The Owl in the Abyss (Chp 4)

Chapter 4

The next morning I was back in the under-construction operating theater with my next partner. His name was Doctor Nate Sullivan and worked in the MRI as an image interpreter. He was a rather handsome find, late twenties, ultra blonde, short curly hair and had a wiry muscular build.

After I collected my sustenance from his delightful completely shaved cock, I had him fill the time until he recovered by exploring every inch of my body with his hands and mouth. I generally knew the parts of my body that would get me hot and bothered, but that was only with my own hands - I was curious whether there would be any difference with an actual partner.

The first difference I found was that my inner thighs were ridiculously sensitive to caresses and licks, kisses and caresses along my hips did wonderful things, while his hands slightly scratching the skin all along my sides really got the oven going too. A light massaging of breasts didn’t do as much, but kissing and sucking around the nipple really pushed an erogenous button, as did kissing along the neck and under the ears.

I was bursting with need and heat by this point, but retained enough wits to try my next position. Nate lay flat on his back, while I carefully turned around and sat down on him in a reverse cowgirl.

He filled me delightfully in my core and for a while I just sat there and basked, absorbing the feeling.

I began to slowly roll my hips with slight twisting motions and carefully also pushed up with my knees and released to create a pumping action. It was nice, but I immediately knew it wouldn’t be my favorite. It felt unfulfilling and there was a lack of connection with my back towards Nate’s face. Yes, he did have nice access to play with my sides and butt, but it also felt too impersonal… as if he was just a fleshy version of a Sybian sex toy. There was also a lack of clitoral stimulation, which my hand would have to satisfy and I immediately felt the difference in that his dick’s glans wasn’t stimulating my forward inner pussy walls in the right way. My ‘g-spot’ was also barely stimulated in this position.

The only real benefit this position had was maybe utility - a transition stage, for directly after my climax and my partner was lagging behind. It would keep him hard, while I built back up. If I ever developed exhibitionistic tendencies it neatly showed off everything happening and would be useful for camera shots.

So absorbed was I in my inner thoughts and feelings that I nearly missed the five minds entering my aura range.

“What the fuck?”

“Wow.”

“Nice.”

“Holy shit.”

I opened my eyes and regarded the five construction workers who definitely shouldn’t have been here, it was a Sunday morning for crying out loud! They were either very diligent workers needing to meet a deadline or sacrificing the time to spring for overtime pay. And here I was, impaled and bared for them all to see. My crushing embarrassment under their appreciative and leering gazes almost left me at a loss for what to do, when my instincts saved me and I snagged them all in my mind web.

Their expressions didn’t change at all but their body language changed to a relaxed posture. I let out a deep breath of relief and pondered what I should do now.

The first thought of just ordering them to leave and forget was discarded as I studied them. They were a varied bunch, from short to tall, but all of them were burly and strong. Their faces were a range of ruddy beards to clean shaven and wouldn’t win any photogenic prizes, but few people did. Their auras were what sold me; strong, beautiful, a kaleidoscope of meaning begging to be puzzled out.

This…

This was an opportunity.

Wow, was I seriously considering this?

You’re freaking crazy, Taylor, I thought. If anybody had told me a week ago, that I’d be seriously considering the merits of having a gang bang soon, I’d have told them to go book themselves into a funny farm.

Only… if I was really doing this… I was firmly setting myself some standards. I was doing this… because I had to and could no more not do it, than you could stop eating entirely or asking a horse not to gallop for the rest of their life.

I took a deep fortifying breath… the feeling of just being joined to Nate like this was distracting - it felt like I could sit like this all day.

“Okay, if you are single, step forward,” I ordered.

Four of the five stepped forward.

“You can stand to the side and enjoy the show.”

The married worker looked disappointed but nodded and walked off to lean against a wall.

I regarded the four again. “Those who showered this morning, step forward.”

Three took a step forward.

“You,” I pointed to the one who hadn’t showered, the biggest guy of the group, “there’s running water and sink over there, strip and clean.”

“Yes mistress,” he declared eagerly, dropping his tool belt and jumping out of his clothes as he walked off to the side of the room.

“You three, strip.”

Soon enough, I was staring at three naked hunky construction workers. They weren’t all muscle, the red head could really stand to lose some weight and there was flabbiness in other areas. For all that their jobs were physically demanding, I knew from experience with dad and his friends and co-workers, that the diets among blue-collar workers in general left much to be desired.

