Morbucks Manor, Underground Storage & Weapons Facilities
Deep beneath the polished marble floors and pristine gardens of Morbucks Manor—hidden behind layers of reinforced steel, biometric locks, and concealed passageways—lay something far less refined.
A cavernous underground warehouse stretched into darkness, its ceiling lined with softly humming industrial lights.
Rows of machinery filled the space.
Gold-plated mechs stood dormant in their charging bays—towering humanoid frames clad in sleek armor, gleaming under sterile white light. Nearby, power suits lined entire sections of the facility, each more advanced than the last—some bulky and battle-ready, others slim and elegant, built for speed and precision.
Prototype weapons rested on reinforced racks: blasters of varying sizes, energy rifles humming with contained power, and compact handheld cannons. Devices labeled Super Boost Modules sat sealed behind glass, their cores pulsing with unstable energy.
Everywhere, chalkboards, whiteboards, and digital screens were crammed with equations, diagrams, and weapon schematics—layered, erased, rewritten.
This wasn't just a storage facility.
It was a personal arsenal built without limits.
—
At the far end of the warehouse, behind another sealed chamber, sat the nerve center.
A massive supercomputer array filled the room, screens stacked from floor to ceiling as data streamed endlessly across them. Scientists worked in tight clusters, typing rapidly, cross-referencing data, and adjusting code in real time.
The atmosphere was tense, but controlled.
Knock. Knock.
A quiet tap echoed against the reinforced glass doors.
A maid entered, calm and composed, carrying a polished silver tea tray, steam curling gently from the porcelain cups.
She moved lightly through the room, weaving past cables and terminals before stopping beside the one overseeing everything—
Princess Morbucks.
Morbucks didn't look up. Her eyes remained fixed on the screens.
"Set it down," she said casually.
The maid obeyed, placing the tea beside her before stepping back.
On the monitors, dozens of social media feeds flickered.
Videos were deleted in real time. Posts vanished. Comments erased.
Then—replaced.
Altered versions appeared almost instantly.
Same angles. Same settings. But subtly different details.
"Maintain consistency across all platforms," Morbucks instructed, her voice calm but sharp. "I don't want contradictions."
"Yes, ma'am."
One cluster of screens stood out from the rest, all centered on a single profile:
Ben Tennyson.
Technicians focused intensely on it, fabricating an entire social media history—one that showed a long-standing relationship between him and Morbucks.
Moonlit walks.
Café dates.
Public appearances together.
All staged. All fake.
Likes and comments flooded in from pre-prepared accounts. Timestamps shifted—two years ago, one year ago, several months back—yet all freshly created.
A complete history, fabricated down to the smallest detail.
And it didn't stop there.
In the background, other teams scrubbed footage—civilian recordings, news clips, street cameras—rewriting everything from the earlier chaos.
But that wasn't the priority.
Front and center, displayed across the largest monitors, was the main project:
A live-stream reconstruction.
Midway High.
Inside a classroom.
Ben sat at his desk, calm and ordinary—until chaos erupted outside.
A tree tore free from the ground, hurtling toward the building—toward the classroom.
Students screamed.
And in one seamless motion—
Ben moved.
Fast. Heroic.
He grabbed a nearby girl, pulling her clear just as the tree smashed through the window.
Glass shattered. Desks overturned.
But she was safe.
Saved by him.
The footage looped.
"Adjust the camera shake—make it less artificial," Morbucks said, finally lifting her tea. "And slow the reaction timing by half a second. It needs to feel human."
"Understood."
The illusion refined itself.
Tightened.
Perfected.
Then—
A sharp sound cut through the room.
Incoming Call
Every screen flickered.
The feed paused.
A single image replaced the footage across multiple monitors.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
The room stilled.
Morbucks' eyes narrowed slightly.
She didn't touch the tea.
Didn't blink.
For a moment—
She simply stared.
Her fingers twitching,
"Answer it."
She paused.
"…And route it through the voice filter. It might be one of my lovers friends or family trying to reach him"
The scientists moved instantly.
Switches flipped.
Programs activated.
Voice modulators calibrated in seconds.
"Ready, ma'am."
Morbucks leaned back slightly in her chair, her expression smoothing into composure.
