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.

---

This was not happening.

The gorgeous, yet very morally questionable woman cocked her head at him, staring intensely at his exposed hip. At least, he thought she was; it was hard to tell with eyes like hers. They pulsed with a soft red glow that seemed to be growing in intensity. It obscured her pupils and iris, making it impossible to tell what direction she was truly looking in. So maybe she hadn’t seen… no. She had. The tilt of her head and her sudden silence left no doubt.

Fuck my life.

He couldn’t decide if Dionaea — or whatever her ridiculous name was — was the worst possible villain to find out his secret or not. On the one hand, she was, as supervillains went, fairly low on the psychotic sociopathy scale. She had first appeared a few months ago and had not, to his knowledge, killed anyone, sticking mostly to theft and the occasional violent altercation with the police or fellow heroes or even other villains. Her relatively painless choice of weapons — spore-based narcotics with no permanent side-effects — pointed to a less bloodthirsty nature than most of the ruthless criminals he faced. In fact, she’d struck him as… likable. If he forgot that she was evil.

On the other hand, one of her other chosen weapons was her unabashed sexuality, which she wielded with terrifying acumen. He had no doubt that she, better than most, would know how to torment him over this. And he knew for a fact that she was not above blackmail.

Ruined. I’m ruined.

“Oh, Shade,” she breathed, leaning forward with interest. “And here I thought you were boring!” The way she said it, as if she’d just discovered a new toy to play with… He shivered and redoubled his efforts to free himself.

He tried to blink, to retreat into the shadows, to no avail. No matter how hard he strained against the vines around his arms, he couldn’t even get them to budge an inch. That didn’t stop him from struggling as hard as he could.

Dionaea was watching him with a mix of amusement and interest, tilting her head like a curious puppy. Then she stepped closer, long slim fingers brushing along the torn black fabric. The synthetic material was the strongest known to the metahuman community, and popularly used in many superhero costumes. It could withstand extreme temperatures and was bulletproof — yet her claws had shredded it like it was nothing. Never would he underestimate her again.

He felt dizzy, his thoughts lethargic. Neurotoxin, she’d said. The claws were poisonous? He was an idiot for her to have even gotten the chance to swipe at him; he should have tackled her without the verbal sparring match. Then these fucking vines wouldn’t have tripped him up, he’d never have lost his balance, he’d never have attacked so sloppily…

She’d never have revealed what he was wearing.

He closed his eyes, shame twisting in his insides.

He’d had rules about this. Never, ever wear them when on the job, not when he was in constant danger of wardrobe malfunction via explosion or rabid radioactive wolverines. But, somehow, he’d gotten careless. One time of changing into his uniform and leaving the panties because he was in a hurry had turned into another. And then another. And then the time after that. It stopped being a rule, and started being more of a guideline he broke more often than not.

Well fucking done, self.

He felt a tug at the silk, and his eyes flew wide open. Dionaea was leaning forward in front of him, tugging at the exposed pink string with a mischievous expression on her face. He felt lightheaded, the smooth fabric caressing his cock in time with her yanking.

“It looks cute on you!” she declared and to his eternal horror, he felt himself harden almost instantly. No. This was the most humiliating moment of his life, his cock had no business approving of this, none whatsoever.

“What did you drug me with?” he gritted out, trying to ignore the sensation of her soft hands at his hips, that she’d paid him a compliment when the only other woman he’d ever revealed his perversion to had reacted with revulsion.

“Just a tranquilizer,” she said, glancing up at him. “You’ll start feeling sleepy soon. It’s a shame,” she added with what looked to be genuine regret. “Things are just starting to get interesting…” At that, she ran her fingertips along his rapidly growing bulge.

He groaned. He couldn’t help it.

“What are you… why are you…?” His brain had trouble forming coherent thoughts, let alone putting together grammatically correct sentences.

She tilted her head and smiled a dazzling smile, drawing herself up to her full height. She was tall for a woman, with legs that went on forever, but she still only reached up to his chin. “Why, Shade,” she purred. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m the villain and I do believe that makes you the damsel in distress. You’ve even dressed for the part.”

“So you’re going to tie me to train tracks?” He leaned back, as far out of her reach as her vines would let him.

She laughed, a sly look to her eyes. “I was thinking more along the lines of the dastardly villain ravishing the damsel.”

“You’re insane.” His voice cracked on the second syllable; she’d roughly grabbed him by the utility belt he wore, undoing it and letting it fall.

“Maybe,” she said, unhurriedly hooking her fingers under the waistband of his uniform. “A certain estrangement with reality is after all obligatory for all ambitious supervillains, no? I’m nothing if not a model citizen. Fingers crossed for that Villain of the Month award.” Her voice held a mocking lilt, and she flashed him a grin that did things to his lower region that should definitely not be done amongst archnemeses. Not that she had been his archnemesis before today, but he was pretty sure she was now. Top of the list.

She casually gave his pants a pull, revealing the delicate, dark pink panties in all their girlish glory. Paralyzed by panic, mortification and what was most definitely not arousal, he could do nothing but stare. His erection was straining against the dark silk fabric, a small even darker stain slowly spreading across his cockhead.

“Pretty,” Dionaea murmured softly and there was a painful thump in his chest in response.

Her hand reached out, fingertips hovering less than a mere inch above him. He gave a strangled whimper, not even caring about his dignity anymore. It was lying in shattered pieces right next to his utility belt.

“I’ll stop,” she said softly, and his gaze snapped up, meeting hers. “If you really want me to. Just say no.”

His mouth opened and closed soundlessly.

“If you don’t say no,” she continued slowly. “I’ll have my wicked way with you.”

There was something seriously wrong with him. He’d always known that, but he hadn’t known the extent of it. His lips still wouldn’t form the word.

“Don’t…” His voice was hoarse, laced with need. She tilted her head. Don’t stop.

They both jerked in surprise when the sirens started wailing. Fuck. He’d tripped the alarm to alert the police, and they’d finally arrived. His eyes widened when he realized what sight the cops were about to stumble onto.

Ruined.

He immediately started straining against the vines with all his considerable strength, desperate to get the hell out of here. He grew still when Dionaea rested her palm on his chest, apparently wanting to calm him.

“Listen,” she said in a low voice. “I’ll free you if you get us both out of here.”

He gave a sharp nod. Somewhere in the back of his mind his heroic principles were yelling obscenities at him for helping a villain escape the scene of her crime. Said principles got slapped by the part of his mind that was rational enough to point out that he just almost had wild, kinky sex with said villainess at the scene of her crime, so everything was relative.

The vines slithered away and he grimaced as he regained the feeling in his arms. He hadn’t realized just how tight those things had been holding him.

There were footsteps nearing them, so he grabbed Dionaea’s wrist. At the last second he remembered to retrieve his utility belt, lest he leave incriminating evidence behind. Shadows pooled at his feet, smoke tendrils rising, and he pictured their destination.

Traveling through the void, as he called it, was cold, disorienting, and subject to gravity being an asshole that wasn’t doing its job right.

He was used to it, though, and found his balance right away. She, however, did not, stumbling and falling to her knees, heaving in big, gulping breaths. Shade used that moment to back away from her, pulling up his pants with agitated, jerky movements. Whatever insanity had him in his grip when she had him tied up seemed to have passed, and he could already feel rage building. Rage at the way he’d acted. Rage at the way she had made him act.

“Where are we?” she moaned, brushing her long blond hair aside to rub her temples. Her voice echoed in the abandoned warehouse. Shade often used this place for interrogations; it was one of the few places he could guarantee would be devoid of people.

“The docks,” he said curtly, then took a step toward her. At his words, she tensed, likely sensing the change in tone. She sat up, gazing up at him with those eerie red eyes of hers.

“Ah. Back to trying to arrest me for my evil ways?”

“And no vines to save you this time,” he seethed.

“But you forget one thing.” She smiled blithely, bringing her fingers to her lips.

“…what?”

“Sedatives.” She blew him a kiss.

“Oh, you bit-“

His knees gave out.

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.

---

Well, that escalated quickly.

Diane rose slowly, watching the unconscious hero lying in front of her with trepidation.

She’d only wanted to tease the chronically dour vigilante. She’d never expected his reaction to be so strong. Nor, for that matter, had she expected it of her own.

Diane apprehensively circled around him, and then sank to her knees beside him. She poked him with a thorn, not quite breaking skin, just to make sure he wasn’t faking. Her gaze strayed low; to the spot she’d torn his uniform. To that incriminating hint of lace.

She’d never known she apparently had a thing for guys in pretty lingerie, but she was not one to walk away from unexpected pleasure. She was, after all, a creature of hedonism.

Her gaze travelled back up, fixing on his face. Or rather, what little she could see of it. Diane reached up, caressing his strong jaw, gingerly pushing the hood up. His light stubble was dark — did he have black hair? Dark brown? Despite her curiosity, she stayed her hand.

Masks and hoods had a special significance amongst their kind. Diane was one who could never have a secret identity — her red eyes and the petals growing in her hair made that impossible — but she respected the convention, even if it wasn’t for her. And she’d already forced him to reveal far more than he was likely comfortable with.

But then, she wasn’t exactly a good person, was she?


***


“Honey, I’m home!”

To call the long-abandoned factory a home was somewhat stretching the definition, but Diane had seen — and lived in — worse places.

Stepping over the broken pieces of what may once have been an assembly line, she glanced around. Silence. Silence was ominous; she didn’t like silence. If something wasn’t exploding or bubbling or ripping open the very fabric of space and time, it meant Amelia wasn’t at work.

An Amelia whose work was interrupted was a cranky Amelia. And cranky in mad scientist terms meant unholy nerd rage.

Her ears pricked up when she heard voices from the lower level, the area they generously called their living room. She leisurely strolled toward the sound, aptly dodging the remains of a doomsday machine Amelia had disassembled for parts.

Cheerful music drifted toward her, setting her teeth on edge. It was the kind of inoffensive music that played in elevators. The kind that was just a little too bright, too cheery, the kind that made people want to claw their own ears out.

“We thank you for your patience,” a tinny voice announced. “All operators are currently assisting others. Please hold.”

“You have made a powerful enemy tonight!” Amelia’s voice railed. “Your pathetic attempts to pacify me with music mean nothing! Nothing!”

“Amelia, sweet, we talked about this,” Diane said mildly, pushing the door open. “Think of your happy place.”

“My happy place involves dropping this infuriating announcer into a vat of toxic acid.”

She nodded sympathetically, taking in the scene. Amelia was sprawled over a chair, sullenly glaring at the phone on the table. Her customary white coat was draped closely around her slim body, yet her safety goggles were off for a change, revealing a pretty, dark-skinned face. “Yes, but don’t you feel better for having imagined that?”

Amelia sighed. “I suppose envisioning his screams of excruciating pain is rather…calming.”

Diane inclined her head sagely, making her way to what they passed off as a kitchen. “So what’s up?”

“The voodoo artifact is not performing as expected. It’s broken.”

“Aw. Did you keep the warranty?”

“…you stole it from a museum.”

“Oh yeah.” She scratched her chin while waiting for the water heater to do its thing. “I guess I should have stolen the warranty, too.”

Amelia let out a longsuffering sigh. “Speaking of theft… were you able to secure the funds?”

Diane froze.

She'd… left the money. It was right there, and she had completely forgotten to grab it. Had not even remembered up until now, too distracted by just what went down in that vault.

“Son of a bitch!” she exclaimed. He’d made an unfaithful woman out of her. Money was her One True Love, and she’d wantonly abandoned it for someone prettier.

“You didn’t?” Amelia’s voice was a sharp accusation.

“There were…complications.”

“What kind of complications?”

“A hero,” she answered, truthfully, letting Amelia fill in the blanks. “I’m working on it, all right?”

Amelia might have pressed the issue, but just at that moment the music cut out, replaced by a scratchy voice. “Loa’s Magical Emporium customer service, how may I help you?”

The mad scientist practically pounced on the phone. “Yes! Finally!”

Diane exhaled in relief, grabbing a mug and a tea bag. She peered at the dried leaves and wondered idly if this technically qualified as cannibalism. Sadly, ever since her flower power manifested, solid food proved elusive. Her new body sustained itself on sunshine and water alone.

Thankfully, she found that the definition of water was quite loose, and Diane made do with what she had. She poured the hot liquid over the teabag, letting the flavor breathe a little whilst listening to Amelia’s conversation with magical tech support.

“Yes, this voodoo doll is clearly defective.”

“Hm,” came the noncommittal reply. Then… “Have you tried turning it off and on again?”

“It… it’s a voodoo doll. What.”

“Yes, but have you tried turning it off and on again?”

“No, I have not,” she said, voice rising.

“Ma’am, please remain calm. Have you tried checking its wi-fi capabilities?”

“It… I… are you even a properly certified voodoo priest?! You’re speaking with a Canadian accent!”

“Ma’am, all our customer support has been outsourced to Canada, but I assure you that I am eminently qualified to…”

The phone exploded in a tiny eruption of blue sparks.

Diane sighed, dropping two cubes of sugar into her tea. After a moment’s thought, she added a third. “I wish you’d stop destroying valuable equipment.”

“We got spares,” Amelia huffed. And indeed, they had a cupboard full of electronics she broke on a regular basis. “Make a note, Loa’s Magical Emporium customer support just made The List.”

The List consisted of people who’d wronged Amelia and would be first to be executed if she ever got around to conquering the world. So far it included PETA, that guy at the grocery store, the research grant ethics committee and the Evil League of Evil who’d quite evilly denied Amelia her spot amongst them.

“Mhm,” Diane said, sitting down at the table and taking a sip from her sweet tea.

Many of her professional colleagues would think Amelia mad for dealing with magical artifacts — well, madder than was proper for a scientist — but Diane knew that was what drew her to it. The challenge of at last uniting these two seemingly contradictory disciplines had captured her brilliant mind. Diane, having firsthand knowledge of the utterly fickle and absurd nature of magic, thought it a hopeless endeavor, but wisely said nothing.

After all, Amelia’s experiments were what had given Diane her powers.

“No matter,” the woman in question huffed. “I’ll make this blasted thing work somehow.”

“Well…” Diane drawled, taking another sip. “Have you tried turning it off and on again?”

She nimbly dodged the fireball.


***


Shade woke up with the worst hangover that ever hangovered.

He groaned, turning his head and resting his cheek against the cool cement floor. He sighed in relief. That felt better.

Floor.

His brain commenced a lethargic sequence of mental acrobatics at that word.

Why am I on the floor?

Cerebral belly flop.

Cold, he concluded. The floor was nice and cold, soothing his pounding headache. Quite brilliant of him, really, to utilize it like that. God, what had he been drinking…

Sedative.

He jerked up, and regretted it instantly at the sharp stab of pain, his mind flooding with memories. She had… and then he had… Humiliation burned in his gut and he craned his neck, eyes wide.

She’d left him in the warehouse.

He slowly sat up, massaging his temples, dimly realizing that his hood was pushed back. His hand automatically went up, tracing the edges of his domino mask. So she hadn’t unmasked him?

Or maybe she’d just put it back on.

Had she taken pictures?

He swallowed hard, peering down at himself. Still dressed, still sporting claws marks on his uniform, and still exposing his secret for the world to see.

She knew.

She knew and he’d let her get away.

“Fuck,” he said quietly, his calm voice belying the raging inferno within.


***


Paragon City was, true to its name, a shining beacon to the rest of the world. Apart from demented, yet lovely architecture, it had the highest meta population in the world, most of whom wore capes of one type or another. It also sported a staggering number of abandoned warehouses, the sheer volume of which could never be explained to anyone’s satisfaction.

To live in Paragon was to live in a magical world. Superheroes streaked across the sky like comets, speedsters staffed the local Pizzerias, bringing customers their takeout in seconds, and scientists — of the mad and not-so-mad variety; the former reluctantly tolerating the latter, if only to steal their research — unveiled incredible cutting edge technology every other week.

To live in Paragon was also to live in a world of constant epic battles. No other population on earth could obliviously pass by a rampaging dinosaur in the street and only absently wonder if this would affect their morning commute.

There had been an alien invasion last week. The general public's reaction had ranged from “Meh” to “Not again”.

Mostly untouched by this madness was a small, wealthy neighborhood to the west of the city. There lay a gated community of mansions and scenic parks, leaving the rich and powerful to raise their picturesque families in peace and quiet. A forcefield kept the unwashed masses in tights out.

At the very edge of that community was a grand estate, isolated from all its neighbors. There lived a mysterious young man, heir to a great family fortune. To the great disappointment of climbing socialites everywhere, he remained elusive and at a distance, keeping to himself.

In any other city this might have been cause for suspicion. Not so in Paragon. It’s been facetiously suggested that some 50% of the population were, in fact, secretly superheroes or villains in civilian disguises. The only reason the arrangement had not yet collapsed in on itself in a gigantic mess of poor camouflage, suspiciously specific denials and excessive, unexplained tardiness was because everyone was too busy covering their own identity to doubt someone else’s.

The theory was not far off.


***


Shade stared at the selection of panties laid out before him, wondering when, exactly, he had sunk so low.

A teenaged boy obsessively poring over a Victoria’s Secret catalog was normal, wasn’t it? At least that’s what he used to tell himself when he’d spend long nights staring at the gorgeous models posing in lingerie. It was just a far more accessible version of Playboy, really. So what if he spent just as much time fantasizing about the lingerie as he spent thinking about what was beneath. It looked interesting, in a pure scientific curiosity type of sense. Such vivid colors and intricate patterns. Men’s underwear was just so terminally boring by comparison.

And those shiny, silky fabrics looked a lot more comfortable, too. What would it be like, he’d wondered, to feel such softness enveloping him?

As much as he’d tried to shake such thoughts, they grew more frequent as puberty ground on. The more his gangly limbs filled out, the taller he grew, the more frequently he had to shave, the more he dreamt of lace and skirts and high heels.

And bras! God, bras. The way they hugged those delectable curves, delicately framing a girl’s breasts like the perfect pieces of art they truly were. But again, a boy being obsessed with the thought of breasts was completely healthy and not at all abnormal. And if there was a hint of jealousy to those thoughts, he’d chosen to ignore that.

In fact, he’d been very adept at ignoring these thoughts.

Grief and hatred had almost managed to push them out of his head entirely. When his family was murdered by criminal scum it had been almost too easy to devote his entire being to vengeance. His harsh training had left no room for exploration of what kind of person he wanted to be — because he knew what kind of person he needed to be. A weapon, perfectly honed to cleanse this city of its seedy underbelly.

He had sacrificed everything for that goal — his friends, his social life, any career he might have had. Even his own name was almost lost to him; he spent so much of his time being called Shade that he barely responded to Ian.

Villains had learned to fear him. For good reason.

His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fist around the lace in his hand.

And today he’d been a hair’s breath away from fucking a villainess, just because she wasn’t immediately repulsed by his clandestine hobby.

Enough.

It was beyond enough. He never should have let it get this far out of hand.

He threw the panties into the fire and watched them burn.

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.

---

Shade gritted his teeth, thick miasma enveloping him as he blinked away.

Just moments later, a car crashed on the spot he’d been standing in just fractions of a second earlier. It flipped over, coming to a grinding halt with a metallic screech.

Idiots just loved throwing cars. It never seemed to occur to them that actually driving the car at 70 mph would make for a far bigger impact than tossing it with, at best, 10 mph. But then, evil and stupidity did seem to be joined at the hip.

“You can’t keep evading forever!” roared the bulky caricature of a man, practically frothing at the mouth. He wore a skintight leotard in a truly atrocious shade of purple, his overgrown muscles bulging beneath the cloth. Just looking at him grievously wounded Shade’s sense of aesthetics.

The darkness flowed once more. “Can’t I?” he whispered in the villain’s ear, just before bringing down his kinetic weapons and slashing open his back. Or attempting to, anyway. The glowing blade barely scratched the mutant’s invulnerable skin, yet elicited a pained howl anyway. Shade retreated instantly, reappearing at a safe distance in a swirl of shadows.

God, but he hated fighting defensively powered types. Shade’s style lent itself to quick and lethal strikes, not long drawn-out battles of attrition.

“You will pay for that,” his opponent spat. “And for everything you’ve done to me!”

“And what would that be?” he asked in a bored tone. He wasn’t usually one for banter, but if he managed to enrage him further, perhaps he’d tire himself out faster.

“You… you don’t remember me?” He sounded genuinely hurt.

At that, Shade tilted his head. He was fairly certain he’d never faced this eyesore in particular before.

“You put me in jail!”

“Ah.” Awkward. “To be fair, I do that to a lot of people.”

“But… I… you ruined my life and you don’t even remember?!”

Shade shrugged.

“You know, this is the kind of shit that makes me go on violent rampages,” the villain said glumly.

“…have you thought about taking anger management classes?”

The fashion disaster roared once again and charged. Shade tensed but didn’t move — not yet. He’d positioned himself right in front of a brick wall, and the idiot was going to run into it headfirst once Shade teleported away at the last possible second.

That, at least, was the plan.

Instead, a red, white and blue blur swooped in, tackling the villain with enough force to shatter the pavement on impact.

“Never fear, bro, I’m here to save you!”

Shade closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Inner peace, he chanted to himself. Inner peace. He’d need it.

When he opened them again, the villain was lying crumbled and defeated to the feet of a caped hero, who flashed Shade a photogenic smile, his unruly blond hair swaying dramatically in the wind.

Die, dudebro.

Shade sighed and somehow forced a professional smile to his lips as well. It wasn’t the Captain’s fault that he was a dudebro who should die. Nor was it his fault that Shade was in a terrible mood.

It had been five days since the Epic Clusterfuck of Sexual Confusion, as Shade had termed it, and he’d been living on the edge ever since. Every day he woke up nauseous at the thought that today he would become the laughingstock of the caped community, and every day that failed to happen. Heroes continued to treat him with professional courtesy and criminals greeted him with the appropriate level of frightened terror.

Which meant Dionaea was keeping his secret to herself. For now. Which begged the question…

Why?

Not helping matters was that he was going through withdrawal. Nobody had ever warned him about the dangers of underwear addiction, but apparently it was a slippery slope. There should have been PSAs. Just say no to panties, kids.

Captain Patriot bounded toward him like a puppy. A very, very dumb puppy.

“You okay, bro? That looked like a close call!”

“I had it covered,” Shade replied, an edge to his voice.

The Captain wilted a little at that rebuke, but immediately rebounded. “Yeah, you did! Really softened him up, or I couldn’t have delivered the finishing blow!” He held out his fist, looking at Shade expectantly.

The Captain was lying through his teeth, as they both knew. His superstrength was, like his father’s before him, unrivaled, making him one of the most powerful heroes in the city. And that pathetic attempt at a lie was the only reason Shade deigned to raise his hand in return. He bumped the Captain’s fist with all the enthusiasm of a dead possum. Usually, he tried not to encourage this ridiculous bromance the Captain sought to establish with him.

The handsome hero immediately brightened, flashing pearly white teeth.

Captain Patriot, the second of his name.

His father had been one of the very first Metas to manifest powers, and his iconic emergence as a self-styled “superhero” had inspired copycats everywhere. Even the popularity of capes as part of a fashionable hero uniform could be traced back to him.

Captain Patriot II had big shoes to fill, and, well, he tried. With all the dignity and ineptitude of the aforementioned puppy.

His father had also been known for his close association with the so-called Arrow, a non-powered vigilante whose crusade against crime left a lasting mark on the city’s slums. Together, they’d been an unstoppable crime-fighting duo.

It was pretty evident to Shade that the Captain 2.0 saw him as Arrow 2.0, which in his tiny little mind obviously designated them Best Friends Forever.

Shade did not agree.

Shade did not appreciate being used as a substitute.

Shade often thought about painful ways in which the Captain might perish, so he could have some peace and quiet.

“So, dude, we should celebrate our awesome victory! Hit the E!” The E, as the Escapist was popularly known, was a transdimensional dance club that catered exclusively to Capes.

“No.”

The Captain continued on, oblivious. “Maybe Amethyst Star will be there. That chick wants me.”

“No.”

“I’d like to have sex with her, if you know what I mean.”

“N— That isn’t even innuendo, that’s a single entendre.”

The Captain quirked an eyebrow as if to say: So?

Thankfully, Shade’s police scanner chose that moment to crackle with static before transmitting a tinny voice into his earpiece. His blood ran cold. Villain spotted downtown — requesting backup — identified as Class 4 threat “Dionaea.”

He dissolved into shadow, leaving Captain Patriot blinking in confusion and disappointment.

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.

---

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!”

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.

---

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Diane watched the fluid slowly work its way down the IV, counting the seconds it took for the drop to form and fall. It was what passed for entertainment around here.

She hated hospitals. Hated, hated, hated them. Hated the smell, hated the sterile white of the walls, hated the scratchy texture of the blankets. Hated that she was going to die in this miserable place.

Diane closed her eyes, wishing she hadn’t collapsed in full view of an entire party. If she’d had her little episode in private, she could have gone on with her life, or what was left of it. Now they’d only let her discharge if she preferred to spend her last days at home, but of course, she didn’t have one.

She frowned, snuggling deeper into the blanket. When had the room gotten so cold? She exhaled, and her breath fogged the air. What the…?

There was the sound of heavy footfalls, the swish of fabric… and then a woman sat down at Diane’s bedside, crossing her heavily armored legs.

Diane’s lips parted in shocked recognition.

The woman’s eyes were hidden beneath far too large goggles, wild black hair framing a tan face. Her body was covered in formfitting tech armor, emitting a low hum, and her cape was made of semi-transparent glass fiber arranged in a subtly glowing ice crystal pattern.

“Cinder Snow,” Diane greeted her, as if infamously ruthless supervillains strolling into her hospital room were a common occurrence.

The villain’s lips curved into a small smile. “You don’t sound afraid.”

“Well, what are you going to do — kill me?” she asked with just a hint of bitterness. “Nature’s way ahead of you there.”

Cinder Snow laughed, the sound high-pitched and trilling. Diane was instantly convinced she practiced that — no one had an evil laugh like that naturally. “True. I’m not here to kill you. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

She leaned forward, an excited grin on her face.

“Diane Cole. How would you like to advance the cause of science?”