All three were already starting to sport erections which they subconsciously started to help along with stroking from their hands. Now I could really see the diversity of size and shape in action. One of them was circumcised, long and narrow, another had a shorter length but the girth was thicker, and the other seemed pretty normal.

The one I had ordered to clean himself returned and he had me swallowing with nervousness but also anticipation, Could that even fit in me?  He had clearly won the lottery and had the biggest dick I’d seen yet.

I put it out of my mind for now and slowly turned around. Moving into the normal cowgirl position while Doctor Sullivan was still sheathed inside me was a decidedly interesting sensation and let me begin to see where that Kama Sutra position with the ceiling stretched linen was coming from. His hands found mine and we interlaced fingers, I met his eyes and began riding him with urgency.

The four workers walked forward to surround us, keeping their own erections going with brief pumps of their hands. I put them out of my mind for the moment and just focused on riding to my climax, alternating between forward backward movement and hip rolls.

Abruptly I could feel the guy to my left and behind start to climax. I whirled around and he eagerly shoved his dick forward, allowing my mouth to envelop him before any precious semen was lost. He blew his load in my mouth and it did wonders for pushing my own arousal higher.

I pulled back, swallowed and continued to ride.

A shudder of pleasure cascaded throughout my body like a wave, a totally involuntary moan issued from me. “Fuck,” I gasped afterward and redoubled my efforts.

The wet slapping of flesh on flesh echoed through the room and I had to be careful to moderate my grip as I was in danger of breaking the doctor’s precious hands. Powerful waves of pleasure seemed to blast through me, making me twitch and robbing me of even the power to moan, I could only pull in air and my orgasm washed around in me like an ocean wave. The outward sign of it issued forth and my juices drenched Nate’s hips and stomach. That was also the tipping point for him as he finally unloaded himself into me with a growling moan and his body twitching under me.

I regained bodily control and moaned throatily as the aftershocks hit me.

It was at this point that Mr. Big Dick worker lost himself and hit his orgasm. I was in no position to do anything and was promptly hit by three pretty powerful squirts of semen on my chest and stomach.

I glared at him and at least he had the decency to look apologetic.

I used my hand to gather the semen as best as possible and began slurping it down.

Doctor Nate climbed off the bed after I did and I pointed at the offending worker, “Just for that you’re doing double duty.”

I gathered the two remaining workers and knelt down in front of them, slapping their hands away from their dicks lightly and substituting it for my own hands. After the show they had witnessed and with just two sucks from me, they unloaded in turn into my mouth.

A few moments later I had the four workers standing in line again, with Nate standing behind me and leisurely caressing my back and butt. I pondered for a minute how I was going to go about this but after a while, I just threw up my hands in exasperation. I couldn’t decide between practicing a different position with each man or just letting them pound me one after the other. The risk was that the clock was ticking, and who knew if other workers had got it into their head to do some overtime. Sure, I could snag them too but if there was one thing mom taught me, it was always to work steadily over time towards your goals, no matter how large they were. In this way, you could conquer what seemed impossible.

I hopped onto the makeshift bed and following me was the shortest worker I had snagged. My legs opened and locked around his hips as I guided him forward and I gasped as he penetrated my folds. I was very sensitive down there now.

It took nearly two minutes of him thrusting to get me to another drenching orgasm, while he followed after fifteen seconds of pounding into me.

I let go of my legs around him and he swiftly retreated, making room for the next guy.

He was too ready from the sounds and sights of watching me being fucked and unfortunately orgasmed after only about forty seconds or so.

The worker guy with the thick dick came next and I was surprised by how easily my pussy stretched and accepted the different sized girth with no problems whatsoever. He also showed a delightful experience on how to use it. He didn’t just ram home with thrusts to the hilt. He varied the penetration and at those different points he did twists with his hips that resulted in him applying pressure with the head of his dick in various spots to my inner walls.

“Ah fuck!” I growled as he hit my g-spot and other parts of my core with novel sensations that thundered through my body and seemed to hit my brain with pleasure.

It didn’t take long for him to push me to another orgasm at all and he endured my drenching of pussy juice with no pause and continued.

Pretty soon, after three more blissful trips to the heavens of pleasure, I was struggling to remain coherent and focused. He finally, after what felt like twelve or so minutes of this, groaned, losing his cause of staying in control and exploded his load into me.

