The Doctor Is In (MGE X Original Superhero Setting

[Charles Flynn]

I lean back in my throne as I examine the data feed from Impersonator Drone #27, as he secures the vanquished orcs to be sent back to the Murderspire as test subjects. This one's going to have to be watched. I don't doubt that when he realizes he's actually a robotic body double, he'll try his best to kill and replace me.

Still, he, and the other four hundred Cartographic Caravans I deployed have been returning valuable data on the land and its inhabitants, to the point where I even stumbled upon the idea of this upcoming banquet in the first place.

The Murderspire was an excellent first base, certainly, however, once I had reestablished contact with Merdoria, and more importantly, Merdoria's Cross-Temporal Mining Matrix, there was no further need to scrounge for resources, and confine my operations to one area of Planet Victor. And so, after I finished saving Cyberwolf Prime's life and had my nap, I began establishing what I hope will be my main base in this solar system, on Planet Victor's moon.

In this way, I may project a truly global presence, and unite the human nations of Planet Victor beneath my banner.

I rise from my throne, even as, through my armor, I receive notifications from my worker swarms that they have successfully established a breathable, contained atmosphere within the areas of my base intended for guests.

The throne room of my moon base is rather spartan in design, to be honest. The double doors open out to a protruding metal platform, with my throne towards the end, all dangling directly above my base's power reactor, giving anyone who peaks over the edge a peak at the reactor's ever-flowing currents of radioactive lava, with a transparent energy barrier protecting from the heat and radioactivity. The ceiling is of super-strengthened glass, allowing one to look up at Planet Victor in the distance. And above my throne hangs the only decoration in the room: The Merdorian Flag.

Honestly, the whole thing is utterly hideous, and nothing like my original design. No artfully vaulted ceiling, with every inch of the tastefully chosen stone brickwork decorated with nanite-engraved hymns to my glory, and statues of my many triumphs lining the checkered walkway which leads up to my masterfully and tastefully decorated throne. No, instead I got an oversized metal diving board into a pit of lava, with a throne hastily tacked on.

Sadly, it couldn't be helped. Between my thirteen tech-foundries, seventy-three separate hermetically sealed laboratories, the banquet hall, the kitchens, the guest chambers, the massive hyper-scientific mechanisms which govern my installation's more esoteric functions, and, of course, the indoor forest, I was on a bit of a space crunch. Furthermore, I had to get my base ready to entertain guests for my diplomatic masterstroke tomorrow, and my throne room was necessary for that. So… I slapped something together and tried my best to make it presentable.

I wince as I receive notifications of a few explosions caused by the influx of oxygen, and scramble a repair team post-haste, before checking in on dinner. To my great joy, the team of murderbots I assigned to food prep have successfully abducted a Victorite chef from the planet below, and the chef, apparently resigned to his fate, has begun directing them through meal preparation.

Well, at least that's coming together nicely.

Down on the planet below, my agents are handing out invitations to every human head of state, with suitable pomp to get them to take me seriously.

And tomorrow, I will gather them for a banquet the likes of which this world has never seen.

To unite the world through force, after all, is a trying and self-destructive affair, especially when dealing with an overarching threat such as the Mamono. Better to attempt diplomacy.

I mathematically calculate the current position of the Murderspire relative to my own, and then adjust my broadcast system accordingly.

"Minion. Update."

"Sir! The invitations have been distributed. Further, Impersonator Drone 27 has sent a large warband of orcs to the Murderspire, in order to be interred for testing," Minion Prime reports, with military precision. "I was unsure if this was in line with your orders, sir."

"It is indeed in tune with my machinations, Minion Prime," I assure her, sitting back down in my throne so I can steeple my fingers ominously and look up at Planet Victor. "I wish to analyze the Mamono, and see if a cure, or at the very least, a means of sterilization may be found, so that this war need not end in total extermination."

"But…" Minion seems to be struggling with the very idea. "Why?"

