Of Heroes And Villains

By: Minikisa

In which a villainess sets out on a quest to seduce a hero, a hero must come to terms with the secret identity (s)he'd rather deny, and a mad scientist just tries to get some mad science done without getting distracted by the antics of her magical minion.

OF HEROES AND VILLAINS

1. Introduction

2. Chapters

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2

3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter 4

5. Chapter 5

6. Interlude

7. Chapter 6

8. Chapter 7

9. Chapter 8

10. Chapter 9

11. Chapter 10

12. Chapter 11

13. Chapter 12

14. Chapter 13

15. Chapter 14

16. Chapter 15

17. Interlude II

18. Chapter 16

19. Chapter 17

20. Chapter 18

21. Chapter 19

22. Chapter 20

23. Chapter 21

24. Chapter 22

25. Chapter 23

26. Interlude III

27. Chapter 24

28. Chapter 25

29. Chapter 26

30. Chapter 27

31. Chapter 28

32. Chapter 29

33. Chapter 30

34. Chapter 31

35. Chapter 32

36. Chapter 33

37. Chapter 34

38. Chapter 35

39. Chapter 36

40. Interlude IV

41. Chapter 37

42. Chapter 38

43. Epilogue

GUIDE

1. Table of Contents

2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

There was something to be said for the elegance of a heist coming together. The weeks of careful planning, the intricate machinations ensuring everyone and everything moved according to plan, and lastly the deep satisfaction of a job well done. All fine things.

Dionaea did not have any of them.

Her preferred method of entry was executed with all the subtlety and sophistication of a rampaging rhino.

The security guard fell to his knees, his eyes glazed over with a mix of confusion and admiration. Dionaea, the infamous Poison Princess, She of the Skimpy Outfits, Supervillainess Extraordinaire, gave him a gentle smile and touched two fingers to her lips, blowing him a kiss. Her breath smelled sweet, carrying a neurotoxin that quickly overpowered his senses. He swayed, and slumped over.

“Sweet dreams,” she crooned almost lovingly, and stepped over his unconscious form to make her way deeper into the hallway, following the siren song of the vault. And really, who was she to resist the call of enormous stacks of poor, helpless money, begging to be rescued from the clutches of greedy bankers?

She sighed softly when she came upon the vault door, an enormous titanium beast; easily several feet thick and likely heavily reinforced.

Well, there was nothing a little brute force couldn’t solve. And if a little brute force couldn’t do it, then there was always a lot of brute force. If it ain’t broke… break it harder.

Dionaea splayed her fingers, her fingernails curved and pointed. The casual observer might think them claws, and she certainly wasn’t above using them as such, but in truth they were thorns. She pressed one against her open palm, wincing only a little at the sharp pain. Dark red blood welled, and a drop fell to the floor.

A low rumble shook the ground to her feet, and from her drop of blood rose a crimson vine, slowly writhing its way around the edges of the vault, prying for a weak access point. Dionaea slashed her palm again, and more vines joined the first, growing in length and breadth with every passing moment.

Blood magic. Useful, but ever so messy.

The metal screeched in protest when the now giant vines began tearing it out of the wall, the titanium alloy folding like little more than paper under the enormous pressure.

That was when the alarm started blaring.

Dionaea, or Diane, as she was known to her friends – okay, friend, singular – raised her hand, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. Well, she still had time to empty the vault before the police arrived and then could slip out unnoticed while her vines created a distraction…

The metal door was finally torn from its hinges, violently crashing against the opposite wall. Diane casually stepped through the gaping hole, inhaling sharply at the sight that greeted her.

Stacks of money, towering over her.

So… beautiful.

“I missed you so much,” she choked out, wrapping her arms around The Precious.

“Touching,” a low voice said dryly behind her.

Diane tensed, but did not turn, instead opting to stroke the cash in what was, quite frankly, a very inappropriate manner. “I’m having a moment here. Any chance I could have some privacy?”

“No.” Did she imagine the hint of amusement? Most likely. Heroes had no appreciation for her brand of humor. Especially this one.

She turned her head, showing him her profile, and watched him out of the corner of her eyes.

Shade.

He was clad from head to toe in black, formfitting leather, hiding his face beneath a hood drawn over his head. A billowing cape was draped around his shoulders and added to his intimidating appearance. He was holding himself deceptively casual, but she knew he was poised to strike – as one of the superheroes with more low-key powers, he was feared for his skilled martial arts, which he was known to utilize to a brutal degree. A dangerous combination for Diane, whose physical prowess was laughable. As evidenced by her opponent laughing the last time she’d tried some semblance of a crane kick. Close quarters were his domain, not hers.

And, while comparatively weak, his powers did all but guarantee him a first strike. He could teleport over short distances and appear out of any shadow. Hence the name. Because fuck subtlety.

Diane realized she had some… personal issues on the subject of codenames. The name she had chosen for herself, Dionaea – aka Dionaea Muscipula, the Venus flytrap – had struck her as quite brilliant when she’d taken up the mantle. The rest of the world disagreed. Or rather, didn’t know what it meant.

And kept misspelling it.

She may or may not have thrown a car through the window of a national newspaper’s office in outrage.

“Pity,” she drawled, buying time while her metabolism went into overdrive to produce a sedative to coat her pseudo-claws and lips. She’d used up most of her body’s natural defenses to take out the guards. “Any chance I might interest you in a threesome? You, me, and the money?”

He cocked his head and she could tell he was giving her the once-over. She was scantily clad, strategically placed leafs and vines concealing only the barest minimum of what might be considered decent. Clothes got in the way of her photosynthesis. Plus, it had this effect… Shade shifted uncomfortably, and she smirked. Men.

“You’re under arrest for attempted robbery.” His voice was gruff, and all business. No fun at all.

“But we love each other! Well, I love the money. A lot. I like to think it reciprocates.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Ours is a torrid love affair.”

“I was never much of a romantic.”

“How sad for you.” And before she’d even finished the sentence, her vines struck, sweeping under his leg to knock him over. He reacted with lightning fast reflexes, dissolving into smoky mist before he truly lost his balance.

Something slammed into her from the side and she gasped in pain. Hate teleporters! She lashed out, palm open, sinking her thorns into his thigh. He grunted, but otherwise seemed unaffected, quickly wrapping his hands around her wrists and yanking them behind her while pushing her on the floor, subduing her. She kicked and writhed, but it was no use; he was clearly experienced at taking people down this way.

“Get off me, you brute!”

“I don’t think so.” He sounded almost… bored. Like she was nothing!

Diane grew very still then, breathing heavily to feign exhaustion. She might have used most of her toxins on the guards, but she’d gotten in a direct hit with her thorns.

“What, no clever quip?” he asked scathingly.

“I’m not here for your entertainment.”

“Pity,” he echoed her words. He shifted his weight, and she had no choice but to press her cheek to the cold floor. Oh, she’d make him pay for this indignity.

Her vines struck once more, wrapping around his torso and yanking him back. She could hear his muffled yell and subsequent struggle, but did not hear the sound of him dissipating into smoke. She chuckled low in her throat, slowly standing up and turning around. As suspected, like most teleporters, he teleported everything he had a grip on – or that which had a grip on him – and he had an upper threshold of how much weight he could transport. And her vines had grown to be truly massive.

She sauntered up to him with a smile. The vines were curling around his wrists, pulling them above his head while leaving him bound to the wall. The hood obscured his eyes, but she could see the tendons in his neck standing out. He bared his teeth at her.

“Oh, slow reflexes, hm? That’s my neurotoxin at work. Now there shall be clever quips. I have prepared a list…” She trailed off as she stared at the wound her thorns had inflicted. She’d torn away part of the black uniform on his thigh. He followed her gaze and grew rigid.

Shade, the Dark Vigilante who struck terror in the hearts of evildoers everywhere…

…was wearing pink lace panties.