I opened my legs automatically and barely registered the biggest guy entering me.

Whether it was my subconscious and instincts controlling things or what at this point I didn’t know.

I only knew that Mr. Hung as a Horse, penetrated through my folds and kept going… and going… and going.

Physics of space was thrown by the wayside somehow and I gasped with surprise and another wave of intense pleasure.

He was speared to the hilt in me. His size should’ve meant that he was stopped about three quarters of his length in, but he was fully in.

What was this? Did I now have a paranormal pussy too?

This all new sensation exploded in me with the force of bomb and I ripped out a scream of surprise and pleasure.

It was enough for another earth shattering climax and I vaguely registered my pussy contracting and tightening around his dick, milking him in a movement that shattered his own control and soon I vaguely registered his semen and the energy from the moment thunder into me. Then as if some dam had burst I reached a new…

As if before, I had just been playing in a pond… now I was in a lake…

Time was again a vague notion to me and I don’t know how long it took me to regain my wits.

He had become flaccid in me and while that didn’t fill me, it was still substantial. Any girlfriends he had were either very satisfied or absolutely terrified depending on their own skill.

I unhooked my legs from around his hips and he slipped out of me easily.

With deep breaths to get my equilibrium restored I began to issue orders, “Everyone get cleaned up and dressed.”

I glanced at the wall clock and found that there were only twenty or so minutes left in my budgeted time. Yeah, this session had gone off the rails a bit and my own perception of time became very unreliable when I reached a certain level of consecutive orgasms.

I grabbed a towel and joined the five guys in their cleaning efforts at the long line of sinks.

It left me free to consider the discoveries I had made. I somehow had a pussy that gave physics the finger and a potential reserve for the energies I used that was an order of magnitude greater than I had realized. Did this unlock… did the more I have sex and build myself up, push me to greater levels of power? Was I an ever expanding battery?

I had no idea… but somehow I was looking forward to finding out.

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“Uh, Taylor sweetie?”

Elizabeth knocking during visiting hours on a Sunday evening made me dearly hope she had just forgotten that normal food was somehow wasted on me. She leaned into the room, keeping a hand on the door and that expression on her face and how her aura was flaring… left only one conclusion.

“I have a visitor?” She only nodded. “Who?”

“It’s Armsmaster,” she said with a note of awe in her voice.

My eyes widened in astonishment.

The head of the local Protectorate branch, the guy who stood with the strongest national heroes and even international ones in photoshoots, was visiting me on a Sunday evening. He was considered a Tinker of premiere quality, able to create super technology, which was expressed in his wearing a power armor with so many abilities and systems crammed into it, normal scientists could spend centuries on it and maybe begin to comprehend it.

He was also supremely well marketed and his image put him on a pedestal that many sought to emulate. While most young girls tended to gravitate to Alexandria, the strongest flying hero, most boys with a knack for gadgets admired Armsmaster. I was an Alexandria fan, but I did own a pair of panties with Armsmaster’s logo on it… which now thinking in retrospect was a very odd thing for that marketing department to have done.

Now I would be visited by him… while I was nude… oh good grief…

It was at that moment that I was truly confronted with the specter that there was a very good chance that I would need to remain naked for the rest of my life and in my cape life…

“Taylor, are you okay?”

I buried my internal struggles with an iron will developed from two years of holding back my instincts.

“Fine,” I cleared my suddenly tight throat. I adopted my best demure body posture, with hands resting on each other and relaxed on my lap. “Please send him in.”

Armsmaster in his signature blue power armor entered my hospital room and the oddest thought occurred to me, how did he keep it so quiet? It wasn’t a bulky thing at all, but it was clear there was hydraulics going on in there, yet there wasn’t a peep of anything as pedestrian as a motor, hissing or anything. Even his footsteps were relatively quiet. He might as well have been wearing normal clothes for all the noise it was making and its apparent weight.

It was, however, no impediment to me getting a read on his aura. He was parahuman, of course, but it didn’t seem to ‘empower’ him in any way besides in his brain and hands. The human aura I read around it… there was only one word that came to my mind to describe it… neatness or maybe… precision?

In sexual terms, he was straight, but again I was encountering something new. There was definitely something about it, a nuance that I was missing.