"Because I am a doctor. I seek to fix problems, and not merely crush them out. Certainly, xenophobia can be tempting. But ultimately, a social organism profits more from symbiosis," I pause briefly. "Also, the last three generations of the von Murder family have all committed a crime against humanity in some way, shape, or form, and I am very committed to breaking that streak."

"Well, if you say so, Doctor," Minion Prime says, sounding unsure. "Minion Prime out."

I cut the line of communication. Time to survey the grand hall, I suppose.

After all, I'll be having guests over, and if I intend to woo them into accepting me as their supreme commander, then my hospitality and showmanship must both be on point.

Soon, however, my inspection reveals, to my burgeoning horror, that I am not even remotely ready for company.

The drapes are gaudy, the food heavily burnt, the cook barely has any understanding of how to use spices, and, to top it all off, I FORGOT TO MAKE CHAIRS!

The guest rooms are passable, and the indoor forest has, at the very least, exceeded expectations despite the trees and wildlife all being artificial, so it's not a complete wash, but I'm still left with a general sort of creeping, mind-numbing anxiety.

"Oh, God. They're going to laugh at me," I mutter, as I fly over the lunar landscape. In the distance, I can see the massive craters from where I set off the antimatter bombs to tidally lock the planetoid. "Perhaps… Perhaps I should call the whole thing off. I mean, the singing robotic dragons I arranged for entertainment can barely even hold a tune! My fireplaces don't actually work, and I'm not sure I'm willing to put up with having to explain air conditioning to this bunch of extra-solar medievalist hicks. I'm hardly ready for company."

But then, the craters come into full view, and I look upon my works.

And in their depths, I find my courage.

"NO! I have extended the invitation. To back out now would be cowardly! And further, VON MURDER NEVER RETREATS, in any field of battle, from superpowered combat to afternoon tea! He may choose his battles with care, but he never backs away from them until victory has been secured! I can make new chairs! I can misdirect them from my base's shortcomings! THE WORLD WILL BOW BEFORE MY UNMATCHED HOSPITALITY, AND NO POWER IN ALL THE UNIVERSE WILL STOP ME! SO SWEARS VON MURDER!"

And then, after a five minute maniacal laughter break, I turn about and fly back towards my base, my spirit refreshed and ready for the rigors of revelry.

 

[ThedudeManBro]

Huh. I think I just found my true Husbando... I WASN'T EVEN LOOKING FOR ONE! AND I DON'T EVEN GET HARD FOR GUYS!

 

[Wiererid]

This is still gold.

 

[Autocorruptor]

I lean back in my throne as I examine the data feed from Impersonator Drone #27, as he secures the vanquished orcs to be sent back to the Murderspire as test subjects. This one's going to have to be watched. I don't doubt that when he realizes he's actually a robotic body double, he'll try his best to kill and replace me.

Click to shrink...

Wut.

The throne room of my moon base is rather spartan in design, to be honest. The double doors open out to a protruding metal platform, with my throne towards the end, all dangling directly above my base's power reactor, giving anyone who peaks over the edge a peak at the reactor's ever-flowing currents of radioactive lava, with a transparent energy barrier protecting from the heat and radioactivity. The ceiling is of super-strengthened glass, allowing one to look up at Planet Victor in the distance. And above my throne hangs the only decoration in the room: The Merdorian Flag.

Click to shrink...

His power reactor has RADIOACTIVE LAVA. What the hell?

This is still gold.

Click to shrink...

Gold is a dead currency. Use NFTs and crypto.

 

[Wiererid]

Gold is a dead currency. Use NFTs and crypto.

Click to shrink...

Crypto is a scam, and gold at least has in-built value being an amazing conductor and not being reactive, so it will always be useful in industries.



Anyhow, not to get too much off-topic, the chapter was nice, if a bit small.
The Mister non-doom shinanigans are getting better each time, hopefully, the author won't get mixed up in his own gigs and worldbuilding.