Chapter 2

This is 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 by supervillain standards neither cruel nor especially dangerous. She had first appeared a few months ago and had not, to his knowledge, committed any truly heinous crimes, sticking mostly to theft and the occasional altercation with the police or fellow heroes or even other villains. The way she had taken out the security guards – spore-based narcotics with no permanent side-effects that he knew of – pointed to a less violent nature than most of the ruthless criminals he faced.

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.

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 teleport, 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; she was just Threat Level Four, and he hadn’t taken her for a serious opponent. 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.

“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 a fingertip 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 an 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 away. 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 was in a highly compromising position with said villainess at the scene of her crime, and thus the moral high ground was not an option.

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 pocket dimension he used to teleport 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 locations 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.

Chapter 3

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 was quiet for a long moment, breathing heavily in agitation. Then she nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing. “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 leafs 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’ve 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, the research grant ethics committee and the guy at the grocery store.

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

Amelia was not the first, nor would she be the last scientist to try to integrate magic with known scientific principles. The challenge to accomplish what so many had failed at 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, what truly made it stand out was the highest meta population in the world, many 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 world of marvels and magic. 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 epic battles. No other population on earth could obliviously pass by a costumed brawl in the street and only absently wonder if this would affect their morning commute.

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, the sole heir to a vast 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 gossip and speculation. Paragon’s wealthy elite, however, had no time to waste on the terminally boring.

***

Shade stared at the selection of clothes 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 terribly 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. Bras and 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 ambitions 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 breadth 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.

Chapter 4

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

A car crashed on the spot he’d been standing in just fractions of a second earlier. It flipped over, coming to a 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.

Dark mist 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 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 big, 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.

The public as well as a portion of the hero community was quite enamored with the son bravely carrying on his father’s legacy.

The other part of the hero community had actually met him in person.

Still, they had too much tact and heroic solidarity to deliberately tarnish the great Captain Patriot’s reputation. The young hero 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.

Chapter 5

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 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, and adjusted 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 flower petals weaved in her long blond hair. 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 in their last encounter.

“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.

“Doing 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 was torn away from her and 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 triumphant and weirdly pained.

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 their heroes had the capacity to kill.

“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!”

Interlude

Interlude

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Diane watches the fluid slowly work its way down the IV, counting the seconds it takes for the drop to form and fall. It’s what passes for entertainment around here.

She hates hospitals. Hates, hates, hates them. Hates the smell, hates the sterile white of the walls, hates the scratchy texture of the blankets. Hates that she is going to die in this miserable place.

Diane closes 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 will only let her discharge if she prefers to spend her last days at home, but of course, she doesn’t have one.

She frowns, snuggling deeper into the blanket. When did the room get so cold? She exhales, and her breath fogs the air. What the…?

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

Diane’s lips part in shocked recognition.

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

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

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

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

Cinder Snow laughs, the sound high-pitched and trilling. Diane is instantly convinced she practices that – no one has an evil laugh like that naturally. “True. I’m not here to kill you. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

She leans forward, an excited grin on her face.

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

***

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

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

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

Ethically questionable human experiments with a woman who is, quite frankly, deficient in the marble department? Diane is your girl. Even if everything goes horrifically wrong, she will at least have tried. It beats rotting in a hospital bed.

Diane had resigned herself to an early grave, having been diagnosed early in life. Her form of resignation involved making life her bitch, squeezing every last drop of pleasure from it. She dropped out of school – what point is there to a formal education when she will never reap its benefits? – and set out go experience absolutely everything life has to offer. And if she’s occasionally stolen and lied and embezzled to finance her lifestyle – who can blame her? The moral high ground is for the not terminally ill.

And now, perhaps, she has a chance to keep living, to see more of this wonderful world.

She reaches out, fingertips almost brushing the petals. They look so soft.

“No touching!” Snow barks, and Diane reluctantly withdraws her hand. “Honestly. Every time…”

The villainess sighs and adjusts 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 stares blankly. Cinder Snow sighs.

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

“Oh. Okay.”

***

It hurts.

It hurts a lot.

Diane screams when the vines burrow 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 grows lethargic, complaining of hunger. Ate food eagerly against my advice, but threw it all up shortly after. Body scan has shown lack of a digestive system, she should not feel hunger. Perhaps psychosomatic. Gave her water, which she kept down. Subject asleep now.

Day 10

Subject has not woken up. Worrisome.

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 lair, but it’s Paragon – market value of villain lairs extremely high. Subject has expressed desire for a villain codename of her own. Continues to display remarkable moral flexibility. Have suggested “Dionaea Muscipula”, to match her civilian name. Seems delighted with my idea. Perhaps not as mentally deficient as I thought.

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. Guards she knocks out during her bank heists quite fortunate – likely gave 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.

Chapter 6

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 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 five 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 teleported, 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 first materialized in a dark mist form he could hold indefinitely, and which prevented him from teleporting into solid matter. He could only travel to locations he’d previously been to or which he had direct visual contact with and had 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 teleport to the nearest police station and drop her off, wiping his hands of this entire mess.

It’d be so easy.

And yet, 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 teleport, 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 have 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. 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 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 leafs 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, now out of his line of sight, 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.”

Chapter 7

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 that information away 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 was no easy task, but Shade, like most heroes, had honed that skill.

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 occasional 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 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.

Chapter 8

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, 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. He frowned, turning fully to look over his shoulder.

Six years ago, shortly after he’d taken 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 with the movement of his muscles.

Ian’s frown deepened. He couldn’t remember when he last had 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 deduction: 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. He was well aware of the absurdity of the excuse - as if a billionaire had to take advantage of sales.

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, teleporting 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. 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 teleported 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 stole 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 took away.

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.”

Chapter 9

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?”

“Money. A pony. 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.” After a brief pause of speechlessness on his part, she helpfully added, “I’m asking you out.”

The silence stretched on.

“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.”

“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?”

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… 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.

Chapter 10

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 fantasy novel. She’d always loved getting lost in a good book.

A thick layer of soft moss and flowers covered the conveyor belt in the middle of their abandoned factory lair, upon which she was currently sunbathing in the rays 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 subconsciously 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 knives, 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 found herself actually 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 secluded 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 Frostlass’ ice breath.”

“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; teleporting had the unfortunate side-effect of utterly scrambling all normal communication tech he brought with him, so he needed them custom-made.

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

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

***

Shade dodged, dissolving into shadow mid-jump and reappeared 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. 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 leafs 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 himself 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, 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 805. Don’t be late.”

Kara somehow choked out another “Yes.”

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

Chapter 11

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 open 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 touch. 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 squeezed 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.

Chapter 12

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.” Fingertips trailed 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’ll 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. 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, sorting through their content, prominently displaying her bare ass. Kara’s cock twitched at the sight, and she willed it to stay down.

Then Diane looked over her shoulder, her gaze raking over Kara’s nude body. 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 hell, 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. She 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, lacey 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.

***

“Almost done,” Diane 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.

“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, and subtle makeup concealed 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.

Chapter 13

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.”

He 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 at 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 overly 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.

Chapter 14

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 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 pocket healer, 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 where 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 teleport 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. “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 psychic 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…”

Chapter 15

Shade smiled faintly as he gazed at the city to his feet, his cape billowing in the wind. The view from Talos Tower was always breathtaking, but it had been a long time since he’d taken a moment to appreciate it.

Moments like these had begun sneaking up on him. The backdrops of his life, once dull and barely worth paying attention to, would suddenly remind him of their beauty.

Food, for example.

He’d been absently chewing on the lean chicken strips he’d been having for dinner when he realized it tasted pretty damn good. He’d started paying attention to dinner and actively enjoyed it ever since. It had stopped being that time of the day he made himself eat something nutritious for the sake of maintaining his weight and become something he put time and effort into.

