Of Heroes And Villains

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.

Fanart by the talented Ian Samson, creator of City of Reality and artist of The Wotch

Ian Reynolds’ legendary temper had somehow received an upgrade.

They were all beyond doomed.

His body was rigid with tension, and he incessantly drummed his fingers against the table as he impatiently listened to the new proposals his board of directors was presenting to him. His pale eyes were filled with some unspoken anger, and his eyebrows seemed to be permanently set in a scowl. He gave monosyllabic answers to any and all questions directed his way.

John Johnson, director of Reynolds Industries, sighed. Working with the young man was never easy, but today it was as pleasurable as pulling teeth.

There had been a round of champagne when Mr. Reynolds had skipped the last meeting, claiming health problems.

Too bad it couldn’t last.


***


Ian slammed the car door, walking up the steps of his home with shaky legs. The heavy oak doors closed behind him and he leaned against them. He stared down at his flat chest, breathing heavily, and then squeezed his eyes shut.

“Kara?”

She opened her eyes, blinking rapidly at the blond woman descending down the winding staircase. Kara’s lips parted, but remained silent. Anything she could have said would have just come out sounding wrong, deep and masculine.

Diane slowly closed the distance between them, reaching out to cup her cheek. Kara leaned into the touch and smiled weakly.

“That hard, huh?” Diane gently stroked her cheek, her fingertip trailing lower along Kara’s neck until it hooked under a small silver chain. “Let’s get this off, then.”

She undid the clasp of the necklace and as it fell away, so did the illusion. Kara felt like she could breathe again.

“Diane,” she said softly and her voice was her own. And then her lips were on her lover’s, hot and desperate and filled with need. Kara’s fingers dug into Diane’s backside as she drew her closer.

The illusion had been an extension of Diane’s shapeshifting idea, courtesy of David who’d contacted his friend Infernal Illusionist. The idea was that Kara would wear the necklace disguising her as Ian for the few times she truly needed to appear in person before transitioning her civilian persona as well, claiming to have hired a mage or some such. Her lack of a social life would serve her well now. She’d originally aimed for a one year distance between Shade’s gender switch and that of Ian Reynolds, but after today she knew she couldn’t last ten more board meetings pretending to be male again.

Six months. Surely she could do it for six months?

Kara moaned against Diane’s mouth just to hear her voice again, and tightened her grip on her hips. Then she roughly twisted both of them around, pushing Diane against the door. In response, Diane hopped up and wrapped her legs around Kara’s waist, entangling them deeply whilst sucking on Kara’s tongue.

“Please,” she whispered and Diane, as always, knew just what she wanted. Her claws slashed away the button-up shirt, revealing Kara’s bra, which was next to be discarded in thin slices.

Soft fingers cupped her right breast, swirling a thumb around Kara’s wonderfully sensitive nipple. She moaned and savored the sensation, roughly grinding her hip against Diane. Kara’s silk panties were drenched, she could feel it, that familiar heat pooling her belly, aching and hungry.

Kara would never, ever not be in awe of the way a woman’s body felt. It was perfection.

Diane moaned and squirmed in her embrace, adorably needy whimpers coming from her throat. Kara grinned.

The woman in her arms was perfection, too.


***


Shade adjusted the bracelets on her wrists, tugging at the black leather glove until they blended in almost seamlessly. It was a new model of Plasma blades she’d be testing in combat tonight, thinner yet more precise than the previous ones.

Her body was clad in formfitting black leather covering her from head to toe. A utility belt was slung over her waist and her eyes were concealed beneath a mask. She’d forgone the old cape entirely, as well as the hood. It was time for something new.

Her short hair swayed with the breeze and she raised her head with a small smile. It felt wonderful. She was growing it out, a little, aiming for chin length.

“Ready, bro?”

David’s voice was a low rumble. Kara nodded, fading into the shadows to prepare for their assault on the villainous lair.

Diane had waved off on coming along tonight.

Paragon City had an elaborate redemption system for former villains, involving truly obscene amounts of paperwork. It had long ago been recognized that encouraging super powered beings to stay on the good side of the law was more important than retribution for their crimes. If one sentenced a remorseful villain to jail, to spend time with other villains, it was only more likely they would relapse and become a menace once more. Thus, sentences for lesser crimes could be worked off with community service.

Hero duty counted as community service, and Dionaea had finally reached her quota.

She did not like hero duty. At all. The former villain just did not care for violence, or rather, the kind of violence where she could genuinely get hurt and receive no payment for it. She claimed she had better things to do than “risk her fabulosity for ungrateful peons”. She would likely not be joining Shade on patrol again.

That was okay.

Shade smiled.

Her love would be a different sort of hero.


***


Doctor Mason, Dean of Medicine of Founder’s Creek hospital, sighed and leaned back in her chair as she started tackling the bureaucratic nightmare awaiting her. The Event almost two months ago had utterly overloaded the Hero Med Port Emergency Service as there were not enough hospitals to accomodate the sudden influx of countless metas. So the teleportation grid was getting expanded and their hospital's inclusion in that plan had created chaos in her staff’s schedule. They scrambled to incorporate the injured Metas teleporting in, their often unique physiology proving to be medical challenges, all the while still providing good care to their normal patients.

There was no way around it, she’d have to hire more doctors to handle the increased work load. She could accommodate two or three new additions easily, but more would strain their already strained budget. And she needed more. Which meant she had to start slashing programs and services. Maybe even let some non-essential staff go.

The door to her office was slammed open and, startled, she dropped the folder she’d been holding.

Then she raised her head to glare at whoever was foolish enough to interrupt her.

A scantily clad woman was draped over the chair, casually crossing her legs and flashing a predatory smile. Her eyes glowed red.

“Hi.”

Doctor Mason was silent for a long moment. Then she calmly closed the folder and laid it down on the desk, coldly gazing over her glasses at the woman. Unknown metas suddenly invading one’s personal space was never a good sign, but she had not become Dean of Medicine by panicking under pressure.

“You have five seconds to explain what you’re doing in my office.”

The woman’s smile widened. “I am here because you are going to hire me.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” She pulled out a card and slid it over the table. Doctor Mason skeptically picked it up and flipped it over, arching an eyebrow at the zeroes. “This will be my salary. I will hang out in your hospital 20 hours a week, and come in for a set number of emergencies per month. Anything more will be billed as overtime.”

“And why, pray tell, would I pay this much money for you to, as you put it, hang out?”

The woman tossed her long blond hair. “Because I’m worth it.”

She swung her long legs off the chair. “There’s my number. Call me once you have the contract set up. Oh, and…” She smiled, red eyes twinkling. “You might want to check the children’s ward. I threw that in for free.”