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 could feel him watching her.

This was not a turn of phrase; she literally felt the pulse of her magic. It left traces in those she had touched with it. And there was someone behind her. In the shadows. Invisible.

Stalker, she thought, over and over again, perhaps in the hope of suddenly discovering a latent talent for psychic powers that would transmit that thought to him.

They’d parted on bad terms, with her storming out of that hotel room. He, being naked and wearing make-up, had been unable to follow her outside. By the time it would have taken him to clean up, she was gone, headed toward the docks.

He thought she was weak.

She had defeated him! Three times. Mister Badass himself, Scourge of Paragon’s Underworld, Vigilante With An Advanced Degree In Brooding. And she had made him kneel and worship her, so that made her a badass by proxy.

Humility was for other people.

Diane had never been weak. Not even when she was dying, not when she her legs wouldn’t even carry her weight anymore, not when she’d screamed in pain as Amelia reshaped her. Weakness was being too scared of taking risks and going after what one wanted. And Shade had nothing on her in that department.

Well, his stalking tendencies were just as well. Let him witness her fabulousity.

Just because she didn’t have his 6 years of experience, as he had been quick to point out, that didn’t make her unskilled. She’d nab this shipment, kick ass, and be out of here in no time.

She wiggled her fingers, extending her thorns. They glistened with the sedatives she’d readied. Her airborne spores were ready as well, though she wasn’t quite sure if releasing those was a good idea. Annoyingly enough, she did not want Shade to lose consciousness in the middle of a villain lair.

Diane dimmed the glow of her eyes as much as was possible. Sad, but true – she was basically a lamp. It made being stealthy in the dark difficult.

She stole from crate to crate, almost having a close encounter with a guard. She quickly averted disaster with a flick of her claws, and he fell down, unconscious. She pressed herself against the cool metal, watching the delivery that was slowly being unloaded by Arachne agents, wearing their signature black and silver uniform.

There were wooden crates filled with all sorts of weapons – ice beams, flamethrowers and good old-fashioned death rays. Diane did not care for any of those; even if she had desired to wield one, Amelia's models were far superior. At least according to Amelia.

Her gaze focused on a small box that was being carried with utmost professionalism by an entire squad.

Diamonds. Big as a fist. Pretty and shiny, but most valuable as focusing tools for the laser beams of doomsday devices, which was presumably what Amelia wanted them for.

She would give Amelia one, strike it off the list, and sell the others, thus financing herself for quite a while. Then she could avoid a rerun of this drama with Kara.

Procrastination. Truly nothing was quite as ingenious a plan as delaying the inevitable confrontation.

She pressed a sharp fingernail against her palm, readying her vines as she considered what the best way to move in would–

Pain.

Excruciating pain shot up her back. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound escaped. The blade twisted.

“You should not have come here, girl,” a deep voice said coldly behind her.


***


The Arachne guard choked quietly. Shade tightened his hold until his eyes rolled back in their sockets, the tension leaving the man’s body. He quietly laid the unconscious henchman on the floor, careful not to make any noise.

Unlike a certain glowing plant, he knew how to be stealthy.

He had never seen anyone be this atrocious at subterfuge. Not only did she glow in the dark, prompting Shade to cloak her in his fine dark mist, she also completely missed all the guards surrounding her. If Shade hadn’t been quietly dispatching them left and right she’d have been caught some 6 feet past the entrance.

He ground his teeth at that thought.

Shade was being an accessory to a crime.

True, he was only helping her by taking out criminals, which was something he could tell himself was reasonably heroic. But he wasn’t calling the police. Wouldn’t turn in whatever she took from this shipment to the proper authorities. Just the thought was like nails on a chalkboard.

They would have words over this.

The darkness flowed and he quickly darted between the maze-like containers to find her, no doubt on the verge of being discovered by a guard again. Honestly, he’d leave her for one minute and–

His mind refused to process what he was seeing.

Diane’s knees buckled and she crashed to the floor as the long blade was pulled from her body.

The man in silver calmly wiped the crimson stain off the steel.

Shade’s body moved before his mind could even form a coherent thought, the shadows swirling and materializing next to the villain. His foot connected to the villain’s face in a flying kick, cracking the dark blue mask he was wearing.

The Executioner staggered back, raising his hand to pull off his shattered mask.

“Shade,” said that inhumanely cold voice. “We meet again.”

After Shade’s disastrous first battle with the infamous assassin, he’d become far more cautious. And skilled. They had crossed blades since, yet were evenly matched, neither able to defeat the other without the intervention of luck or teammates.

Shade’s dual blades hummed as they were drawn, glowing subtly. Yet even knowing that he could not afford to take his eyes off his opponent for even one second, he couldn’t help but turn slightly to face Diane’s crumpled form.

She’s alive she’s a healer she’s fine please let her be fine

The Executioner struck immediately at the opening, putting Shade on the defensive. He crossed his plasma blades in front of him to catch the long Katana bearing down on him.

Shade half-blinked, summoning his signature whirl of shadows as if he was about to disappear. The Executioner tensed, already withdrawing his blade, readying himself for a strike from an unexpected direction. Instead, Shade did not teleport, slashing one of his blades in a wide upward arc.

The assassin narrowly avoided a cut, jerking back and overextending his balance in the process. Shade ruthlessly pushed the advantage, his other blade whirling to strike at the Executioner’s Katana to knock it out of his hand. Once disarmed, he’d be considerably less dangerous, allowing Shade to teleport to Diane and get her out of here.

It might have worked.

If Shade had not misjudged how much of his strength he needed to put behind the blow.

The Katana shook on impact, but did not fly out of the assassin’s hand.

Shade’s eyes widened. No–

The Executioner recovered and struck swiftly, Shade having left himself wide open.

Blood splattered on the metal container behind him, and Shade fell to his knees.

“Vitals dropping,” announced a chirpy voice in his ear. “Emergency teleport in Five…”

The emergency med ports were standard issue for all Heroes, monitoring their vital signs and teleporting them to designated hospitals when they dropped below a certain threshold. The introduction of the ports had dramatically increased Hero survival rates, especially for those within the first year. The emergency teleport had, in fact, been the only thing that had saved him from his first encounter with the Executioner.

Diane didn’t have one. She’d be trapped.

“Override,” Shade whispered.

“Emergency teleport aborted.” He just had to get to her, and then he could teleport them both–

“Pathetic,” sneered the assassin, drawing back for another swing.