***


The flower was beautiful, its red petals folding and unfurling in a fascinating synchronized dance.

Le fleur de sang; that’s what Snow had called it. The bloodflower, said to cure any disease or injury. What exactly a mad scientist was doing with a magic flower was a bit of a mystery to Diane, but if it was going to help her survive, she wasn’t going to question it.

Not that her survival was a sure thing, Snow had made that quite clear. Apparently her last test subject had ended up a vegetable. In more ways than one.

Ethically questionable human experiments with a woman who, quite frankly, did seem a bit deficient in the marble department? Diane was your girl. Even if everything went horrifically wrong, she’d at least have tried. It beat rotting in a hospital bed.

Diane had been diagnosed early in life and had resigned herself to a young death. And by resigned she meant that she had made life her bitch, squeezing every last drop of pleasure from it. She’d dropped out of school — what point was there to a formal education when she’d never reap its benefits? — and set out go experience absolutely everything life had to offer. And if she’d occasionally stolen and lied and embezzled to finance her lifestyle — who could blame her? The moral high ground was for the not terminally ill.

She reached out, fingertips almost brushing the petals. They looked so soft.

“No touching!” Snow barked, and Diane reluctantly withdrew her hand. “Honestly. Every time…”

The villainess sighed and adjusted her glasses, peering at her holo-clipboard. “We cannot risk contamination before the splicing process has begun. Contact must be kept to a minimum or the mere exposure to the ethereal field around the artifact will begin the healing process, which will lead to complications further down the line. The bonding process must be initiated before significant alterations to your DNA have been made, to allow the garble to flux the chromosomal structure…”

Diane stared blankly. Cinder Snow sighed.

“I will combine your DNA with the flower and I need you to keep a distance before the process starts.”

“Oh. Okay.”


***


It hurt.

It hurt a lot.

Diane screamed when the vines burrowed under her skin.


***


Diary of a Mad Scientist


Day 1

Have located promising new test subject. Genetic defect, incurable, currently on a sharp decline. Hope she does not scream as much as the last one did.


Day 2

Have successfully established contact. Subject signed consent form within 5 minutes. Have never met a subject this eager.

Did not even need to threaten loved ones.


Day 5

Preparations are complete. Subject continues to cooperate most delightfully, though the poor thing is not very bright. Tried to explain what I was doing and why she should not risk cross contamination, but she just stared. Said “I will put the magic thingy inside of you. No touching.” and then she nodded.


Day 6

Success! Subject did scream less than previous ones. My ears are very grateful. Subject looks magnificent, perfectly blending her old appearance with floral features. Still unconscious, though.


Day 9

Subject has awoken!

Mental faculties appear undamaged, yet not improved either. Sad. Poor girl will have to go through life with what little she has. Subject seems pleased enough. Spent the day running through the lab, laughing madly. When asked what she was doing, responded with: “I can run without fainting!” Could not catch her to do further tests.


Day 9 addendum

Subject grew lethargic, complaining of hunger. Ate food eagerly, but threw it all up shortly after. A quick body scan revealed a lack of a digestive system. Gave her water, which she kept down. Subject still hungry, but went to sleep.


Day 10

Subject has not woken up. Am worried.


Day 11

Left underground lair and carried subject into sunlight. She woke up after 6 hours of sunbathing. Appears undamaged by the experience.


Day 16

Have determined that subject needs at least 2 hours sunlight a day, more if she uses her power. Underground lair not conductive to research. Will move. Subject has objected strenuously to my volcano base. Underwater lair likewise not feasible.


Day 18

Have set up temporary lair. Not pleased by quality of base, but it’s Paragon — market value of villain lairs extremely high. Subject has expressed desire for codename of her own. Continues to display remarkable moral flexibility. Have suggested “Dionaea Muscipula”, to match her civilian name. She seems taken with the idea, shortening it to just Dionaea.


Day 20

Asked Dionaea to synthesize a variety of plant-based substances. Nothing seems beyond her ability. Cheap source of all manner of drugs? Will test more.


Day 26

Dionaea left the lair today. Was on verge of setting everything on fire, but she returned with money. Said she wanted to stretch her vines. She smiled sweetly. Could not stay angry.


Day 30

Gave Dionaea a chemical today, said it was the cure for the common cold. She nodded and set about to replicating it.

Produced an altered substance. It really does cure the cold. Am stumped.


Day 38

Dionaea continues to go out from time to time, returning with gifts and money. Lots of money. Reminds me of a cat dragging home dead birds. Believe it is her way of showing affection.

Am growing quite fond of her as well. Asked her to call me Amelia.


Day 40

Have made decision. Once the experiments are concluded, will keep Dionaea. She will make a fine minion.


Day 43

My generous offer to make Dionaea my minion went over… poorly. Am still pulling thorns out of my backside.


Day 44

Dionaea walked up to me today and informed she would be staying, not as a minion, but as a colleague. Told me that even though I am “cray-cray”, she thinks I am “entertaining” and then mumbled something about being the best friend she’s ever had.

Am strangely touched.

Still want that minion though.


Day 57

My blood pressure has normalized, through no intervention of my own. Did an extensive health check — am in perfect condition! Do not even have scars any more.

Have always avoided touching Diane, but just being in her vicinity appears to have a healing effect. Interesting.


Day 61

Have confirmed — any drug produced by Diane retains her healing properties. The guards she knocks out during her bank heists are quite lucky — she probably gives them decades of additional lifespan.

The process is entirely subconscious.

Wonder just how much body modification she is capable of.


Day 132

Diane came home subdued today after she had left for a club. Contemplated asking her what’s wrong, but settled on patting her back. Am certain she got my message.


Day 133

Diane back in good spirits today. Walked up to me and presented me with a small earpiece, asking if I could hack into the frequency it used. An insulting question, really, I was hacking devices in kindergarten.


Day 135

Found off switch on the voodoo doll. Diane must never know.

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.

---

Diane Cole.

Shade stared at the computer screens illuminating his workspace, a basement connected to his mansion via secret tunnel. He tapped his finger against the desk, his intense glare on the file he’d just pulled up.

There were three Diane Coles living in Paragon City, none of whom looked remotely like Dionaea. So he’d expanded his search, almost half-convinced that she’d given him a fake name — until he’d found a young girl in Cap au Mercy, hissing in a sharp breath at the photograph accompanying the medical file.

Blue eyes. Skin and bones. Her normally luscious curled hair hung listlessly around her. If he’d passed that girl on the street, he wouldn’t have had to fight lust, but the urge to give her something to eat. Yet it was clearly recognizable as the villainess currently sexually tormenting him.

He quickly checked the rest of the file. 21 years old, which made her three years younger than him. A criminal record consisting mostly of unpaid parking tickets, jaywalking and grand larceny. And… a death sentence. He leaned back in his chair, gazing at the diagnosis.

Diane Cole had disappeared out of a hospital four months ago, which was one month before Dionaea had surfaced in Paragon.

So she’d been telling the truth. Which left the question… just what was she playing at?


***


The cord snapped, the vicious kick sending the sandbag flying. It skidded along the padded ground.

Shade exhaled, closing his eyes. His muscles ached with the strain of his merciless training, but he did not want to stop. Stopping meant he’d have time to think about more than his stance, the precise angle of his blades, about how he needed to roll just so after a teleport to stay balanced.

Idle time was his enemy these days. Invariably his thoughts would turn toward her. And if he somehow managed to push her from his mind, he’d obsess over his weakness.

His resolution to stay away from women’s clothing had lasted all of one week.

I want to see you in hot panties, said she. Excellent idea, said his dick. Or his mind. Or whatever fucked-up part of him really, really loved those goddamn silks. And the idea of wearing them in front of her.

At least he was still not crossing the line. Panties and only panties. No bras, no pantyhose, no high heels, no matter how cute and tempting they might look…

He screwed his eyes tightly shut. Cute. What was wrong with him?

Shade blinked, delivering a brutal roundhouse kick to a training dummy.


***


“Got a Four Five Nine in progress, Peregrine Occult Museum,” announced a slightly crackling voice emanating from Shade’s earpiece. He tilted his head, listening intently. “Requesting immediate backup. Suspect is white female, confirmed metahuman, utilizing vines and narcotics of some sort—“

The transmission cut off.

Shade remained frozen, gazing down from his vantage point atop a skyscraper at the city stretched out before him.

Let someone else deal with her, whispered a voice in his head. Ignore her. Don’t give in to this obsession.

But didn’t that amount to running away?

His fingers closed into a fist. He was Shade. Criminals everywhere pissed themselves with fright at the thought of him. He did not run away from some scantily clad girl.

His body dissolved into the night.

Shade appeared in the lobby of the museum, the small wisps of mist blending into the shadows. The stealth aspect of his powers was less well-known — and he liked to keep it that way. Criminals assumed that he could just teleport to the right spot out of thin air right away, which only served to enhance his reputation. Truthfully, Shade could only blink to locations he’d previously been to or which he had direct visual contact with. He’d made a point of visiting near every block in the city, which meant he could instantly appear at least in the general vicinity of a crime scene, but he still often needed to do a little scouting.

The museum was eerily silent and Shade soundlessly made his way deeper into the labyrinthine hallways, finding a security guard slumped against the wall. The man’s lips were curled in a serene smile as he snored lightly, no doubt a victim of Dionaea’s sedatives. No point in wasting time trying to get him to wake up.

As Shade crept closer to the exhibition hall, soft music drifted toward him. He cocked his head. Coming upon a closed door, he once more dissolves into fine dark mist, slipping through the cracks.

Dionaea was sitting on a plush bench, rhythmically nodding her head to the pop ballad blaring from the iPod lying next to her. An ancient tome sat upon her lap, the pages so stiff and brittle they looked they might crumble into dust any second. She leisurely perused them, not seeming at all concerned with preserving the likely priceless artifact.

She hadn’t noticed him.

Shade surveyed the area around her. No vines. He saw it clearly in his mind’s eye — all he had to do was teleport behind her. Her magic would not be a danger if he avoided drawing blood and stayed clear of her claws. She was so physically weak; one strong hit would likely knock her out.

He could blink to the nearest police station and drop her off, wiping his hands of this entire mess.

It’d be so easy.

He hesitated.

Dionaea looked up then, gazing directly at him. He jolted in surprise. Could she sense his presence?

“Shade.” Her voice was a pleased purr.

Fucking magic users.

He stepped out of the shadows, keeping his blades sheathed. He’d learned that much from their last encounter.

“What are you doing with that tome?” he asked gruffly.

“Reading,” she answered perkily, absently slamming the antique book shut with such a lack of care it made Shade wince. “Waiting for you.”

Trap.

Just as the thought flashed through his mind, his gaze snapped up — the ceiling was moving. His eyes widened when he realized what he was seeing. Thick, writhing vines, larger than he’d ever seen them. He immediately tried to blink, but they were incredibly fast for their enormous size, lashing out and wrapping themselves tightly around his wrists.

Dionaea laughed in delight as he was once again forced into humiliating captivity. She sauntered up to him with a grin, holding up her hand. No… holding something up between her index and middle finger. An earbud. One he recognized as his own. One he’d had to replace a couple of days ago. It was not an unusual occurrence; they often got knocked out or damaged in fights, so he’d thought little of it. She’d stolen it?

“…damn you.”

“Ah, I’m glad to see you’re keeping up,” she gloated with that fucking smirk of hers. “The alarms are off, as are the security cameras. The guards will be asleep for hours. No backup is on its way. Which means…” She slowed down her steps, coming to a halt in front of him. She placed her slim fingers on his chest, stroking suggestively. “…no one to interrupt us. Finally, I have you all to myself.”

Shade strove to ignore the shiver running up his spine at her touch.

“Why are you doing this?” he whispered hoarsely.

She tilted her head at him, and flashed a brilliant smile. “What does it look like? Because I want time to seduce you.”

“Why?”

“Gosh, I don’t know. There’s this thing, I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it…” She leaned forward, whispering as if confiding a secret. “It’s called having sex. I like it a lot. I would like to do it with you. Thoughts?”

His lips parted, but his mind was utterly blank. No words came out.

Dionaea did not seem to mind the lack of answer, her fingertips trailing lower to his hips as she stepped closer, so close that he caught that sweet scent of hers. She smelled like a warm spring day. Her nimble hands moved to the zipper and still he could not find the words to stop her (why stop? asked a treacherous part of his mind). She gave the black fabric a tug and it slid down.

“Lace,” she murmured with approval, tracing the intricate detail framing the red silk. His cock twitched in response, already well on its way to being rock hard.

“No,” he choked out. “Not… not with you. Never with one such as you.” Why did the first woman to accept his kinks have to be her?

She stilled her hand, tearing her gaze from his erection to look into his eyes. “Because I’m a villain?”

“Because I’m a hero.”

She was silent for a long moment — and then she sank to her knees in front of him. His eyes widened and suddenly there was not enough air in the room. She leaned forward, brushing her cheek along his length, only a thin layer of silk separating them. “Then let’s be someone else. Just for tonight,” she said in a low voice and then she was kissing him there and if the vines weren’t holding him, his knees might have buckled right then.

“I’ll be Diane. And you’ll be…” She trailed off, expecting him to fill in the blank.

He laughed breathlessly, stunned at her audacity. “I’m not telling you my civilian name.”

Her lips quirked into a smile, her fingers lovingly running up and down his length. “I don’t want that name. I’m sure you have another. Your real name. The one you only wear when you…” She tugged at the silky fabric. “…wear this.”

“No,” he said vehemently. The line. A female name was crossing the line.

“No?” She smiled up at him. “We wear so many masks already, what’s one more?”

He mutely shook his head.

Diane pressed another kiss to his throbbing cock. He bit back a groan. “Jessica,” she said softly, and his heart gave a painful thump. “Or maybe Bethany?”

He tightly shut his eyes, trying to think of anything but the image of her playing with his pantie-clad cock. “The line,” he whispered to himself. He could still feel her, his entire body sizzling with heat.

“Yes, the line! Let’s cross it!”

He only shook his head again, body shaking with tension.

“I see,” she said. “You drive a hard bargain.” She let go off him and he wanted to cry out at the loss, but restrained himself.

Diane slowly stood up. “Look at me.” There was a command in her voice and he could not resist, opening his eyes. He hissed in a sharp breath at the sight that greeted him. The delicate leaves that had strategically covered her torso were gone, revealing beautiful, perfectly perky breasts. His imagination ran wild with images, craving to nibble on those gorgeous pink nipples. He was breathing hard, his dick straining against the fabric of his panties.

She smiled triumphantly, slowly circling around him. He had to crane his neck to keep her in his line of sight.

“Do you like them?” she purred seductively. “I could let you play with them. Oh, all the dirty, naughty things we could do…”

An utterly feminine whimper of want escaped his lips.

She took another step and then he could not see her anymore, so he started desperately straining against the vines, wanting, needing another glimpse.

Diane’s hands brushed the base of his spine, her breasts pressing against his back as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Tell me your name.”

His harsh breath sounded unbearably loud to his ears, every cell of his body tingling with awareness. He’d never been this hard in his life.

“Kara,” he whispered. “My name is Kara.”

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.

---

Kara sighed sleepily, pressing her lips to the slender neck exposed in front of her.

Tastes like summer.

She smiled drowsily, feeling more relaxed and at ease than in… longer than she cared to remember. Maybe ever. Her fingers started tracing the curves of the woman curled up in her arms, memories of last night slowly filtering into her consciousness. Vines. Pain. Pleasure. Kara shifted her weight, subtly rocking her morning erection against Diane’s backside with a soft moan.

Her brow furrowed. There was something wrong with this picture, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.

Villain, her brain helpfully pointed out.

Shade jerked up, his eyes wide.

Villain, his brain repeated, with a touch of hysteria. You slept with a villain.

Shade was strangely okay with that.

No! None of this was okay in any way, shape or form. He drew back from the sleeping woman in his arms, noticing some resistance. Tiny vines were curling around his wrist, trying to keep him close. Unlike the massive monstrosities that had held him in place last night (until they let go and you stayed anyway, an accusing voice in his head snarled), these weren’t truly restraining him. In fact, the way they clung to him seemed more… affectionate than anything.

He yanked his hand away, ripping the delicate plant apart. Diane winced in her sleep, turning restlessly.

She felt the damage inflicted on her creations? Interesting. He filed away that information for future use.

Shade exhaled, calming himself. The casual observer might not notice the depth of his distress, or even that he was distressed at all; the only hint to his mental state was a crazed gleam to his eyes, hidden beneath the domino mask he’d — thankfully! — kept on. Appearing cool, calm and collected under tremendous pressure — like while facing a death ray or a mutant Doom Squirrel — was no easy task, but Shade, like most heroes, had honed that skill. It came naturally to him. Some of his colleagues found his aloof coldness unsettling, which Shade scoffed at. They were usually the first to panic in the face of the Doom Squirrels.

Shade realized his thoughts were drifting, trying to steer away to any topic that was not the naked villainess in front of him.

Deep breath.

He’d had an indiscretion. As heroes sometimes did. He was not the first, nor would he be the last, to have a fling with one of the morally challenged. It was an open secret that was tolerated and, much like the frequent wardrobe malfunctions that came with capes and spandex, not spoken of in polite company.

He just had to not repeat it. Ever.

While one-night stands were tolerated, relationships were not. A relationship between a hero and a villain never lasted. If they did somehow manage to stay together, it still ended in one of two ways: As two heroes, or two villains.

Shade ran his fingers through his short black hair, willing himself to stay calm and to look at this rationally.

His gaze strayed to the woman peacefully asleep to his feet, lying naked in a soft bed of ruby petals. With her inhuman red eyes closed, she looked deceptively innocent. Maybe… Shade shook his head, taking another step back. No. He shouldn’t even be thinking that. Many fallen heroes had thought they could change their partners, only to end up being the ones corrupted.

Shade knew himself. He was weak. All his life he’d fought temptation, and all his life he had lost. There was no way he’d come out ahead on this one.

Still his mind flashed to the image of the sick, dying girl she’d been only a few months ago. Had she been evil then? Maybe it wasn’t too late—

No.

He turned away, his body dissipating into fine dark vapor.


***


Diane stretched like a lazy, utterly content cat as the sun’s first rays touched her, shining through the museum’s big arched window. She sleepily blinked against the light. Then she turned her face toward its source, basking in the glow. Better than morning coffee, she thought, and sighed contently.

God, she felt great, her body tingling with the echoes of half-remembered delight. That had to have been the most fun night she’d had in—

Diane frowned and craned her neck.

Alone. Shade was gone.

She huffed, highly offended. So much for the chivalry of heroes; apparently Shade was the love ‘em and leave ‘em type. Jerk. It wasn’t like she cared; she got what she wanted.

Her frown deepened.

Why was this upsetting her? She was the love ‘em and leave ‘em type, for God’s sake. If Shade had still been asleep next to her, there was a good chance she would have snuck out on him. Well, okay, she wouldn’t have. She would have woken him up to tell him the museum staff would probably be arriving soon, and then she would have walked out on him. Diane was nothing if not considerate.

Shade had been considerate, too.

Diane rolled over on her belly, contemplating last night. The violently antisocial hero had turned out to be an amazingly gentle lover, seeming to want nothing more than to please her. It had been… sweet. Like a devoted pet. A very sexy, very skilled pet in very pretty underwear, obediently answering to a woman’s name.

So many contradictions within that man. He just got more and more intriguing.

A sudden clatter disturbed the silence, interrupting Diane’s thoughts. She raised her head.

A woman wearing a conservative suit was standing in the entrance to the hall, her eyes wide. Diane belatedly realized what the scene must look like to her — vines and flowers growing along the walls, black leather scattered everywhere, and a naked red-eyed lady sunbathing in the middle of the room.

Oh well. It was Paragon. Surely she’d seen stranger things.

The woman opened her mouth, taking a deep breath as if building up to a scream.

Perhaps not.

One of her many vines lashed out, gently wrapping itself around the woman’s mouth, effectively muzzling her.

“Hush, peon, I’m thinking here.”

The problem thus temporarily taken care of, Diane’s musings returned to Shade. Kara. Whatever.

When one was living on borrowed time, it was not a good idea to waste one’s life with indecision. Diane had her life neatly sorted into what she wanted, obstacles she had to overcome to get to the former, and tools at her disposals with which she could crush the latter. And she was, above all else, honest with herself, refusing to feel shame for the things she craved, nor to try to talk herself out of it.

What did she want? Shade. Also money, but that was always a given.

What obstacles stood in her way? The answer was, once again, Shade.

What did she have? Her gaze surveyed the exhibition hall. She had her vines, but she doubted he’d keep falling for that. And if he did, well, at some point she’d start questioning his intelligence and that led to the land of no-attraction.

What else…

Her gaze zeroed in on something lying not far from her.

Her lips curled into a grin that some might call evil.

Kara will want those panties back.

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.

---

Shade – Ian, your name is Ian, he admonished himself – stared at himself in the mirror.

He looked terrible. Granted, that was a thought he often had when catching glimpses of himself in the mirror, no matter how often women called him handsome. But today he looked pretty damn wrecked.

His body was slick with sweat from an intense workout that had entirely failed to reduce his stress levels, and his messy hair was sticking out in all directions. But it was the dark circles under his eyes that worried him.

He had hardly slept. Could barely eat. His thoughts kept circling back to two nights before.

To Diane.

To Kara.

He had no idea where the hell he had pulled that name from, but it had felt so… right.

Ian exhaled wearily and turned from his reflection – only to do a double take as something on his back caught his eye. His back was flawless well-muscled perfection. He frowned, turning fully and looking over his shoulder.

Five years ago, shortly after he took up the cape, he’d gotten grievously injured in battle with the Executioner, who’d been the first to match Shade’s skill in hand-to-hand combat. The professional assassin had damn near severed his spine, putting him in the hospital. It had been a valuable lesson in overconfidence.

The scar reminding him of that lesson was gone. The skin on his back was entirely smooth, rippling slightly when he moved his muscles.

Ian’s frown deepened. He couldn’t remember when he last had actually consciously looked at the scar running from his right shoulder blade all the way to his waist. It had just always been there. Had it faded without him noticing?

His highly analytical and expertly honed mind arrived at a brilliant conclusion: Weird.

He shrugged and walked away from the mirror, rubbing his aching eyes. Ian had no idea what to do with himself now. His gaze lingered on his training equipment for a long moment. He’d already been doing that for hours, and it wasn’t helping him calm down. He couldn’t put on his costume either – while he’d ordered a new type of earpieces with a new frequency, they weren’t ready yet. His gaze strayed once again to the nearby hallway.

Ian knew exactly what never failed to help him unwind.

But given the situation at hand, it was a terrible idea. Just terrible.

His feet carried him to his bedroom anyway.

He knelt down, opening a hidden compartment in his drawer, swallowing loudly. After he’d purged his sizable collection, he’d had to order new ones. Just three – one MIA in the museum, and god, he hoped no one had found that – so far, though he had no doubt his obsession would soon drive him to buy more. Until he invariable got rid of them again, to begin the cycle anew.

He unbuttoned his jeans, sliding out of his briefs and kicking them away. Then he reverently picked up the black silk with delicate red highlights, slowly, very slowly sliding the soft fabric over his smooth legs.

Ian closed his eyes, exhaling with relief. That felt… better.

Yet his muscles were still knotted with tension. He cracked his eyes open, gaze falling on the other item he’d bought. A black and red bra, to match the panties he was now wearing. They had been on sale together.

The line. There was a line.

Let’s cross it, her voice whispered in his head.

Her claws easily sliced away the leather around Kara’s torso, revealing her bare chest.

“There’s a zipper,” she pointed out, dazed, barely even caring that her uniform was getting sliced to pieces.

“But where’s the fun in that?” Diane giggled, tongue darting out to lick the inside of Kara’s ear, who moaned and silently concurred. Then Diane leaned back, seeming to admire the view. A low growl emanated from her throat.

She reached out, resting her hands on Kara’s flat chest, her thumb slowly circling her small nipples.

“Tsk, tsk, Kara. Going out in public without a bra.” She laughed and lowered her head, capturing the tiny nub between her lips. “What a naughty girl you are.”

“Yes,” Kara breathed, delirious, unaware of anything but the pure ecstasy flooding her senses. “I am.”

Kara blinked, having reached for the bra without consciously willing it.

He’d already crossed the line, hadn’t he? Crossed it, desecrated it and then set it on fire. What more harm could this possibly do at this point?

His fingers were shaking, fumbling with the clasp, his nerves almost failing him. He hastily drew the straps over his shoulders, adjusting them and the cups as best as he could.

Kara gazed down at himself, lips curling into an almost smile at the sight. The cups were subtly padded, creating the illusion of – very, very small – breasts.

She dashed in front of the mirror, excited – and then her face fell.

He looked like a man wearing women’s underwear, nothing more.

Ian silently undid the clasp, blinking rapidly against the sudden burning in his eyes. He crumpled the bra into a small ball, and threw it away.

Fuck waiting for the new earpieces, it was time for his brand of therapy.


***


Bone cracked and blood flowed as the henchman got thrown against the wall, yelling in pain.

Shade smiled coldly, blinking behind the other henchman and knocking his feet out under him with a sweeping kick – and then teleported once more to a slightly higher altitude, his foot connecting to the man’s face with a deeply satisfying crunch.

It was the third criminal gathering he was breaking up that night. Shade almost felt like himself again, not the shaky mess that had left his mansion and almost cried over a fucking bra.

The psychotic smile got wiped off his face at that particularly undignified memory.

Shade gazed around the unconscious bodies scattered to his feet, a mess of tangled limbs and moans of pain. He tapped his earpiece, sending an alert with their location to the nearest police station so they could deal with the paperwork.

He strode forward, dissolving into shadows mid-step, and reappeared on the roof of a building, Paragon City’s skyscrapers towering before him, the damage from the recent alien invasion already half-repaired. Shade crouched low, watching for signs of trouble. Until he got his new and more secure equipment, he’d decided not to follow leads provided by the police radio, only using his transmitter for brief one-way communications to point out where to arrest the criminals he’d caught.

Until further notice, he had to patrol the city the old-fashioned way. Of course, this being Paragon, he never had to patrol for long.