His aura’s reaction on seeing me, despite the rigid control and poker face he seemed to hold on his jaw, chin and mouth, the only part of his face that was exposed by his helmet - did seem to indicate some base arousal and attraction, but it was immediately reined in by a strong will.

The potential reasons for his visit rumbled in a million different directions in my mind. Did I do something subconsciously to Agent Riley that they picked up on? That was impossible. The only thing she did was see me and talk to me. Unless, they thought that was enough… argh… stop overthinking it. He didn’t have his signature halberd weapon with him, which really helped diminish any threat I felt from him, but I didn’t doubt there were weapons integrated into his armor.

“Miss Hebert,” he greeted me with a nod. “Pleasure to meet you and thank you for seeing me in your convalescence.”

He spoke with a clipped tone and almost… as if he was reading from something? It was very subtle but it was a feeling I couldn’t shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” I tried to moderate my excitement and any fangirliness. It sounded like I had only partially succeeded.

“I’m visiting you today as part of a verification procedure. You delivered a witness statement a few days ago to police and in full confidentiality you are classed as a potential parahuman. Therefore, to erase any doubt that a parahuman power may have influenced you or the detective you gave your statement to, I request that you also give an official statement to the Protectorate.”

Any giddiness and excitement from me evaporated like mist before the sun, “Wait, you think I influenced him with a power?”

“There is no way to prove that conclusively, but… and I apologize for bringing this up… it’s highly likely you are unaware of the full extent of your power given the recentness of your trigger event.”

I fought to keep my face neutral but I couldn’t stop my reflexive action of crossing and folding my arms. Then I could only look away and out the window to rather vainly hide my blush at the realization that I was now giving Armsmaster the ‘complete show’.

“What will happen if I don’t give the Protectorate my statement?”

“We would have to declare that the statement you gave to the police is suspect and there is reasonable grounds for any court proceedings stemming from it, to not submit it as valid evidence.”

I couldn’t help but gape in astonishment as I parsed those words, “Reasonable grounds?”

“The expression of parahuman powers are wide and varied, Miss Hebert. In many cases they make little rational sense, defy analysis and even resist empirical testing. In the face of that, the standards for evidence, especially with something as easily influenced as human perception to the various Master powers on record, are very high when parahuman involvement in a case is suspected or even tangential to a case.”

I could intellectually see where he was coming from, but from an emotional standpoint it was a gut punch. For so long, it had been my word against Emma’s, the school turning a willful blind eye to it all. Now at last, when evidence was on my side and higher authorities had finally caught wind, now my word was again in question, simply for the possibility that I was parahuman. Now I was going to have to share the story of my trigger event for the third time and it wasn’t getting any easier with repetition.

“How will you taking my witness statement make any difference?”

“There are numerous systems in my armor that are monitoring my body and brain. They also can actively regulate what I see or hear when irregularities are detected. There’s no 100 percent certainty, but with high confidence if the results of the systems indicate that I’m not being influenced by any Master effects, then the Protectorate will put its own rubber stamp on your testimony and there will be no chance of it being dismissed in court.”

My thoughts were a demented see-saw, I wanted this behind me, I didn’t want to think about it again but if I didn’t do this, then there would a lower chance for justice to be served. I just wanted them gone from my life, Emma, Sophia, Madison, Winslow and every stupid asshole that just sat there and watched and did nothing!

As screwed up as my powers were and what I had to do as the new Taylor… I just wanted to make a clean break, cut the cancer out.

I took a deep breath, “Fine, let’s get this over with. I assume you have some kind of recording feature in that armor?” Armsmaster only nodded. “It will be audio only or I refuse to speak.”

“Generally most witness statements are done audio only so that if it has to be replayed to a court or jury, then it minimizes the impact of the witness’s visual appearance,” Armsmaster replied without missing a beat.

“Oh, well… where do you want me to begin? The day I… triggered?”

“Go back to when you feel the criminal harassment truly started and move on from there.”

I nodded and began to speak, starting with the return from summer camp more than two years ago.

Despite it being hard, I fell into a rhythm of speaking about all the highlights, given that it was the third time I spoke of it. Armsmaster rarely asked any clarifying questions, just mostly letting me speak freely. The only point he really got intense with questions was when I began speaking of the day of the trigger event.