The changes in his life were small and subtle, but they were adding up.

And now Shade was smiling, for no reason in particular other than a nice view.

He was… content.

For the first time in too many years.

And he knew exactly at whose feet to lay the blame.

“Kara,” purred an all-too-familiar voice in his ear and he closed his eyes. It never failed to make him shiver.

“Diane.”

“Are you coming tonight?”

So many implications in that question, and he loved them all.

“Perhaps.”

But outright saying that was not the way they played the game.

“Ah, I see I will have to use my wiles to lure you here.”

His only response was a soft chuckle as he finally spotted what he’d been waiting for and teleported closer to trail his target, cloaking himself in shadow.

“What are you wearing, Kara?”

“My costume.”

“And underneath that?”

The smile that came so easily to him these days tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I have no idea what you’re implying.”

He could almost hear her pout.

And then she whispered, “Do you know what I’m wearing?”

He crouched low as he surveyed his target, deciding to cut his surveillance short. “Tell me,” he rasped.

“I’ll share if you share.”

His boot connected the mobster’s abdomen as Shade appeared in a swirl of shadows, throwing him back. The man’s bodyguards, to their credit, reacted quickly.

But not quickly enough.

“Black,” he said softly.

Kara was rewarded with a pleased purr in his ear and two henchmen slumping unconscious to his feet.

“I’m wearing red. I know how much you like that color. Lace so fine you can almost see through it.”

Shade turned to face the remaining villains, plasma blades humming as they were drawn to cut through invulnerable skin – when a blast of light blew the mobster away. He blinked rapidly, the glare burned into his retinas.

Dawn’s silver boots softly touched the ground, precariously balancing on her toes while her shining wings dissolved. As always, her long silver hair shone brightly, creating a stark contrast against her dark skin.

“Looks like we were tracking the same guy,” the heroine said with a tight smile. “Thanks for giving me that opening.”

And as much as Shade wanted to give a cold and distant reply, his dry throat would not let him.

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 were 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.

Despite Dawn’s assurance that she was okay with his fetish as long as he kept it out of her sight, the relationship had not lasted long after that. He’d been heartbroken, and had done his best to hide his perversion from all the women he’d dated since.

And as Shade stood frozen, staring at his ex-girlfriend, he understood instantly that that look, the one that was etched into his memory and had hurt far more than any wound he’d ever sustained in battle, was nothing compared to the disgust Dawn would show him if she knew what he was doing right now.

A villainess was sultrily whispering in his ear, describing the see-through corset she was wearing in intricate detail. She was calling him a woman’s name. He was wearing black panties with red stitching to match her eyes. In fact, he wore women’s clothing every day now – and so much more than just underwear when he knelt at her feet and let the villainess call him her toy.

“You’re welcome,” he eventually choked out, and retreated into his shadows before Dawn could say another word.

He didn’t know just how long he stared at the night sky, thoughts churning. He was sick. Sick and twisted and wrong in so many ways that he would gladly worship the one person who seemed to want him anyway, even if she was a villain.

He was supposed to be better than this. Had once been better than this.

“Kara?” The voice in his ear sounded almost concerned. “You stopped answering. Are you injured?”

Ian wanted very much to believe that she cared about his wellbeing.

The shadows swirled once more and he materialized in the middle of their little haven. Diane, startled, dropped the bag she’d been holding. He did not give her a chance to pick it back up, roughly shoving her against the wall and pressing his lips to hers. Her surprised yelp was muffled and quickly turned into an eager laugh as she instantly opened her mouth to his.

His fingers dug into her generous ass while he delved his tongue into her mouth, craving that wonderfully familiar flavor that was uniquely Diane’s. Sweet like honey, and somehow tasted like spring.

“Kara,” she moaned into his mouth and his hand slammed against the wall.

“Not my name,” he snarled and she drew back, blinking up at him in a daze. He did not wait for her response and hungrily kissed her again, tongue darting out to roughly claim her mouth as his. He wasn’t even sure what exactly he was trying to accomplish.

He wanted her.

He hated that he wanted her.

And he hated this spineless Kara she was turning him into.

Diane had grown rigid, and gently tried to push him away. He drew back, gazing at her through narrowed icy eyes.

Her voice was soft and soothing as she cupped his cheek, gently caressing his jaw. “What’s wrong, Kar-“

“Don’t call me that.”

She blinked slowly. “Okay. Shade. What’s wrong?”

His knuckles whitened and he forced himself to unclench his fingers. He didn’t want to be called Kara. He didn’t. It was absurd for it to hurt when she dropped the idiotic nickname. He lowered his lips to her jaw as he started kissing her again, pressing himself closer. “Nothing you have to concern yourself with.”

“Shade…” She tilted her head and nuzzled his cheek with hers. Her voice was almost… loving.

Something snapped.

“We’re here to fuck, Dionaea. Nothing more.”

***

Diane flinched and averted her gaze.

She wasn’t quite sure why. This was just sex, after all, until she invariably tired of her lover and moved on, as she had done countless times before.

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 petty 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.

This being just sex didn’t give him license to scoff at her when she had gone out of her way to bring him nothing but pleasure.

Diane felt his lips at her throat once more and shoved him away. He seemed not to feel it at all, so she shoved harder, the size and strength she had lusted after suddenly far more intimidating when turned against her. He relented and withdrew, scowling at her.

“I am not one of those women who will take disdain over nothing.” She ducked under the arms caging her in, and turned her back to him. “Go find someone else to fuck and nothing more.”

Tense silence descended and she stared straight ahead, at the various bags and clothes strewn about the room. Clothes she had painstakingly picked out for him.

Something brushed away her long hair. A strong arm wrapped around her waist from behind and his warm lips, so very gentle, pressed against the nape of her neck.

“I don’t want to be Kara tonight,” he said softly, and it was likely the closest thing to an apology she would get.

“I like Kara,” Diane replied, standing stiffly in his embrace. “And I don’t like whoever that just was.”

He exhaled a shuddering breath and then he kissed her again, soft and gentle and apologetic until she gave a soft moan and the kisses turned scorching, trailing down her neck while his hard cock grinded against her backside. Diane couldn’t quite help wiggling her hips, warmth pooling in her belly.

“I want you,” he whispered in her ear, his breath harsh and ragged. “Only you.”

***

Diane blinked sleepily and arched her back, stretching her arms.

She was met with no resistance.

Shade’s half of the bed was empty. Diane gazed at the messily crumpled sheets he’d left behind with blank eyes as the sleepy fog in her mind cleared, revealing memories of last night.

If she did not heal as she did, she was certain she would be aching and sore right now. He’d been merciless with her, and she had reveled in the ferocity. Then he’d squeezed her tightly to his chest and they had fallen asleep exhausted and entwined.

And now he was gone before sunrise.

Diane rather enjoyed rough sex, and sex without strings, but somehow she felt… hollow. Where had Kara’s tenderness gone?

They break.

She rolled out of bed and unsteadily walked toward the window, forcefully pushing open the curtains to let sunlight spill in. The sky was still dark, the skyline etched in the faint outline of the dawn.

Perhaps it was time for them to part ways. Their affair was already one of the longest she had ever indulged in. Life was too short to stick around once a lover’s rough edges started to hurt.

Diane frowned.

Her life wasn’t short anymore.

And the thought of leaving Kara brought with it a certain unease.

She curiously examined the feeling as she made her way to the shower. The petals in her hair unfurled as warm water droplets ran along their length and she absently ran her fingers over her thighs as she lathered up. Her skin still tingled with the echoes of half-remembered delight.

Truthfully, she should be done with him by now. The thrill of the chase was over, her curiosity sated.

And still she lingered.

She closed her eyes and easily pictured his face. The cheekbones. The eyes. The smile.