 

[Charles Flynn]

"To the esteemed Baroness Guille, as a head of state, you are humbly invited to a feast of some renown, in the domain of Baron Victor Von Murder the Third, MD, Exalted Among Men, Devourer of the Gods, and Master of Merdoria, among other such titles of great renown. The food and entertainment have been endorsed by members of the Chief God's heavenly host and shall serve as an excellent backdrop before which to discuss current events, the resolution of Planet Victor's monster problem, and your acceptance of Baron von Murder as your singular overlord, and master of your world in its totality.

"There will also be cake.

"Attendance is mandatory. Simply stand outside, in view of the moon, on the night that you receive this invitation, and you will be transported to the event location."

And an unfamiliar seal is at the bottom, along with the signature of someone claiming to be called "Doctor Von Murder."

I'd call it utterly ridiculous, if that very same name hadn't been bandied about through the grapevine recently. Scattered reports of hordes obliterated, and of a great tower of basalt whose inhabitants would kill any mamono who got too close. Tales of a traveling doctor who seemed to be everywhere at once, popping up in towns that were halfway across the continent from each other.

And all of it tied to a name. "Von Murder." An appropriate title for the psychopathic mastermind behind what is clearly some grand conspiracy to return humanity and monsterkind to the bad old days. Probably a catspaw of the Chief Goddess.

And now, on a routine "assassination" mission, this falls into my hands! A golden opportunity! A way in, to see the man behind the man! I have to be the luckiest kunoichi alive!

My way is clear: For the good of all mamono, I, Hoshino Sayuri, must seduce this mysterious Baron von Murder! I wonder if he's cute? No, probably some creepy old guy. Ah, well, a job is a job. I wave the newly monsterized Baroness Emily Guille goodbye as I begin my transformation technique. "Bye, Emily! Gotta seduce some creepy old guy! Have fun with being a Mamono!"

She looks down at herself, at me, and wails.

I leave her behind. She'll come around. They always come around. Meanwhile, my transformation is complete. I am now an exact replica of Baroness Guile, albeit with a few years taken off. I have my vanity, after all, and the lady was positively ancient. And now, I stride out into the moonlight, ready to be taken away to this mysterious feast.

There's something quite romantic about this whole set-up, isn't there? The mysterious suitor, coming in the night, to ferry away the beautiful young maiden to his hidden castle in a faraway land, where she must win his heart for the good of her people. It's like a fairy tale!

Oh, I wonder how he's going to bring me there? The note didn't say, and it's leaving my imagination racing! A carriage, perhaps? Some sort of spell? Maybe even a valiant, winged steed- and- oh, wait, yeah. We monsterized pegasi, didn't we? Yeah. They're mamono now. They don't transport people anymore. They fuck 'em. Kinda feels like a loss, really. Winged horses were pretty cool as is, and now the Demon Lord went and ruined the dreams of little girls everywhere by making the flying horses sexy. Not that anything the Demon Lord does could ever be wrong, of course. She is perfect and flawless in every way. She probably had a perfectly good reason for sexifying the flying horses.

My musings upon the regrettable sexiness of flying horses are interrupted when a glowing cube of energy appears around me, before I'm lifted up into the air.

Okay! Yeah! This is it! Magic spell! Now he's going to start moving me laterally, to take me to his mysterious castle.

Okay, still going straight up. Wait. Maybe the castle is up in the clouds, somewhere! That'd be pretty cool, too!

The cube is still going straight up. Higher than I thought it was possible to go. Am I going to bump into one of the crystal spheres that the planets are painted on? Oh goddess. Did they see through my disguise? Are they just going to drop me?

You know, it suddenly occurs to me, that maybe I should have told my superiors where I was going. Oh, goddess, my mom! She's going to be so pissed at me when I die! "Look before you leap, Sayuri!" "Take a moment to think things through, Sayuri!" WHY DO I NEVER LISTEN? And now I'm probably going to die, all over some guy who was probably never all that hot anyways.

But… the cube keeps rising. And rising. And rising. And… the world's a circle. No. A sphere. I mean, I know we were taught that in school, but… It's real. The world is round. And not because some old mathematician said so, but because I can see it with my own two eyes. I'm floating in the center of my cube, in the grasp of some unseen power, gazing at the world in a way that I never even dreamed was possible, and I can't help but smile. Was it… always that small?