“How did you see it was Sophia Hess, Emma Barnes and Madison Clements if you were forced face first into the locker?” He asked a seemingly logical question, but it still stung emotionally, as if he were doubting my intelligence or my own eyes. I only stopped myself from snapping at him because I realized he wasn’t asking for himself, but rather for utter strangers in some future jury who might not know better or think they knew better.

“The lockers aren’t exactly designed to accommodate a human body,” I declared with gritted teeth. “They aren’t wide enough, and my shoulders had to be twisted into the vertical to fit in. As I was struggling against this, I could look ‘down’ past my chest to see who it was. Sophia was doing the hardest work of twisting me, while Emma handled my legs… Madison was just watching from behind them and keeping a lookout.”

Armsmaster eventually sighed and nodded in understanding. “They then managed to close and lock you in. In your own estimation, how long were you in there?”

I shook my head, the perception of time was a funny thing when the brain got hopped up on emotion. “Hours at least, it could be as much as seven based on when I remembered last looking at my watch and the official time of my hospital admission.”

“I will not ask what you endured or experienced in there. The police report does a good enough job based on the physical evidence left behind.” I only nodded in thanks, not trusting my voice to speak at the moment. “Very well, I’ve ended the recording. I can tell you now that my systems indicated no unusual activity. It’s still subject to a full analysis, but I’m pretty confident that there are no Master effects in play.”

I swallowed nervously, “That’s a relief.”

Armsmaster from somewhere produced a small business card and placed it on the bed table. “This has various ways you can contact me in the future.”

I blinked in astonishment and stared at the small card, idly noting it had phone numbers, email, even a PHO handle, including an odd code of numbers and random characters. “Why are you giving me this?”

“Whatever your power is Miss Hebert, I want you to think carefully about how you use it. You can join the Protectorate, that route is open to you but… I don’t want you to.”

This floored me and I could only blurt out, “What?!”

“Let me explain,” he said hurriedly. “If you join, you’ll have to go to boot camp. Six months minimum you’ll be away. Then it’s a coin toss whether you’ll actually return as an official Protectorate hero in Brockton Bay. However, I’ll tell you now, this city… our city needs you as soon as possible. That is why I’ll do everything in my power to help you as an independent hero.” His voice and the set of his mouth was grim, he gestured out the window. “You do know the general disposition of heroes against villains out there?”

“I’ve looked up the stats,” I nodded.

“We’re outnumbered and even though I’d argue the quality and power of the local Protectorate is what makes up the difference and we can occasionally use the Wards to even things out,  I have the distinct impression we’re going to soon reach a turning point.”

I shook my head in disbelief, “You want me to become an independent hero, one you’ll even help with…?”

“Information, training, even technology which depending on certain factors you might even outright purchase from me. If you’re ever in a dire situation, you’ll be able to contact me directly for aid.”

“And you’ll do all that, not even knowing what my power is or even that I’ll have a useful power at all?”

Armsmaster hesitated at this point but eventually declared, “I believe I have a general idea of what your power is, Miss Hebert.”

“Oh?” I challenged him.

“Studies of parahumans is now entering its second generation,” he explained. “As such, the amount of data available to the Protectorate and researchers has allowed general trends to be identified. It’s gotten to the point where we can look at any incident which induces a trigger event and make a high percentage prediction on the type of power expression that will result.”

That was pretty amazing to think about and terrifying. Whatever model they used would with the ever advancing pace of technology would only get better with time.

“And what power does this prediction say I would have?”

“It’s highly likely that you are a Master,” he said simply.

I gave him my best ‘skeptical face’, but my stomach felt like it wanted to tie itself into knots. “And knowing that you still want to help me? Given the general reputation of Masters?”

Armsmaster was silent for a moment, his mouth adopting a firm line. “Yes. You represent a unique opportunity, Miss Hebert. The unfortunate reason why Masters are in the majority all villains, is that the circumstances that lead to their trigger event involve betrayal, exile and alienation from society. It’s therefore highly unlikely they would seek to aid that society. It’s rather ironic as well, that a Master’s power, depending on its specific expression, would generally be the best at law enforcement.”

It took a while for my head to parse that, but it left me slightly reeling. “How could controlling…”

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Armsmaster nodded at me, “You realize then. Imagine combat between capes… blaster powers shooting everywhere, gunfire, destruction of property, innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire and into this walks a single heroic Master. If the Master controls multiple minions, they can disable and subdue the entire battle area, if the master can influence people… the battle can be potentially stopped in its tracks with no further casualties.”