Kara was beautiful, and Diane appreciated beauty. But most of her flings had been beautiful in their own way, and that had never kept her from moving on.

If she was honest with herself, she liked him, rough edges and all.

She liked the way he held her. So reverently and loving, like she was the most precious thing in all the world. She liked the way he kissed her, so hungry and demanding, like he could not get enough of her taste. And most of all, she liked the way he talked to her.

Diane was not shy about what she wanted, flaunted what she had and enjoyed making people laugh. The combination thereof apparently made her lacking in substance and intellect in the eyes of her bedmates, for few of them ever talked to her in a language not coated with a thick layer of innuendo and flattery.

Kara was blunt and straightforward. He had no patience for sweet talk. Compliments he paid her, he paid with desire and a raw, unpracticed intensity that nonetheless made her toes curl. When he talked to her, he talked to her like she was intelligent and capable of understanding subjects unrelated to sex. When she mused out loud, he listened attentively, seeming alternately fascinated and frustrated with her opinions, yet at no point dismissing them like they were not worth discussing.

Except last night.

We’re here to fuck, nothing more.

She turned off the faucet, resting her forehead against the cold tiles. Evidently she had seen what she had wanted to see, and the respect he supposedly had for her was nothing but a figment of her imagination.

Why did that realization hurt like this? She never cared what people thought of her.

Diane absently wrapped a towel around herself, traipsing out of the bathroom – and froze.

Kara met her gaze, standing dressed in the middle of the room. He raked his fingers through his short black hair at the sight of her, lips curving into the hint of a rueful smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” She mirrored his soft tone, and after a moment’s hesitation, she couldn’t help but add, “I thought you’d gone.”

He glanced toward the window, the warm morning light only now beginning to spill into the room. “You usually don’t wake up before sunrise.” He paused, and she got the distinct feeling that he was scraping together words.

Diane blinked when her vision was obscured by black mist and then had to crane her neck to look up at him. A warm hand gently rested on her cheek, his thumb brushing her lower lip.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His pale eyes shone with warmth and contrition. “For the way I acted last night.”

And for once, Diane did not have a snappy comeback. She was too distracted by that rather novel fluttery sensation in her chest. Kara gazed down at her intently, seeming to gauge her reaction, and then added, “I have something to make it up to you.”

Diane finally found her tongue. “Is it a pony?”

His lips quirked. “No. And it’s not money to buy a pony either.”

“Well, now you’ve brought it up and ruined my expectations.”

“Just get dressed,” he said with a soft laugh, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“Oh, so it’s not money and we won’t even be naked?”

“Diane,” was his exasperated response and she grinned.

***

Diane wiggled her toes, and they sank into the fine sand as another ocean wave washed over them. Her grin widened and she tilted her head up, basking in the warm glow of the sunshine. It refracted and shimmered on the surface of the endless expanse of deep blue water.

In the distance the shoreline curved, allowing her a view of the picturesque villages dotting the coast.

Beautiful.

“I have to admit, this view almost makes the nausea worth it.” While Kara’s method of teleportation was never pleasant, this one had left her staggering like a toddler. A toddler who had been force-fed vodka.

She turned around to look at Kara, who, true to his name, was lying in the shade of the cliffs and watching her with heavy-lidded eyes. Apparently their trip had been no more pleasant for him than for her, which was strange considering she had seen him teleport all over a battlefield dozens of times without ever appearing disoriented.

At her words, he heaved himself up and closed the distance between them.

“Do you like it?” he asked in a low voice, probably aiming for nonchalant and missing the mark by a mile. She could tell her answer – and by extension, her forgiveness – was very, very important to him.

“It’s pretty. Could be improved with decorative stacks of money, but then, what couldn’t be?” Then her playful voice softened and she leaned her back against him. “I like it.”

Diane felt his chest rumble with contentment and she smiled.

“So where are we?”

“The Côte d’Azur.”

“The what?”

“France.”

Diane froze.

“We’re in France?”

“Yes.”

Diane had always longed to see the world. To travel. To experience. Between her illness and her perpetual lack of means she had never been able to leave the country she was born in – but that one she had savored and explored, from city to city, as far as hitched rides and paltry sums of scammed money would take her.

“…just how far can you teleport?”

“Anywhere I’ve previously been to.”

She swallowed heavily.

“Have you seen a lot of the world?”

“Yes.” His arms gently wrapped around her waist, holding her close. “Would you like me to show you?”

She closed her eyes, savoring the best gift anyone had ever offered her. “Yes,” she whispered. “I would like that very much.”

Interlude II

Diane is 7 when the doctors tell her she is dying.

She doesn’t really understand what death means yet.

As she gorges herself on the candy bars all the adults are suddenly so eager to give her, she thinks dying probably isn’t so bad.

If only her mother would stop crying.

***

Diane sees beauty everywhere, and savors it.

She sees it in the sky, and the flowers, and in art books she borrows from the library.

Recently, she has begun seeing it in her fellow classmates. She looks at the boys who are on the cusp of becoming young men, and appreciates their fine form; the straight lines and hard angles, the muscles shifting when they play sports, and the pleasant timbre of their deepening voices.

The girls look beautiful, too. Their sweet scent, those delicate curves, their elaborate fashion statements.

Diane watches them all and daydreams, lips curling into a happy smile as her thoughts begin taking a rather naughty direction.

***

“Slut.”

Diane cocks her head at the insult, thinly veiled beneath a fake cough.

Then she goes back to eating her lunch; it’s typical terrible school fare. Diane is quite good at finding things to appreciate, but even she can’t savor this.

The cough comes again, louder, from a different mouth this time.

Their efforts to unsettle her are adorable in their ineptitude. They confuse her with someone who cares for their approval.

She is 14, and could drop dead any day, so when she saw the opportunity to lose her V-tag, she went for it. And then she went after it a couple of more times. A great time was had by all, and Diane does not regret her choices.

Still… her brows crinkle into a slight frown.

The boys she had fun with are getting high-fives. She is getting insults.

It’s a little unfair, really.

***

Diane slams the door to the tiny apartment, crossing the living-room-slash-kitchen. There’s a prepackaged meal on the table and she slides it into the microwave.

She spends the afternoon engrossed in a book, in a faraway land.

Her mother arrives from work late in the night, but Diane doesn’t see her, having fallen asleep on the couch.

When her alarm wakes Diane in the morning for school, her mother has already left for her other job.

***

“Diane, what is this?”

Diane lifts her head and frowns. Her mother stands in the doorway, tired and worn. She’s holding out her recent math test. It’s a D. Plus.

“It’s paper. It’s a thing people write on.”

Her mother scowls at her. “You can do better than this.”

Diane shrugs and goes back to reading. Her mother roughly takes her book away, throwing it against the wall.

“Diane! You must think about your future! You’ll never get into college with grades like these.”

She gives her mother a flat look.

“I’m never going to college, mom. I’ll be dead.”

The woman hisses in a sharp breath.

“No, you won’t be. My brilliant girl, you’ll go to college and do great things.”

Diane closes her eyes. Her mother is 30 and looks 40. Diane knows this is her fault. She took her mother’s future with her birth, and now she works 3 menial jobs to pay for bare necessities and an ever-increasing stack of medical bills.

Diane can’t remember the last time they had a conversation.

“I am dying, mom. Okay? Stop pretending I’m not. Stop working every minute of every day to pay for a college fund I’ll never use. Just… just stop and actually talk to me when it’s not about my grades.”

Her mother is speechless. Then she composes herself, taking a deep breath.

“You are not going to die. You are going to go to college. Now stop slacking off at school.” Maybe she would have said more, but she is running late. She presses a kiss to Diane’s brow, and is gone.

***

The whispers at school are getting annoying.

Diane is never going to get to kiss a girl at this rate. They all avoid her, as if whoredom is a disease they might catch.