Two blocks ahead of him the night sky briefly was illuminated by a purple flash of energy, followed by the deep rumble of an explosion.

Shade blinked to the location instantly, remaining in his cloaked stealth form to assess the situation.

A woman wearing a white uniform which included a classic miniskirt and a flowing cape stood in the midst of a smoking crater, one raised knee-high boot exerting pressure onto the throat of the massive villain lying beneath her. On her chest was her iconic purple starburst.

Amethyst Star.

Well, it looked like she had the situation well in hand. Yet Shade remained, watching the heroine. He recalled the recent conversation he’d had about her. She looked… tired. Unsurprising, considering she’d been running herself ragged catching big-name villains left and right to restore her good name.

“Living up to your name?” she suddenly called out, and Shade jolted in surprise as she looked directly at him, sending a pulse of power in his direction. The shadows he’d been cloaked in were stripped away, leaving him plainly visible.

“Uncalled for,” he said, frowning, and stepped closer. Amethyst had the power to absorb other meta’s powers, rendering even the most powerful demi-god a mere mortal. She used the power she absorbed to fuel her own purple energy blasts. Villains everywhere shuddered at the thought of her one day learning how to actually copy the powers she absorbed.

She usually had better manners than to neutralize another hero’s power, though.

“Yes, well, watching me from the shadows is uncalled for. Very creepy, very stalker-y. You can say hi like a normal person.” She exhaled, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I won’t break your neck for it.”

Shade tilted his head. Dark humor really wasn’t her usual style. More like bright, bubbly and perky. So Shade, who other heroes generally considered to have the social skills and emotional depth of an inanimate object, asked in a low voice, “Are you all right?”

She blew a strand of long red hair from her face. “Next person who asks me that is getting my stiletto to the face.”

“I’m sure they’d enjoy the view,” he said gravely, nodding to her miniskirt. While he understood the appeal of skirts – far more than he cared to admit – he’d never understood how they could be worn into combat.

Amethyst was stunned silent for a moment, and then guffawed. “Shade made a funny! Stop the presses!”

“Ah yes, I can see the headlines. Vigilante Displays Sense of Humor; Shocks Those Who Know Him.”

She laughed, actually laughed, and Shade felt marginally better about himself. Even with all his recent fuckups, at least he’d managed to cheer Amethyst up a little.

Static cracked as his communicator sprang to life, a sultry voice whispering in his ear.

“Hello, Kara.”

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.

---

Kara froze, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Did you miss me?” Her voice was coquettish, almost playful.

Amethyst was saying something, too, but he only saw her lips moving, processing none of her words. Shade closed his eyes, willing himself to ignore the villainess and to focus on the heroine instead.

“… and the trial is coming up, and it’s just been… ugh. Murder! It’s ridiculous. He was a villain! He deserved it.” Amethyst huffed and looked to him. “Right?”

Shade belatedly realized she wanted a response. “Right,” he mumbled.

“Because I missed you, Kara,” whispered Diane, and Shade shivered. Stop it, body. Stop it.

Amethyst seemed genuinely relieved. “I’m glad you understand, Shade. You would not believe how some people look at me now.” She raked her fingers through her long straight hair, smiling tentatively.

“We all make mistakes,” he said slowly, putting special emphasis on the last word, hoping Diane would take the hint.

Soft feminine laughter rang in his ear.

Amethyst turned her head away, expression darkening. “The world is a better place without him,” she said firmly.

“A mistake? Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?” Diane said at the same time, echoing words said to her in what seemed like a lifetime ago. Shade groaned.

Amethyst frowned at him and he tapped his earpiece. “Distress call,” he lied through his teeth. “Care to give me my powers back?”

“Oh.” She waved her hand in a vague gesture, and dark mist began swirling around his feet. “I can help…?” Amethyst stepped forward, but the sight of her was swept away in a wave of blackness, reforming to reveal the Paragon skyline.

He crouched low at the edge of the roof, hissing into his transmitter, “What do you want?”

“A pony. Money. Money to buy more ponies.”

He ground his teeth.

“Be serious.”

She laughed again. “God, no. How sad would life be if I actually took it seriously?”

“This isn’t a game.”

“And that, dearest Kara, is where you are wrong.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“But you like it when I call you that.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar,” she said gently.

Shade could do nothing but grind his teeth.

“You loved being Kara with me,” she continued in a low voice. “I loved it, too. So I started thinking about how I might lure you into another night, but then I said to myself, Self, I said, he’s not gonna keep falling for the vines. But I have a crazy idea that just might work.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Would you like to have sex again?”

“…what.”

“Sex. I know you’re pure and virtuous, so excuse the coarse language; it must be very confusing for you. It’s that thing we did where Slot A goes into Tab B.” Pause. “I’m asking you out,” she added helpfully.

Silence reigned.

“Now before you answer, you should know that I have a certain pair of red panties lying right next to me. I’m not afraid to hurt them.”

He barked out a disbelieving laugh.

“I mean it. It’ll be a terrible bloodbath. Silk ripped apart and scattered. Very gruesome.” He could hear the grin in her voice. “You don’t want that to happen, do you?”

“You are truly evil,” he said solemnly.

“Tell me something I don’t know!” She giggled; an adorable sound that Shade couldn’t help but find charming. It reminded him that she was still young – perhaps not wholly set in her ways yet. No, brain, stop it.

“That night can never happen again,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It was a mistake.”

“No,” she said simply. “It wasn’t, Kara. I’ll leave you alone forever if you can tell me right here, right now, that you didn’t enjoy it.”

Shade didn’t answer. He couldn’t, and she knew it.

“Which means the only reason you’re turning me down is some moral high ground bullshit. And that, quite frankly, offends my delicate sensibilities.”

“You’re a–“

“Villain, yes. Your observational skills awe me. Well, guess what, Shade, you need a villain in your life. I have never met anyone wound as tightly as you are. You want someone who overrules your objections and just forces you to do all those things you so desperately crave, absolving you of all responsibility so you can stop feeling guilty and just enjoy them.”

Shade stood frozen, lips slightly parted at her brutal insight. They’d barely spent any time together, and half of that he’d been an incoherent mess of moans and whimpers. How had she…?

Her voice softened. “Just think of all the things I’ve yet to make you do. Don’t you think you’d look pretty in high heels and a corset?”

Kara swallowed audibly, and then jerkily shook his head to clear it, reminding himself of the reflection in his mirror.

“So if you want to turn me down, that’s fine. But do it for the right reasons. Life’s too short to pass up on mutual pleasure.”

Life’s too short.

The photo of the ill girl flashed through his mind again. Is that what had made her this way?

“I found your medical file,” he announced suddenly, not sure what made him voice that out loud.

“Oh?” Diane’s voice was flat.

“You were dying.”

“No way,” she breathed.

He grew quiet again, at a loss of what to say, how to ask what he wanted to know.

He didn’t need to.

“Would it make a difference to you if this was… what? My last hurrah? Would that excuse my crimes in your eyes?” Her voice held a mocking lilt. “But a villain is a villain is a villain. Right?”

“Not… all villains are equal,” he conceded.

“Moral relativism, Shade? That’s a slippery slope.” He bristled at her smugness. “I wonder, would you care if I died tomorrow?”

Tension shot through his body. “Are you still dying?”

“Would you be sad if I was?” She sounded curious.

He didn’t answer for a long moment, and heard her subtly exhale in disappointment. “Yes.”

Her voice brightened instantly. “Well, good news for you, I’m not.” Relief flooded him, staggering in its intensity. “Though now you have to ask yourself why the thought of being forever deprived of my lovely company makes you sad.”

“I… I don’t have to want you around me to be saddened by your death. Go be alive somewhere else.”

Diane laughed. “But who would entertain you? I can juggle and make shadow puppets. Shadows! They’re, like, your favorite thing.”

“I may have mentioned this before, but you are insane.”

“And you love it,” she chirped brightly. “Anyway, I don’t expect an answer right away. Think about it. I’ll be around.” She paused, and then emphasized the next word with a sensual caress. “Kara.”

The connection cut off.

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.

---

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?”

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.

---

He was late.

Diane paced the length of the spacious room, glancing at the heavy oak door with irritation. The bedroom was lavish and opulent, located in one of Paragon’s premier luxury hotels, paid for with her hard-stolen money. She’d spared no expense – the king-sized bed was soft as a cloud, the room tastefully decorated in luscious gold and red, and best of all, soundproof walls. Above all, she had paid for discretion.

And he had the audacity to be late.

Diane did not get stood up. That was just not something that happened to her, ever, and a reality where such a thing was happening was a reality she refused to live in.

She agitatedly pulled at her racy transparent gown as if it needed adjusting, which it didn’t, because she’d been fussing over it for well over 20 minutes. Diane was dressed for seduction – precariously balanced on dangerously high stilettos, her long legs encased in stockings and her ample cleavage just about spilling out of her corset, decorated with a delicate floral pattern.

And he wasn’t here to appreciate it.

She would make him rue the day he thought he could get her hopes up. There would be hell to pay. There would be fire and brimstone and then there would be–

There was a knock at the door.

Diane froze and then, in a maneuver that was severely lacking in dignity, ran to open it. She yanked the door with far more force than appropriate for the cool seductress she’d planned on being.

Icy blue eyes met hers.

Her breath left her.

He’d come wearing civilian clothing; plain, yet clearly expensive jeans and a dark shirt that hugged his lean muscles.

No mask.

She licked her suddenly dry lips and saw his gaze drop to her mouth.

He was devastatingly handsome. His high cheekbones were to die for, his striking eyes framed by long lashes. His features were sharply angled yet delicate, a dark shadow running along his jawline.

Diane reached out without quite realizing it, gently resting her palm on his cheek. His eyelids drooped and he leaned into her touch, prompting her heart to beat in a most inappropriate manner.

She couldn’t feel a hint of stubble, meaning he was freshly shaved. Black hair and pale skin combined to form what was likely a permanent impression of a 5 o’clock shadow. He must hate that, she realized dimly.

“Kara,” she whispered, and his gaze snapped up.

And then he slammed into her, his hot mouth seeking hers as he shoved her against the door. Diane’s tongue met his eagerly, her hand moving entirely without permission to grab his ass. Her thorns dug in without breaking skin, drawing him closer; every inch of space between them was an inch too much.

“Diane,” he groaned against her lips, and she shivered at the desperate need lacing his voice. His rough hand buried itself in her hair, grabbing her by the nape of her neck. That wicked tongue of his was doing things that virtuous, upstanding heroes had no business even knowing.

Electricity seemed to prick at her skin, heat curling in her insides. “More,” she demanded in a moan, and he obeyed, teasing her tongue and exploring her mouth before claiming it fully as his own.

Her free hand traveled up his back, feeling his tense muscles shift beneath her skin. She wrapped her arm around his neck. In return he thrust his erection against her as if he couldn’t help himself, and then seemed to be willing himself not to do it again.

“Want you,” he grated with all his usual bluntness, yet the intensity of the simple statement made her knees grow weak. She hopped up, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and he made a choked noise of approval, supporting her weight effortlessly.

So strong.

“Close the door,” she whispered in his ear. He pushed away from the frame and slammed the wooden door shut with a kick.

So obedient.

And all hers.

“The bed,” she breathed, tearing herself away from his mouth to press her lips to his jaw, leaving a trail of hot kisses her in way. She was dimly aware of inky blackness enveloping them, but all she cared about was the delicious body pressing up against her, her skin tingling with awareness of Kara.

Never had she wanted someone this badly.

“You were late,” she said, raking her sharp fingernails along his back, but that only seemed to drive him wilder. He bucked against her with a suppressed groan.

“I was thinking.” His voice was muffled as he pressed another hot kiss against her collarbone before tenderly dropping her down on the bed. She unfurled her legs from his waist, burrowing into the soft blankets as she raised her hands above her head. He swallowed thickly, breathing heavily as he watched her chest rise and fall.

“Well, stop it,” she ordered. The bastard had the nerve to chuckle, so she snapped, “You made me think you weren’t coming,”

He looked to her quizzically. “And that bothered you?”

Diane gave him the glare a question as ridiculous as that deserved.

And then he smiled, his face lighting up with happiness. Her heart just about imploded at the sight, forgetting that its primary function was to keep beating.

So she yanked at his hand and pulled him to tumble atop of her, kissing him deeply while her free hand strayed low to the zipper of his jeans, fumbling with it. He grew rigid.

“Stop thinking,” she groaned against his mouth, tongue darting out, but he just grew more and more unresponsive. No no no, if he had some fucking attack of hero guilt now, she would take a page from Amelia’s book and burn everything to the ground. “Kara,” she whimpered, and he flinched. She drew back to look at him. “Please. I need you.”

He was holding himself completely still, suspended above her, his breaths harsh. His eyes were screwed shut. “I…” His lips were forming words, but no sound was escaping them. “Not like…”

Oh.

Comprehension dawned, and she pressed a tender kiss to his lips, reaching out to gently stroke his hair. “My mistake,” she whispered apologetically. Then she pushed at his shoulder, meeting no resistance at all as he rolled over and let her straddle him.

He relaxed and gazed up at her, lips slowly curling into an adoring smile.

“You are beautiful, Kara,” she told him, because it was true. He closed his eyes and gently rocked his hip. Her eyelids fluttered as the hard bulge rubbed against her utterly drenched thong.

She adjusted her position, once more reaching for his pants. He opened his icy eyes and watched her intently, breaths growing shallower with excitement. Diane grinned as red panties came to light. She peeled away the jeans as if she was unwrapping the world’s best Christmas present. She lovingly stroked him through the silky fabric and he whimpered, his head falling back on the pillow. Then he raised it again, staring hard at her hands on his pantie clad cock, as if he was committing the sight to memory.

“Red again,” she observed approvingly. “Your favorite color?”

“Your eyes,” he said simply, and she bit her lip. His quiet intensity was getting under her skin like no amount of smooth compliments had ever managed before.

“You already have me in bed,” she said with a shaky laugh. “No need to keep up the flattery.”

He met her gaze. “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”

Sincerity like that should be illegal.

Diane broke the eye contact and focused on her hands again, her heart performing a little jittery dance. Evidently it was malfunctioning today. She licked her lips and tugged away the silk, revealing Kara’s hard cock, straining toward her slim fingers as if seeking their touch.

Wet. She was so fucking wet.

A vine slithered up to them, offering a condom, and she impatiently ripped the wrapping apart.

There was an ache inside her, begging to be filled, growing with every second she delayed. Diane shifted her weight, lining up Kara’s cock to her slick entrance. She met Kara’s eyes and he smiled at her and oh god, it wasn’t supposed to be like this, not this intense, just lighthearted fun.

She thrust her hip and then she could feel Kara slip inside her, filling the empty ache. Her body stretched to accommodate him easily, drawing Kara in deeper, deeper…

They fit.

Perfectly.

Diane arched her back, a strangled whimper escaping her throat, faintly aware of Kara’s answering moan. She rocked her hip and made that noise again, an awed mix between Holy shit, that’s Shade’s dick inside me and more please.

Kara reached out, his long fingers curling around her breasts, squeezing eagerly. Her back, impossibly, arched further, her body begging for more of his touch. She rocked her hips again, and again, losing herself in sensation.

“Diane.” His voice was rough, on the edge, yet filled with such yearning. She whimpered and accelerated her pace, and so did he, their bodies slamming together until there was only need and want and them.

“Diane!” He called for her and she answered with a cry of her own, her gaze meeting Kara’s beautiful eyes, looking like the sunny sky she loved so much.

Ecstasy washed over her.

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.

---

Kara loved women.

She always had. She loved everything about them – the sound of their voices, the gentle slopes and curves of their bodies, their enticing scents and most of all she loved their colorful fashion which only enhanced their natural loveliness.

Yet making love to them always left her feeling vaguely nauseous.

Between her wealth and her looks she’d had no trouble attracting lovers willing to overlook her increasingly antisocial tendencies. Hell, her coldness only seemed to make them want her more. Gorgeous debutantes and social climbers simpered and smiled, fighting to get her attention.

Soon enough her discomfort outweighed any pleasure she gained from such encounters. So she’d stopped, almost fully withdrawing from high society.

This was different.

Kara buried her nose in luscious golden hair, inhaling the sweet scent. Diane was curled up atop of her, her lips trailing gentle kisses along her jaw, both of them still breathing heavily and basking in the afterglow.

“Kara,” Diane murmured, affectionately rubbing herself along her body like some sort of overgrown cat.

This was heaven.

For a brief moment she had felt that unease that had permeated all her previous relationships. Kara had frozen, panicking at the thought that this would be no different, that the connection they shared was just a figment of her sex-starved imagination, that she was stooping to fucking a villain for nothing. She hadn’t even been able to articulate what she wanted, but then Diane had taken one look at her and understood.

Kara turned her head and pressed a gentle kiss to Diane’s brow, tightening her arms around her.

Diane laughed with delight, the soft noise soon becoming a small giggle fit. “Well. That escalated quickly.”

“It always does with you,” Kara answered in a low rumble.

Diane laughed again and kissed her cheek. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“No.” Kara’s voice was a murmur as she trailed her fingertips along Diane’s flawless back. “Not a bad thing at all.”

Diane flashed Kara a grin, and then pushed herself to sit up, still straddling her. She reached to adjust her corset. It had slipped somewhere along the way – probably when Kara had gone out of her way to make it slip – revealing pink nipples just begging to be sucked. “And here I prettied myself up for slow seduction,” she mock-whined.

“You’re always pretty,” said Kara, lips twitching into a smile. “Though I find it amusing that you’re actually wearing more in the bedroom than outside of it.”

She pouted. “I need sunlight!”

Kara tilted her head, arching an eyebrow. “You do?”

“Mhm. Can’t eat food.” She sighed, longing in her voice. “I miss chocolate.”

Kara’s hands travelled down, resting on Diane’s thighs and squeezing gently.

Diane smirked down at her. “Of course now I have something much better than chocolate.” She leaned forward, her long hair cascading over her shoulder and tickling Kara’s ear. “My very own toy to play with.”

Kara shivered, subtly shaking her head.

Diane’s grin widened and she reached out, her fingertip tracing Kara’s lower lip.

“Would you like that? Being my little girl toy? My doll to dress up how I please?”

Kara whimpered, a confused wave of emotion crashing over her. Please, moaned one part of her while her pride yelled No!

Diane pressed her lips to Kara’s, coaxing her mouth open with her scorching tongue. “I brought gifts for you,” she murmured.

Just think of all the things I’ve yet to make you do. Don’t you think you’d look pretty in high heels and a corset?

Kara’s eyes widened as her words echoed in his ears, the memory of the humiliating image in the mirror flashing through his mind.

“No,” he rasped, and pushed her away.

She sat back and frowned down at him. “No?”

He gritted his teeth and looked away, staring blankly at the nearby wall. There was a curtain draped over a painting. Mirror. She’d covered the mirrors so he wouldn’t be reminded of what a freak he was. “No,” he repeated firmly, hating the way his eyes were burning.

Diane did not say anything for a long moment, her long fingers reaching to gently stroke his cheek. Then she roughly grabbed his chin and forced him to look up at her.

“You seem to be under the impression that I’m giving you a choice,” she said, lips curled into a cold smile. “Let me be clear – you don’t have one, Kara. I will have my wicked way with you tonight whether you like it or not.”

His mouth went dry and he blinked rapidly. “It won’t… look… good,” he rasped hoarsely.

“I will be the judge of that.” She loosened her hold on his chin, affectionately stroking a finger up and down his cheekbone. “You are beautiful, Kara. I will make you see that.”

Diane was a very good liar, as would be expected of a villain. She sounded almost like she meant it.

Kara closed her eyes, giving a small jerky nod.

“Good girl,” Diane purred approvingly, reaching out to stroke Kara’s hair. Then she shifted her weight, climbing off of her. “Undress for me.” Her voice was clipped; it wasn’t a request, it was a command.

Kara lay there for a long moment, lost in confusion and conflicting impulses. She couldn’t even begin to sort out her feelings on what was happening, let alone figure out what she wanted to do. She found her hand slowly inching to the hem of her shirt, pushing it up further.

She was so tired of second guessing her every decision.

And with that thought, some switch in her brain just flipped. Kara pulled the shirt over her head, revealing her flat chest. Then she rolled off the bed to kick away her jeans, which had already been pulled to her knees.

Kara had decided that she would let Diane take the lead. For now. Really, what choice did she have? The neverending roar of conflicting voices in her head faded to soft whispers until only Diane’s still rang loud and clear.

She took the panties off with more care than she had afforded her other clothes, neatly folding it. Then she looked to Diane, heart pounding fast and hard.

Diane was bent over some bags in the corner of the room, prominently displaying her bare ass. Kara’s cock twitched at the sight, and she willed it to stay down. Diane was sorting through several bags, rearranging their contents until she was seemingly satisfied.

She looked over her shoulder, her gaze raking over Kara’s nude body. Then she smiled approvingly, red eyes twinkling. Kara felt absurdly proud.

Diane picked up a white bag, the contents hidden from view, and sauntered back up to the bed. Her eyebrows drew together in a slight frown as her gaze focused on the bandage around Kara’s knee. “What happened?”

“Hm? Oh. Just a scratch.”

“So that’s the reason for the radio silence, huh?”

Kara silently inclined her head.

Diane set aside the bag and slowly dropped to a crouch, fingers tracing the white linen. “You should have said something. Hold on.” She started undoing the bandage, hissing in a sharp breath as the half-healed gash was revealed. Diane looked up at her incredulously. “You call that a scratch?”

Kara shrugged. She’d had far worse.

“Crazy hero,” Diane muttered under her breath. She reached to press her hand against the raised crust, prompting a pained wince from Kara. Then her eyes pulsed, and her palm started glowing with dark red miasma. Heat washed over Kara, a tremor radiating from Diane’s touch and she yelled in surprise.

“What the fuck, Dia–“

Kara trailed off. The skin on her leg was smooth and unbroken, as if it had never been damaged in the first place. Her eyes widened, meeting Diane’s red gaze. The villainess smirked.

“You can heal?”

“Yeah. Kind of my, you know, raison d’être.” She took the pronunciation of the French idiom out the back and shot it. She also looked incredibly smug. “Haunted healing flower! Who’s got the lame origin now?”

“You…” Kara stared. Healers were rare, and highly treasured for their gifts. And she wasted her time robbing banks? “You could do so much good with a power like that.”

Diane cocked her head, then pinched Kara’s knee. “Am I not doing good right now?”

Kara had no answer to that. Diane smiled and ran her fingers up and down the now smooth skin. Kara waxed meticulously; body hair and skintight suits were a combination that invoked the wrath of the chafing gods. Kara had other reasons to eradicate almost every trace of body hair, but that was the only reason she allowed herself to acknowledge.

Kara’s brows knit together in a sudden epiphany. “Are you the reason my scars are gone?”

“Probably,” Diane said, fluttering her eyelashes prettily. “You’re welcome,” she added at her less than thrilled expression. “What?”

Kara shrugged, gazing down at her strangely smooth skin. “I liked my scars. They were…” She struggled to find the right word. “…trophies. Of a sort.”

“Oh.” Diane didn’t look at her like she was crazy to mourn her scars, which felt gratifying. “I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose; I just heal everyone around me without consciously willing it.” She sighed and shook her head, lamenting, “If you continue to spend a lot of time around me, you are doomed to perfect health. Oh, the humanity.”

Kara laughed softly and Diane grinned.

“I have a trophy of my own,” she crooned and leaned forward, cupping Kara’s cheek affectionately. “Won it in a long hard battle with a hero. I believe you are familiar with it? Red, lacy and dainty. You are never getting that back, by the way.”

“Thief,” Kara teased.

“It’s in the job description.” She rose and crooked her finger, signaling Kara to do the same. “I have something to make it up to you.”

Kara tensed, mouth suddenly dry, and stood up as well. Diane went up on her toes, pressing a gentle chaste kiss to her lips.

“Close your eyes.”

She obeyed, swallowing heavily.

“Good girl,” Diane purred. Then followed the sound of rustling as she bent down to retrieve whatever she had brought. Silk brushed along Kara’s hand, and she could make out the raised edges of a delicate lace pattern. Panties. “Put these on. Do not open your eyes.”

Kara fumbled awkwardly, stepping into them one leg at a time. She felt the soft fabric sliding over her smooth legs and reveled in the feeling despite her nervousness. Once in place, Diane tugged at it a few times, adjusting everything.

“Turn around.”

Once she did, she felt Diane’s warm hands soothingly running up and down her spine. Then she hooked two straps over her arms, moving them around at her leisure as if Kara were a doll. Heavy fabric was pulled over her chest – far heavier than it should be. Padded?

She felt cloth brush up against her hip, seeming to extend even past that. A gown? No, the fabric felt all wrong for that; too light and breezy.

Kara gasped a little when Diane pulled the strings at the back, constricting the – what? Corset? It didn’t feel that tight.

“It fits,” Diane said with approval, quickly and skillfully tying a knot. “Not bad; all I had to go on for size were your panties.”

“What is…?”

“Shhh. Don’t spoil the surprise.”

Diane stepped back, seeming to admire her handiwork. Kara could hear the footsteps as she circled around her, occasionally reaching out to tug and pull at whatever it was she was wearing.

Kara cracked open one eye; she couldn’t help it. She peered down at herself, catching a glimpse of half-transparent black material before a stinging slap came down on her ass. She yelped.

“Eyes. Closed. Sit down on the bed.”

Kara obeyed, squeezing her eyes shut.

For a few agonizingly long moments there was only the sound of Diane’s footsteps as she left the room, coming back a few seconds later. Warm fingers brushed along Kara’s cheek, caressing it gently – massaging it. An unknown scent reached Kara’s nose and she frowned.

Ah. Makeup. Foundation?

Diane rubbed the barely noticeable cream into both her cheeks, dabbing at her jaw and chin until she seemed satisfied.

She ran her fingertips along Kara’s upper and lower lip, coated in a sticky sweet substance that smelled like strawberries. Kara playfully nipped at the finger, and Diane laughed.