The cube carries on. I had thought for sure that I'd have hit one of the spheres by now, but I haven't. I wonder if there's a gap in them, somewhere? Maybe this Von Murder guy cut it out? Or maybe there's actually a huge gap between the spheres, and-

My head hurts. Too many cosmological revelations in one day, I think. The moon looms over me, growing closer and closer. And as I near it, I see other cubes, glowing against the darkness, each bearing a passenger within.

Wait, he's doing this spell for everybody? Just how strong is this guy?

My cube is drawn in towards a massive black dot on the surface of the moon, which, as I come closer and closer, I realize is actually a building. The more it comes into focus, the more I can see the individual segments, each one of which is massive. Easily the size of an entire city! And I see an opening in the building's ceiling, towards which I'm being drawn.

My cube slides down into the waiting arms of a thoroughly massive structure, almost reminiscent of a massive tuning fork. And then, steel walls slide in to seal me in, even as the glowing blue ones vanish.

A voice pipes in, seemingly from nowhere, "Baroness Emily Guile. There is a pressurized breathing apparatus on the wall of the chamber, behind you. Please put it on, and then exit the landing bay in a timely manner. If you require instructions on how to put on the apparatus, please say, 'I need help.' If you are ready to exit the chamber, please say 'I am ready to leave.'"

"Ah. Hello, good Sir," I say, curtsying politely. "Are you a servant, here? If so, may I ask that you convey my gratitude to your master, and that, although I understand he's a busy man, I would deeply enjoy a more… private, and personal audience sometime in the future, so that I might better express how thankful I am." I bat my eyelashes suggestively. Alright. If his servant carries my message accurately, I should have one foot in the door.

"Voice command not recognized. If you require instructions on how to put on the apparatus, please say, 'I need help.' If you are ready to exit the chamber, please say 'I am ready to leave.'" The disembodied voice says, soundly dashing my hopes.

"Well, I mean, yes, I suppose your dedication to your job is admirable, but, if you could just, perhaps, consider it," I say, then wink. "I might make it worth your while."

There, casting myself as no seductress, merely a baroness trying to get in good with a potential political ally. No sexytimes here, only politics, yessir! Totally kosher.

"Voice command not recognized. If you require instructions on how to put on the apparatus, please say, 'I need help.' If you are ready to exit the chamber, please say 'I am ready to leave.'"

I sigh. "Okay, okay, I get the hint."

I turn toward this "apparatus" and abruptly realize that I have no idea how to put this damn thing on. Well, I suppose it's been drilled into my skull enough times during my abortive attempts at securing a private audience. "Um, could you perhaps tell me how to put this thing on?"

"Voice command not recognized. If you require instructions on how to put on the apparatus, please say, 'I need help.' If you are ready to exit the chamber, please say 'I am ready to leave.'"

"Um, yes, I am asking you for help. Please help!" I'm beginning to think that my attendant was dropped on his head as a child.

"Voice command not recognized. If you require instructions on how to put on the apparatus, please say, 'I need help.' If you are ready to exit the chamber, please say 'I am ready to leave.'"

"OH, FUCK YOU!" I scream, my patience for this insufferable little gnome of a servant's incessant mockery having officially expired. "I HAVE ASKED FOR HELP! I NEED HELP! STOP SAYING THE SAME GODSBEDAMNED SENTENCE OVER AND OVER AGAIN, AND HELP ME!"

"Voice command not recognized. If you require instructions on how to put on the apparatus, please say, 'I need help.' If you are ready to exit the chamber, please say 'I am ready to leave.'"

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. Okay, yes, it's obvious now. He's doing it on purpose. There is no way a human being could be so singularly and maliciously ignorant of basic communication. "Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot, what with me trying to get in with your master. Or… are you even a servant?" Come on, stay polite. "Are you… Baron von Murder? If so, I'm very sorry for my presumptuousness, and I-"

"Voice command not recognized. If you require instructions on how to put on the apparatus, please say, 'I need help.' If you are ready to exit the chamber, please say 'I am ready to leave.'"