She sits on a hill, gazing out at her whole world.

It’s so terribly small. Small and small-minded.

Diane wants to see more than this.

***

It takes Anne Cole two days to notice that her daughter hasn’t come home.

***

The first envelope arrives a few months later. It contains a few dollar bills and a note.

Stop working yourself to death and live your life.

I am.

D.

***

The envelopes arrive once a month, like clockwork.

There are no more notes.

But sometimes she sends a picture.

***

One month, the envelope does not come.

It doesn’t come the month after that, either.

And Anne Cole breaks down into tears, thinking her daughter is dead.

***

Yet after a 3 month break, the next envelope arrives.

The sum of money it holds is staggering.

Chapter 16

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.

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?”

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 clearly 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.

They break.

Amelia’s ominous warning hung over her at all times, especially when Kara slipped into one of his black moods. She could always coax him out of it, but it was disquieting all the same.

Yet when things between them were well, they were… wonderful. Kara radiated happiness, and Diane was fairly sure she was doing the same. When they were apart, she found her thoughts drifting to their time together constantly, 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. Kara, in turn, had drawn up a list of places he’d been to, from which Diane was free to pick their next destination, although due to the draining nature of long-distance teleportation he had set a limit of one trip per week.

She looked back down at Amelia’s list.

Their relationship was a house of cards, and this might just be the thing to topple it over.

***

Kara pressed her lips to Diane’s neck, still breathing heavily as the vines slowly slithered away, freeing her. Then 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 finally 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 his 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 her 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. Kara 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, Diane 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, Shade? 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.”

She 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 neatly trimmed 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 teleported 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.”

Chapter 17

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 he’d cleaned himself up, she’d been 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 to risk going after what one truly wanted. Shade had nothing on her in that department.

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

Just because she didn’t have his seven 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 desired to wield one, Amelia assured her that her models were far superior.

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. Or at least delay it long enough until she wanted to part ways, on her terms.

Diane paused as that stray thought left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. Then she shook her head to clear it and 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 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 six 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 allies.

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 summoned his 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 his defenses wide open in his assault.

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.

Chapter 18

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 – 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 previous rides through the shadows but this was infinitely worse. Where the other times 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 his motionless body.

***

Diane crossed her arms over Kara’s blanket-covered belly and rested her head on them, gazing 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 6 foot 2 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 brows furrowed in realization. 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 that stood out 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, smiled shyly 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 costume.

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 that was missing was a little tinfoil. Newspaper clippings lined the walls, brightly colored threads connecting them seemingly at random. Diane dodged and weaved 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

Hm.

Another woman in Kara’s life?

This just begged to be investigated.

Diane leisurely scrolled through the multitude of files, scanning their names. She saw some labeled police report and others appearing to be excerpts from newspapers. There were also several videos. She clicked on the latest, which the timestamp identified as being more than a decade 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 ample breasts, seeming aghast. At the sound of Diane’s approach she whipped around, narrowing icy blue eyes.

“You.” The full feminine lips moved, but the sound that rang out was a deep baritone, on the verge of hysteria. “What the hell did you do to me?!”

Chapter 19

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 was staring at him with her red eyes wide, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant.

“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.

“Ian?” she tried tentatively, even more uncertain 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 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 assisting in holding Reason down.

“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.

“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 thoughts somersaulted when realization hit.

Kara had breasts.

Kara had curves.

Kara had an entirely feminine face that some might call 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 gave her a gentle kiss. “We’ll figure this out, okay?” she murmured, and Kara’s only answer was a soft sigh, her hands dropping to rest on Diane’s hips, drawing her closer.

For a long moment, they simply stood there, tightly entwined with each other. Then Diane laughed softly and started grinding against Kara’s stirring cock. “So that’s still there, then,” she observed curiously, and Kara’s only answer was a strangled noise in the back of her throat.

Diane splayed her fingers, her red eyes sparkling with what might have been curiosity or mischief, and cupped 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…” 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 swallowed heavily.

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

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.” And then 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 she 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 that much 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 ruin him if she 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 precisely happy 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, and knowing that this particular villain had Diane’s stamp of approval hopefully hinted at a more benign nature. In this, he would trust her judgement.

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.

Chapter 20

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 by superior technology. Combined with an undeniably brilliant 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 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 relatively 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 meant to be private.

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. 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 spills 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, with just 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?”

Chapter 21

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 as Amelia plucked the Arcanator from her hands.

“Your magic did it,” 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 according to your desires? 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.

Chapter 22

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 the 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, smoothed 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 hate all villains,” she said simply.

She doesn’t hate me.

Or maybe that was past tense 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 parents.

“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 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 foolishness changed Constance, strangling her love for science. 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 nonsensical 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. That 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 teaming 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, far stronger than any of my test subject’s had been. It took a lot of effort to break them and reshape him to be my minion. The rushed nature of this endeavor led me to… improvise.

“The idea was to force him to commit a variety of villainous acts, giving him a strong 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 psychic 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.”

Chapter 23

Shade stood atop a rooftop, gazing down at the villain currently ineptly trying to rampage.

Fusion Flare, Threat Level 3.

Unlike Diane’s - don’t think about her, he reminded himself, futilely, yet again - 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.

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 could have gotten something better fitting, but the thought of shopping for his new female body made him slightly nauseous. And maybe, in some small corner of his mind, giddy, but acknowledging that only made him more 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.

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 absently adjusted the metal bracelets on his wrists, checking the somewhat unfamiliar mechanism. 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.

Shade 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 uppercut 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.

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, pushing through the crowd that had gathered. The Captain easily kept up with him, the aforementioned crowd parting to allow him to pass, admiring murmurs trailing after the famous hero.

“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, turning a corner into a narrow alley, hoping the Captain would take the hint already.

“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, although it’s one with a steep learning curve. If you need any advice, I always enjoy helping out new heroes.” 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 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 distinctive 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.

“…magic,” 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 some 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 wrists.”

The Captain nodded. “You do. And I have no doubt you’d find a way to 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.

Interlude III

David is scared.

Scratch that, David is fucking terrified.

Eldritch Eclipse smiles and raises her hand, silver light gathering in her palm to strike him down, like she struck down his teammates. They are lying scattered to his feet, broken and defeated. And now he is next.

He can’t move. Why won’t his legs move?

Everyone expected him to lead, just because he wears this costume. Just because his father is Captain Patriot, the greatest Hero of all time. As if David has any idea what he’s doing.

He’s only been a hero for two months.

Her hand comes down and that terrible blinding light is racing toward him.

And then something slams into him from the side, and the light gets swallowed by darkness. Vertigo envelops him and suddenly he is elsewhere, stumbling, his knees buckling.

“Learn to dodge,” a deep voice snaps.

David never has to dodge. Everything just slides off his impervious body.

His shoulder is burning. Eldritch Eclipse has landed a hit there, and the skin is red and blistered. Pain? It has to be. He’d almost forgotten the sensation.

David slowly raises his head and stares at his savior.

Nobody has ever snapped at him before. They all just worship the ground he walks on. Well, the ground the boots of his father walk on.

“Who are you, dude?”

The man draws his black hood deeper over his face.

“I am Shade. And now listen close, newbie.”

And then follows a long, long lecture about why frontal assaults are a terrible idea. How to distract a villain by getting them to monologue. Why you should always dodge, even if you’re invulnerable, because you never know what nasty side effects that energy ray can have.

David listens eagerly. No one has ever just sat him down and given him such basic beginner tips and tricks. They all just assumed he knew.

And then Shade lays out his plan to save David’s teammates.

***

They save the day.

His teammates slap him on the back, congratulating him on being just like his father.

David cranes his neck and looks for Shade, but he is gone, vanished into his shadows.

***

David runs into Shade a couple more times over the next few weeks. He may be going out of his way to run into him.

