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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Diane stretched and turned around, settling down to lie on her belly. She adjusted the book, brushing aside a stray red petal, and resumed reading her trashy romance novel. A guilty pleasure of hers.

She was lying in the middle of their abandoned factory lair atop a conveyor belt, which was covered with a thick layer of soft moss and flowers. The afternoon sun’s rays were shining through the broken roof.

“Diane!”

And there went her afternoon of peace and quiet.

Good. She had an aversion to those; mad scientist antics were ever so much more entertaining. Diane grinned and glanced down to the armored woman striding toward her, leaving a trail of frost in her wake. If Amelia got worked up to the point of unconsciously influencing the temperature around her, it had to be good. Or bad. Either way – entertaining.

“What’s up?”

“I’m on the verge of a breakthrough!” Her dark chocolate eyes were shining. “I need your help.”

“Define help.” As much as Diane enjoyed Amelia’s company, one had to be very, very careful when agreeing to anything with her. When she asked for a favor it could be anything from helping to briefly hold up a piece of equipment to having one’s inner organs liquefied. For science.

Diane had learned that lesson early when she’d blithely promised a blood sample, only for Amelia to pull out a truly terrifying needle equipped with several knifes, pincers and, for reasons known only to Amelia herself, a laser.

“Oh, it’s nothing much, I just need you to stick your hand in an eldritch portal I summoned.” Amelia smiled winningly.

“…yeah, no.”

“Oh come now! If anything goes wrong, your arm will grow back. And I’m 80% certain nothing will go wrong.”

“Nope.”

Amelia cast her a hurt look. “A proper minion would…”

“Still not a minion.”

Amelia threw her hands up and stormed off, gesticulating wildly. “You are standing in the way of progress!” she wailed over her shoulder, her ice trail turning into wisps of flame.

Diane laughed softly, used to such temper tantrums. Amelia’s mind ran at a thousand miles an hour; by evening she would have forgotten all about this.

She laid back down, flipping the pages of her book to see where she’d left off, when a blinking blue light caught her attention. Diane sat up, excitedly grabbing the headset Amelia had fashioned for her out of Shade’s earpiece. The blinking light meant the other half of the equation had been activated, ready to receive her signal.

He hadn’t said yes yet. She didn’t expect him to. Diane could be patient.

She tapped a button and winced at the sharp electric crackle that signaled a successful connection. Soon the sound of battle filled her ears; Shade’s perfectly controlled breathing, faint surprised and pained yells, bodies hitting the floor, the hum of his energy blades being drawn, sometimes broken by uncanny silence that she took to mean he was moving through whatever freaky transdimensional space he used to teleport.

Her eyelids drooped as she imagined the images to go along with what she was hearing. She’d watched him fight, and had been impressed by what she’d seen. He was fast and lethal, capable of taking down much stronger opponents with precision and grace.

Such skill.

Such strength.

And he’d kneeled before her, reverently worshipping her body.

Diane sighed at the memory and gently tapped another button.

“Hello, Shade.”


***


Diane didn’t repeat her offer. Barely even flirted. She didn’t need to – she knew it was in his head and wasn’t going anywhere. All she had to do was be patient.

She was terrible at patience.

And she wanted to hear his voice.

So she talked. At length. About whatever crossed her mind. Shade didn’t respond much at first, seeming bemused to find himself in a semi-normal conversation with her, but he didn’t tell her to be quiet either. Diane knew some people thought her exhausting – their loss, in her humble opinion – but Shade didn’t. In fact, after a while he started answering; short, clipped sentences that nonetheless revealed his dry wit.

And somewhere along the way, Diane actually found herself actively liking the brooding hero.


***


“A haunted flower?” His voice was incredulous.

“No need to sound so judging.”

“Yes, but… a haunted flower.”

“Well, some people get bitten by ghost platypuses!”

“No need to bring Platypus Man into this. …seriously though, a haunted flower.”

“Oh, like your origin is so awesome.”

“I was trained by a secret order of ninja monks in the art of the shadow blades atop a mountain.”

“…jerk.”

He chuckled.


***


“I have no words for how wrong you are. No words.”

“Am I supposed to be surprised? Your relationship with words is about as warm as Adamast's ice armor.”

“I can talk just fine. I just don’t feel the need to share my every passing thought with the world. I’ll open my mouth when the situation warrants it. For example, when telling you that you are wrong and also insane.”

“And I’m telling you, in a fight between Platypus Man and Texplosion, Platypus Man would win.”

“No words,” Shade said, the corners of his mouths fighting a smile.


