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Rated: E · Interactive · Supernatural · #2330339

In a world with incredible superpowers, both heroes and villains put on the pounds...

This choice: Elizabeth Lancaster, aka Victori!  •  Go Back...
Chapter #5

Elizabeth Lancaster, aka Victori!

    by: NovaGojira Author IconMail Icon
Time: The War
Location: The White Cliffs of Dover

“Stand down Valkyra! The War is over. They don’t control you anymore!”

Victori shouted, her voice struggling to be heard above the crashing waves below and the storm that raged around them.

It seemed endless, water below, water above, from the sides. In every direction it seemed to come.

The water ran down her helmet, obscuring her vision for a moment.
Her long brunette hair matted to her skull by the deluge.
The damp clung to her loose fitting dress and short shoulder cape, moulding it to her body like an uncomfortable second skin, revealing her sculptured figure and powerful limbs. Her arms were heavy, barely able to hold onto her spear and shield. Her breathing was heavy and rapid, even her immortal body had trouble keeping up.

She had fought for hours against the Spirit of Germany, her own sister, Valkyra. They had clashed again and again as they dashed through the air. Spear meeting shield in contests that would shatter mortal bones on impact. Valkyra’s wings beating constantly to hold her position. Victori, held aloft by wings of the purest light, had no such issue.

She rocketed forwards, her spear outstretched.
The wild winds whistled past her as she shot forth like a bolt of lightning.
But Valkyra was ready.
The winged warrior pivoted, dodging the thrust by micrometers.
With a harsh battle cry she lashed out with her shield, catching Victori in the chest and propelling her into the famous chalk white cliffs below.

The Embodied Spirit of the United Kingdom was driven deep into the ancient stone, shattering a great segment in her wake. The force of the blow had knocked the air from her lungs. Her muscles ached and burned as she desperately tried to move. Blood trickled down her face as she grit her teeth.
Her hands were empty. Her weapons, claimed by the harsh sea that guarded Albion from its enemies. She stared upwards at her sister, her expression defiant.

Valkyra hovered overhead. Blazing eyes gazed out from her winged helmet. Clawed gauntlets clutched her own spear tightly. She raised the weapon high above her head. Bolts of lightning striking it till the spear tip glowed and crackled.
“Auf Wiedersehen Schwester”
Valkyra’s voice was hoarse yet carried a note of deep regret.
Her wings beat faster as she climbed higher into the sky.
And then she dove.

Her wings folded against her body. She dropped like a stone as she streaked down from the sky. Her spear aimed for her sister's heart.

Victori had only seconds to act. She pressed her hands into the ancient stone of Albion, her touch gentle and reverent. Her senses magnified. She could feel everything. Every tree and every blade of grass. Every heartbeat be it beast or man. Every creek and every sea that touched the British isles.
She gathered power in her hand and called out to the sea.

Valkyra barely had time to notice as a massive fist of water erupted from the ocean and seized her in midair. The colossal fingers wrapped around her body, binding her in place. Valkyra screamed in agony as the stored electricity in her spear discharged and ripped through her body.

Victori screamed her fury, her pain, her sorrows. Time and time again she was forced into conflict with her family. Her mother from long faded Rome, her sisters across her island and the continent beyond.
The whims of mortals had even led her to battle with those from far across the seas, still family after a fashion. When would it end?

Blood filled her eyes as she twisted her fist, forcing the icy waters into Valkyra’s lungs and plunging her into the depths.
“Rule Britannia, Rule the Waves” she muttered, her voice was haunted and hollow. Her words spoke not of glorious victory but of a primordial loss.

The battered pseudo goddess watched as yet another of her family sank into the seas. She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her bloodstained and bruised face. Her sister would not truly perish, not the way mortals do. In time her soul would find a vessel and begin anew. Knowing this did little to comfort her.
Her vision began to blur. The droning sounds of the mortal’s machines filled her ears as she slumped to the ground. Her eyes closed as the soldiers rushed to her side, shouting for a medic.

Time: Now
Location: London

Daylight filtered through the windows of The Tower, the base of the United Kingdom’s premier superhero team; The Round Table. Heroes and support staff were up and about, going about their daily tasks. Various heroes on the active roster trained and spared while reservists prepped for media appearances and research missions.
Deep within the living quarters Elizabeth Lancaster; the current incarnation of the legendary Victori, began to stir from her slumber as the rays of daylight infiltrated her dark room.

The heavyweight heroine rolled onto her side,allowing gravity to drag her enormous stomach back to earth. Her belly hit the mattress with a meaty slap.
Her bleary eyes fluttered open as she glanced towards her bedside table expecting to see the blazing red numbers of her alarm clock. Instead a crumpled mess of plastic and wires was all that was left to greet her, having shattered yet another alarm in her sleep. Her eyes widened in alarm and she shot upright, or at least she tried to.
The sudden movement simply set her soft form wobbling in place.
Her 180 kilogram body was getting harder and harder to move as her powers waned and the United Kingdom’s dwindling place on the world stage only ensured her decline would continue.
The bloated brunette struggled and wiggled and finally pulled herself into a sitting position, pulling her night shirt back down to cover her pillow soft belly fat.
A sharp knock at the door shattered her comfortable bubble of early morning laziness.

“Ms Lancaster? Are you decent?”
Elizabeth shrunk away from the door. Breaking out in a cold sweat.
She knew that voice all too well.
“Oh for heaven's sake! I’m opening the door”. The door swished open as it retracted into the wall. Standing in the doorway, looking prim and proper in her pencil skirt and sensible cardigan was her tormentor and personal assistant, Prudence Hall.

She looked down at Elizabeth as she sat on her king size bed, the hefty woman sinking into the mattress noticeably.
Prudence cast her gaze around the spacious room afforded the mighty heroine and shook her head in disgust. Empty takeaway containers and snack wrappers littered the room, blanket sized clothing was strewn about hanging over furniture and fixtures. By all metrics it was a mess.

Prudence fixed her gaze on Elizabeth, staring over the tops of her glasses “If it was up to me you would be doing laps at the gym till you lose some of this unsightly blubber” she said, her voice dripping with disdain.
“However, They have a new assignment for you. You will be”
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