Shade gets so annoyed at his presence.

It’s wonderful.

David can’t help but laying it on really thick, just to hear that exasperated sigh. But no matter how annoyed, Shade never gets truly mean. He’ll just give quiet snarky responses, revealing a dry humor David quite likes. Sometimes he’ll just up and teleport away in the middle of their conversation.

Nobody else ever takes that tone with David. He loves it. He is so tired of the hero worship. He hasn’t earned it.

***

David finds out that Shade is dating Dazzling Dawn, who belongs to the Tenacious Teens, a supergroup of teenage heroes who are now young adults, making their supergroup name a bit of a relic.

So he starts hanging out with them a little more. They are delighted to have a living legend among them, giving their low-profile group quite a bit of status. David can’t be sure, but he has the feeling Shade is rolling his eyes under that hood at their reaction to him. David agrees.

David notices that Shade always stands apart from the others. The only one he really talks to is Dawn.

In fact, David doesn’t know of any heroes who are friends with him.

***

Shade and Dawn break up, and then Shade stops hanging out with the Tenacious Teens.

They don’t seem to miss him at all.

So when they are out drinking one night at the E, David prods them a little about their thoughts on the taciturn vigilante.

“Shade, man!” Texplosion laughs, his southern drawl especially pronounced when he is drunk. “Good riddance. He is a freak.” He shares a knowing look with Dawn, who fidgets uncomfortably. “Get this, he told Dawn that…”

There is the distinct sound of an energy projectile being fired, and Tex shuts up, wincing. Dawn glares.

David frowns. “Shade’s a good guy,” he offers tentatively.

“He is cold,” says PsyKick in a soft voice.

“Yeah, Shade has all the warmth of a freeze ray.”

“And has just about its sense of humor.”

David balls his fists under the table and says nothing. Then he gets up under the pretense of getting more drinks. As he stands at the counter, silently fuming, PsyKick comes up to him.

“He is not a good person, you know.”

David turns around and frowns at the mindreader.

“I catch glimpses of his mind sometimes.” PsyKick fidgets uncomfortably; they all know that his powers invade their privacy, but it’s just not spoken of. “It’s… not a good place. A lot of rage, a lot of hate. I tried talking to him a little, but he just shuts us down, even Dawn. He wears Psy-Blockers to keep me out.”

“Shade’s a good guy,” David repeats, wishing that he was eloquent, that he could put his thoughts into words. Shade is kind, in his way. He is never cruel to David, even though he can tell that he dislikes him. And his sense of humor is fine; it’s just subtle.

“Shade is going to snap one day.” PsyKick’s voice is so very gentle, and that makes it worse. “He hates villains so much, it’s not healthy.” He hesitates. “You… shouldn’t be so invested in him. It’s only a matter of time.”

David sputters. Shade, a fallen hero? No. Yes, his loathing of villains goes far and beyond what is normal. Yes, he is a little rougher with the criminals he apprehends. Okay, yes, it sometimes borders on homicidal violence.

But…

But.

Shade just needs a friend.

And at that moment Captain Patriot decides that he is going to be that friend.

Chapter 24

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. 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 observation. 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.

So she hadn’t been able to finish her training regimen – but she’d gotten really close before collapsing in exhaustion. Most normal people – most men would have given up long before she had.

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 he?

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. It 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 in turn. 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.

She 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, striking and had a toned body that stood out even amongst the superior physique of most heroes. Bulkier than Shade 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.

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 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 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 maul the lettuce. Kara really was a complete fucking mess; normally, she could 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 as smooth as if it had never been broken at all.

Kara felt her knees grow weak as realization truly sank in.

***

“’sup, bro?”

“Morning!”

David winced, covering his ears. “Christ. How are you so fucking perky, Shade?”

Kara smirked triumphantly.

“I have a healing factor!”

***

Invulnerability did not protect the Captain from his vicious hangover, and he moaned 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 squeezed her breast once again, savoring the sensation.

Whatever problems and complications this body brought with it, she could not keep denying that it felt wonderful. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror no longer made her flinch. There was no nagging voice in the back of her head, screaming that everything was wrong, wrong, wrong, tearing away at her sanity.

Kara felt… whole.

Almost.

There was still that thing between his legs, begging for attention.

Seeing it now, there was no denying it - her cock was smaller than it had been only yesterday. Diane’s healing magic had a tight grip on her; soon the transformation would be complete, with or without further intervention. Kara brushed a finger along the tip, shivering, wondering if she should be feeling a sense of loss.

She didn’t.

After a moment’s hesitation, Kara let go of the hard flesh and let her hands roam, exploring every curve and every slope of her wonderful new body. Every inch of skin sizzled with heat, responding to the slightest touch. It was different. She had never felt anything like this before; arousal used to be concentrated just in her groin and now it was everywhere, clawing at her insides with need.

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. Kara moaned and writhed, all those ridiculous feminine sex noises that she’d always been half-convinced women faked to stroke her ego now easily falling from her lips.

She couldn’t stop thinking about her. For all that she was done with her, her brain and body conspired against her, constantly throwing images of the villainess at her.

Kara almost hated her for that.

But not nearly as much as she hated herself for missing her.

Diane had made her weak.

She made me happy, whispered a treacherous voice in her head.

Diane was a villain.

She’s a healer.

Diane didn’t know how to love.

She said she loves me.

Diane was friends with a monster.

She took me into her arms and accepted me in all my fucked-up glory.

“Diane,” Kara moaned in misery and longing, squeezing her eyes shut.

***

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.

Chapter 25

Shade 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?

And as she stared at her reflection, she realized she had known the answer to that question for a long time, even if she had never been able to admit it.

She was not Ian.

She hated being Ian.

And the moment she had given her longing a woman’s name had been her first taste of happiness in years.

***

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.

She 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 Ian nor Shade nor Dionaea had really existed in here… for a while.

Their bliss had been not 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.

Somewhere along the way, Kara had begun to wish that what they had would never have to end.

You’re mine.

Diane was deeply, deeply flawed. 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 perhaps that was fucked up, too, but Kara thought that maybe two flawed people could reach out and make each other… better.

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?

Her face flashed before Kara’s eyes, replaying the moment she’d spat her declaration of love back at her. Diane had looked devastated.

She 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. She really hoped she’d get to keep her full height once things were said and done; 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.”

Chapter 26

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.

The first day, she had just been numb.

Then the day after that she had cried. 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.

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 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 realizing 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 legs 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 and clutching several chocolate bars.

“You are learning, young one. Now let me tell you about the secret and ancient art of crying on cue.”

***

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?”

The little boy 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 redhaired 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 from 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 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 move. Diane could 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.

Chapter 27

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.

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 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 head 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 occasionally managed to create two when 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 usually 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 both.

***

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.

Chapter 28

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 Kara’s waist and she tightened her embrace in response.

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. Diane dimly realized that Kara was caging her in between her slender, yet muscular 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 shoulders. 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.

There was that strange fluttery sensation in her chest again.

“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 sizzling 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.”

“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. “Yes,” she whispered. “No.”

“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.

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.

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 yelped 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 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’s body was still built 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 out and she moaned and her hips were jerking involuntary now, 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 moaned, hips undulating, and Kara realized she wasn’t the only one losing control.

“Yours,” she gasped. “Always yours. Only yours!”

Chapter 29

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 might have been 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 to do in all the drama.

Kara was slender yet curvy, her perky 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 herself. 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 kept her hands on her shoulders.

They stood almost toe-to-toe, Diane gazing up into Kara’s eyes.

Gazing. 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 curves, droplets trailing down her breasts, tracing their rounded shape. 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 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, both somehow 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.”

