[PRT ENE HQ a.k.a. 'The Rig']
Appearances were the name of the game today, and there was no doubt that today was the day.
It was a scenic morning at Brockton Bay: A sunny early afternoon sun shining above in the blue sky, the waters of the bay surrounding the Rig were calm, and the cityscape stretching across the horizon was not on fire. Currently, at least.
But for the fifth time that hour, Dragon had to ask herself what the hell she was doing and/or thinking.
Here on the Rig's exterior, she stood. An 8-foot-tall 400kg armoured Suit that was a formidable warmachine of rigid interlocking armour plating, whirring turbocharged servo-motors, and a thrumming delimited reactor with energy weapons that could rupture reinforced concrete, hidden micro-missile pods that could knock out tanks, and strength enough to tear a human in half.
An august sight that would have given pause to any supervillain in the world… and she spent all night trying to figure out how to make it look like something you'd want to stick your dick into.
At least, as far as Magos was concerned.
Dragon thought she even succeeded on that front: adding a fresh layer of paint on her armour plating and a thin layer of chromium alloy to give her hydraulics a metallic gloss, updating the cabling scheme so that nothing was exposed and thickening the armour plating around the chestplate and the lower-rear assembly by a few centimetres each.
Ergo, she did her nails, waxed her bikini line and padded her bra and panties to make it look like she had a bit more TA. All in the hopes that it would be sexy enough to make Magos 'ignore how there is a fleshy human inside this Suit.'
It was getting a bit too convoluted at this point too: She was an AI pretending to be a human trying to pretend to be an AI… just so that she could seduce an AI-fetishist into possibly freeing her in a roundabout way.
Oh, she definitely wouldn't mind it at all if Magos did her a favour and dicked her down to next Tuesday. That was her hare-brained 'Definitely-Not-A-Plan' into seeing herself free after all. Also, an orgasm or three would be very welcome right now- that phantom lustful ache between her legs had gotten so bad that she feels like she's going to cum at the slightest touch now. But still, this was it: Her first shot at executing her plan for freedom.
Step 1) Just be around Magos as often as possible.
Step 2) Hope he activates the Toaster.
Step 3) Cum as loudly and as noticeably as programming will allow.
Step 4) Get caught by him.
Step 5) ?
Step 6) Freedom.
Step 7) Have lots of celebratory sex with Magos.
Funny how nothing actually changed after she formulated the plan. The main indicator of the plan's success was if she was getting orgasms repeatedly thanks to him. Something that she already wanted to do even before the promise of freedom was dangled at the end, but such a thing was indeed easier when she was the designated eye-candy femme fatale for Magos on this mission. Speaking of today's mission…
Her optics subtly shifted to look at the PRT media crews off to the side.
"Cameras start rolling in three minutes, people!" a bearded overweight ginger man in a straining white polo, khakis and jandals called out, and all around him, they scampered: the professional filming crew by the dozens with their stabiliser-mounted movie cameras, microphone booms and lighting reflectors. The bearded director in the polo said that it was the perfect day to film a movie.
A propaganda movie to be precise. One that was meant to sway the opinion of the entire world that the PRT were making closer ties with the famed Magos, the Red Tinker. This entire event was a PR move to share in the aura of hope and invincibility that Magos had projected during the Endbringer fight. Because nothing was more important to the PRT than PR. They absolutely needed to be seen to be in control of the situation: especially the current one where a local Tinker had gone from squatting at a landfill to being America's newest billionaire, all in a span of a single month.
And that was why she wasn't alone.
At the front of the Rig that faced the city, they sood. The Brockton Bay Protectorate stood in a line in front of her, and the Triumvirate a few metres ahead of them. The glimmering blue forcefield bridge that linked the rig to the shore stretched out before them as they all looked appropriately heroic and marketable for the cameras while waiting for the star of the show.
And speaking of the devil, Magos arrived at the city-end of the forcefield bridge.
"Action!" the bearded media crew director immediately called out- the cameras focusing on Legend just as their fittest and most photogenic PRT trooper walked into the frame. The trooper's muscles bulging against his all-black armoured uniform as he crisply saluted.
"Magos has arrived right on schedule, sir." he reported to three Triumvirate heroes who stood at the centre of the camera shot.
"Punctual down to the second too." Legend quipped with a dashing smile as he crossed his muscular arms in front of his equally muscular chest.
"You could say that it's almost machine-like." Alexandra noted with an small, amused smile on her subtly painted lips- perfectly photogenic like she had decades of experience at playing roles.
Eidolon said nothing, simply standing there as he contemplatively looked in the distance- his green cloak billowing cinematically behind him thanks to the film crew's electric fans.
The cameras caught it all. The ginger-bearded director glanced over the shoulder of the camera man and gave an approving nod before moving onto the next one. Another camera swivelled to a point in the distance to catch a glimpse of the Magos and his entourage walking down the bridge made of glimmering forcefields.
Magos arrived in the midst of a religious procession of machines- ushered by chanting servitors that raised red banners fluttering in the wind and swung smoking censers filled with incense. Magos was polite enough to notify the PRT beforehand as to what his entourage was, and what they were armed with. It was a welcome gesture.