“Patience,” she said affectionately, reaching out to ruffle her short hair. Kara hadn’t had it cut in several weeks so it was slightly longer than usual, curling just over the tip of her ears. She’d tried growing it out once, on a whim, but found it annoying in battle, cutting it off before it got past chin length. Diane brushed her fingers through it again, and then once more, obviously trying to style it in some way. Kara’s eyelids fluttered subtly as she relished the sensation, calming her wracked nerves.

“Almost done,” Diane murmured. “You look stunning.”

Kara refrained from voicing her skepticism.

There was a rustle as Diane sank down in front of her, coaxing Kara to raise her foot. A shoe slipped over her toes, her foot barely squeezing in the heel. It pinched painfully. Diane hummed and took it off, discarding it. She tried another, but that one she didn’t even bother to fully slip on before throwing it away.

Then she chose a sandal, slipping a strap over Kara’s toes and began weaving a seemingly complicated strap pattern around her ankle. Diane purred in what Kara assumed was approval, as her other foot got the same treatment.

“Lovely,” she breathed, and Kara wiggled her open toes. “Stand up.”

Kara stood up carefully, wobbling unsteadily. The sandals had a small but noticeable high heel; somewhere between one and two inches.

Diane took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly, slowly leading her to the far end of the room. The shoes felt strange and foreign, forcing Kara to alter her stance and stand up straighter.

She heard the sound of a curtain being pushed aside. Then Diane’s arms wrapped around her waist from behind.

“Open your eyes.”

She did.

Kara’s heart stopped as she gazed in the mirror.

A pretty tomboyish girl gazed back at her with wide eyes. Diane had managed to arrange her hair in some semblance of a stylish Pixie cut, the subtle makeup concealing Kara’s hated perma-stubble. Her rosy lips seemed fuller, glistening with reflected light.

Her gaze travelled lower, lips parting as she took in the slinky black chemise. It was padded to create the illusion of cleavage, half-transparent veils cascading down her hips to hide the lack of curves.

Kara swallowed heavily.

“You are beautiful,” Diane whispered in her ear.

And for once, Kara believed her.

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.

---

Kara sighed sleepily, pressing his lips to the slender neck exposed in front of him.

Villain. You slept with a villain. Again.

He could not bring himself to care.

He hooked his leg over her thigh, grinding against her with a soft groan of pleasure. She moaned in her sleep which only served to make him thrust harder.

Kara finally understood why Diane could read him so well. She was a healer. She had empathy. She was not beyond redemption.

With that thought in mind he lost himself inside a villain once more.

Kara had never been happier.


***


“I want to see you again,” he said bluntly.

Diane smiled, stroking his back in approval. “Good girl. Maybe I’ll let you wear a corset tomorrow.”

Kara shuddered against her and she kissed his brow.

“One more thing before you go,” she drawled, sinking her fingernails into his back. He tensed, and she continued in a low whisper, “To replace what I took from you.” Then she raked her claws down, drawing blood. He cried out as pleasure-pain radiated through his body.

“A trophy. To remember me by.”


***


The claw marks healed and faded within a day, but Shade sometimes thought he could still feel them, branding him as hers. Whatever healing magic she had, it seemed to linger even outside her presence, bruises and scrapes vanishing within hours. The more time he spent around her, the stronger the effect grew.

They never talked about what it was they had. Nor did they discuss what the future held. Everything between them passed unspoken.

Shade just appeared in that hotel room every couple of days and was welcomed with a gentle smile, a tender embrace and new pieces of clothing she had chosen for him.


***


“I don’t want you to steal anymore.”

Diane turned her head, frowning at Kara over her shoulder. The hero was trailing his fingertips along her back, looking devastatingly beautiful in the morning sun, his short hair tussled, his mouth looking delectably kissable, and still wearing a hint of lipstick.

“I’m sorry, you were saying something about ripping my heart out?”

He smiled wryly, but his eyes were troubled. “I don’t want to run into you in the middle of a bank robbery and be forced to arrest you.”

“Then don’t do that.” Obvious solution was obvious.

“Diane,” he said quietly. “Please.”

She sighed. “Where do you propose I get money instead?” Her lips curved into a mocking grin, increasing the red glow of her eyes. “They just love High School dropouts on the job market. And I bet someone like me would just fit right into the fast food industry.”

His brows drew together in a frown. “You heal people just by being around them. Hospitals would pay you just to hang out in their lobby.”

Needles in her arm. Doctors talking at her, their eyes already far away, obviously thinking about patients they had not given up hope on. The sterile smell that could never hope to conceal that this was a place of death.

She rolled away from him, getting up to stand in front of the window, turning her head toward the sunlight. “I hate hospitals,” she said flatly.

She heard him sigh in frustration. “Then be a freelance healer.”

Her knuckles turned white on the window sill. It was commonly said that healing was a gift prized beyond measure – which was a lie. Healers did put a price on their gift, and it was dizzyingly high. When all modern medicine failed, they stepped in. For a fee.

“You would have me extort money from the desperate and dying?” she asked, real venom creeping into her voice. “How is that better than stealing from those who can afford it?”

When Diane was diagnosed, her mother had searched for healers. They all turned her down, scoffing at the paltry sum she offered. Who had time to lift a finger to help white trash?

“It’s not extortion.” Kara sounded taken aback. “It’s payment for services rendered.”

She slowly turned to face him, narrowing her eyes. It was moments like these that she realized she did not have remotely enough middle fingers. “And in that perfect world in your head, how do the poor get healed?”

Kara blinked, cocking his head as if he hadn’t considered that. Rich wanker. Diane of course had no idea if he truly was rich, but everything hinted toward it. His entire demeanor spoke of wealth and privilege, and he never blinked twice at the luxury Diane indulged in now that she could afford it.

“I thought so. Being independently wealthy means I don’t have to ration my healing to those who can afford it. I can heal whoever I damn well please.”

Kara’s gazed softened. “So you devote your time to healing the poor then?”

Diane looked away, guiltily chewing her lower lip.

She hadn’t.

She could, but she hadn’t.


***


Kara impatiently tapped his pen against the clipboard, bored out of his mind.

The corporate drone had been talking for 30 minutes and, like an overtly loquacious energizer bunny, just would not stop. Kara tried to focus his eyes on the slides of the PowerPoint presentation which were creatively decorated with wild splashes of color, clearly the work of a frustrated artist railing against the dullness of his cubicled work space. It was quite special when taken as an abstract painting, but failed to actually convey the information it was meant to convey.

At least the pie charts were pleasing to look at, so there was that.

He shifted uncomfortably, his aching nipples rubbing against the fabric of his button-up shirt. They’d been sore and sensitive for days now, no doubt a product of Diane’s relentless nibbling. Not that he minded.

His mind started wandering to last night again and he had to force it back to the matter at hand.

Kara was supremely uninterested in the day to day running of his family’s company, trusting his board of directors with that task. Trust in the sense that he dragged himself to monthly meetings where he’d be presented with summaries of what exactly they were getting up to, and then had the final veto power over which new policies and projects got implemented.

He was fairly certain that his board of directors loathed him with the passion of a thousand fiery suns, which he reciprocated with scathing distaste. As a hero he had seen far too many villains hiding behind a respectable corporate façade, and he would be damned before he let his own company sink to similar moral depths.

Kara vetoed everything that so much as hinted at corruption or exploitation, even if it was common practice amongst his competitors. He also made sure that the salary of management was not grossly inflated compared to the average worker. Consequently, his employees were some of the best-paid in the field.

Every time he shot down a morally questionable business plan, his execs looked ready to dramatically slit their wrists right then and there, only recovering by launching into an impassioned speech about profit margins and the virtue of unfettered capitalism. Kara, having honed his intimidation skills to perfection as Shade, would simply glare, give a terse “No,” and watch them trail off into flustered stutters.

Still… despite the terrible presentation, this new initiative looked promising. It was almost like they were capable of learning.

It was only mid-penstroke that he realized he was trying to sign off on the document as Kara Reynolds.

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.

---

Diane hummed happily, skipping past Amelia’s lab, then did a double take followed by a quick backtrack. Amelia, her palm crackling with ice crystals, was currently in the process of traumatizing the laws of thermodynamics, dragging the Nernst-Simon statement kicking and screaming out in the open to feed it to the metaphorical sharks.

Amelia also had actual sharks, augmented with lasers, but she kept those in another lair.

Diane raised her eyebrows until they almost disappeared in her hairline, crossing her arms to alleviate the freezing cold.

“Hey, Amelia! I’m going out.”

The ice beam abruptly cut off, and she turned to face Diane, reaching up to remove her goggles. She stared for an uncomfortably long moment.

“Again?”

Diane shrugged and smiled blithely. She’d been quite vague about her late night activities but then Amelia was her friend, not her jailer. She didn’t really care all that much what Diane got up to as long as she didn’t draw attention to their location.

Still, she’d been a little nosier lately and Diane wondered why. There could be a nuclear war raging outside and it would not draw Amelia’s attention from her research.

The scientist in question pursed her lips, seeming to weigh her words, which was just beyond strange. Diane had thought Amelia’s internal word filter, much like her own, was irreparably broken.

“Be careful,” she said quietly and Diane drew back, startled. She had never heard Amelia use such a solemn tone of voice before.

“What are you talking about?”

“Heroes like him make for poor pets. They do not bend. They break.” Amelia’s dark eyes met hers. “And they take everyone in the vicinity down with them.”


***


Shade frowned as the criminal slumped to the floor on his second hit.

It shouldn’t have taken two hits.

Something was extremely off, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. As a martial artist he knew his body’s strengths and limits extremely well, and they weren’t as they should be. His attacks didn’t land quite right, and he was tiring more easily. If it wasn’t for his newly acquired healing factor, he would have suspected he was coming down with something.

Shade teleported to his favorite vantage point atop a skyscraper just a little out of the way of the city’s center, still pondering his diminished strength as he gazed out at the skyline. Truthfully, it wasn’t all that surprising – he wasn’t training obsessively anymore, instead opting to spend more time with a certain villainess. Even when he did train, he didn’t feel that compulsion to keep training until his muscles screamed in protest so that he could fall into bed in both physical and mental exhaustion. Now that he thought about it, he’d taken up his insane training regimen to combat his insomnia – or rather, to combat the dark thoughts and impulses that would come to him when lying in bed alone with his thoughts.

Shade hummed thoughtfully. He’d always known the way he lived his life wasn’t an ideal one, but he hadn’t realized just how downright depressing it was. No friends, no social life, just endless days consisting of sleep, food, training and hunting criminals, the monotony periodically broken by his monthly corporate meeting when he was reminded that he was Ian and not just Shade. Looking back on it with a slightly different perspective, it was unsettling.

My only friend is a villainous sexy plant.

He should do something about that.

In the distance a familiar purple flash illuminated the night. His long dormant social skills stirred, reminding him with some help from his conscience that he’d blown Amethyst off like a complete and utter asshole.

Shadows gathered around his feet.

If he was going to turn his life around and make some friends, he might as well start now.

He materialized in the rough proximity of where the light had originated, only to immediately blink five feet to the right to dodge the body hurling toward him. The costumed villainess hit the nearby wall, leaving cracks in the bricks. Her knees hit the floor and she swayed dangerously, clearly on the verge of losing consciousness.

A purple arc of light hit her square in the chest, and she fell over, yet the barrage of attacks did not let up, lighting up the night again and again until the pavement around the villainess’ still form had all but crumbled.

“Being a little rough, aren’t you?” Shade drawled, frowning at Amethyst Star.

The light dimmed and she turned toward him with a motion that was unsettlingly slow. “You’re one to talk. How many have you put in the hospital this week?”

Shade did have a tendency to break an awful lot of bones. But then, he also didn’t have the power to subdue people with less violence. “Point. But she’s down.”

“Yes, well…” Amethyst exhaled, blowing a stray strand of long hair from her face. “Just making sure she stays down. Here to give me lectures on style, Shade?”

He fidgeted, not quite sure how to disarm her hostility. Goddammit, hadn’t he been charming once? Long, long ago? “I came to… apologize.”

Amethyst tilted her head, squinting at him. “For what? Teleporting away while I was pouring my heart out?”

“Yes. That.”

She shrugged and turned away, fiddling with an electronic device strapped to her wrist, no doubt alerting the police to the location of her capture. “Whatever, Shade, it’s how you end all your conversations; I shouldn’t have expected any different.”

He bristled at the implication. True, he did exit stage left like that a lot, but he wasn’t quite so inconsiderate as to do it mid-conversation. Well, with the exception of the Captain whom he left like that more often than not when he reached his threshold for attempted fistbumps.

Shade cleared his throat. Okay. He could fix this. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Her trial had come and gone, and she’d been cleared of all charges, deemed to have acted under duress. Despite the media firestorm, at least the law was still firmly on the side of heroes.

The corners of her mouth tightened and she said nothing, just stepping toward the unconscious body to roughly haul her up and cuff her with energy-suppressants.

“I sense you’re not happy,” he said, giving up on this being pleasantly polite business and letting his sardonic nature bleed through.

“Well, aren’t you a psychologist all of the sudden,” she bit back, turning toward him and crossing her arms.

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.”

“Yes, well, I’m all out of bright and bubbly. What do you want, Shade?”

He exhaled. “Look, I’m just here to tell you that I’m sorry. Sorry for disappearing when you wanted someone to talk to, sorry for the shit you have to put up with, sorry that I don’t know how to help.”

She blinked rapidly, swaying slightly.

“Oh my god, you’re emoting! I just lost twenty bucks to Captain Dudebro.”

“…what.”

The heroine looked abashed, like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “There’s… there’s this betting pool in the E. On whether or not you’re secretly a robot.”

“I’m repeating myself, but what.”

And suddenly Amethyst was giggling, almost like her old self. “It’s just… you’re usually so… like you don’t understand this thing we humans call ee-mo-shun.”


***


“I just thought it’d be, you know, different.” Amethyst drew her knees up to her chest, gazing out at the city stretching out before them.

“Different how?”

“Like, once I was acquitted, everything would go back to normal. That people would love me again.” She smiled sadly. “Pretty stupid, huh?”

“No. Just hopeful.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. “I can’t stand it, listening to what they say. I have worked so hard, sacrificed so much, and this is how they repay me.”

Shade shifted uncomfortably, gently placing a hand on her hair. “You can’t be a hero for someone else’s approval. You just have to do the right thing no matter what.”

“I know,” she said wistfully. “It just gets so hard sometimes…”


***


Amelia’s ominous warning echoed in Diane’s mind as she pressed her back against the wall, burying her hand in her lover’s coal black hair. Shade was on his knees in front of her, wearing a navy blue corset around his surprisingly slim waist, pressing his lips to her heated sex and lovingly kissing her most intimate part. She watched as he worshipped her body as he often did, far more focused on her pleasure than his own.

They break.

Amelia had refused to elaborate, wordlessly returning to her experiment as if she’d said everything that needed to be said. When Diane had tried to press the subject, the mad scientist had grown annoyed, snapping that she was distracting her from important research.

Diane had always been free with her affection, pursuing relationships with whoever struck her fancy. It had been insinuated that she was a mistake half the population of her home town lined up to make and the other half lined up to repeat. Diane had laughed at such gossip and then proceeded to live up to her reputation once she ran away from that little backwater hick town.

Pleasure was fleeting and life even more so. Man, woman, it did not matter to her. She was careful not to get attached to anyone – getting attached meant that a goodbye would hurt. And the goodbye was inevitable.

But despite not caring for them as they sometimes wished she would, she prided herself on leaving her lovers better off than she found them. True, she greedily took all the pleasure they could give her and then moved on, but she gave as good as she got, loosening their inhibitions and leaving them with fond memories of a wild ride.

Their names and faces blurred together in her mind, half-remembered and mostly forgotten.

She didn’t think she’d ever forget him, though.

“Kara,” she gasped breathlessly and he gazed up at her with adoration written plainly in his stunning eyes.

Am I breaking you?

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.

---

This is ridiculous.

Shade tensed his arms and somehow scraped together the strength to push himself back up, breathing heavily.

One hundred.

He peered at his bare arms and saw them shaking, on the verge of refusing to support his weight any longer. He should not be this exhausted; he wasn’t even done with his standard training exercises.

Something’s wrong.

Shade had been reasonably okay with the loss of some of his strength that cutting back on his training would bring, deeming the increase in personal happiness worth it. But his strength continued to plummet far past the point that could be explained by slightly reduced fitness and now appeared to be in free fall.

With a soft huff he drew back into a crouch, then stood up. Running his fingers through his sweat-slicked hair he walked toward the mirror, inspecting himself.

His antagonistic relationship with mirrors had mellowed somewhat, though he still wasn’t really happy with who looked back at him. He was shirtless, his flat chest rising and falling with deep, tired breaths.

Now that he was looking at himself without wearing some corset chosen by Diane, it was undeniable. He’d lost weight. Quite a lot of it, apparently – his arms were ridiculously thin and the muscle definition had faded. His muscles were not completely gone, thankfully; he could see them shifting under his skin when he moved. But they were severely diminished. Shade, despite his excessive training, had never been on the bulky side, but now he’d shifted from lean to skinny.

Shade tilted his head quizzically and squinted. He also somehow had put on a thin layer of fat – his belly was slightly rounded, and his face had filled out, smoothing his sharply angled features to appear not quite as harsh.

His face looked… gentler.

If he was honest with himself, he had to admit that his new appearance quite appealed to him on some level, but it was also deeply worrying. People did not lose that much weight in such a short amount of time over that minor a lifestyle change. Especially when they had a healer by their side who supposedly prevented them from getting sick.

A healer. Someone who could shape and twist flesh at will.

He reached up to rub his chin, the complete absence of stubble not quite sinking in, and his gaze fell to his swollen nipples. What had started as a slightly annoying sensitivity had escalated into red puffiness that itched fiercely.

Shade met his own worried gaze. Was she doing this to him? Slowly sapping his strength? Why?

Villain, whispered that part of his mind that never quite let him forget what his lover was.


***

“I need some new stuff,” Amelia announced bluntly, slipping Diane a list. A quite lengthy list.

Diane’s eyebrows rose as she took in the more and more absurd demands. “Moon dust? Really? Where am I supposed to get that? Do you want me to get you a spaceship?”

Amelia tilted her head. “Black market? I don’t know. You don’t usually have problems tracking things down.” There was no reproach in her voice, her thoughts already back on her research. “I have confidence in your abilities.”

Diane lowered her gaze down to the list again, rereading it. Yes, she usually had no problem acquiring the things Amelia expressed desire for; she simply stole them. It had started as gifts, expressing gratitude toward her for saving her life, and had somehow become a permanent service she provided to the mad scientist. Diane hadn’t minded. In fact, she had loved testing the limits of her new powers as she battled guards, the police and heroes.

But she hadn’t stolen a thing since she’d started pursuing Shade.

It had been a purely pragmatic decision, not a moral one; he hated reminders of what she was and would never have allowed himself to sleep with her if she was still making the headlines left and right. So she’d stopped her heists and started drawing on the considerable funds she had built up.

They were nearly depleted. Funding Amelia’s operation along with paying for a luxury suite for weeks on end had chewed through them far faster than she’d anticipated. The extravagant shopping sprees to find just the right clothes for Kara had not helped matters.

Diane looked up, gazing at Amelia who was already retreating back to her lab. She owed the mad scientist her life. Turning down her request was not an option.

I want you to stop stealing.

Diane bit her lower lip. Kara would not take a return to her criminal lifestyle well.

Despite Amelia’s ominous warning, things between them could not be better. Kara was radiating happiness, and Diane was fairly sure she was doing the same. When they were apart, she found her thoughts drifting to their time together all the time, impatiently anticipating their next clandestine meeting. Kara’s outfits were getting more and more elaborate, and Diane was getting better at concealing the hints of his maleness. It helped that his body was taking to corsets exceptionally well; when he wore them, he almost looked like he had proper curves. Their little game was getting so convincing that Diane sometimes caught herself thinking of Kara in female terms.

She looked back down at the list.

This had the potential to destroy their bliss.


***


Diane was evil.

Utterly, utterly evil.

Kara moaned, thrusting her hip, desperate for release.

Her wrists strained against the vines binding them to the headrest as she writhed and bucked, but it was no use. Diane just laughed at her efforts, swirling her tongue around Kara’s engorged and hypersensitive nipples.

Kara’s body was on fire. All those ridiculous feminine sex noises that she’d always been half-convinced women faked to stroke her ego were easily falling from her lips as she grinded against Diane’s soft hands. Diane had a firm grip on her cockhead, preventing her from coming.

“Please, please, please,” she begged, long past the point of caring about her dignity. She wasn’t even sure what she was saying anymore in between gasps and moans and cries.

Diane bit her small breast and she almost sobbed. “You know the rules, my little girl toy.”

“Please, may I… may I…” Fuck. She couldn’t think, let alone remember the proper way to ask permission. “Please!” She yelled and thrust again.

Diane smirked, closing her lips around the sensitive nub and sucked. “Tsk, tsk. Use your words.”

Kara just moaned, thrashing her head.

“You are lucky I am kind and generous,” Diane continued playfully, giving her nipple another long lick. “Come for me, Kara.”

She choked out a gratified Yes, Diane before the most powerful orgasm of her life washed over her, her gaze on the woman tormenting her.

You are everything to me.


***


Kara pressed her lips to Diane’s neck, still breathing heavily as the vines slowly slithered away, freeing her. She rolled over and captured the evil villainess beneath her, grinding against her slick wetness. Kara was already hard again.

Her refractory period was almost nonexistent.

Disquieted, she stared down at the woman in her arms, who gazed back with a small smile.

Have you been modifying my body without my permission?

The words would not leave her lips. It wasn’t that she hated the changes; she was glad to be rid of that fucking 5 o'clock shadow and besides, what girl wouldn’t love to have the capacity for multiple consecutive orgasms? (You’re not making sense, went a small part of her brain.) But she definitely hated the without permission part; just because she liked being dominated in the bedroom it didn’t mean Diane got to do whatever she wanted.

“I need to ask you something,” Diane said quietly, wiggling out of Kara’s hold. Kara drew back with a frown while Diane sat up, seemingly weighing her words.

“You don’t want me to steal anymore, yes?”

“Yes,” Kara answered, at length.

“But can I steal from other villains?”

Shade tilted her head. “I’d prefer for you not to steal at all.”

Diane flashed him an annoyed look. “Luxury hotel rooms don’t pay for themselves.”

Kara blinked. Christ. She gazed around the room with a twinge of guilt. “I can pay for the room,” she assured her quickly. “Retroactively.”

Diane’s expression verged on disgust. “Called it.”

“What?”

“You’re rich.”

“Why do you say that like it’s an insult?” Kara stared at her, bewildered. With her love for money she’d have thought it’d be a welcome realization. She could provide for both of them, and Diane would want for nothing.

Wait, what?

There was no place in her civilian life for insane supervillains.

Diane just sighed and shook her head. “Keep your money. I want my own. If it wasn’t this room, it’d be something else eventually depleting my savings. So, are you gonna give me lectures if I steal from villains?” She arched an eyebrow.

Shade frowned. “It… would be preferable to the alternative,” she said slowly.

“Great!” She smiled, seeming relieved, and leaned in for a gentle kiss. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut our date short then. Things to do, money to steal, evil villains to defeat.”

Before Shade quite knew what was happening, she was already on her feet, heading toward the door while vines slithered up her body to form her villain costume.

“Wait!”

Diane looked over her shoulder and her gaze softened. “I’ll make up for lost time, don’t worry.”

“That’s not… where are you going?”

“Shade,” she said in the lovingly condescending tone one would use to explain to a child that, yes, the sky was indeed blue. “You know I care for you a lot, but money is and always shall be my first love. She calls to me, begging me to release her from evil, undeserving clutches.”

“I meant,” Shade said through gritted teeth. “Whom are you robbing?”

“Oh. The Knives of Arachne. There’s a shipment coming in tonight.”

Shade's blood ran cold. “No,” she said forcefully.

“Really, Kara? I asked permission – which I didn’t have to do! – and you said yes. Don’t go changing your morals on me now.”

“Diane,” Shade grated, standing up as well. “They will kill you. Choose another target.”

Diane looked at her with irritation. “I can take care of myself. I’ve never even gotten hurt on a heist.”

“Because you were going up against bored security guards!”

“And you,” she said smugly. “I defeated you. Thrice.”

Shade’s eye twitched, and shadows swirled.

“Dead,” she hissed, digging her long fingernails into Diane’s exposed throat, mirroring their first embrace. “The only reason you defeated me is because I wasn’t trying to kill you. I had plenty of opportunity. But unlike me, they won’t hesitate.” She lowered her voice, pressing her lips to Diane’s ear and whispering, “You have no idea what it’s like to fight villains. None.”

Shade blinked away from her as suddenly as she had closed in, evading the vine that had already been lashing out.

Diane turned toward her with an eerily slow motion that reminded Shade of a predator. “If they try to kill me, then they, like you, will find out what a mistake it is to make me bleed.”

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.

---

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.

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


It hurt.

Diane sank to her knees, her breaths shallow, feeling how the blade was pulled from her chest with a sickeningly wet noise.

It hurt so much.

Her eyes narrowed as determination overcame her shock.

What Amelia had done to her had hurt far worse. This was nothing.

Nonetheless, she slumped to the floor, playing dead in the hopes that whoever had struck her would not feel the need to strike again while her healing powers went into overdrive. Blood pooled around her, warm and thick – my blood, that’s my blood, I need that, I don’t want to die, cried some small part of her that was still the normal girl she’d been just a few months ago. Dionaea shut the voice up, focusing on her magic. Blood was good. Blood was power.

Flesh started knitting itself with astounding speed.

She weakly raised her head when she heard the twang of plasma blades being activated.

Shade.

He was standing between her and a man in silver.

Kara was trying to save her. She smiled a little at that thought. It turned out she didn’t mind his presence here after all. She slowly pushed herself up, her arms shaking at the effort – her body was healing fast, but it was not done yet.

Shade and the villain clashed blades with incredible speed. Her small smile widened when she saw Shade’s clever feint, feeling pride well up somewhere inside her at his obvious skill. Devious hero, he fought as dirty as she–

The tide turned so fast she barely understood what had happened.

Blood spilled and she cried out in horror as the man in silver readied for a second strike.

Why wasn’t Shade teleporting to safety?