"Oh, alright, buddy, I tried. I really did, you know?" I hiss out, stalking furiously around my cell. "I tried to reach out the olive branch, in the face of your willful and malicious ignorance, I have tried to be civil. I have tried to be nice. I have tried to be the reasonable one here. But you, sir, are grinding my gears, and I am just about to break, about to SNAP, do you hear me you sick fuck?! DO YOU HEAR ME?" I take another deep breath. Calm. I am calm.

"Voice command not recognized. If you require instructions on how to put on the apparatus, please say, 'I need help.' If you are ready to exit the chamber, please say 'I am ready to leave.'"

"FUCK YOU!" I scream, before I curl up into a little ball and start sobbing with frustration, in between tossing out every curse word I know, plus a few I made up on the spot.

"Voice command not recognized. If you require instructions on how to put on the apparatus, please say, 'I need help.' If you are ready to exit the chamber, please say 'I am ready to leave.'"

I cry harder.

"Hello, Baroness Guile. This is Landing Bay control. You have been occupying your landing pod for the past fifteen minutes. Please suit up and vacate the pod so that others may proceed. Failure to comply in five minutes will result in your death via asphyxiation and decompression, as we will open the door regardless of whether you are prepared to exit."

"I… I need help," I mutter to myself, feeling like I don't know whether to cry or laugh. This is how I die. Stuck in this fucking bo-

"Voice command recognized. Initiating instructions."

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

---​

After properly donning the strange mask and harness combo that was hanging from the wall, I emerge into what I now know to be no fairy-tale castle. No, this is the dark domain of a merciless, cold-hearted tyrant with terrible waitstaff, who plays with the hearts of innocent young maidens before tossing them into cold, cruel deathtraps overseen by his psychopathic servants.

Coupled with the whole "genocidal warmonger" thing, and he is clearly a jerk with no appreciation for women's hearts! The pinnacle of villainy! But not without the potential for brooding bad-boy appeal, so, hey, silver linings. I mean, I'm going to be seducing him anyways, might as well look on the bright side.

And so, my corruptive aura suppressed, I make my way through this… landing bay. And I can't help but gawk. I had gotten a glimpse of it as I came in, but now, I can marvel to my heart's content. It's massive. Each of the tuning-fork structures is huge, easily taller than any building I've ever seen. And the huge doors on the ceiling seem to indicate that, when closed, the whole thing stands tall enough to rival mountains. Great catwalks and bizarre, blinking devises crisscross the massive room, all manned by strange, armored men, who can, it seems, effortlessly soar through the sky, as one very close by me does, seemingly on a whim. I feel lighter, here, I realize, light enough to practically soar with a single jump, and…

"Baroness Guile, please leave the landing area!" a voice calls out, made high-pitched by the room's thin air. "The exit is to your left, beneath the glowing red sign."

I comply, clearing the distance between me and the exit in three great leaps.

As I go into the exit, a door slams shut behind me, and I hear a hissing noise as I seem to regain my weight, and the air around me thickens. In no time at all, I'm told to take off my harness, and the other door opens.

I walk out into a scene no less fantastical than the first. A massive hallway, all done in a gleaming white. An armored man turns towards me. "Baroness Guile?"

"Yes," I say, giving him my best smile.

"Please follow me to your quarters, ma'am. They have been structured in accordance with your preferences and are ready for you."

"Oh, alright, then." I follow awkwardly behind him, wondering just how the hell this Von Murder guy knows how Guile liked her room organized? Oh! Maybe this whole thing was secretly so he could get to know her! Two crochety, mamono-hating Chief God-botherers, with one desperately watching the other, and wishing he could be honest with his true feelings, only expressing his love through tiny gestures, as faith battled romance for control of his heart! EEEEEEEEEEE! It's so sweet! And a good in for my seduction scheme!