Cinder Snow 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 nice 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 Paragon media, there were only four types of Capes. There were Heroes. There were Villains. And then there were the two grey areas in between – Fallen Heroes and Reformed Villains. And in their eyes, nothing made a juicier story than a Cape moving from one category into another.

And now they were spinning the tale 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 eight villains of Threat Level Five 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.

Chapter 30

"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 just 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.

“Do you like it?”

Diane turned her head to see Kara leaning against the doorframe, wearing a bathrobe and still blinking sleepily. Her hair was adorably tousled.

“What’s not to like?” Having eagerly explored every inch of the luxurious estate, Diane had fallen deeply in love with the Victorian mansion. True, it was somewhat lacking in a personal touch, but she could fix that.

“It’s yours, you know.”

“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.

“I am not above bribery, you know.” Kara’s smile dimmed and when she spoke, her voice was infused with that sincerity that got to Diane every single time. “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 tilted 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 once more. 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.”

Chapter 31

Shade’s eyes were closed, her breaths measured and even as blood rushed into her head.

She pushed herself up further, splaying her fingers and lifting her hands until only her fingertips touched the ground. She gritted her teeth, the weight becoming highly uncomfortable. She curled her pinkies, and then her thumb, until she was precariously balanced on only two fingers on each hand.

There was the slurp of someone sipping through a straw.

Kara opened one eye. Diane was upside down, sitting in the Lotus position and watching her with fascination. Kara was certain that if she could digest popcorn, she’d be eating that; instead, she was holding a smoothie.

“And you train like this every day?”

“Have to,” Kara gritted out, holding the headstand.

“And you used to do it shirtless?” There was a gleam in her eyes that Kara recognized as lust. Kara huffed, amused.

She couldn’t quite train shirtless anymore; her breasts jiggled too much for it and it got downright painful sometimes. So she was wearing a sports bra.

“Damn,” Diane whispered. “And I missed it. Oh well. This is awesome, too.” She waved her hand regally. “Do continue.”

Shade laughed and almost lost her balance, quickly dropping into a crouch with a backflip.

“I could train you, you know.”

Diane crinkled her nose as if she’d just heard blasphemy. “Hello? Plantilicious badass here.”

“Didn’t help you against Amethyst,” Kara said in a low voice. Diane was powerful, no doubt, but she was so very weak once someone actually closed in on her. Even Shade herself could have killed her easily, had she actually used the blades in their second encounter. It didn’t matter that Kara knew, intellectually, that Diane was more powerful than her. The thought of Diane’s vulnerability was driving her out of her mind with worry. She’d watched her almost die twice now. Hell, saving her had almost killed Shade twice.

If it were up to Kara, Diane would just stay in her mansion forever. Possibly enfolded in one of those safety bubble wraps.

“Point,” Diane conceded, gnawing on the straw of her drink. “But I’m pretty sure I would collapse after the second push-up. Quite frankly, it looks hard, and hard work and me are two things that just don’t mix. Plus, all this?” She gestured to her body. “And martial arts? The world would not be able to handle it.”

“And so humble, too.”

“Humility would be lying, Shade.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “And lying is wrong. See? I’m reforming my evil ways.”

The light started flickering and Shade tilted her head up, frowning. Diane craned her neck as well. “Forgot to pay the electric bill?”

“Silent alarm,” Shade said and strode out of the training room to her computer, Diane scrambling to keep up with her.

“You know this room looks a little crazy, yeah?”

Shade tilted her head quizzically. She hadn’t even thought about dodging the threads running from wall to wall, connecting the sparse leads of her sister’s murderer, just doing it on instinct. She supposed from an outsider’s perspective it could look a little… obsessed.

But Shade was obsessed. Dedicated. That wasn’t a bad thing. Her sister deserved someone who cared that she was dead.

So she shrugged and said, “A certain estrangement with reality is obligatory for all heroes.”

Diane choked on a laugh and Shade swiveled in her chair toward the computer screens with a grin. The silent alarm was more of a phone ringing, in case she didn’t have her earpiece in. Shade had only ever shared her contact info with the Chief of the Paragon police department if she, specifically, was ever needed to take a statement or something like that.

Although that wasn’t quite true anymore. She’d also shared it with a certain Captain during a very drunken night which, in retrospect, had been quite… fun. Kara thought that maybe she wouldn’t mind doing it again, and wasn’t that an absurd thought to have. Two months ago she’d have set herself on fire before voluntarily spending time in David’s presence.

Of course, two months ago a lot of things had been different.

She tapped a button and saw a screen pop up with the image of the Captain, who grinned wildly at her. From the angle she’d guess that he was talking to her through a holo-communicator strapped to his wrist, as many heroes wore it. “Hey bro! Have been trying to reach you. I was already half-convinced you’d given me a fake number.”

“I’m sure you’re used to getting those,” Shade replied, lips twitching in amusement. “So I thought I’d do the unexpected.”

David chuckled, laugh lines crinkling. “So, dude, apparently we have a villain at our hands and could use your hand. You in?”

Shade tilted her head, gaze straying to Diane who was leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, watching the exchange with interest. “I’m…busy,” she said haltingly, even though she did want to go. After the disaster at the hospital she longed to do something heroic.

The Captain hummed and frowned at Shade. “Could be serious, man.”

Diane rolled her eyes and made a vague hand gesture that Shade chose to interpret as Go.

“All right. Coordinates?”

The Captain sent him an address in Faultline, an area she was quite familiar with. Once the bustling heart of the city it had the misfortune of being a frequent target of villains. Iconic landmarks could only be destroyed so many times before people tired of rebuilding them. After the destruction at the hands of Avalanche, the district was long since in ruins, with little to no efforts to restore it to its former glory.

It was a popular location for villain lairs due to its abandoned nature, and had devolved into something of a battleground. Heroes often went out of their way to steer villains they were dueling into the deserted district, thus keeping civilian casualties low, yet also worsening the destruction. The skyscrapers stood crooked and broken now, with deep canyons creating rifts between the streets.

“All right, I’ll be right there.”

The screen went black and Diane sauntered up to him. “You didn’t even ask what that was about.”

Shade tilted her head back, frowning. “When another hero calls for help, you just help.”

She hummed thoughtfully. Then she shrugged. “All right, let’s do this.”

“Huh?”

“What, did you think I’m letting you go alone?”

“There’ll be heroes there, Diane…”

“Yes,” she drawled. “And Amelia is out there. You didn’t hear what she threatened to do to you if I ever left her. I am not letting you out of my sight.”

***

David watched Amethyst Star out of the corner of his eyes.

She was standing in a deceptively casual pose, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular as they waited for Shade to arrive. But there was a tension radiating off of her that he found disquieting. That it was paired with a small vacant smile didn’t help matters.

Amethyst was hurting, everyone could see it, but no one could find the right words to get through to her, least of all David who always ended up sounding like an idiot even to his own ears.

Yes, maybe he wasn’t the sharpest bulb in the shed, but he wasn’t dumb.

For one thing, he didn’t believe for a second that Shade’s “magical accident” had been an accident. Not when, after he told her his real name in a fit of drunken elation, the brutal vigilante had blushed and immediately replied with a woman’s name.

Shade always had tension running through him, poised to snap any second, just like Amethyst was now. Yet when he’d met her in her new body, that tension had just been gone. She hadn’t struck the Captain as particularly happy – hence the epic night out drinking – but she hadn’t seemed like she was about to coldly start snapping necks either, a vibe that Shade had given off far too often. There was, after all, a reason most of the hero community avoided him.

Whatever. David didn’t judge. His father had taught him that much.

It occurred to David that he’d neglected to mention Shade’s new body situation to Amethyst.

“Hey, Amethyst, something I forgot to tell you…”

She turned her head toward him with an eerily slow motion.

A familiar swirl of shadows materialized not far from them, and a tall, short-haired woman stepped out of them. Shade apparently still hadn’t made a new costume; she was wearing mostly civilian clothing. The combat boots and domino mask covering her face were the only items identifying her as a hero.