Me. He’s staying because of me.

Something snapped. Her grasp on her powers had always been tenuous and unpracticed. It was like trying to stem a tide, always striving for release, spilling out of her, and it was all she could do to hold it back lest she truly hurt someone with carelessness.

Dionaea did not hold anything back.

Vines as thick as a tree trunks rose around her, the metal of the containers screeching as they were pushed aside. The ground rumbled as more and more plants burst through the floor, cracking the concrete slabs. Glass shattered as her vines grew big enough to break the ceiling, the very foundation of the warehouse shaking under the tremendous pressure they put on it.

She slammed one of her gigantic vines into the swordsman, sending him flying. Dionaea had grown extra thorns on that vine, long and sharp as daggers. She hoped they hurt. She hoped they killed him. Her red eyes glowed brighter with the force of her fury.

A rattling cough snapped her out of it.

“Shade!” Diane cried, scrambling to her feet – her wound had fully closed at last – and skidded to a halt next to him. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, gently turning him to face her, and pushed his hood back.

He was holding his hand to his chest, blood slowly seeping between his fingers. His eyes were glassy and dazed, but focused on her. And his lips – the corners of which were covered in blood he had coughed up – actually curved into a smile.

“Diane,” he whispered, and turned to nuzzle her cheek. “You’re alive.”

Stupid idiot hero. He had a gaping hole in his chest and he was thinking of her survival?

Tears welled and Diane forced them back. He would not die. She wouldn’t let him. “If you turn this into some sappy heroic sacrifice, I’ll break into heaven to kick your ass,” she whispered, gathering her magic in her palm, hoping she had enough to heal him.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” His smile actually widened and he closed his eyes.

“Eyes open, Shade. You’re not allowed to close them. I forbid it.”

He didn’t answer.

Arachne agents were closing in on them. Diane could feel them hacking at her vines. She could not fight them off and heal Shade.

“Shade. Shade, please, I need you to teleport us out of here.”

No reaction.

“Shade!”

She shoved him.

“Kara!”

His eyes cracked open, gaze unfocused.

“Get us to safety, please!”

He blinked slowly, head lolling, and then gave a jerky nod. Darkness swirled.

Diane had hated her first ride through the shadows but this was infinitely worse. Where the first time had been like breaking a water surface after a long drop, this was like being thrown into vortex that tossed her body like a ragdoll.

She emerged gasping for air. If she still had a stomach she would have thrown up.

No time. Dry-heave later.

Diane barely spared her surroundings a glance other than making sure it was safe. They were in a dark bedroom, dominated by a king-sized bed and a closet taking up most of the wall. Diane’s fine eye for any sign of wealth immediately assessed them as custom-made, noting the mahogany.

Was this Kara’s home?

Focus.

Kara’s breaths were shallow and his skin was so very pale. Diane clawed at his uniform, peeling away the synthetic material to reveal his wound, suppressing a shudder at the sight.

“Just a scratch,” Shade gasped as she pressed her palm to it, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shut up and let me fix you.”

“Can’t… can’t even feel it.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Can’t feel my legs either…” He trailed off and his head slumped back as finally lost consciousness.

Diane’s palm glowed red and she poured all the magic she could gather into the motionless body of her love.


***


Diane crossed her arms over Kara’s blanket-covered belly and rested her head on them. She gazed up at his face. Kara’s chest was rising and falling steadily as he took in deep, even breaths.

The wound, which she’d been obsessively checking for the last few hours, was healing rapidly and already looked like it was years old. Soon it would be entirely gone. Diane had stripped him bare and washed it with a wet towel she’d found in the adjacent – opulent – bathroom after she’d finished hauling his ginormous body into the bed. She was not exactly short at 5 foot 7, but Kara easily stood at over 6 foot 3 or more. Even as lean as he was, moving him in a non-rough manner had proven challenging.

She could see her magic shifting under his skin, red glowing wisps occasionally surfacing along his veins and vanishing just as suddenly as they appeared.

She blinked sleepily as a sudden glare hit her eyes, turning her head. The sun was rising, soft light filtering through the window. Diane sighed in relief as the sunlight warmed her body. She was exhausted; she’d need some hardcore sunbathing to make up the energy loss from last night.

As the sun slowly climbed the sky and shone on Diane’s skin, she found herself fidgeting with surplus energy.

Diane was dying of curiosity. The urge to go exploring Kara’s home was growing stronger with every passing moment. She peered at his peacefully sleeping face, lovingly brushing her hand along his surprisingly soft cheek – where had his permastubble gone anyway?

A question for later. Her curiosity would not be denied. When would she get another chance like this?

She pressed a gentle kiss to his brow and then stole away to go snooping.


***


Kara lived in a freaking castle.

The mansion was huge with long winding hallways that made it far too easy to get lost. Diane had never lived in a home that couldn’t be crossed in several strides, so she ended up wandering in wide-eyed amazement. The house struck her as old, yet was in picture perfect condition.

As she passed by a gallery showing a long line of family portraits, she mentally upgraded Kara from rich to filthy rich. She noticed the family name engraved on the plaques. Reynolds. From Reynolds Industries?

Diane couldn’t find a picture of Kara though. Perhaps the family had discontinued the tradition of pompous portraits. The last one was dated 1961.

Her brow furrowed as she realized something. She backtracked through the halls to confirm her suspicion.

There was nothing she could point to and say “That’s Kara’s.”

The mansion was absolutely devoid of personal artifacts. It was beautiful to look at, probably the pride and joy of some interior designer, but it wasn’t a home. There were no pictures of friends and family, no souvenirs from fond memories, not even a single painting on the wall she thought might actually have been chosen by Kara himself.

Even their little hotel room was more personal than this.

Just about the only thing she could find was a small framed photo standing on a mantle in the living room. It showed a very stern-looking pair of parents standing stiffly behind two teenagers; a young boy, just on the cusp of puberty, shyly smiling at the camera while his older sister had her arms wrapped tightly around him, flashing a playful grin.

Diane could only glean two things from Kara’s home.

He was descended from a long line of very, very rich people.

And he was very, very alone.


***


It took Diane three hours of meticulous fine-combing, but she finally found the entrance to his super-secret lair, which she just knew he had to have. He probably called it something goofily dramatic like The Abyss or The Shadow Cave or The Dimly Lit Fortress of No Social Life.

She walked down the short secret hallway in long strides, coming upon a dead end with three doors. Diane peeked into the right one first and broke into a wide grin.

“That’s Kara’s,” she whispered, gazing at the sizable weapon collection. Every inch of the walls was decorated with sharp pointy objects, some of them looking quite antique. She silently closed the door.

The middle door opened to a training room, equipped with what was presumably state of the art equipment. Diane couldn’t really tell, having never trained a day in her life. Instead her gaze was drawn to the long line of mannequins lining the back wall, all wearing a variation of Shade’s costume. Some of the differences were truly miniscule, but it seemed like Kara had nonetheless kept each iteration of his uniform.

And the room on the left…

Opened to Crazy with a capital C.

Diane’s eyes widened as she took in a room that would not be out of place for a conspiracy nut. All it was missing was some tinfoil. Newspaper clippings lined the walls, brightly colored threads connecting them seemingly at random. Diane dodged and weaved her way through the mess to step closer to the enormous computer in the center of the room.

She curiously tapped a random button on the keyboard and multiple screens lit up, awakening from sleep mode.

Diane stared. One of the screens was taken up by a picture of herself – of Diane Cole, the girl she’d once been. She wrinkled her nose. God, had she looked that bad? Well, she had been deadly ill. If one graded on a curve…

Nonetheless, she closed the loathsome picture, revealing the plain desktop background beneath.

Her gaze fell on a folder right in the center of the screen. It was practically begging for attention.

CAROLINE

The folder was filled with files and Diane leisurely scrolled through, scanning their names. She saw some labeled police report and others appeared to be excerpts from newspapers. There were also several videos. She clicked on the latest which the timestamp identified as being almost ten years old.

The screen was filled with static for a long moment, crackling, before it dissolved to show a lone chair in front of a white wall. A moment later someone got pushed to sit onto it, their hands and feet bound. The person’s – woman’s – head was covered with a bag which was promptly taken off by a man who kept his face carefully out of frame.

It revealed a disheveled beauty, a thin rag gagging her mouth. She glared at her captor with icy blue eyes and Diane jolted with recognition. It was the teenager from Kara’s family picture, now a grown woman, not much younger than Diane herself.

The man unfastened the gag behind her head and she – Caroline? – spat it out.

Then she spat at her captor.

He viciously backhanded her, then moved out of frame. She grinned, and slowly turned her head toward the camera, not quite looking directly at Diane but at someone standing behind her.

“Is that all you’ve got? My little brother hits harder than that.”

“Just read the cue cards,” said a distorted voice.

“Yeah, yeah.” She blew a stray strand of long black hair from her face, squinting slightly at something off-screen. “Dear Mister and Mrs. Reynolds, if you ever want to see your beloved daughter again – ha, some epic fact checking errors there – blabla, give me money. That’s how the rest of it goes, right?”

“Do you want me to slap you again, girl?”

“Yes, please do. It’ll be wonderful evidence of your violent and unstable nature at your trial. Call me vindictive, but I’d like to ensure a life sentence.”

“Do you know what I could do to you?”

Caroline glared and it was so reminiscent of Shade it was terrifying. “Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Do you think this is my first time being kidnapped for ransom? And let me tell you, you suck at this job. The others were way more professional.”

“Read the bloody cue cards!”

She sighed and read out the details of the drop-off in a monotone, then faced the camera directly.

“Mom, dad, just give this gentleman here what he wants, and I can be back home for our customary awkward dinner.” Her face softened, and her voice became affectionate. “Ian, a kidnapped sister is not an excuse to slack off on your homework. Don’t worry.”

She smiled.

“Everything’s going to be fine.”

The video cut off.

Diane stared, wide-eyed.

Her reverie was broken by a startled yell from upstairs and her head snapped up. Then she sprinted back up the short tunnel, almost getting turned around in the mansion before finding Kara’s bedroom again.

He wasn’t in bed.

Instead, an almost naked shorthaired woman was standing in front of the mirror, staring at her quite sizable breasts, aghast. At the sound of Diane’s arrival she whipped around, narrowing icy blue eyes.

“You,” came Kara’s decidedly male voice, verging on hysteria. “What the hell did you do to me?!”

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


Kara – no, Shade – no, Ian wasn’t panicking.

He was calm, and cold, and aloof.

He also had breasts.

They were heaving.

This was because he was breathing heavily in what might be called hyperventilation due to the fact that he was panicking.

“Kara…?” Diane’s voice was hesitant and she was staring at him with her red eyes wide.

“No,” he snapped. “That’s not my name.” At least his voice still sounded right. He crossed his arms over his chest as if that might hide his generous endowment, only to find out that this gesture really didn’t work as it used to. His arms were rubbing up against his nipples which rapidly hardened to stiff little nubs in response.

“Ian?” she tried tentatively, even more hesitant than before, and he relaxed a fraction.

Wait.

She was not supposed to know that name.

With growing horror he realized that there was a villain standing in his bedroom. His actual bedroom. In his house. In his civilian life.

She took a step forward, approaching him like one might approach a cornered animal, gently holding out a hand. He took a step back to match hers, and his back hit the mirror.

Diane had done this to him.

He’d almost died because she’d weakened him. Had it been a trap?

Why are you still alive then, asked a voice in his head that had the pedantic nasally twang of Reason. It quickly got tackled to the ground by Panic, joined by Irrational Anger, which gave Reason a few swift kicks while it was down. Confusion, not wanting to be left out and not really knowing what else to do, joined the pile, halfheartedly holding Reason down as well.

“You did this to me.” This time it wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.

Diane looked confused and – hurt?

“K- Ian. Calm down. I have no idea what’s going on.”

“You turned me into a woman, that’s what’s going on!”

Hell, not even that. He was stuck in some sort of hybrid state. He was still very much male downstairs. He’d checked – and ignored the brief sting of disappointment. But everything else was completely feminine. His waist. His face. His breasts. When he’d jumped out of bed he’d lost his balance, not used to his new center of gravity.

“Kara.” Her voice was a command, the one she reserved for the bedroom. “Look at me.” He responded despite himself. “I didn’t do this.”

He wanted to believe her.

Diane took another step toward him, and he had nowhere to back up to.

“And I am quite insulted that you think I would.”

She gently laid her palm on his cheek, and he leaned into the touch on instinct. Their gazes met.

“What happened?” he asked quietly. The last night was a blur of vivid images that made little sense. He remembered arriving at the warehouse. He remembered Diane utterly failing at stealth and him covering her back. He remembered fighting the Executioner, though he didn’t remember why. He supposed because the villain was there, and there was a rule that they had to pair up and fight when in close proximity. Then nothing.

“You got injured,” she said slowly and her gaze dropped to his new body, lingering on his chest. “And teleported us to safety. I healed you. When I left you here a couple of hours ago you still looked, well…” She reached out and brushed her fingertips along the round slope. His skin tingled, her touch leaving a scorching trail in her wake. He shivered at the new sensation, heat pooling in his insides.

“And you really didn’t do this?” His voice cracked when she gave his pink nipple a squeeze, momentarily breaking into a higher octave. He coughed, massaging his throat.

Diane gave him an annoyed look. “Kara, all I do is heal people. I have no idea how to modify bodies, and if I did, I wouldn’t do it without your permission. If you haven’t noticed, even when I forced your hand, I made sure you really wanted it every step of the way.”

She had. He looked down at himself, panic slightly receding. Waking up in an unfamiliar body was bad; thinking Diane had done it was worse. Kara’s brain finally started functioning in some semblance of sanity.

Diane was still curiously stroking his hypersensitive new flesh and his breaths grew shallow with something entirely different than panic.

Kara had breasts.

Kara had curves.

Kara had an entirely feminine face that might even be called pretty.

Nobody would ever look at her again and see something other than a woman.

Kara’s vision suddenly got very blurry and she blinked rapidly.

Diane got on her toes – their height difference was as pronounced as ever – and pressed a gentle kiss to Kara’s lip. “We’ll figure this out, okay?” she murmured, and Kara’s only answer was a soft moan, her hands dropping to rest on Diane’s hips, drawing her closer.

“So that’s still there, then,” Diane observed with a soft laugh, grinding against Kara’s stirring cock. Kara made a strangled noise in the back of her throat, her tongue darting out to coax Diane’s lips open.

She obliged happily, splaying her fingers and cupping Kara’s breasts, squeezing. Kara gasped as at the unfamiliar sensation, deciding instantly that this was her new favorite thing in the whole world. “Do that…” She moaned, thrusting her hip. Again. Againagainagain.

Diane cocked her head, withdrawing from the kiss to gaze up at her. Then her lips curved into that wicked smile Kara knew so well. “Do you like having your tits played with, Kara?”

Kara whimpered.

Diane did not wait for an answer, bending at the knee and closing her lips over Kara’s puckering nipple. Kara gasped as Diane sucked and swirled her tongue, kneading the breast her lips were neglecting with her nimble fingers.

Kara’s cock throbbed but her breasts ached, and Kara knew where she’d rather feel Diane’s wickedly talented tongue.

She moaned in her deep timbre, her head falling back as she buried her fingers in Diane’s hair, stroking the smooth texture of the red petals growing within. “Please… ahhh… please don’t stop, oh god.” What little semblance of coherence Kara had left just up and abandoned her, dissolving into deep-throated moans and gasps and whimpers.

And then her voice broke.

Kara started coughing viciously, Diane drawing her head back in alarm. Her throat burned and Kara reached to grab it. Her Adam’s apple was shifting under her skin, a sickening sensation, and then it was just gone.

The coughing fit subsided, leaving Kara staring wide-eyed into the distance.

“Kara?” Diane’s concerned voice cut through the sudden clarity in his mind. “Are you okay?”

“I…” He winced. His voice was husky, on the deep end of the spectrum of women’s voices, but clearly feminine nonetheless. At least you don’t sound like a squeaky toy, some part of his mind tried to console him. “It’s… whatever is causing this, it’s still happening.”

Shade leaned against the mirror behind him, slowly sliding along it to sit down, curling his knees to his chest. Diane knelt next to him, gingerly stroking his hair.

“Is that such a bad thing?” she asked hesitantly.

His gaze focused on her in a glare. She withered for a moment, then frowned back.

“I mean… you like being Kara. I don’t understand.”

“Women are weak.”

She drew back, highly offended. “I’m sorry, I must have hallucinated. All I heard was Please impale me on a vine, Diane!”

He exhaled sharply. “Physically.” He raked his fingers through his hair as he stared down at his new body. It definitely had good muscle definition… for a woman. Which was to say, far less than he used to have. “You threaten to impale me on a vine because you couldn’t take anyone in a physical fight.”

“See this? This is me summoning a vine.”

“Because you can!” he yelled and she flinched. “I don’t… I don’t have powers like yours. I have always, always been limited in what I can do.” He stared at his hands. Hands that were so fucking small and dainty.

What if he lost his height, too?

Shade knew how to fight opponents with longer reach, but it was hard. He would have to change his entire fighting style, almost starting from scratch. The advantages of smaller size – presenting an evasive target – were entirely lost on him since he was already an evasive target to begin with thanks to his teleporting.

Shade couldn’t afford to lose the few strengths that he had. He was already an underdog surrounded by demi-gods in capes, and this would only make it worse.

Gentle arms wrapped around him and Diane pressed a kiss to his hair.

They sat curled up like that for a long time.

“How’d you know my name?” Ian asked eventually.

“I went snooping.”

“Of course you did.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

A hint of a smile flitted across Ian’s face. Diane kissed him once more, and somehow her knowing his civilian identity wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Truthfully, she’d already known enough of his secrets to hurt him if she’d really had any desire to do so.

“Listen. I have a friend. She’s brilliant, and I bet she can figure out what’s doing this to you, and then she can probably engineer a way to reverse it, too. We could go see her, if you’d like.”

He raised his head.

“She is a villain, though. Promise me you’ll play nice?”


***


Shade’s hips wouldn’t stop swaying.

He ground his teeth and forced himself to walk more stiffly. Diane snickered softly, but had the decency to look chastened when he glared at her.

“I’m sorry. You walk like you have a stick up your ass.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have to if my hips would stop this nonsense.”

Diane just bit her lip and turned her face away to giggle where he could not see it.

“Are we there yet?” he grated.

“Almost.” Diane had Shade teleport to the factory district to cut their commute as short as possible.

He was wearing normal clothes, having not even tried putting on the skintight costume. There was no way it would fit him anymore. The jeans were simultaneously too loose and too tight, hugging his generous ass, and his shirt fared little better, stretched tightly over his breasts.

With some mixed emotion he’d determined that his dick was slightly smaller, too. After some creative tugging, the bulge was barely noticeable.

He drew the hood of his open jacket deeper over his face as Diane entered what looked like an abandoned factory. Shade wasn’t quite sure how to feel about consulting with a villain scientist, but he dreaded revealing his problem to the heroic contacts he had even more. Better to have a stranger examine him.

His eyes widened as he took in the vines curling along the walls, moss and flowers growing over broken machinery. Diane lived here? Something in his chest reverberated uncomfortably at the thought of her living in squalor.

“Diane,” a voice snapped, heavy footfalls approaching them. “What have you dragged in?” The air was growing freezing. Shade’s breath fogged.

“A friend. Listen, Amelia, don’t freak out, but I need a favor…”

Shade’s eyes widened as a familiar tech-armor came into view.

No.

She’s dead.

Paragon City had a threat rating system. This assigned every villain a number from 1 to 10, roughly estimating how dangerous they were to face. Correspondingly, every hero got a rating that was determined by how high a villain they could reliably take down solo. This allowed heroes to determine when to retreat, and to only respond to distress calls they were qualified to handle. The system was far from perfect but it had drastically improved efficiency and cut down on heroes getting fatally injured.

Diane, having only emerged recently, had quickly risen to 4, and would likely rise higher if she escalated her violence. Shade was a 7, which was as high as it got for low-powered heroes. Captain Patriot and Amethyst Star were both at 8 with the potential for more.

Cinder Snow was a perfect 10, judged capable of leveling entire cities by herself.

She was also a hero killer.

Shade lunged.

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


Shade hit a forcefield.

His vision went white, pain exploding in his temples as he was thrown back.

When his vision slowly returned, the whiteness slowly fading into pale blurry outlines, he found himself half-buried under debris. There was a ringing in his ears, and he could make out muffled voice beneath.

“…remove your toy or I break it!”

“Amelia, please,” pleaded the golden blur that slowly sharpened to take Diane’s form. “I’ve never asked you for anything. But I’m asking you for this.”

There was a long tense silence. Or as silent as it could be when Shade still had that high-pitched ringing in his ears. He shook his head to clear it, shifting the debris to slide off his body.

His vision had recovered enough for him to see both the women turning to look at him.

“Oh, it’s awake.”

Diane’s lips thinned and she strode toward Shade, crouching next to him. “You promised me you wouldn’t attack my friend,” she said reproachfully.

“Your friend,” Shade echoed, voice hollow. “You did not tell me your friend was a monster.”

Cinder Snow.

She’d been active three years ago for only a short window of time before vanishing, presumed to have been killed in battle with Chrono Warden, an – at the time new – arcane heroine who finally managed to break her incredibly sophisticated defenses.

Yet in the few months she’d been active, Cinder Snow had left a trail of devastation in her wake. She had been absolutely unstoppable, her strong innate powers of being able to control both ice and fire augmented with superior technology. Combined with an undeniably brilliant – if insane – mind, she’d successfully taken out entire squads of heroes.

And then she’d earned her title of hero killer.

Not many villains dared to strike a killing blow. To kill a hero was to provoke the wrath of heroes everywhere, who viciously avenged their fallen comrades. The fear of retribution kept villains in line, protecting less skilled or younger heroes.

Cinder Snow had not struck a killing blow.

What she’d done to PsyKick was far, far worse than death.

Diane frowned at him. “She saved my life,” she countered.

“Do you even know what that woman has done?”

“I don’t care,” she hissed. “She is my friend and I trust her and you will not attack her again.”

Shade lowered his gaze and slowly pushed himself up.

Diane was a villain. He knew this, of course. Had always known. But on some level he’d stopped thinking of her as that. She was just Diane. Kind, loving Diane, with her unhinged but harmless brand of humor who was a villain in name only. The stings of discomfort he felt on occasion were easy to brush aside.

This was not. Cinder Snow was evil, the worst kind of villainous sociopath, and Diane called her a friend.

“Did you put it back on its leash?” Cinder Snow asked in a bored voice.

“Shade’s not an it, Amelia,” Diane murmured, holding out a hand to help him up. Shade ignored it, standing up on his own, glaring daggers at the mad scientist. “And he won’t attack you again. Right?” The last she added in a sharp tone toward Shade. He turned his glare on Diane, and she glared back.

“…right. I’m leaving.”

“No,” Diane pleaded, grabbing his arm as shadows swirled, preventing him from teleporting without taking her with him. “Kara, she can help you.”

“Don’t call me that!” Shade’s gaze shifted to Cinder Snow, hoping she hadn’t heard the name that was just between them.

The mad scientist met his gaze, looking bored. “Oh, like I haven’t been spying on you. Congratulations, your skill in giving my minion consecutive orgasms is improving.”

Minion, mouthed Shade, no sound escaping his lips.

Diane sputtered. He had never seen her flustered before.

“Be that as it may… fine. If you want this so badly, Diane, let’s make it quick. I suppose his case is mildly interesting. Follow me.”

She turned her back and strode off.

There ensued a vicious tug of war between Shade and Diane, with Diane dragging him to follow. “Kara,” she snapped. “I don’t care what you think of her, but you can’t deny that she is a genius. Give her ten minutes to figure this out.”

“No,” he growled, yanking his hand away. “I am not letting myself be touched by some fucking sociop-“

“When I tell you to follow, I expect you to follow.”

A trapdoor opened to his feet, and before Shade quite knew what had happened, he found himself strapped to a gurney that had just appeared out of the ground. The plates in the walls shifted, turning to reveal computer screens. They detached themselves, fastened to long metal coils which rolled and writhed like snakes, surrounding him with monitors.

Cinder Snow appeared in his line of sight, unceremoniously slamming a needle into his arm. He yelled, not in pain, but shock and anger. Some machinery whirred, and a metal strap descended over his mouth, muzzling him.

“Overkill,” murmured Diane under her breath, disapprovingly gazing at Cinder Snow, who shrugged casually.

Shade made a muffled sound of outraged protest. Diane reached out to reassuringly stroke his cheek and he glared at her.

“I’m sorry. Amelia, could you not…?”

“No,” replied the villain flatly. “He attacked me. Let’s just get this over with.”

Cinder Snow’s gaze was focused entirely on the screens which were now displaying flashing images of text and data at a rapid pace. She hummed thoughtfully, and then sighed. “Diane, could you get me the Arcanator?”

Diane hesitated, gaze darting between Shade and Cinder Snow, seeming torn. His eyes widened.

No, no, don’t leave me with her–

“I won’t hurt him,” Cinder Snow assured Diane, almost affectionately. “He attacked me, not vice versa.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Diane leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his brow. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Shade could have screamed then.

Cinder Snow watched Diane leave, then immediately stopped examining Shade.

“Diane did it,” she said flatly.

He stopped struggling, his blood running cold.

“It is painfully obvious what happened. And she should have realized it, too. But, well, I am quite fond of my minion, but she’s not that bright.” The affection in her voice threw Shade. “I assume I’m going to have to draw you a diagram, too?”

Shade glared, even as his heart was hammering against his chest. She’d sworn, she’d promised that she hadn’t done it…

“Do you know how Diane’s healing powers work?”

After a long pause, Shade slowly shook his head as much as the straps allowed.

“She is not like most other healers. They heal a cut or a disease and they are precise about it. They do not heal beyond what they mean to, for they have to conserve their power. But Diane… I made her out of a magical artifact which was created for the sole purpose of healing. At all times it strives to fulfill its directive; its magic continually spilling out of her. When she heals a cut, she might also heal an undetected tumor, without even meaning to. Or knowing she is doing it.