The picture he painted was definitely interesting and a part of me couldn’t help but imagine that scenario, which was exactly what Armsmaster was hoping for. However, my feelings at his presumption was really testing my self-control to not let loose with the worst language I’d learned from my dad’s dockworker friends.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Armsmaster. Thank you for verifying my statement.”

He paused for a moment, his head turning very slightly… looking at something in his visor again?

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Hebert. Thank you for the time and your consideration. Please,” he pushed his card a bit forward. “Give it time, think about it. The door remains open, unless you close it yourself.”

He turned and exited the room, leaving me to my thoughts.

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Monday morning dawned uneventfully and the moment the sun had a good angle, I was back on the roof of the hospital with a book and enjoying the outdoors. The air was relatively fresh and I also spent the time trying to identify every smell that the light breeze was carrying. That was a hit or miss affair at the moment.

Every smell I remembered from when I had a normal nose was easy, but the stuff that humans normally couldn’t smell was the tricky bit, as I had no context for them. It was another thing I’d have to train in the coming weeks.

Then… I felt something.

The words for it didn’t exist. It was like… the world around me had briefly shifted?

Was Vista flexing her power around here?

No, it didn’t feel the same, it was different.

I stood and carefully looked around the roof, smelling, listening for what was different.

Nothing stood out.

I could feel the instinct coming, the rational thought to just dismiss it as my own imagination, but this didn’t come from there…

I picked up my things and misted through the roof back to my room.

The source of the change was here.

I dropped my things on the floor and hurried to put distance between myself and the bed.

Something new was on my bed table.

Something that hadn’t been there before.

To my eyes it was something utterly normal. In the setting of a hospital room, it was not normal.

It was a clay pot, thin at the base, widening to a hand’s width with two curved handles sticking out the sides, almost looking like two ears. It was visibly old, with scratches and any luster in its surface lost to time.

It looked like it should definitely be in a museum, not a hospital.

A look at the wall clock told me I’d been out of my room for about twenty odd minutes… more than enough time for someone to come in and put the pot there.

The thought to call Elizabeth to check if someone had entered my room was dismissed. She would’ve stopped anyone trying and even if she had not succeeded…

I misted and went outside into the corridor.

Nothing.

Everything was utterly normal. The nurse’s station was occupied and they were all there doing the paperwork, answering phones, checking medicines and so on.

Back in my room the unassuming, seemingly ancient pot was still there.

As I walked closer, the sense of its… abnormality grew.

I reached out with my left pinkie finger and carefully touched it.

Nothing bad happened, except that it was slightly cool to the touch. Now that I was this close it smelt of clay and was that olive oil?

Another careful sniff confirmed that it definitely was olive oil. There were also two other smells coming from it that I had no clue about.

Stepping yet closer I could peek into the open pot… there was nothing inside.

That didn’t make sense at all. The strength of what I was smelling should’ve meant the whole thing was filled with olive oil and the other two substances yet there was nothing.

Finally, I took the plunge and carefully grabbed the pot with both hands and picked it up. Then lifted it up further to look underneath. Many pots carried identifying marks or words on their undersides, usually from the potter or manufacturer.

This one didn’t have that, given its age, but there was a curved inscription in… Hebrew?

I put the pot down and quickly booted up the laptop. A quick search revealed that it was indeed Hebrew writing.

I returned to the pot, intending to lay it on its side so I could copy the inscription.

What I didn’t expect to happen was that the moment it was on its side, it began pouring out red oil.

A yelp of fright and surprise exited my mouth before I could stop it and I hurriedly turned the pot back upright.

The linoleum white floor next to my bed now had a small puddle of the strange red oil.

Its smell matched one of the three smells I had picked up from the pot.

A look down into the pot showed it still contained nothing.

“Okay, what the f…?” I bit off the curse and took a deep breath.

Take stock Taylor, this is a mysterious clay pot that just appeared out of thin air in my room,  that is empty and yet can somehow still pour red colored oil, I thought to myself.

The first thing I decided was that there was no way I was touching that oil. The smell, now that it was exposed to air, was awful and… corrosive?