***

Shade stared at the two earpieces lying side by side, weighing his options. The new and improved version was finally finished; travelling through the void had the unfortunate side-effect of utterly screwing all communication tech he brought with him, so he needed them custom-made.

He picked up the sleek and shiny new ear bud, looking at it thoughtfully.

Then he put it back down and chose the old one instead.


***


Shade dodged, dissolving into shadow mid-jump and reappearing behind the villain, bringing down one of his blades. The man roared, whirling around and charged again – only to trip over a vine, cracking the pavement on impact.

Not one to waste an opening, Shade lashed out with a kick, aiming for a specific nerve. The villain twitched, once, twice, then lost consciousness.

Shade crouched low, watching the curling vine. It was medium-sized and, unlike the vines he’d seen before, adorned with leaves and flowers. He craned his neck, searching the alley for signs of her, but there was only the plant growing out of the wall. It started slithering closer to him.

Its tip held a folded note. After a moment’s hesitation, he took and opened it, reading the short message in messily scrawled handwriting.

Pop quiz: Do you like me?

° Yes

° No

° Maybe

“Ridiculous woman,” he murmured under his breath.

His lips were curved into a stupid grin.


***


“Are we back in High School now? Are you going to ask me to the prom next?”

“I don’t know,” Diane answered, tongue firmly in cheek. “Do you promise to wear a garishly tasteless dress?”


***


Ian stepped out of the shower, wincing slightly when he put weight on his right foot.

It turned out that having an amiable villainess chatting in one’s ear could prove a distraction at a critical moment. He limped toward the bedroom and reapplied the bandages, covering the deep gash just below his knee.

He sighed and let himself fall back on the bed, closing his eyes in exhaustion.

Worth it.


***


Not worth it.

Ian was bored.

He couldn’t put on the costume for at least a few more days, a period that would only be extended if he were to train and prevent his injury from healing. Depriving him of these two activities deprived him of the only time he felt reasonably at peace with himself.

Even breaking down and going on a shopping spree to fuel his little obsession hadn’t helped. He glanced down at his jeans, the hint of red lace just peeking out. Chosen because the color reminded him of her eyes. He groaned in misery as he realized what he’d just thought.

He missed her.

She’d hacked into his frequency for almost two weeks and somehow talking to her had become part of his routine. At first it had been monologues on her parts, revealing the inner workings of that utterly incomprehensible mind of hers. His terse scathing comments somehow evolved into gentle teasing until talking with her every day became as natural as breathing.

Her deranged musings had made him smile.

And always, always lurking in the back of his mind was her offer. She didn’t bring it up and neither did he, just as they carefully danced around the subject of any criminal activity on her part.

Ian turned the earbud over in his hand. He wasn’t in costume. He wasn’t going patrolling. Putting it in and then talking to her would not be the byproduct of something else he’d rather be doing, but the very purpose.

He pressed a small button, hooking the little device to his ear and leaned back against the headrest of his bed.

“Are you there?”

His voice was quiet and subdued.

Silence greeted him and he exhaled in disappointment. Diane popped in and out of his frequency at her leisure. He closed his eyes and hit the back of his head against the headrest with a thunk. Then he did it again for good measure.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, his thoughts spiraling down familiar dark paths. He tensed at the sudden brief crackle of static.

“Shade,” chirped that intimately familiar voice. “There you are. I’ve been wondering where you’ve been. You don’t write, you don’t call. My heart breaks, hero, and later I shall cry tears of unfathomable sadness.”

Ian didn’t answer, and just closed his eyes. What had he been thinking? This was nothing but a joke to her.

“Shade?” Diane asked after a long moment, a note of concern to her voice. “I don’t hear the sound of asses being kicked.”

He sighed wearily and reached up to turn the transmitter off.

“Kara.”

He froze. She hadn’t called him that since the day she’d contacted him the first time.

“I know you’re there, Kara. Use your words.”

He mumbled something under his breath, barely audible.

“Louder.”

“…I wanted to talk to you.”

There was a brief pause and then her tone shifted to that sultry purr that never failed to make him shiver. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes,” he breathed.

“Have you thought about my offer?”

“Yes.”

Her voice softened. “Do you want to see me again, Kara?”

“Yes,” he rasped, his mouth dry.

“I’m glad.” She sounded genuinely pleased, which somewhat calmed his pounding heart. “9 PM, the Talos Hotel, room 905. Don’t be late.”

Kara somehow choked out another “Yes.”

“Oh, one more thing… What’s your shoe size?”