“Many healers are also potential killers, do you know that? They can mend flesh, but they can also whither it, just with a touch. Diane cannot. Her magic wants to heal and do nothing but heal. She cannot reshape a body into something it was not meant to be.”

Shade raised a muffled objection to that.

“Which brings me to you. Tell me, how long have you had a desire to put on female clothing? Since you were a child, I’d wager.”

Shade said nothing. Would have said nothing even if he wasn’t gagged. A computer screen slithered in front of him, displaying data he couldn’t even read.

“You were born with a birth defect. A disconnect between your mind and your body. So Diane started healing your body, as is her purpose.” Cinder Snow tapped something on the screen. “Say hello to your new X chromosome.”

No.

“Now I’m sure you’re wondering why I sent my little minion to fetch something I don’t need when I could have just told you that in front of her.”

Icy cold fingers roughly grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into hate-filled eyes.

“You flinch when I call her my minion. Have you noticed? I have.” She leaned in closer. “But that is what she is. I made her. I took a dying girl and created perfection. She is mine.”

She leaned so close he could feel her freezing breath on his ear as she whispered, “Do you even know what that woman has done?”

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


Diane hurried back to the entrance, the humming artifact clutched tightly to her chest. She knew Amelia would never hurt Kara – she simply wasn’t capable of deception, telegraphing her murderous intentions far and wide – but she nonetheless didn’t want to leave them alone longer than was necessary.

She rounded a corner and slammed into armor.

Amelia’s icy hands reached to steady her before she truly lost her balance. Diane blinked in confusion. Amelia plucked the Arcanator from her hands.

“It was you,” she said flatly.

“What? No! I didn’t–”

“Your toy is a trans woman. All you did was heal her body to match her mind. Don’t bore me with something this mundane again.”

And just like that, Amelia stalked past her, leaving Diane swaying in confusion.

Kara was a woman?

It wasn’t exactly a shock, considering his – her? – prior behavior, but still. After a moment’s introspection, Diane concluded it didn’t matter to her. Kara was Kara. She broke into a sprint, hoping he – she – hadn’t already left.

She found Kara sitting on the gurney, freed from the straps, staring blankly at the wall.

“Kara?” she called out softly, slowing her steps as she approached him. Her.

The short-haired woman didn’t visibly react, still staring at something in the distance only she could see.

“You did this to me.” Her voice was dull, devoid of inflection.

“I… I’m sorry?” Diane wasn’t exactly sure why she was apologizing for healing. Wasn’t this a good thing?

“But you didn’t know.” The observation was delivered in the same creepy monotone. It was starting to freak Diane out so she closed the distance between them, brushing her fingertips along Kara’s cheek. She didn’t react.

“I didn’t,” she said softly. “Kara, I..”

“Have you ever done anything worse than stealing?”

She blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“Answer me.” Kara finally moved, slightly tilting her head to gaze at Diane. Her eyes were so very, very empty. A shiver ran down Diane’s spine.

“No. I mean, I beat up a few people, but…”

“Right.”

“…why do you ask?”

Kara’s lips twisted into a mocking smile. “Rule number one. Villains lie.”

“I’m not–“

“I know.”

Diane stared at Kara. Everything about her demeanor was just intensely unnerving. It was so cold. There was no affection in her gaze at all.

“What’s wrong with you? Did Amelia–“

“You left me.”

Diane blinked.

“You left me. With her.” Kara’s voice was slowly rising.

Diane’s brow furrowed. “I was gone for five minutes, Kara. And Amelia wouldn’t hurt–“

“You don’t know that!”

Diane flinched at the sudden yell.

“She could have killed me! She could have done worse than kill me! Did you even think about my safety for one second?” Kara’s voice cracked. “Do you care about me at all?”

Diane swayed at the gut punch, but recovered quickly. “Of course I care about you, how can you even–“

Kara laughed humorlessly, slowly pushing herself to stand up. “Really? I couldn’t tell in-between you passively watching as I was strapped to a fucking torture chair by a homicidal maniac and the many, many times you did what you do best. Which is whatever the fuck you want, regardless of my wishes.”

“You like it when I force–“

“I am not a fucking toy, Diane!” Kara hissed. “And the world is bigger than our bedroom. I know I’m shit at expressing them, but I have feelings, too! When, exactly, has anything in this relationship not gone exactly like you wanted it? When you tied me up and forced a woman’s name from my lips? When you had me begging on my knees for crumbs of your affection?” White hot fury was suffusing every word. “When you made me help you commit crimes?”

“Okay, I’m sorry, Kara, just calm down and we can–“

“I am calm.” And suddenly her voice was perfectly level again, so flat and cold. “I am done.”

“D-done?”

“With you.”

“No,” Diane sputtered. “I forbid it.”

Kara turned away, shadows swirling at her feet. Diane lunged forward, grabbing her wrist, and Kara violently pushed her away.

“Do not touch me!”

Diane stumbled back, blinking rapidly against the tears welling in her eyes. “Kara! Kara, stop, please! I love you!”

Kara froze, mid-teleport. Even the dark mist around her hovered motionlessly in place.

“I love you,” Diane repeated, quietly.

Kara slowly turned her head back to face her and Diane smiled tentatively, encouraged.

“You’re mine.”

Kara reared backed as if she’d slapped her. And then she sneered.

“What does a villain know of love?”

Then she was gone.

Diane sank to her knees.

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


Shade threw himself against a training dummy, kicking and punching and kicking it again until his muscles screamed in agony.

It was his therapy. Couldn’t save a civilian? Train. Had another meaningless one-night-stand, leaving him feeling sick and nauseous? Train. Couldn’t stop thinking about wearing that cute skirt he saw in passing on display in a storefront? Train harder.

He yelled in frustration, bruising his bloody knuckles in a badly aimed hit, and his voice was raw and hoarse and wrong.

Shade was not a woman.

He wasn’t.

He’d had a fucking underwear fetish, that was all.

Shade kicked the dummy again, and then sank to his knees beside it, breathing heavily.

I love you.

She had no right to say that to him. None. She didn’t even know what that meant. They were just words, expertly honed to convince him to stay.

You’re mine.

Had he actually been stupid enough to think he could change her?

He laughed bitterly and was acutely aware of the weight of his breasts rising and falling with each breath. It was her who’d sunk her claws into him, shaping and twisting him to suit her sick desires while he saw things in her that just weren’t there. The way he’d groveled before her…

He’d barely known her two months and he’d already volunteered to go along on a robbery with her. Given time, what would she have turned him into?

He couldn’t recognize the woman staring back at him in the mirror.

She looked so much like Caroline it physically hurt.

“I have failed you,” he rasped.


***


Diane didn’t know how long she just sat there, staring at nothing.

What does a villain know of love?

Nothing, really. As someone born with a heart that was truly terribly broken to the point that it would eventually kill her, she had always scoffed at all these angsty teens whining about broken hearts. They didn’t know heartache. Heartache was not being able to breathe while curling up in a fetal position, thinking that this was the moment she was going to die.

Diane finally understood what they had been talking about.

It hurt.

It hurt a lot.

Different than true physical pain, but pain nonetheless.

Diane decided she didn’t care for the sensation. But she didn’t know what to do about it either. She had never been rejected in her life. Had never put herself in a position where she could be rejected.

Alcohol, said a voice in her head. It emanated from that part of her brain that was widely known for its terrible ideas.

She decided it was a brilliant suggestion.

When Diane pushed open the door to their makeshift kitchen, Amelia was there, glancing up at her entrance. She was sitting at the table and wordlessly slid a glass toward the empty seat in front of her.

“You heard that, huh?” Diane sat down, peering at the orange liquid. Then she experimentally took a sip. Vodka burned in her throat, soothed by the sweet taste of orange juice.

“I have the entire base bugged, so yes.”

There was a long silence as Diane took another sip.

“One of the downsides to being a villain is that no one will ever believe you when you say you are sorry,” Amelia said softly, raising her own glass.

“Are you sorry for bugging our hotel room?”

“I could say yes, but you wouldn’t believe me.”

Diane chuckled bitterly, staring at her glass. “You had no right.”

“I rarely do. That’s what makes us villains, Diane.” Amelia shrugged. “I only did it because I was worried for you. And I was right, as I so often am.” Her dark eyes glistened with a dangerous light. “The hero hurt you.”

Diane said nothing and finished her drink. Then she got up to pour another.

“Why does Shade hate you so much?”

“Heroes like her hate all villains,” she said simply.

She doesn’t hate me.

Or maybe that was didn’t now.

She could have done worse than kill me!

“There has to be more to it than that.” For a brief moment, Shade had sounded scared. Shade hadn’t been scared even when she lay dying in Diane’s arms. Diane had heard of Cinder Snow when she started appearing, seemingly unstoppable, but she didn’t know the details. “Did you meet before?”

“Perhaps. I don’t remember all the flies I swatted away. They came after me in groups.”

Diane returned to the table, sipping from a new glass.

“So you don’t know.”

“I did not say that.” Amelia buffed her fingernails, gazing at them coquettishly. “I can take an educated guess.”

Diane looked at her expectantly, arching an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Heroes are so protective of their own. She is likely angry over what I did to one named PsyKick.”

Diane tilted her head. “What did you do?”

Amelia sighed. “A long story, and a sordid one at that.”

“Tell me.”

The mad scientist swished her drink contemplatively. “I am second generation, you know.”

“Huh?”

“My parents. They were mad scientists before me. They met while trying to steal nuclear missiles for components at the same time. They hit it off. It was all terribly romantic and sappy.”

Amelia started talking slowly, at first, perhaps because she was not familiar with telling her life story to anyone. Diane listened quietly as Amelia leaned back and became more comfortable with every word.

“With parents like them I was always destined for greatness. They taught me everything, giving me a solid understanding of the principles of science by age 3. By age 5 I was studying metaphysics. And by the time I was 8 I was building death rays in our backyard.

“Other children bored me. They were so moronic, barely able to form a coherent thought let alone discuss anything of importance. By the time I was 10 I even started surpassing my own parents.” She smiled grimly. “They didn’t like that. At all. Shocking but true, villains don’t make the most loving caregivers.

“But there was one mind who could keep up with me.

“My sister. Constance.

“She was younger than me, but equally brilliant. Perhaps…” At this thought she looked away, taking a long sip. “Perhaps even more so.

“She also had magic.

“Magic… magic is the universe’s raised middle finger to scientists everywhere. There is no rhyme or reason as to how it works, or who will be born gifted with it.

“Constance was very gifted. Time and space bent to her will.”

Amelia turned up her palm, a blue flame flickering above it. “I gave myself these powers in an effort to keep up with her. It took a few tries and several vats of toxic acid, but I did it. It was still not nearly as impressive as what she could do.

“I loved her, and I hated her.

“…our parents only hated her. They hated magic and they hated that she practiced hers. They favored me.” Her lips curved into a serene smile. “They really should have been nicer to Constance, though. I killed them.

“Their stupidity gave Constance an aversion to the scientific disciplines. She did not want to be like them, so she turned to her magic. I was content to let that happen; this way we weren’t rivals any longer. Still, a genius mind like hers was wasted on magic tricks, or so I thought.

“We came to Paragon, which has one of the few universities to offer Arcane Studies. Constance immersed herself in student life. How she could stand the stupidity of her fellow students I will never understand, but she was happy, and so was I.

“I worked on my inventions and soon enough I was ready. I made my debut as Cinder Snow. And no one could stop me. All learned to fear me.

“Constance had always been very supportive of my efforts to conquer the world. But suddenly she wasn’t. She was uncomfortable with some of the things I did and told me to stop. She said I was turning into our parents.

“That gave me pause.

“What I didn’t know at the time was that Constance had met a man. A fellow student. A hero. She’d deduced his secret identity and somehow – the details are unclear to me and quite frankly, I do not wish to know – they fell in love.

“PsyKick.” She sneered the name like an insult.

“He encouraged her to be a hero, too. Told her that she could rise above her origins. He could never be with a villain, but they could be heroes together.

“He was taking her from me.”

The glass in Amelia’s hand shattered and Diane jumped.

“I could not let that happen. But Constance loved him and wanted to be with him, so I could not just kill him either. I impotently watched as Constance secretly designed herself a hero costume and started partnering up with PsyKick. Chrono Warden, that was the name she chose.

“So I started building a machine that would set things right. I had examined the situation carefully. Constance loved PsyKick. PsyKick was a hero, and would not love a villain. Consequently, Constance was becoming a hero, creating a rift between us.

“So the obvious solution was to make PsyKick a villain. Everyone would be happy.

“PsyKick, as the name implies, had psychic powers; his mental defenses were very strong. It took a lot of effort to break them and reshape him to be my minion.

“The idea was to force him to commit a variety of villainous acts, giving him an overwhelming euphoric response every time he did as I bid him. Constance wanted a happily ever after, so he had to be happy being a villain. Then, once he had a taste of how good life could be, I would remove the need to obey.

“What I didn’t account for was just how horrifying it would be for him to enjoy hurting his former teammates.

“It broke him.

“Constance was so angry. She confronted me in costume, her magic sweeping aside my technological barriers like they were nothing. I didn’t think she would truly hurt me. She loved me. I didn’t realize until too late that, yes, she would.”

Amelia trailed off, seeming lost in memory. Then she turned her gaze toward Diane, eyes shining with emotion.

“I would show you the scars she left, but you took them from me.”

Diane’s mouth was dry, and she licked her lips. “What happened to PsyKick?” she asked in a whisper.

Amelia shrugged. “From what I hear he now compulsively tries to serve any villain he comes across. They keep him locked up in some hospital. His mental defenses are too strong to overcome to fix him.” She got that faraway look in her eyes again, her lips curving into a small smile, voice filled with professional pride. “They do not have tools as good as mine.”

“I see,” Diane somehow choked out.

Amelia gazed at her for a long moment. Then her voice grew silky. “You are not thinking of leaving me, are you?”

Diane forced her lips into her best carefree smile. “Of course not.”

Amelia’s answering smile was so very, very cold.

“Good.”

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


Shade woke up aching and panting.

One hand was on his breast, squeezing, while the other was between his legs, slim fingers wrapped around his stiff cock. He shuddered at the sensation. His entire body was burning, every inch of skin sizzling with heat, responding to the slightest touch. It was different. He had never felt anything like this before; arousal used to be concentrated just in his groin and now it was everywhere, clawing at his insides with need.

His insides.

There was an ache there, something hollow, something begging to be filled.

Penetration, he realized dimly, some part of him with delight, the other with horror. This body was craving penetration.

He moaned, his mind filling with images of Diane and her wonderfully skilled fingers. She would tease him while he moaned and writhed, as was her way, taking a long time to get him worked up until he was an incoherent mess. And then she would push her fingers into his slick pussy, and he would be so wet for her…

Kara came harder than he ever had in his life.

And then the shame hit him. He let go off his – still hard – dick, squeezing his eyes shut. Letting go off his breasts was even harder.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. For all that he was done with her, his brain and body conspired against him, constantly throwing images of her at him.

He hated her for that.

But not nearly as much as he hated himself for missing her.


***


In the cold shower he noticed that his dick was smaller than it had been yesterday. He wasn’t about to take out a ruler, but he was fairly certain it was at least an inch.

He gritted his teeth. He’d hoped staying away from her would halt the transformation until he figured out what to do, but apparently it was well underway, with or without her.


***


Shade stood atop a rooftop, gazing down at the villain currently ineptly trying to rampage.

Fusion Flare, Threat Level 3.

Unlike Dionaea, that low rating did not stem from being new. No, Fusion had a long and well-established history of failing epically at just about everything he set out to do.

If Shade couldn’t defeat him, he might as well throw himself off a cliff now.

Shade wasn’t wearing much in ways of costume. In fact, he was wearing his normal, overtly large yet too tight civilian clothes; the only part that made it a costume was that he was also wearing his black domino mask.

He could have gotten something better fitting, but the thought of shopping for his new female body made him slightly nauseous. Perhaps tomorrow, but he couldn’t face it today. He wasn’t even wearing a bra – the ones he owned were too small, and not fit for physical exertion anyway. Instead, he’d gone to his medicine cabinet and bandaged his chest, binding his breasts as tightly as possible. It had taken a few tries before it felt remotely comfortable.

Newbie heroes often didn’t have the means to create a costume by themselves, so it was not unusual to see them in civilian clothes early in their career. Hell, some less traditional heroes eschewed capes entirely. Shade would just pretend to be one of them.

He silently dropped from the roof, acrobatically leaping from wall to wall until he landed in the alley with a low crouch, perfectly balanced.

There would be no teleporting. His shadows were too distinctive.

He’d have to rely entirely on his skill. And this weak, weak body of his.

Shade adjusted the metal bracelets on his wrists. Hidden blades. Proper steel ones. His plasma blades were likewise too well-known.

Invisible, he slipped through the shadows until he was in earshot of Fusion. Then he dropped his shadows. He wanted this to be a battle, not a one-hit-KO from sneak attack.

“…yes, just fill the bags and nobody has to get hur– holy shit, where did you come from?”

Shade did not answer. He just lunged.

He crouched low, sweeping his leg to trip Fusion. The brightly costumed man yelled, flailing his arms wildly. There was the low hum of an energy beam being charged, and then a bright blue ray shot from his palms, arcing in a cone-form in Shade’s general direction.

Shade dodged. Easily.

And then his foot connected with the villain’s ribcage, and a very satisfying crack filled the air.

It was over before it had truly begun.

And Shade smiled.

True, defeating Fusion Flare was like winning a medal in a race where they were handed out like candy for participation, but it soothed his grievously wounded pride anyway.

So of course the universe couldn’t let him have his moment.

“Impressive!” bellowed a booming voice. It was an octave lower than Shade was used to hearing it.

Oh no.

The Captain was striding toward him with a big smile.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. It’s always good to see a new generation of heroes rise. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Captain Patriot.” He preened, puffing his chest in Heroic Pose Number Two.

Even in a new body, was he forever doomed to attracting the idiot’s attention?

“Just doing my job,” Shade mumbled under his breath and turned away, quickly striding away to the alley, away from the crowd that had gathered. The Captain trailed after him, once again living up to Shade’s image of him as an overeager puppy.

“What’s your name?”

Shade didn’t answer.

“Ms.?”

Shade swayed a little, breaking his stride at being addressed as a woman. No. That was not happiness bubbling up inside of him.

“Haven’t chosen a name,” he said quickly, just to get the Captain off his back.

“Oh, so you are new!”

And then big strong arms came down on his shoulders, the Captain squeezing him to his side.

Why did the universe hate him? Why? He didn’t deserve the shit he had to put up with.

“Well, let me tell you, you have chosen a wonderful and deeply fulfilling career. I’ve trained many new heroes, you know.” And then he looked at Shade in what could only be described as a smolder.

Shade froze.

No.

“Of course, not many new heroes look as gorgeous as you, if you don’t mind me saying.” And then his gaze briefly dropped to Shade’s generous new endowment.

Silence reigned.

There were no words.

Nothing in life had prepared Shade for this. Nothing.

“So, how about I buy you a drink and share some tips and tricks of the trade?”

“I used to be a guy!” He blurted it out before he knew what he was saying; he just really wanted the Captain to shut up.

The hero blinked, taken aback.

“Oh.”

There was a beat of silence, and he could see the wheels behind his eyes turning as the Captain slowly processed this new information.

“So you’re trying to tell me you’d rather go out for a beer then?”

Shade closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Inner Peace. “…you’re an idiot,” he said with almost fond exasperation. It was a sentiment he found himself voicing a lot when in close proximity to him.

At that, the Captain reared back, eyes wide, his lips parting.

“Shade?!”

Ah. So his day could get worse.

He should have just gone invisible as soon as the Captain had appeared. Or better yet, he should never have gone out in public. It was too late now; if he disappeared in his signature swirl of shadows, that would just confirm his identity.

“…no?” he tried feebly.

“Holy shit, that is you!”

Shade miserably folded his arms in front of his chest, as if that could hide his cleavage. His cheeks were burning and even though he was covered from head to toe, he felt exposed and vulnerable.

“Bro, what happened?” The Captain was still staring at him in slack-jawed bewilderment.

“…magical accident,” Shade answered, giving a small, helpless shrug as if that explained everything.

The Captain recovered some of his composure, closing his mouth. “Fucking magic users, man,” he said with a sympathetic nod. His eyes were still wide, though.

Awkward silence.

“So…” The Captain cleared his throat. “Do you want to get that drink?”

“I am going to murder you,” Shade said flatly, taking a menacing step toward him.

The Captain stumbled back, shaking his head fervently. “I meant a drink! Alcohol! As in, totally platonic drinking buddies!” He swallowed. “If I was in your situation I would really want one.”


***


Shade peered into his almost empty glass and decided that drinking with the Captain wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It turned out he was actually a lot more tolerable if viewed through the pleasant buzz of slight inebriation.

“So then I said to Amethyst ‘Did you know my superstrength comes with superstamina?’ but she just gave me that look. I mean, death ray eyes aren’t one of her confirmed powers, but at that moment I could have sworn otherwise.” The Captain sighed. “She’s so uptight, man.”

“She’s had a rough year,” Shade mumbled into his glass.

“Yeah, I know! So you’d think she’d be up for some loving to cheer her up, but no.” The bartender deposited two fresh pints of beer in front of them, and the Captain took a long gulp. “I’m never gonna tap that at this rate.”

“So go find someone else,” Shade said, and winced when he realized that subtly slurring his new husky voice made him sound like a sultry sex goddess. Alcohol. He needed more alcohol.

“Yeah, but…” The Captain didn’t seem to have noticed, gesturing vaguely. “Amethyst, man. Have you seen her lately? She really needs someone to cheer her up.”

“Holy shit, you like her,” Shade blurted out, amazed.

“Dude, I’ve been telling you that for ages! Were you even listening?”

“…right. Sorry.” Pause. “You know that you can’t solve her problems with your dick, right?”

“Well, what else can I do, bro? There’s no one I can beat up for her, and you know what it’s like not being good with words and shit.”


***


“So, dude, can I touch them?”

“No.”

“Aw. Come on!”

“No.”

“At least tell me what they’re like.”

“They’re heavy. They throw off my balance. And they never stop jiggling.”

“…could you bounce up and down a bit?”


***


“Dude. Bro. You’re awesome. You know that, right?” The Captain’s voice was barely intelligible, but spoken with such intensity that it commanded attention.

“You shouldn’t call me that,” came Shade’s equally slurred voice.

“What?”

“Bro.” He squinted into his glass, and then gestured to his rack. “I’m not a bro anymore.”

The Captain gesticulated wildly. “Oh, bullshit. You’re my friend, and that makes you my bro.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Bro-ette. Sorry for hitting on you, by the way.”

“I haven’t been a very good friend to you, though.”

“ ’sokay.” He smiled a drunken smile.

“I’m not Arrow, you know.”

“Huh?”

“I’m never gonna be Arrow 2.0.”

The furrow in the Captain’s brow deepened. Then he guffawed. “Shit, man, is that why you’ve been so cold to me all this time?”

Shade peered at the Captain, wishing he’d stop spinning already.

“Dude. No offense, but you are not a special snowflake. If I wanted a dark, brooding vigilante as a sidekick, I have, like, dozens to choose from.”

“Oh.” Squint. “So why?”

“Why what?”

“Why have you been trying to friend me for five years?”

The Captain was gazing at him like he didn’t understand the question. Which was entirely possible. Shade contemplated repeating it, slower and louder.

“Cause I think you’re a pretty cool guy? Gal. Whatever.”

“Oh.” Shade wasn’t sure how to respond to that. The Captain was still peering at him funny.

“Can you really not understand why someone would want to be friends with you?”

Shade found a spot on the bar counter that was suddenly highly fascinating and required close scrutiny.

“All right,” the Captain drawled, and then waved at the bartender. “Another round!”


***


“Women, man.” Shade rested his cheek on the nice cool counter, his mind filled with images of Diane. “Women.”

The Captain nodded sympathetically. “I know, bro. I know.”

He held out his fist.

After a moment’s hesitation, Shade tentatively and awkwardly reached out to bump it.


***


“So this thing…” The Captain gestured to Shade’s tits, then seemed to get entranced by the sight, trailing off. Shade snapped his fingers in front of his face to get his attention. “Oh! Yeah. Is it reversible?”

Shade closed his eyes. “…probably not.” How did one undo healing?

“Sucks.” He seemed to be straining to find something uplifting to say. “But at least you make a really hot chick!”

“Not helping.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Shade stared morosely into his glass. “This body is weak. I can’t fight anyone like this. My whole life, just… gone.”

The Captain sat up straighter, frowning. “Huh? Why?”

“I almost died because I didn’t realize how weak I was.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“But I rely on my strength!” he insisted.

“Dude.” The Captain was giving him the side-eye again. “You’ve always been weak.”

Silence.

“I have sharp pointy objects strapped to my wrist.”

The Captain nodded. “You do. And I have no doubt you could hurt me with them. Which is the point. Seriously, man, I have superstrength. Man, woman, you guys are all weak from my perspective. And yet you’ve been fighting people like me for years and never worried about the strength difference.” He raised his glass in what might have meant to resemble a toast, spilling half the liquid. “You have skill, and that hasn’t gone away. You just, you know, need to get used to…” He gestured to his breasts again. “…all this.”

Shade snorted, but said nothing.

There was a long uncomfortable pause, until the Captain cleared his throat, clearly intent on changing the subject. “I wonder how the shippers will react to this. They’ll probably have a field day.”

Shade slowly raised his head. “Shippers?”

“Yeah, you know. It’s gonna mess up their slashfics.”

“…slashfic?”

There was a sudden gleam in the Captain’s eyes. “Oooh. You don’t know about the slashfics, do you?” His lips curved into a gleeful grin that reminded Shade of Diane. Which really should have been his cue to run away.

The Captain pulled out a smartphone from the depths of his costume – where does he keep pockets? Shade’s drunken mind complained – and tapped it wildly, shushing Shade when he tried to speak.

Then he slid the phone to Shade over the counter, looking like a kid for whom Christmas had come early. Shade picked it up with a sinking feeling, concentrating hard on the words displayed on the screen. After a few moments they stopped spinning, arranging themselves in a more or less orderly manner.