"Put it through."
The line connected.
She lifted a hand to her cheek, adopting a confused tone. "Hello?"
"Who is this?"
Morbucks asks elbow resting on the armrest.
"Ben Tennyson," the voice on the other end replied. "And who might my voice double be? I don't remember making a clone before I went into my lamp."
Morbucks' eyes softened. She tilted her head, glancing at her scientists and signaling them to disable the voice changer.
"You can turn it off."
They complied.
"You didn't make a clone… but you did make your girlfriend cover for you," she said, glancing down at her ring with a faint smile. "It sounds like you've been busy. Mind filling me in?"
She shifted slightly.
"I don't even get a greeting first?" she added sweetly. "I at least deserve a 'how are you.'"
—
Townsville Sewers
"You're right, I lost my manners," Ben said through the Capsule Corp phone. "The city looks like a wonderful place for a picnic right about now. Missiles flying, tanks roaring, helicopters buzzing."
"I don't know about you, but watching the fireworks together feels romantic~"
"Who in their right mind would think watching the military fight a sea monster is romantic?"
"I would. But then again, if I go back into the city, I'd be targeted by a fighter jet that's after me," he replied, gliding through the sewer tunnels while mapping a path toward the suburbs.
"…Did you get caught on any cameras?"
"Are you going to help me if I was?" Ben asked, catching the concern in her voice.
"Yes."
Morbucks answered immediately.
He chuckled softly. "Didn't expect that response so fast. Good to know I've got you looking out for me. But no—I didn't get caught…"
"In any way that matters, anyway," he added, tapping the face-call button. "I'm more interested in you."
—
Morbucks blinked. "About me?"
Ben's face appeared on the screen, overriding her system. That alone made her question how he had bypassed her safeguards.
"Yeah," he murmured. "I was wondering why you haven't swooped in to save the day—perfect chance to boost your queenly image."
She rolled her eyes.
"And have the military trace my flight path afterward?"
"No thanks. I'd like to keep my identity secret a bit longer. Besides, I'm busy cleaning up your mess—erasing any evidence tying you to tonight and pinning it on someone else."
"Someone else?"
She straightened proudly. "Yes. Tommy—the mind-altering villain who infiltrated the school and laid low."
"Only for his powers to spiral out of control and get him apprehended…"
She sipped her tea.
"Mmm. Lindy, you make excellent tea."
Lindy bowed. "Thank you, madam."
Morbucks turned back to the screen. "Where was I?"
Ben smirked slightly, his gaze briefly drifting toward the blonde maid at her side.
"You were explaining the story you've built."
He raised his eyebrow staring at Lindy.
'Maybe that can wait… want to introduce me to the woman next to you?'
He cleared his throat before that thought could slip out.
"You were telling me about the alias."
"Right. After his powers went rogue, he was apprehended by heroes. In a desperate attempt to escape, he used hypnosis on them—forcing them to fight each other."
She finished her tea.
"That part helps clean up my image. I also uploaded an alibi from your perspective. Apparently, someone named JT saw you transform."
"I made him seem unreliable by pushing targeted narratives to news outlets—ones that don't align with his claims while reinforcing your alibi."
Ben hummed. "You really went all out for me."
"You should be grateful," she replied. "I'm still working to separate you from everything you've done."
"I'll remember that," he said. "I'll bring you a gift when I come for my phone. Maybe even let you try the wishing wheel again."
"This time, though… no cash, just more of your unconditional love, " he added, voice lowering. "and If you want, I can help you pick some decent lingerie~"
He snapped his fingers.
A blank wheel appeared.
!?
The room went silent.
Keyboards stopped.
Screens froze.
Everyone heard it.
Morbucks' eyes snapped to the gacha wheel.
It shimmered—her stray thoughts flickering across it:
A bunny girl outfit.
A red nightgown.
A ball gag.
Handcuffs.
Her face flushed instantly.
She shot to her feet, pointing at the technicians.
"End the call! Now!" she snapped. "Don't look—just end it!!! We just made this official—can't you wait before saying something that indecent?!"
She glared at the screen, flustered.
"Ben… if you put this much effort into being my downfall, I'd actually be in trouble."