to fade into a dream. Clearly that... encounter with the bull had stressed her out. A superhero with a siren shriek, the stress was just putting her mind into overdrive. After all, how could she think there could be anything more awesome then this...?