“oh baby” shade maoned, lifting his ass up in the air and putting his moist anal caverns of wonder on display for his one true love “im so ready for you. take me! take me hard!”

captain patriot stands beside him naked, his glistening manhood proud and erect.

“take my anal virginity! i give it to you as a gift!”


Shade calmly put the phone back on the counter. Then he slid it back to the Captain.

There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the small, throaty whimpers of the Captain trying to hold back his laughter.

“If your glistening manhood comes anywhere near my anal caverns of wonder, I will cut it off.”

The Captain slipped from his barstool and hit the floor.

He did not stop laughing for quite some time.

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


Shade opened his eyes, waking from dreamless sleep.

He angled his head up, slowly, expecting the punishing blow of a vicious hangover. It never came. He laid his head back on the pillow, blinking in confusion.

His mind was surprisingly clear.

Diane, whispered a voice in his head.

He remembered her healing powers lingering outside her presence the more he’d been exposed to them. Did that cover hangovers? Apparently.

Shade had been exposed a lot.

He raised his hands, turning them over and inspecting them. Not even 48 hours ago he’d beaten his knuckles into a raw bloody mess during training. Now the skin was smooth and beautiful again. He flexed his fingers, admiring how long and slender they were.

Graceful.

Kara had graceful hands. They were dainty and delicate, yet she knew they were also incredibly strong. She’d broken several training dummies in her blind rage.

You have always been weak.

The Captain’s words echoed in her mind. It had hurt to hear them, but she couldn’t really deny the truth of the statement. Shade was one of the weakest heroes in the city.

Shade was also one of the ones criminals feared most.

Skill and dedication had to count for something, didn’t they?

Perhaps she had… overreacted. A little.

She hadn’t been able to finish her training regimen, but she’d gotten really close before collapsing. Most normal people – most men would have given up long before she had. How many men could do a hundred push-ups in a row anyway?

There were many female heroes with low-key powers, or even none at all. And they were good. There was Eagle Eye, the archer, or Cazadora, the other archer, or Quiver, the other other archer, (why these people wouldn’t pick up a gun was beyond Shade) or Ghost Current, the hacker, or Condor, who was one of the most brutal fighters Shade knew.

Kara realized her thoughts were skirting dangerously close to acceptance and he frowned.

He was not okay with what Diane had done to him.

Was she?

No, definitely not.

Kara rolled out of bed, then frowned down at himself, realizing something was missing. He was still wearing his clothes from last night, having just collapsed on his bed without taking them off after teleporting home from the bar.

He was also lacking his customary morning erection.

Kara made a face, not really sure how he felt about that. They had been so fucking annoying, but it was just one more reminder of how much Diane’s power still had a grip on him.

He stumbled out of his bedroom to start the long trek toward the kitchen, only to freeze when he heard snoring. Kara tiptoed to the guest bedroom, which was where the sound was coming from.

The Captain was sprawled on the bed, mouth hanging wide open and making an ungodly racket.

Kara pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d teleported both of them to his home when the Captain had tried flying away, only to promptly crash into a nearby lamppost.

Shade had successfully kept his civilian identity a secret for many years, even from other heroes, and now he’d casually revealed it to two people in the span of three days. Two people that, if someone had told him about it a few months ago, he’d have picked as the kind of people he least wanted in his life.

But then, they also had revealed theirs. The Captain’s name was David. Shade had dumbly replied with Kara. The Captain had given him one of his long looks that, in retrospect, kind of made Shade feel like maybe the Captain was way smarter than he gave him credit for.

But then he’d smiled his big dumb smile, saying that he was pleased to make your acquaintance, M’lady. Shade had punched him. David had laughed.

Kara leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, letting his gaze linger on the man’s sleeping form.

The changes to his – her – body were happening, whether she liked it or not. It would not do to ignore them. Better to be aware of each and every one, so she wouldn’t get blindsided.

He supposed the Captain was… handsome. His fixation on Amethyst notwithstanding, there was a reason he generally had no trouble finding heroines willing to overlook his personality. He was tall and had the muscular build that many male heroes had. Bulkier than Shade’s had been, but not unattractively so.

Kara felt nothing.

Just to make sure she hadn’t entered some sort of asexual twilight zone, Kara started picturing breasts. And curves. And long blond hair. Beautiful red eyes.

Her cock stirred and warmth pooled in her belly.

So she was gay now, apparently.

She was okay with that.

If this whole thing had ended with her falling madly in love with Captain Dudebro, Kara would probably have committed Seppuku.


***


Kara’s mind was far away as she absently prepared breakfast, cutting up lettuce. She’d always favored healthy food to keep her body in shape, though she supposed the Captain might object to being served rabbit food, as her old male friends in High School used to call it. Well, there was a reason Kara had never mourned them drifting apart.

Still, maybe she should prepare him something extra…

Kara flushed as she realized that her thoughts were downright domestic, which was not an adjective she ever wanted to be used on her. He would eat what she deigned to give him and if he didn’t, then she would threaten him with knives until he did. She attacked the remains of the lettuce with downright viciousness, artfully twirling the blade in a way that only came with being secretly trained by ninjas.

Kara didn’t know what to do about her civilian identity. It had taken David all of five minutes to recognize her as Shade, and if she kept working as a hero – which she definitely wanted to do; it was her life – others were bound to discover as well. Especially since she couldn’t avoid teleporting forever.

Everyone would know that Shade had turned into a woman. It’d probably be in headlines. The exact timeframe would be common knowledge, too.

So if Ian Reynolds suddenly transitioned into Kara Reynolds at the same time, what then? Paragon’s citizens were somewhat oblivious, yes, but nobody was dumb enough not to draw the obvious conclusion.

She could make her identity public, as some heroes did.

But it wouldn’t be on her terms.

Kara hated how many choices were taken from her these days.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, sucking her finger. She’d cut herself in her efforts to utterly maul the lettuce. Kara really was a complete fucking mess; she could normally juggle blades in her sleep.

She brushed the small drops of blood away and her eyes widened when the wound closed before her eyes, skin knitting together to form a crust almost instantly. A few minutes later the skin was smooth again.

Kara felt her knees grow weak.


***


“’sup, bro?”

“Morning!”

David winced, covering his ears. “Christ. How are you so fucking perky, Shade? This hangover is killing me.”

Kara smirked triumphantly.

“I have a healing factor!”


***


The Captain was not happy with his hangover, moaning all the way through breakfast.

Kara rather enjoyed being the one to annoy him for a change. Sweet, sweet vengeance.


***


They said goodbye with an awkward yet strangely sincere fistbump.


***


Kara forced herself to walk into the women’s department, swallowing heavily at the selection laid out in front of her. Panties. Bras. Skirts.

She could wear it all now and nobody would judge her for it.

Her hands were shaking slightly as she brushed the silky material of a blue skirt. It was so pretty. It would match her eyes. No, no, no, Kara was male, he didn’t want any of this. He snapped his hand back as if it had been burned and headed toward the sports bras, and then selected only unisex clothing, trying to get this over with as quick as possible.

Kara had to pay in cash, glad that she kept a sizable supply in her safe. All her credit cards said Ian. Yet another problem – how would she even change her paperwork now if she couldn’t prove who she was? Nobody would just hand out a fortune like hers to any stranger who might claim it.

Hell, her board of directors might even use the opportunity to wrench away her majority share. She shivered at that thought.


***


Kara was lying in bed, moonlight casting grotesque shadows on the walls of her bedroom.

She was looking down at her elegant hands again. Well, one of her hands. The hand that was busy tracing the outline of her areola, puckering the sensitive pink skin. Kara loved that sensation, and couldn’t help but go for it again and again.

Her cock was hard and throbbing, but she ignored it. She didn’t really want to touch that thing anymore, even as her breathing quickened and she kept thrusting her hips against the sheets. Instead she squeezed the soft flesh on her chest, kneading and cupping, and fuck, that felt so good.

Diane came to mind, unbidden, as she so often did. Her eyes. Her hair. Her perfectly shaped body, all long legs and supple curves. Her laugh. Her smile.

Diane had made her weak.

Diane had given her a healing factor.

Diane was a villain.

Diane was a healer.

Diane was friends with a monster.

Diane had made friends with a hero who really needed one.

Diane didn’t know how to love.

Diane had said she loved Kara.

Diane.

Kara groaned in misery, squeezing her eyes shut.

There was only one woman Kara had ever loved. He’d been young and new to being a hero, filled with rage and purpose. Dazzling Dawn had been, too. They had been kindred, so very much alike.

He’d loved her so much he’d told her his secret, stammering a shame-faced confession.

There had been revulsion in her eyes. Their relationship had not lasted much longer after that. Kara had been heartbroken, and did his best to hide his perversion from all the women he’d dated since.

Dawn’s powers were sun-based. So were Diane’s, he realized with a start. One had been chaste and virginal. The other had made no secret of her vast experience, seeming proud of it. One had a strict moral code that matched his own. The other had a moral code that resembled an Escher painting.

One was Good.

One was Evil.

And only one had taken Kara in her arms and accepted him in all his fucked-up glory.


***


Kara slept.

She dreamed of the Executioner, impaling Diane on his Katana.

She dreamed of the pure gut-wrenching agony of thinking Diane might be dead.

She dreamed of despair.

You have to ask yourself why the thought of being forever deprived of my lovely company makes you sad.

Kara woke up drenched in sweat, breathing heavily.

She’d forgotten.

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


Kara didn’t recognize the woman who gazed at her in the mirror.

She reached out, her fingertips trailing along the smooth surface, touching the woman’s fingertips with her own.

Who are you?

She was Kara. She was Shade. She had been Ian.

Kara didn’t know if she ever wanted to be Ian again.

Ian had been a deeply unhappy man.

Then he’d met Diane.

And Diane had changed him. Ian had fought the changes every step of the way, even as she made him happier than he’d ever been in his life. And he was starting to wonder if that had been the right thing to do.

There was the chance that he would be changed into something he never wanted to be. A villain. A slave to her whims. She had such power over him that there was little doubt in his mind that, given time, she could.

But would she?

Diane was like sunshine piercing through the shadows. It hurt, blinding him. It illuminated things that were meant to stay hidden. Once seen, Ian could never again pretend they weren’t there.

Yet sunshine was so warm.


***


Kara had no way to contact Diane.

She stared at the little earbud in her hand, rolling it between her fingertips. Diane had always been the one to reach out. When she beckoned, Kara followed. Gladly.

Kara looked up, gazing around the opulent hotel room. It was their little haven where Kara had just forgotten about the outside world, fully giving herself to Diane. Neither Shade nor Dionaea had really existed in here… for a while. Until their house of cards had fallen apart. Their happiness had never been built to last. That had been unspoken – a quiet understanding that this would be temporary until they tired of each other. Kara could indulge her secret desires and Diane could… she’d never really understood what Diane had seen in her.

I love you.

There had been moments Kara had never wanted to end.

And somewhere along the way, she’d begun to wish that what they had would never have to end either.

You’re mine.

Diane was deeply, deeply flawed. She had done her wrong. But who was Kara to demand perfection? She was so supremely fucked up she couldn’t even fathom why someone would like her.

Diane liked her.

And she liked Diane.

And maybe that was fucked up, too, but Kara thought that maybe two broken people could reach out and heal each other.

I’m yours. With shaking fingers she reached up and inserted the earbud, hoping to hear a familiar voice on the other end.


***


Kara was lying on the bed she and Diane had shared, an arm draped over her eyes.

It had been hours.

All she heard on the frequency was the occasional police transmission, calling for heroes. The latest had been a villain spotted at a hospital which was being evacuated, thought to have a child hostage. That had almost motivated Shade to get up, but she decided against it. The city was filled with heroes. She could take one day off to try to salvage her personal happiness.

She rolled over, weighing her options. Just lying here and waiting for some sign of Diane struck Kara as… a little pathetic. She didn’t like inaction, she wanted to do something, fix this.

What if Diane was done with her, too?

Her face flashed before Kara’s eyes, replaying the moment when she’d spat her declaration of love back at her. Diane had looked devastated.

Diane might never hack into Shade’s frequency again.

So what?

It was time for Kara to stop letting this relationship just happen to her. Now she had to be the one taking action and pursuing Diane instead of the other way around.

Shade was a hero. She was very, very good at hunting down villains.

And she knew exactly where this villain’s lair was.


***


Shadows swirled as Shade materialized.

She immediately found herself facing several dozen turrets, a death ray and what looked like a rabid bunny on a leash.

“I really do wonder, sometimes, how exactly the rest of the world manages to function when it is made of imbeciles. How do you even walk when you are stupid enough to come here?”

Shade raised her head and glared at Cinder Snow.

“Where is she?”

“Is that squinting thing you do meant to be threatening?” The rabid bunny growled and snapped as if to accentuate her words. “Hush, Sir Fluffington. You’ll get your chance to maul her.”

“Why hasn’t it yet?”

And there it was. Cinder Snow paused, briefly. “Because the mess is just terrible to clean up. All that blood.”

“You know, I’m very good at telling when villains are lying to me.” Shade took a step forward, projecting far more self-confidence than she truly felt. The gun barrels followed her movements, but didn’t fire. “You had your chance to kill me. You didn’t take it, opting for a lie instead. A blatant lie.”

A muscle in Cinder Snow’s jaw ticked.

“A lie designed to keep me away from Diane.”

Another step and Shade was close enough to have to look down at her. Thank you, full height. She really hoped she’d get to keep it; it was so much harder to be intimidating when one was short.

“Diane would hate you if you killed me.”

And Cinder Snow, perfect 10, destroyer of Shiva bay, flinched.

“Prove me wrong.”

Shade casually stepped past the villainess, looking around for signs of Diane.

There was a long, tense moment of silence as Shade listened for the telltale sound of a laser beam being charged, poised to teleport away.

“She’s not here,” Cinder Snow said in a perfectly modulated voice. “Now leave my lair. Your presence pollutes it.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know.” Snow’s voice broke slightly. “She left.”

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


Diane adjusted her sunglasses, striding through the crowd of people like she belonged in public, and not sequestered away in some villain lair plotting to take over the world or something equally tedious.

She was even wearing clothes, today; slacks and a dark shirt. More skin of her body was covered than not. It was a very strange feeling.

First, she had just been numb.

Then she had cried for an entire day. The whole day. Ugly crying, with incoherent wails and gross amounts of bodily fluid. This wasn’t because she really truly couldn’t stop sobbing, but because it was what people in movies did when they were broken up with, and she thought she’d give it a try.

It had been sort of… cathartic.

But she also couldn’t really say she liked it. No, as she lay curled up in the fetal position – in the sun, naked, because Diane was a multitasker – she realized that moping just wasn’t her style. She was Dionaea. If life refused to give her happiness, then she dragged life into a dark alley, beat it up and stole it.

The day after that she had walked out of Amelia’s lair as if going for one of her heists. Amelia had watched her with hooded eyes and pursed lips. Diane hadn’t gone back since.

Diane had her life neatly sorted into what she wanted, obstacles she had to overcome to get to the former, and tools at her disposals with which she could crush the latter.

What did Diane want? Kara. She wanted Kara so badly.

What obstacles stood in her way?

Diane shivered.

Amelia. She hadn’t realized the extent of her insanity. Diane had always just rationalized her callous disregard for the safety of her test subjects as quirky.

Was that what Kara had seen when she’d first laid eyes on Diane? A monster like that? Or perhaps she’d seen the man in silver who’d so casually run her through.

Diane didn’t want to be like them.

She wanted…

She wanted to be the kind of person Kara would love.

What tools were at her disposal?

Diane raised her head and gazed at the entrance of the Talos Hospital.


***


This was a terrible idea.

Diane stumbled, her knees weak, and her back hit the wall of the long hallway. She slowly slid along it until she was sitting, drawing her knees up to her chest.

Diane hated hospital. Hated, hated, hated them.

Nausea rolled in her belly and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to pass.

The smell. She’d forgotten the smell. A thousand memories crashed over her, of having needles shoved into her arms, of the humiliation of her legs not even carrying her to the bathroom anymore, of the endless days of staring out the window, knowing she was going to die in here.

I don’t want to die.

Please, I don’t want to die.

“You have flowers in your hair.”

Diane grew still, then slowly raised her head. The high-pitched voice belonged to a tiny face frowning at her, just slightly above her eye level. She couldn’t tell if the child was a boy or girl; it was wearing one of those unflattering hospital gowns. It was also bald.

A small hand reached out and grabbed the largest petal, tugging at it. Diane winced.

“Ow.”

The child gasped, then grinned with delight at the realization that the petals were truly part of her. Then he – she’d just go with he for now; he had that mischievous smile of little boys – tugged harder.

“Stop it,” she snapped.

His face fell. And then his eyes grew large and pitiful. “I’m sick, you know.”

Diane looked at him dubiously.

“Very sick.” He reached for her petals again.

Amateur.

“That is the most pathetic acting I have ever seen. I’ll never let you touch my hair again if you keep carrying on like this.”

He froze. Then the pitiful look vanished and he dropped his hand. “But it works most of the time.”

“On idiots.” She sighed and shook her luscious head of hair. “You can’t just come right out and say that you’re sick. You have to make them feel clever for figuring out just how absolutely dire your situation is. Try random shivers.” She bit her lower lip and made it tremble. “Like this.”

Yes, as a child Diane had taken every hospital visitor for all the candy they were worth. She had walked up to complete strangers, gazed up at them with wide, innocent eyes and whined a little about the pain.

This kid clearly needed her help to fulfill his potential.

The boy seemed to be weighing her advice. Then he sniffed and whimpered.

Diane sighed. “You’re not looking precocious enough. Try harder.”


***


“Your eyes are wicked cool!”

“I know,” she said smugly.

“How do you get eyes like that?”

“By eating your vegetables.”


***


She watched him approach an elderly couple, dragging his feet as if he could barely stand. They cooed over him and he raised a shaking hand to point at the vending machine.

As soon as the couple was out of sight he ran to her, grinning gleefully, clutching several chocolate bars.

“You are learning, young one. Now let me tell you about the secret and ancient art of crying on demand.”


***


Perhaps hospitals weren’t the worst places in the world. Or at least Diane could make them that way.


***


Diane furtively glanced around. Their little hallway was empty. In fact, it had been deserted for quite some time. Hm. Still, it gave her the opportunity she needed.

“So where are you sick?”

He grimaced, lips still smeared with chocolate. Then he pointed to the back of his head.

She smiled reassuringly and laid her palm on his neck. “This might feel a little weird.” The crimson glow enveloped her fingers and she gently moved her hand higher.

He frowned and squirmed. “That tickles!”

“Just hold still and I’ll be done in a seco– “

“Step away from the child!”

The voice was a low, hateful hiss. Diane turned her head.

A heroine. She looked vaguely familiar, though Diane couldn’t quite place her. Red hair. White costume with a purple starburst on her chest. Miniskirt and knee high boots.

Diane really needed to learn to keep her sunglasses on. People calling the cops on her was getting beyond annoying. At least it explained why the hallways were so empty now – they’d evacuated because of the big, bad villain in their midst. Kind of flattering, really, to be judged that high a threat.

She sighed, and pushed one last pulse of healing into the kid before lowering her hand. She casually crossed her arms behind her head, hiding her thorns from view as they dug into the skin of her arms, drawing blood.

“Run along now, kid, the mean lady is here to arrest me for the crime of existing while fabulous.”

The heroine took a menacing step forward. The boy was looking between the two of them, confused. “Shoo,” Diane added, and laced her voice with a hint of venom to get him out of the line of fire. “I don’t want you around anymore.”

He drew back, hurt, then ran past the heroine, presumably into the arms of the cops cowering just around the corner as backup.

Said heroine was watching her with narrow eyes. “How low to go after children. What did you do to him?”

Blood dripped down her arms to the floor. Vines silently started writhing behind the red-haired woman, growing in size with every passing moment. Diane splayed her fingers, then raised her arms above her head in the universal I’m unarmed gesture. “Look, this is a misunderstanding. I wasn’t trying to harm hi–“

“Liar,” snapped the heroine. There was a manic gleam in her eyes that Diane found disquieting.

“Right. I’m not going to get a reasonable conversation out of you, am I?”

“You will get jail time out of me.” Her eyes glittered and an invisible pulse swept down the hallway. It made the hair on Diane’s neck stand up. “At best.” Then she raised her arm. When it came down the walls were torn away in a flash of purple light.

Diane yelped, barely able to evade. Just inches from her feet the floor was torn open, revealing the bustling metropolis outside the skyscraper. Diane tried very hard not to think about how high up they were.

Okay, civil discourse was over; it was time for her vines. Except they weren’t moving. And no matter how frantically she tried, she couldn’t get them to lash out. Diane could still feel them, like an extension of herself, but they were lying dormant behind the grimly smiling heroine.

And then Diane recognized her, and realized what her power was.

This was the heroine who had snapped a villain’s neck.

A villain like her.

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


Kara paced the length of their hotel room, agitated.

Diane had left Cinder Snow.

She’d left the villainous sociopath.

For Kara?

Her gaze darted from the bed to the many bags of clothing strewn about the room. Diane had such excellent taste, carefully selecting items that made Kara look beautiful even when her body had still been all wrong. She wondered how much time Diane must have spent on finding such things for her.

Her frequency remained so infuriatingly silent, even as the need to talk to her was growing unbearable.

The muffled sound of an explosion reached her ear. Kara cocked her head, then strode to the window, brushing aside the curtain to peer into the approximate direction of the noise.

There was smoke rising from the nearby Talos Hospital. Kara could see news helicopters circling the tall building.

It had to be a slow news day; those rarely got dispatched for a single villain. Then again… Kara remembered the police transmission she’d caught. Child hostage. The citizens of Paragon were a rather apathetic lot, but even they could get themselves to give a damn when children were in danger.

Maybe Shade should go help. It beat brooding in a hotel room. Plus, she could keep her earpiece on the entire time, so it wasn’t like she’d miss a message from Diane. Then again, those cameras… she didn’t exactly feel ready to make her debut in public.

She turned away from the window and picked up the remote for the flat screen TV on the wall, flipping through the channels until she found the one streaming the live feed from the hospital.

What she saw took her breath away.


***


Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

Diane’s leg was bleeding, and it wasn’t healing, trapped under rubble. She couldn’t even try to put all her strength into freeing herself – if she struggled too hard there was a good chance she might slip and fall. The psychotic heroine had torn away even more parts of the floor with her energy blasts.

There was a news helicopter hovering not far from her, filming her desperate struggle through the broken walls as Amethyst closed in. Fuckers. She raised her middle finger toward the camera. She hoped they got hit by one of the purple blasts which Amethyst was flinging far too recklessly.

“Are you done running?”

“No, just thought I’d lie down for a bit. Nice view. Very picturesque.”

Amethyst’s lips curled into a sneer, and her palm glowed dangerously. “You know,” she drawled, walking toward her with deliberately slow steps. “I think it’s villains like you that I hate the most. The ones who try to be funny while they ruin lives.”

“Don’t have to try to be funny. It just comes naturally.”

“True.” She raised her hand, aiming at Diane point blank. “This is, after all, rather laughable.” Diane’s eyes widened in fear as the purple glow hummed while it grew in intensity, about to discharge–

Shade appeared behind Amethyst, a combat boot ramming into her side in a roundhouse kick. The heroine yelled in startled pain and stumbled, clutching her dislocated shoulder.

Diane’s gaze met beautiful blue eyes, hidden behind a domino mask, and suddenly it was not fear that made her heart beat painfully against her chest.


***


Kara could barely hear anything over the adrenaline rush, her heartbeat painfully loud in her ears.

Too late. She had almost been too late.

Amethyst slowly pushed herself back on her feet, glaring at Shade, lips pulled back over her teeth in a hateful sneer. Shade had never seen her look like that.

“I have no idea where you came from, but you are going to pay for that.”

Shade straightened her back and purposefully put herself between the villain and the hero. Siding with the villain. Some part of her was howling at this impossible situation, but Shade wasn’t listening. She didn’t know why Diane was here, though there was a niggling suspicion in the back of her mind which she ruthlessly stamped on in case it was false hope. She didn’t know what had started the fight. But it didn’t matter. Right or wrong, she would always take Diane’s side.

Here I stand. I can stand nowhere else.

“Amethyst, be reasonable,” she said slowly, even though she wanted nothing more than to lunge at the woman who had hurt Diane. Amethyst was, after all, her friend. Or something like it. A friend that could have been, though she doubted that their budding friendship would survive this. “Just arrest her; there is no need for such violence.”

The heroine narrowed her eyes. There was no recognition in them. She let go off the arm hanging at an odd angle. And then she attacked, three narrow beams of purple light arcing upward.

Shade dropped to the floor, dodging them narrowly. They hit the wall just above Diane, sending even more debris falling. At that, Diane renewed her efforts to free herself. Good. Shade couldn’t teleport her while she was enveloped by a solid structure, much like she herself had never been able to teleport out of the vines.

Now she just needed to buy time to get them both out of here.

Shade gazed at Amethyst, reviewing what she knew of her powers and fighting style. From what she understood Amethyst created a link between her and her target which syphoned their power to her. She could only create one such link, though Shade had heard rumors that she’d once managed to create two while sufficiently enraged.

Her effectiveness in battle was directly proportional to how many enemies she faced. She was almost utterly unbeatable in a one on one fight for obvious reasons; she was also quite valuable in team fights, able to neutralize the strongest opponent instantly. It was when she engaged multiple enemies alone that she quickly lost effectiveness.

So Shade had to make sure she kept her link on Diane. If she realized Shade could teleport, she could cut off her escape plan.

Which meant Shade had to fight without powers.

“Missed,” she said in a low, mocking voice, and broke into a sprint.

Amethyst let out a strangled noise of fury, and fired another volley of weak but numerous blasts, cracking the walls wherever they hit. Shade dodged them all, acrobatically and intuitively twisting her body.

Another volley, and it was almost like a dance, the ease with which Shade evaded them.

“Where did you learn to aim?” Shade was not one for banter, but if it kept Amethyst’s attention on her…

It didn’t.

Instead, Amethyst’s lips suddenly curved into a serene smile. Then she raised her non-injured hand and aimed at Diane who froze like a deer caught in headlines. Her bleeding leg was cleared from debris, yet she wasn’t getting up. “I can aim just fine.”