My fantasies are abruptly ended when my armored guide gestures towards one of the white doorways that dot the halls. "First, we will need to give you a check-up and ensure that you have been vaccinated. This conference will be quite large, with many coming from geographically isolated portions of the world, which would not normally interact. Doctor von Murder therefore wishes to ensure the good health and up-to-date immunities of all conference attendees, in order to prevent the spread of disease. If immunities cannot be applied, or a vaccine synthesized for your disease, then you will be required to wear a hazmat suit or a set of stickers stating which contagious diseases you are a vector for, in order to ensure the health of your fellow guests."

"I-" I blink uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, I barely understood any of that. What are vaccines?"

"Something you need to get if you don't want to be given the boot," the armored man says, in a tone that brooks no argument.

Okay, sure, how bad can this be?

---​

"And then, they stuck a thermometer up my butt," I tell my guide, wincing as I walk. "And after they were done putting all those needles in me, they looked at my blood, somehow, and said I have harpies. But… how do I have harpies? And how does my blood tell them that? Wouldn't harpies be too big to fit in my blood?"

"That's very interesting, miss," says my guard, his cruel and insensitive spirit incapable of grasping the true magnitude of my suffering. I have once more determined that Baron von Murder, this cruel, distant monster who so enthusiastically endorses sticking all sorts of bizarre objects into innocent young women, is a complete and utter bastard with no mind for romance. I may be obligated by my job to seduce him, but he will never again win over my heart.

"And here is your room, ma'am," the mechanical attendant says, as the door slides open.

Okay, never mind, he's back in my good books! The bed is luxurious, the room is comfortably warm, and all over, it's littered with strange and unfamiliar implements, all of them no doubt somehow tied to this man's strange and uncanny magics, and there's some sort of bathroom attached to my suite!

But first, I turn to my escort. "Are you allowed to take off your helmet? I'd really like to thank you to your face."

"This is my face," the guard says, and the door closes, leaving me alone.

Well, I suppose that there are enough new and interesting devices to entertain myself for…

---​

THREE. DAYS.

That's how long it takes before they finally announce the feast.

My "wardrobe" which I only call that because it calls itself that, breaks the news. "Hello, Emily!"

"Hello, talking wardrobe," I say, greeting what is most likely a hallucinated byproduct of my fevered mind.

"The grand feast is today!" Talking Wardrobe voice announces cheerfully, in spite of not actually being a WARDROBE! YOU ARE A LIAR, TALKING FURNITURE! A LIAR! YOUR NAME IS LIIIIIIIEEEES! "Do you want to pick out your outfit!"

It starts showing off various dresses with the glowing holographic images it produces, and all I can think of is that this Von Murder guy had better be good-looking enough to be worth it. Because this has been hell. This has been actual hell. And it's about to get worse, because every dress my talking wardrobe shows me has one common factor: A huge red patch with the words, "Hi, I have Herpes! This is an unpleasant and potentially life-threatening disease that is transmitted by sharing fluids. Please do not kiss me, or engage in sexual intercourse with me," written on it.

You know what? I can manage. I have to manage. I am going to pull this off.

"I'll take the black dress, please."

Even with all these obstacles in the way, I won't stop until I've successfully "Assassinated" Baron von Murder. He'll never see me coming. Well, I mean, he will, if he's any good in bed, that's kind of how sex works, but- Ugh. Just... quit while you're ahead, Sayuri. Quit while you're ahead.

 

[Wiererid]

I wander how many nobles that did come actually are human. Somehow I feel there are more monsters.
Still, Dr. Murder is smooth.

 

[Xsyq]

I see Doctor Von Murder couldn't resist the urge to improve things before the feast, it was only supposed to take a day. And truly he is the only one suited to end the mamono threat, for even his creations meant only to serve still strike fear into the hearts of monster girls everywhere!

 

[Autocorruptor]

This story is fucking insane. I continue to love it.

 

[JohnCross]

This story is fucking insane. I continue to love it.

Click to shrink...

Insanely wholesome. He may be a murderer but not once did his murder went to waste and it all for SCIENCE!

He's surprisingly ethical too. Unlike the Chief God's original objective of genocide, the Doctor preferred a solution that will have most gains and genocide is, well, a waste of effort and life. He might be the only hope for Lameworld.