I distinctly remember going with dad to work once when I was younger, he had to inspect a warehouse that stored and dealt with various chemicals. He had kept a firm grip on my hand, not wanting me to wander off. It was a generally safe place, but not one you’d let a bored eleven year old loose in. One of those smells from that warehouse was very similar to this red oil.

The puzzle of how to get the inscription on paper with what I had on hand and without tipping the pot over was the work of a few minutes. The inscription was in relief on the bottom. The paper was placed underneath and partially wrapped tight around the pot. I could then lift it and use a pencil to simply swipe it across the bottom to trace the words.

With the inscription safely in hand I went on the Internet and found the Hebrew alphabet.

I immediately learned that it was one thing to match the letters with a pronunciation symbol and even produce an English alphabet version of those sounds. It was a totally different story to extract any meaning from it.

It was a nice exercise in linguistics and visual matching and it wasn’t like I had anything else to do at the moment, so I kept at it until the whole thing was done.

Then it was but one search to find a website that had a graphical interface for inputting Hebrew characters to translate the words into English. Some of them had faded with time, so I had to best guess in some cases.

In the end it said… ‘And thus the Lord spoke to’ the next word was utterly gone from the surface, ‘Pour the oil on your flesh and go amidst the (unintelligible) with the Lord’s name upon your lips, and His wrath and fury shall (unintelligible). The blood of the Maccabees shall purify his House behind you, for all eternity.’

I blinked at the words written in biblical style, trying to make sense of it and reconcile what it said with the idea of a seemingly inexhaustible clay oil pot. That poured a corrosive red oil from it, from which I could smell two other types of oil…

A search on the word Maccabees, also produced something interesting.

They had been a priestly family of Jews who organized a successful rebellion against the Seleucid ruler Antiochus IV and reconsecrated the defiled Temple of Jerusalem at around 164 BCE.

I had to use an encyclopedia website just to make sense of a lot of what I was reading to give context but it did help.

The name Maccabee was also a title of honor given to Judas, son of Matthias in the Jewish wars of independence of that era.

So was the red oil, the ‘blood of the Maccabees’?

That somehow could also ‘purify’? How could a corrosive substance be said to ‘purify’?

Corrosion was something that destroyed other stuff when it came in physical contact, hydrochloric acid and the like. It just took another Internet search to find a whole list of chemicals that fell under the broad umbrella of corrosives. Finding one that was ‘oily’ and red at room temperature brought no real results that I could confirm for certain. Only an actual scientist in a lab would really be able to tell.

I leaned over and gave the small puddle of red oil a glance.

How that was going to be safely cleaned up I had no idea but a quick Internet search gave a few pointers on what I could do.

Then the big question finally hit me.

What was I going to do with this thing?

Had some Tinker built it, aged the pot artificially and seemingly teleported it into my room on a lark?

For what motive? I was completely unknown to the world of capes at the moment, except for the Protectorate and PRT. Unless, some villainous tinker had compromised their security. Again, what was the point?

No, this was something else. I could feel it. The clay pot may have been made by the hands of man, but there was something beyond… beyond the understanding of my little brain.

My curiosity was also burning in me something fierce.

There were still those two other oils I could smell.

How do you get those to pour?

I misted and hurried out of my room to find glasses I could use. Since I knew the hospital pretty well by now, it was a straight shot to the kitchens for snagging some, then immediately back.

I placed them on the bed table, then picked up the oil pot carefully and carefully began tipping it over to pour.

Then to my surprise, what had to be actual, extremely pure olive oil came flowing out into the glass.

I carefully sniffed it and eyed it closely.

“That was easy,” I mumbled to myself.

Pondering that for a minute to try and figure out what I had done differently, had me almost facepalming at my own stupidity.

I positioned the pot over the second glass and turned it over to full ninety degrees, and sure enough, the red oil poured this time.

“Angle of pour determines what comes out, neat.”

There was still one more oil to find, so I poured out the glass of olive oil into the bathroom sink.

I decided to halve the angular difference and tried my best to estimate a pour of sixty-seven degrees.

Nothing came out at first and it took a bit of changing the angle back and forth, but eventually the second oil poured forth into the glass.

This one was an absolutely clear oil with no coloration. Now exposed to air, its smell was… a picture or impression flashed in my mind of… light.

It was flammable?

I put the clay pot down and stared at the bizarre thing.

“What are you?”

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SCPs featured in this chapter - https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1650 by Dmatix