No.

Burning agony spread from Shade’s shoulder blade as she threw herself in front of the blast, gritting her teeth as she slammed her arms to either side of Diane.

“Are you free?” she gritted out. Her vision was blurry, filled with white spots. She couldn’t see anything but the beautiful face in front of her.

Diane nodded wordlessly.

“Good,” she rasped, and drew her into her arms, black miasma enveloping them.


***


Amethyst Star stood frozen for a long time after the pair of villains disappeared in a whirl of shadows. A very familiar whirl of shadows.

A very familiar fighting style, too. She’d seen it when the woman had dodged her blasts. Skilled and graceful.

Her fingernails dug into her dislocated shoulder. The pain was dull and familiar, nothing she hadn’t felt before. It was overshadowed by an entirely different anguish radiating through her body.

Betrayal.

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


Diane blinked, dazed and disoriented, skin tingling with the awareness of the warm body pressing against her. Her arms tentatively reached to lightly rest on her waist and Kara tightened her embrace.

Then she half-stumbled, half-shoved Diane against the wall and somewhere in the back of her mind Diane recognized the hotel room they were in. But that thought got pushed aside as Kara pressed her hot mouth to her neck, moaning against her in what could be pain or something else entirely.

“I just attacked a hero for you.”

Her voice was hoarse and scratchy. And suddenly Diane realized that Kara was caging her in between her slender yet strong arms.

“Tell me that was the right thing to do.”

Diane’s lips parted soundlessly. She didn’t know how to answer that. As incomprehensible as Kara seemed to find Diane’s view of morality, Diane couldn’t understand Kara’s either. How could saving Diane not be the right thing to do? She had saved Kara from another villain and not thought twice about it.

All that mattered was them. Why couldn’t Kara see that? Did she not care as Diane did?

The silence stretched on, broken only by their heavy breathing. Kara turned her head, still resting it on Diane’s shoulder, fixing her with those icy eyes.

“Tell me what you were doing in that hospital.”

“Healing.” Diane’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Kara closed her eyes, exhaling as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulder. And then her scorching mouth was on Diane’s and she was thrusting her tongue inside, claiming it as her property and it felt so, so good.

Kara’s hands were everywhere, roaming her body until one hand apparently found its destination on her ass, squeezing it. “You’re wearing clothes,” she pointed out breathlessly. It sounded like an accusation.

“It’s what civilized people do.” Diane couldn’t think, her body melting against her lover, undulating helplessly. She was dimly aware of the damage in her leg already sealing up as her powers returned to her.

“Well, stop it.” Kara ground her hip against Diane’s, and she could feel that familiar tantalizing bulge. Except it was smaller than she remembered it being before.

“Kara.” Diane moaned and wrapped her arms around her shoulder. Kara hissed in a sharp breath, and it wasn’t the good kind – Diane could feel blisters under her palm. “You’re hurt,” she stammered.

Kara threw herself in front of me.

Warmth pooled in Diane’s belly.

“So heal me.” Kara’s voice was curt, as if she didn’t care at all about the pain, dropping her lips to Diane’s neck and giving it a long, slow lick.

Diane whimpered. She didn’t understand what was happening. They’d parted on such horrible terms.

“You know what my healing does to you.”

Kara grew still. “Yes,” she rasped, and then she thrust her hip. Kara’s cock was definitely smaller. It still made Diane’s insides clench with want.

“It made you angry.”

“Wasn’t my choice. It is now.” She pressed another scorching kiss to her skin, teeth gently digging in. “Want it. Want you.”

Sincerity like that should be illegal.

Mine.

You’re mine.

What does a villain know of love?

“What you said,” she whispered. “It hurt.”

Kara shuddered, breathing heavily. “It was meant to.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted you to hurt like I hurt.”

Diane licked her lips. “Have I hurt you?”

Kara drew back, gazing at her for a long moment. Then she slowly slid to her knees, pushing up the hem of Diane’s shirt to kiss her belly. “No,” she whispered. “You are sunshine.”

“What does that even mean?”

Kara lifted her head. There was devotion in her eyes. “It means that if you still want my love, then you have it.”

And then they didn’t need words anymore.


***


Kara was shaking as she laid down on the bed, exposing her burned back to Diane. This was partly due to the pain finally making itself known now that the adrenaline had run its course and partly due to the lust still burning within her, making her shiver.

Part of it was eager anticipation for what was about to happen.

And some small part of it was fear of the same.

Gentle fingertips brushed the burn marks and Kara bit the pillow with a groan.

Warmth slowly spread along her spine, like water trickling down her skin, only inside. The sensation was uncomfortable at first, but it dulled the pain until it faded.

And then it started feeling good.

Kara moaned into the pillow as the warmth spread to her groin, and Diane’s fingers followed suit. She tugged away Kara’s jeans and Kara wiggled her rounded posterior to help her get it off faster until she was lying naked and spread out before her love.

Kara was so hard, and on some level she realized this would be the last time she’d ever feel that. What if it never felt this good again? She knew that some women had trouble achieving orgasm, ever, which was just an utterly incomprehensible and terrifying thought to someone who’d had to get off every few days since puberty. Hell, sexual pleasure was just about the only pleasure she’d felt in recent years. At least before Diane.

“Turn around,” Diane said gently, and Kara obeyed.

She raised her head from the pillow, watching Diane reposition herself so she was kneeling between her spread legs, and quickly dropped it again. She didn’t want to watch this. Did she?

A pulse of pure ecstasy shot through her and she yelled in surprise, raising her head once more.

Diane was smirking at her, giving her stiff cock one more lick. Kara whimpered and Diane drew back, exhaling that red uncanny light. It dissipated like smoke.

“Did you think I could only heal with my hands?”

And then those wonderful lips closed around her and Kara hissed, fingernails digging into the sheets. Strangled noises of pleasure flowed from her lips as she watched in disbelief as Diane sucked and swirled her tongue, that red glow seeping under Kara’s skin, pulsing with each throb of her cock.

She buried her fingers in Diane’s hair, thrusting her hips, harder and harder as ecstasy spread through her veins like fire. Kara’s other hand was on her breasts, squeezing and groping, while Diane moaned around her cock.

Which was visibly getting smaller with each passing moment.

Kara squeezed her eyes shut, banishing the bizarre sight, and focused wholly on the sensation instead. That drive, that mad drive to finish was ebbing, replaced by an aching hunger that made her demand more instead, as if this frenzy was a warm blanket she could wrap around herself and then never let go off. She wanted to luxuriate in this feeling forever, to feel her skin burn with every oh-so-soft touch, to wrap her legs around her lover and drown in the waves of pleasure threatening to wash over her.

And then Kara felt something pressing into her and she gasped, eyes opening wide.

A finger. Diane was curiously wiggling a finger around inside of her while she still licked her cock – clit? – and it was the most fucking bizarre sensation imaginable and Kara decided that maybe she kind of liked it but she’d probably like it more if there was more so she wiggled her hips and moaned, trying to tell Diane that but no words would leave her lips, only a long drawn out whimper that maybe sort of could be interpreted as the word pleaaaaase if one was deaf and also didn’t speak English.

And then Kara came.

And it lasted forever.

It was like all there had ever been was the missionary position and then Diane had tapped her chin and said ‘how about I take your cock into my mouth and suck it’ and it was like a whole new world opened up, except better.

Kara realized she was panting and whining, so she made herself stop, raising her head to look down at Diane who was leisurely lapping up her juices. Kara’s insides writhed with heat, demanding more. She realized with a start that the magic of multiple orgasms was now hers. Orgasms like these.

Kara made that little whining noise in the back of her throat again and Diane looked up.

Then she ran her finger along the slick entrance, pushing the finger inside only to withdraw it, all the while looking directly into Kara’s eyes. “Do you want more?” she purred.

Kara nodded, wide-eyed.

“How much more?”

Kara opened her mouth. No words came out. Just that garbled pleaaaaase.

Diane smiled – and then rolled off the bed.

Kara sat up, rediscovering the power of speech in her outrage. “Come back!”

Diane just laughed and started a slow, tantalizing striptease as she sashayed away and Kara found her outrage ebb, somewhat. She still wasn’t happy that Diane was all the way over there, though.

“I’m just getting a toy.” She flashed a smile over her shoulder. “Have patience, you naughty girl.”

Kara swallowed hard and gazed down at her sweat-slicked curvy body. She was. A girl. And maybe even a naughty one. She reached out and poked around her wet pussy with amazement. Yes, definitely a naughty one.

She bit her lip and her eyelids fluttered as she found her entrance, gently pressing a finger inside. It felt strange to be doing it from this angle. So she spread her legs and closed her eyes as her finger was easily drawn in deeper.

It still felt really fucking weird, so she abandoned that effort to slip her fingers higher, circling her… clit. Just judging from the women Kara had known, she guessed it was somewhat larger than average, but not abnormally so. And it was also really, really sensitive – she pinched it and moaned at the thrill racing up her spine.

She heard a low chuckle and opened her eyes to see a naked Diane smirking down at her. “Don’t start without me.” Kara’s gaze would normally have been firmly glued to her breasts, but now there was something else drawing her attention.

Diane was wearing a strap-on.

Kara’s mouth was suddenly very, very dry, even as her belly clenched with ohgodyes.

Kara knew, rationally, that the strap-on was not the largest model. It was probably on the small side, even. But the thought of having that huge gigantic thing shoved inside of her somehow seemed anatomically impossible. She’d felt so tight, and she’d only used one finger.

Oh god, did she have a hymen? And if she had one, would it regenerate? That… that would be the most terrible superpower ever.

Why did Diane even have that in here?

“Kara.” Diane’s voice was so very gentle and Kara looked up with wide, panicked eyes. “Trust me.”

She did.

Kara slowly leaned back while Diane crawled onto the bed, atop of her. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might explode, even as her clit still throbbed with the echoes of that mind-blowing orgasm, her body demanding more.

Diane’s hand brushed her sides as she straddled her, and she could feel that thing aligning with her slick heat.

“Do you remember our first time here?” Diane murmured.

Kara did. She didn’t think she’d ever forget it as long as she lived; it had been one of the most terrifying and exhilarating nights of her life. It had been just like this, with her spread out beneath while Diane rode her hard. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Diane reached down and the tip of the dildo started slipping into Kara.

“Do you know what I thought then?”

Kara mutely shook her head.

“I thought we fit. Perfectly.”

When Kara still had a cock to fit inside of her.

“Do we still?” she asked in a low voice, heart constricting painfully.

Diane rolled her hips in response and Kara cried out as she was filled. It didn’t hurt. Her body welcomed the intrusion, enveloping the toy tightly within her. Deep satisfaction spread through her limbs.

“Always,” Diane breathed.

And she thrust. Kara whimpered.

“No matter what body.”

She thrust again, harder, and Kara thought she might burst from the intense pleasure radiating from within her.

“No matter what name.”

Diane was breathing hard now and so was Kara, their moans mingling to form a symphony. Kara’s hips found their rhythm as the toy glided in and out of her; nothing had ever felt as good as this beautiful friction.

“You are mine!”

Yes, yours! Kara’s mind cried and then she was whimpering and her hips were jerking involuntary, losing their rhythm, but Diane knew just how to compensate, thrusting harder and faster.

“Say it!”

“Yours!” Was that her voice howling so loudly? She couldn’t think. There was only the writhing heat and their bodies slamming together. There was only Diane.

“Again!”

Diane groaned, hips undulating, and Kara realized she wasn’t the only one losing control.

“I’m yours,” she gasped. “Always yours. Only yours!”


Author's Note: This chapter has fanart! Very, very NSFW fanart!

Credit to the supertalented Ian Samson :3

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


Diane pressed her lips to Kara’s neck, their sweat slicked bodies tightly entwined. Kara was insatiable. Diane had always had a high libido but that surpassed even hers. Still, she’d finally exhausted her and now they were basking in the afterglow, heated skin pressed to heated skin.

“Again,” Kara demanded and Diane choked out a soft laugh. Clearly, she had created a monster.

She pressed a kiss to her lips and made an apologetic noise in the back of her throat. “I’m exhausted. We have all the time in the world to explore your new body. We don’t need to do it all in one day.”

Kara’s voice was a low rumble of grudging acquiescence, and she reached out to gently stroke Diane’s hair. “Take a break, love.” Love. Diane was quickly learning to adore that endearment.

And then Kara got a wicked gleam in her eyes and her free hand moved lower and Diane watched in disbelief as the pure, virtuous heroine whom she’d had to patiently guide through every step of their sexual relationship started masturbating right in front of her.

Diane drew back and simply watched in what was maybe awe.

The subtle yet strong muscles in Kara’s arm shifted under her skin as she moved her hand, fingering her sex. Diane let her gaze linger on Kara’s form, finally taking the time to compare and contrast which she hadn’t yet truly gotten the chance to do.

Kara was slender yet curvy, her ample breasts rising and falling with each labored breath. Her body was lean and muscled, clearly still the athletic build she’d always had, yet no less feminine for it. Amazonian, in the best possible way. Her face was screwed up in concentration; and in that face Diane could still clearly see the man she’d fallen for. It was more delicate and rounded now, but it shared the high cheekbones and the eyes and above all the expression that was just so quintessentially Kara.

That expression shifted to frustration mixed with longing. Diane knew that one well, too.

She realized that Kara was trying to masturbate like a guy, roughly stroking her clit with a semi-closed palm. So Diane reached out to lay her hand on Kara’s, stilling the agitated movement.

“Be gentle,” she said softly, and then she guided Kara’s hand with her own and taught her how to use her fingers, how to stroke and tease and how to hit the right angle with one’s own hands which was really quite a bit different from doing the same to someone else.

Kara was a very good student.


***


“We should really get up.”

“We should.”

“Or we could do this multiple orgasm thing again.”

“Yes.”

And then they did.


***


Kara finally managed to pry herself away from Diane, her body sore and aching and tingling in the most delicious way. She stumbled a bit as she got up, her knees weak, but steadied herself.

She looked around the room. Then to her toes.

“Diane?”

She was curled up and blinked up at Kara liked a sleepy kitten. “Mhm?”

“Could you stand up for a moment?”

“Why?”

“It’s important.”

Diane sort of flopped over, almost falling off the edge, and then stood up, slouching. Kara reached out, straightening her and then kept her hands on her shoulders.

They stood almost toe-to-toe. Diane gazed up into Kara’s eyes.

Gazed. Up.

At the same angle as always.

Kara smirked and headed toward the shower with a spring in her step, leaving Diane a little confused, but too exhausted to care.


***


A soft moan escaped Kara’s lips as the warm water ran down her hypersensitive skin, droplets trailing down her breasts and tracing their rounded profile. She watched in fascination. Was it wrong to get turned on by one’s own body?

She laughed at that thought, and then clamped her mouth shut. That… that had been a giggle. The giddiest girly girl giggle that ever girled.

After a moment’s thought Kara decided that this was an appropriate reaction she could now allow herself to indulge in. On occasion. In moderation.

She would just have to be extra intimidating later to make up for it.

Maybe throw in some rooftop brooding, too.

Kara cocked her head as she heard faint sounds from the other room, and after a moment determined that Diane must have turned the TV on.

Returning to the matter of hand, Kara gleefully selected Diane’s (pink!) feminine body wash and started lathering her ridiculously smooth skin. She was glad to note she hadn’t lost any more muscle definition; that could have put a damper on her happiness.

As it was, Kara sounded like one of those women in a cheesy shampoo commercial, moaning happily and displaying an entirely disproportionate enthusiasm for completely mundane tasks.

She was in the process of massaging the sweetest-smelling shampoo she could find into her short hair, feeling quite decadent for doing so, when she heard Diane’s scream.

Kara teleported next to her instantly, ready to mangle anyone threatening her happiness.

Diane stared at her with wide eyes, pointing an accusing finger at the TV screen.

It was a news broadcast.

The headline read:

STANDOFF BETWEEN AMETHYST STAR AND VILLAIN DIYONEYA AT LOCAL HOSPITAL

“They misspelled my name,” Diane wailed.

Kara exhaled and kissed Diane’s forehead, dripping water on her.

“…nobody was hurt due to a timely evacuation by the authorities, although the building has sustained severe damage. Dionaea remains on the loose, rescued by an unknown woman, possibly a new supervillain. Stay tuned for further developments!”

Kara’s heart clenched.

New supervillain.

The TV was now playing footage from the fight, showing the moment she had teleported the two of them away. Shade’s powers did not photograph well – something about the transdimensional space she used did not agree with the laws of physic, which was why it appeared as inky blackness; a complete absence of light as the human eye refused to process what it was seeing. On cameras it looked different, somehow both over- and underexposing the picture. There she was, leaning over Diane and shielding her, then there was a lens flare, and they were gone.

But Amethyst had seen it.

The screen went black, and Shade threw the remote away.

“No news,” she murmured, pressing another kiss to Diane’s hair. “Just us. Just for one day.”

Amelia was still out there. She’d made an enemy out of Amethyst and, knowing the heroine’s temper, there would be consequences. Kara still had not a clue what to do about her civilian identity. Diane was far from reformed. And to top it off the news had just called both of them villains.

But, just for today, she wanted to forget about all these worries and just bask in the knowledge that she was Diane’s and Diane was hers.


***


Two of Shade’s worries could have been soothed had she kept watching.

As the day ground on, their coverage of a rampaging lizard was broken by a bulletin informing the public that the child the villain Dionaea had held hostage was not only unharmed but completely healed of his terminal brain tumor. In fact, he insisted that he had not been held hostage at all but had only been having a chat with the cool lady whom he’d found looking sad in a hallway.

This sent reporters – sensing a redemption narrative like a shark scented blood in the water – into quite a tizzy.

According to the media, there were only 4 types of capes. There were Heroes. There were Villains. And then there were the two grey areas in between – Fallen Heroes and Reformed Villains. Whenever any public caped figure did much of anything that did not fit neatly into their box, they tried their hardest to hammer them into a new one they didn’t necessarily belong in.

And now they were spinning the story of a poor villain trying to reform only to be attacked by a dogmatic fallen hero who had long ago crossed the line.

Somewhere in Paragon, there was an apartment. It was small and cramped, located in one of the poorer neighborhoods, paid for with a crappy waitress job that had been taken after college and cape had clashed and the cape had won, costing a scholarship in the process.

And in that apartment there was a red-haired woman curled up on a secondhand couch, her knees to her chest, watching the news personalities turn against her. Again.

She had arrested 16 villains of Threat Level 5 or higher since her trial had concluded. One had been about to poison the drinking water. Another had mind-controlled an important political figure. A third she had narrowly prevented from blowing up a crowded area. This was the first time anchors were discussing her again.

And as Amethyst Star watched one panelist explain at length what a grievous miscarriage of justice it was that she was not in jail, something deep within her started to crack.

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


“Diane?”

She hummed softly in response, eyelids fluttering as she enjoyed the feel of Kara’s fingertips gently tracing patterns on her bare back.

“What do you want to be?”

Diane frowned and looked over her shoulder. Kara was watching her intently.

“Fabulous. But I’ve already achieved that.”

Kara’s lips curled into a wry smile but it didn’t quite reach her eyes which remained solemn. “Do you want to be a villain?”

Diane sighed and rolled over to face her; they were lying so close together she could feel the heat coming from Kara’s skin.

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about any of this today?”

Kara’s fingers brushed her jawline. “The day is over,” she murmured, glancing at the curtains of the oversized window. Soft moonlight was spilling through the cracks.

“Oh. So it is.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“Do you want to be a hero?”

“Yes.” Kara’s answer was instant and without hesitation.

“Because of Caroline?”

Kara’s eyes widened and she drew back. Then they narrowed. “Yes,” she rasped, and there was a fire in her eyes Diane had never seen before. Not in Kara’s eyes, anyway.

She had seen it in Amethyst, though.

That was hatred.

Is that what it took to be a hero?

Diane had never hated anyone in her life. Oh, there were plenty of people she disliked, but her scathing thoughts of them were fleeting. To hate someone one had to care first, and overall, Diane cared very little for much of anything besides herself.

But she cared for Kara, now.

She thought of the assassin who had almost killed Kara before her eyes, remembering the rage and anguish that had pushed her powers far beyond what she’d ever been capable of before. Was that hatred?

Maybe if Kara was taken from her, she would have fire like that in her eyes, too.

“I don’t want to be a hero,” she said bluntly. It seemed an exhausting existence. She’d rather keep Kara and go without knowing hatred.

Kara’s face fell.

Diane’s thoughts lingered on the assassin. His casual cruelty. So much like Amelia’s, who’d spoken of breaking someone for loving her sister with not a hint of regret.

“But I don’t want to be a villain either.”

And Kara smiled, her face lighting up with happiness.


***


Diane watched the sun rise over the treetops of Kara’s estate, her arms crossed on the window sill. She wondered how far the property stretched – if she hadn’t known better, she’d have no idea they were in the city. Only the skyscrapers rising the in the distance reminded her that they were still in Paragon.

“It’s yours, you know.”

Diane turned her head to see Kara leaning against the doorframe, wearing a bathrobe and still blinking sleepily. Her hair was adorably tousled.

“Dangerous words to say to a thief, Kara. You’ll have to be more specific or I’ll take everything.”

There was a small smile tugging at the corners of Kara’s mouth. “Then take it. It’s mine. So it’s yours.”

“Did you hit your head while I wasn’t looking?” Her fingers itched to take absolutely everything that wasn’t nailed down.

She shrugged, and smirked. “I am not above bribery, you know.” The smile dimmed and she looked serious. “I remember what you said. I don’t want your choices to be constrained by lack of money when I am swimming in it.”

Diane blinked rapidly.

Nobody, nobody had ever given her anything in life. She always had to reach out and steal and lie and take it.

“That is, of course, assuming that I can sort out my paperwork.” Kara laughed ruefully. Diane cocked her head quizzically. Then it hit her.

“Yes, well, if you get evicted due to magical identity confusion, we’ll just steal everything back. I’ll help. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of a pro at this stealing thing.”

“It has come to my attention, yes.” Kara crossed the distance between them with a few long strides.

“It’ll be a life on the run, always looking over our shoulders. Travelling from city to city to stay ahead of the law. Oh, the fun we’ll have. Or, alternatively, you could do the boring thing and delegate.”

Kara cocked her head, not seeming to follow.

“Say it with me, hero: deception.” Her eyes crinkled. “Get thyself a shape shifter to pretend to be male you and do your paperwork for you.”

Kara’s lips formed into a silent Oh.

Then she frowned in dismay. “I don’t know anyone I could ask for that.”

Diane tilted her head. She could think of several shape shifting heroes off the top of her head. Weren’t heroes supposed to have that solidarity thing going on?

Kara fidgeted uncomfortably. “I don’t… have a lot of friends,” she admitted, embarrassed, as if Diane hadn’t already guessed that.

“Me neither,” Diane said cheerfully, and raised herself on her toes to whisper against Kara’s lips. “But there’s just one I want anyway.”


***


Amethyst Star could feel their gazes on her.

So she raised her chin and strode past them. She did not care what they thought. She did not care if they were thinking that she fucked up again. She hadn’t. She’d done what any hero in her situation would have done and they could take their judgment and shove it.

So Amethyst walked past the caped crowd of the E to a secluded corner near the bar, nursing a drink.

Her hands shook as she raised the glass to her lips, almost spilling the clear liquid.

She raised her gaze and saw several pairs of eyes quickly looking elsewhere. She sneered. Cowards. And this was the fabled hero community: thinking one of their own was losing it and doing nothing.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. They had talked and talked at her, at first, but no one made an effort to understand, just rambling on and on about lines and crossing them and what it means to be a hero.

But they hadn’t listened.

Shade had listened.

They’d sat on that roof and she had talked and talked and he hadn’t tried to interrupt her once.

Amethyst raised her hand, absently touching her shoulder. It was back in its socket, but the pain still echoed, a little.

That hadn’t been him.

Had it?

It had been a woman, for god’s sake.

She couldn’t even find him to confirm. Her gaze trailed over the crowd, looking for his familiar form. It was a long shot, really; Shade wasn’t exactly the partying type.

“Hey, Amethyst!”

She closed her eyes, bracing for the impending headache.

The Captain sat down next to her with that bright, carefree smile that she was fairly sure he thought was smooth, but only struck her as very, very fake.

“How’s it going? You’re looking great.”

Amethyst just silently took another sip, waiting for him to get to the point. He always got around to it eventually, gruesomely slaughtering the very concept of innuendo in front of her eyes with his terrible pick-up lines. And they called her a murderer. Ha.

“So, uh, saw the news. Did you see that story about the Doom Squirrel with the laser eyes? It’s evolving.”

“Utterly fascinating.”

“Right.” He was nodding, seeming to struggle for words. She supposed it had to be hard, forming coherent sentences when one’s brain was so very diminutive. Plus, getting hit on the head so much probably did not help. Invulnerability only went so far. “That thing, at the hospital. You know, with the kid. I… I would have made the same call, you know?”

Great. Now she was as smart as Captain Dudebro.

“Thanks,” she said in a flat voice, her thoughts returning to circle around the woman who had fought so much like Shade and displayed the same power. She couldn’t find anyone who had the means to contact him – he’d just appear sometimes, help out, and disappear as soon as the threat was over. The man had no friends.

Wait.

That wasn’t quite true.

Her gaze shifted to the Captain who seemed busy arranging his next sentence.

These two were regularly seen together.

“Say,” she interrupted his thought process and he looked startled at her actually initiating conversation with him. “Have you seen Shade lately?”

He blinked and then smiled, face brightening. “Yeah, we went out drinking a couple nights ago.”

Drinking? Shade didn’t socialize, everyone knew that.

“I didn’t know you were friends,” she said slowly.

At that, the Captain laughed. “Oh, we weren’t, for a long time, but yeah. I even know her real name.” He looked incredibly smug.

Crack

Amethyst gripped her glass so tight tiny cracks were emanating from her fingertips like spider webs.

Her.

He’d called Shade her.

The cracks deepened.

She forced her lips into a pleasant smile.

“Captain, I’d hate to impose, but could you help me get in touch with Shade? I need to see him regarding a villain we both recently ran into.”