In which a superhero meets his match, masks are uncovered and a mad scientist just tries to get some mad science-ing done without getting distracted by the antics of her magical minion.

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Sometimes it was hard being this fabulous.

The last officer fell to his knees, choking as she tightened the vine around his throat. Diane narrowed her eyes, watching as he desperately clawed at the thick noose. Then she reluctantly loosened her grip. True, she was pretty pissed, and had no love for cops, but she did have standards. He collapsed, unconscious.

Not the kind of good times she’d had in mind for tonight.

Diane sighed, dejected, adjusting her miniskirt. She’d dressed up and everything, even though her body begrudged her every inch of skin that was not exposed to sunlight.

The rhythmic beat of the music continued in time with the strobe lights, yet the dance floor was completely empty. The patrons had long since fled the tense standoff between her and the police.

She should have kept her sunglasses on. But what kind of tool wore sunglasses in a nightclub? Well, Diane had to be that kind of tool now, apparently. Someone had recognized her red eyes and the long blond hair cascading past her waist, weaved with flower petals. They’d alerted the authorities and now her fun night out in town was ruined.

She wondered if it would be pathetic to keep dancing when there was no one to dance with.

Thank God her body still processed alcohol. She strode toward the empty bar, her long high heels clicking on the tiles.

A sudden flare of heat at her neck and she almost stumbled in surprise, but rough, strong hands grabbed her upper arm and held her in place

“Don’t move,” a gravelly voice growled behind her. A shiver ran down her spine — whether of excitement or fear she could not tell. It was usually both. To the shock of absolutely no one, Diane was a bit of an adrenaline junkie.

A plasma blade was pressing against her neck, awfully close to breaking skin. She knew whose it was; it was his signature style to carry two blades strapped to his wrists. She’d prevented him from activating them last time.

“Good evening, Shade,” she purred seductively, and was gratified to feel him tense against her. “Here to arrest me for the truly diabolical crime of dancing? Very Footloose of you. Granted, people tell me moves and curves like mine should be illegal, but I always assumed they were joking.”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Nope,” she answered happily. “But seriously, trying to arrest someone just for going clubbing? Really uncool. Doesn’t Paragon’s finest have anything better to do?”

“You’re a thief and a wanted criminal.”

She snuggled deeper into him, treating their compromising position as a lover’s embrace instead of him threatening to shiv her. To her glee, he tensed even more. Oh, but teasing the uptight hero was so delightfully fun. “This city is filled with criminals, many of them far worse than me. I steal money, I don’t hurt people.” She became intensely aware of the unconscious cop lying face down not far from them. “…much. I don’t hurt them much. And only if they hurt me first.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?”

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. Well, would have, if he’d been facing her. “I have better things to do at night than sleep.” Fantasize about sexy, brooding heroes, for one. Wearing pretty lacey garments.

She heard him shift uncomfortably behind her. “Why are you doing this?” he rasped, sounding slightly hoarse.

“Do what?” she asked innocently.

No answer.

“Well, my taciturn friend, I do most of everything for one reason and one reason alone.”

He leaned in and, oh, she could almost feel his stubble scraping her ear.

“Because it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

He growled in frustration and she laughed.

“You haven’t… told. Anyone. Why?”

She tilted her head and peered at the subtly glowing blade. “I do not find being threatened with pointy objects to be conductive to explaining myself.”

“Why?” he repeated, only pressing the blade closer to her neck.

“You have really shit conversation skills, you know that?”

“Answer me.”

The blade touched her skin. Blood flowed. She smiled.

“Big mistake.”

Diane reached for that deep well of blood magic within. Her skill with it was questionable, as she had only recently acquired her power, but it had a devastating effect nonetheless. Vines spouted beneath them, growing to their full monstrous size in seconds.

She smirked as Shade and his fucking blades were torn away from her. She absently reached up to massage her bleeding throat. Only a light superficial cut, meant to intimidate rather than hurt. It still pissed her off.

“Well, well, well,” she drawled, prancing up to Shade. “Here we are again. I’m starting to believe you enjoy being tied up.”

She couldn’t really see it beneath the mask and hood, but she suspected that she was on the receiving end of a murderous look. She smiled at him, seemingly oblivious.

“Let me go, you bitch!”

Diane gasped. “The hero said a bad word! That’s my job. Oh, you heroes. Listening to the jobs and stealing our raps.” She stepped closer, lightly running her sharpened fingernails along his thighs. “So… what color are they today? Dare I find out?”

He snarled silently. “Keep those fucking claws to yourself.”

“They’re thorns. Not claws.” She started undoing the zipper, taking her time.

“Stop,” he said, voice strained, and she could already see him hardening. She kept going — until she saw that plain white hem. She exhaled in disappointment.

“Did you really think I was going to give you more leverage?” He sounded both pained and weirdly triumphant.

Diane peered up at him. “Leverage?” She shook her head, pouting. “I just wanted to see a hot man in even hotter underwear. Is that too much to ask?”

Shade didn’t answer. He seemed taken aback.

“Did you expect me to blackmail you?” she asked curiously.

“You’re a villain.” Delivered in the same tone of voice as one would say Duh. As if her entire self could be summed up in that word. As if he knew her.

Well, fuck you, too, Shade.

“So I am. There’s this funny thing about heroes and villains that you fail to grasp. Tell me, what was that hero’s name? The one who killed that guy on national TV. Amethyst Aura? Amethyst Spark?”

Shade grew rigid. “Amethyst Star,” he answered reluctantly.

“Mhm.” It had been a scandal of epic proportions. Amethyst Star was your classic caped crusader; miniskirt, knee-high boots and cute as a button. America’s sweetheart. One of the most popular heroines in Paragon, she’d had her own line of action figures. That is, until cameras caught her snapping a guy’s neck.

The media frenzy that followed utterly destroyed her in the court of public opinion. It didn’t matter that she’d done it in a moment of shortsighted desperation to stop him from launching nuclear missiles. The public did not like to be reminded that beneath the colorful costumes there was a genuine battle to the death.

“A hero who does something evil is branded fallen forever. Considered little better than us, really,” Diane said slowly. “Yet what is a villain who does something good? Still a villain.” She leaned in close, brushing her lips to his ear. “The dirty little secret is that I can do as much good as you, whenever I feel like it, while you are forever constrained by what you are.”

She leaned back and smiled grimly. “So do not assume that I’m going to be a colossal asshole just because I happen to have illicit affairs with other people’s money.”

He did not answer, but she saw a muscle in his jaw tick.

Diane gazed at him for a long moment, then took a step back. “Diane,” she said, on a whim.

He slightly angled his head. “…what?”

“My name is Diane, not bitch. Diane Cole.” She nodded to herself. “There. Now you know a secret of mine and I know one of yours.”

She turned her back on him, backside swaying as she started walking toward the exit, away from him. No doubt the cops had called for backup, which is why Shade had appeared. Time to make her daring escape.

Diane paused, then called over her shoulder. “And the next time we meet, I expect you to be dressed appropriately!”