Amethyst’s knuckles turned white.

Shade froze.

“Yeeeah, that,” David said apologetically. “Sorry, completely slipped my mind.” Mostly because he’d been distracted with being entirely too pleased with himself for finally being able to help Amethyst.

“You.” Amethyst’s voice was flat and cold. “I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

David blinked, taken aback and feeling like he was missing something. Sadly, it was a feeling he got a lot.

Shade’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Eventually, she seemed to settle on “I’m sorry I dislocated your shoulder.”

“Wait, what?”

Amethyst’s piercing gaze swung to David at his startled outburst. “Yes, Shade, why don’t you tell the Captain what you’ve done?”

Shade said nothing.

“Shade attacked me,” Amethyst drawled. “To help a villain escape.”

And David laughed. That was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. Few heroes had murderous contempt for villains quite as much as Shade did.

Yet Shade didn’t contradict her.

David’s laughter trailed off.

“Are you serious?”

Shade shrugged miserably. “Diane’s different,” she said in a soft voice. “She’s trying to change.”

The ground around Amethyst’s feet suddenly splintered, a purple glow pulsing between the fissures. “Villains don’t change,” she hissed, and her green eyes burned. “They lie.”

Shade hesitantly took a step toward her, then hastily retreated when the ground to her feet started cracking, too. “I used to think that, but…”

“But nothing! You’re trying to change her? She’s not the one being changed. Just look at yourself! Did she do this to you?”

Shade looked stricken.

“What else have you done? Helped commit any crimes lately?”

Shade mutely shook her head, taking a step backward.

Amethyst had almost been screaming. But now her voice dropped to little more than a whisper.

“I trusted you.”

And then some light in her eyes just went out.

The ground started shaking.

***

When stars died, their remains gave birth to black holes, tearing everything in the vicinity into the abyss.

A new perfect 10 was born that day.

And her name was Event Horizon.

Chapter 32

Somewhere in Paragon…

There was no greater joy than flying.

Dazzling Dawn grinned, accelerating to feel the wind rushing past her ears. Her wings – strong and delicate, made entirely out of fine strands of light – caught the sun’s rays, refracting them and shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow.

Beneath her, she could see some of the citizens of Paragon looking up at her and smiling. Dazzling Dawn streaking past in the sky was one of the most beautiful sights Paragon had to offer, and she knew it.

Dawn spotted a small girl gazing up at her with wide eyes.

She laughed with joy, and twirled in a complex aerial maneuver just for her, leaving a trail of sparkles in her wake.

Her wings went out like a candle that had been extinguished.

And Dawn began to fall.

Somewhere in Paragon…

A young woman was standing in line to get her third cup of coffee of the day. It was an addiction, really, but she could not resist its caffeinated call.

The petite blonde smiled at the barista as she paid, gingerly cupping the hot beverage in her dainty hands.

A wind blew through her hair, which was strange, since she was inside.

And suddenly a man who had been calmly reading a book jumped up and pointed at her, crossing himself in horror.

The other patrons looked up at the commotion, then sighed, rolled their eyes and went back to whatever they’d been doing.

Tourists.

Clearly that was only Infernal Illusionist, a respected heroine of Paragon City who had the misfortune of looking like an 8 foot tall demonic behemoth.

They were not quite as apathetic when outside of the coffee shop a caped figure fell onto a car, shattering the windows and tripping the blaring alarm.

Somewhere in Paragon…

PsyKick felt a wind wash over him, and raised his head with mild interest. He sat up as far as the straps tying him to the bed would allow.

His gaze lingered on the barred window of his tiny hospital room.

The back of his neck itched uncomfortably, right where the doctors had implanted his power-dampeners so long ago.

After a long moment of nothing happening, he sank back onto the pillow and resumed staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to ignore the Purpose clawing at his insides.

Somewhere in Paragon…

Constance was late.

How she, Mistress of Time and Space, kept managing that was really quite a mystery. One would think that a woman capable of bending time itself to her whim would learn how to keep track of it.

Truthfully, she just had too much of it.

She casually strolled through the grass, nibbling on her bagel as she made her way to her next undergraduate class. She’d be teaching it, earning the last few credits she needed to finally finish her formal education.

Despite her incessant tardiness, her professors just loved her, urging her to go into arcane academia. But academia meant research which was really just one step removed from scientist.

No, Constance was going places. Security, maybe. Last night, after a bit of tinkering, she’d invented a magical trap that would ensnare any prospective thief in a stable 10 second time loop until, say, the police arrived and deactivated it.

She squeezed past the students, standing still as statues, blocking the entrance to the building she needed to get into. They weren’t quite frozen, but she’d slowed time down significantly to the point that they appeared that way. Truly freezing time was a terrible idea, as she’d once found out. Constance needed to breathe, after all, and non-moving air molecules were not conductive to that.

And then suddenly the students were moving, bumping into Constance who, to their perception, had just appeared out of thin air.

What the…?

Constance stumbled, but was thankfully caught by a considerate man who steadied her quickly.

She gazed around, disoriented. She tried to slow time again.

It just kept flowing. Students walked past her, chattering casually and happily.

But here and there she saw a few people looking as stunned as she felt.

Somewhere in Paragon…

“You’re a superhero?”

“Yes!”

“And that’s why you didn’t show up?”

“Yes, baby, please, I was stopping The Brick from destroying the UHOW. You know I love you, I was going to tell you to celebrate our 1 year anniversary. I really meant to show up, I had gifts and everything.”

She looked at him sceptically. “Okay. Prove it.”

“Watch this!”

Texplosion flicked his hand.

Nothing happened.

“Ugh. I knew it! Mark, what did you expect to happen?” She stomped her foot. “That’s like the oldest excuse in the book! If you’re gonna lie to me, at least do it convincingly!”

Somewhere in Paragon…

A doctor ran into a patient’s room to find a child crying. Doctor Brooke could not feel the cause. Was it pain, was it fear? Was it anything he could do? Since the entire pediatric ward went silent just seconds ago, the screaming child became his only focus.

Calmest. Monday. Ever.

The screaming became heaving and whimpers on its own, but Doctor Brooke did not leave the new patient. The child’s father said, “He mentioned something about his so-called power going missing, the little freak. Can you do anything?”

Doctor Brooke, who had seen this sort of person in both careers as a doctor and a hero, looked at the man plainly, then called outside, “Nurse, could you hand me my hat?”

Moments later, he performed a little trick with his magician’s hat for the child and his irritated father. The doctor was glad that he could still do tricks, because out came a thin book and a box of tissues. “Here,” the doctor said to the father, “take these.”

“What am I supposed to do with this?” demanded the other man, indicating the book.

“Read it, of course. Why don’t you do so outside. Don’t forget the tissues, it’s a touching and informative little thing.” Doctor Brooke guided the man outside, not telling him that the book promoted tolerance of children with superpowers. Then the doctor sat down in a chair in front of his new patient. The patient, of course, had the higher seat, and the child was calmer by now. “Hello there. Why don’t you tell me about these powers?”

Somewhere in Paragon…

Anemona, ambassador of a proud and independent Nation of Atlantis, Shining Jewel of The Sea, Heart of the Underwater Empire, stepped toward the twisted metal box.

She didn’t quite understand why the landers felt the need to squeeze themselves into such small things. Surely there were better ways of transportation? She kneeled in front of the broken and bended metal frame, strong hands gripping the - car, was it? They seemed so fragile, too.

She did not voice that, of course. She had manners, and was here to represent her people. Relations had been a little strained since that Giant Squid incident.

“Never fear, Landwalking One. This One will take the accursed metal box so you may swim freely. For shizzle.”

Her translator might have been slightly broken. And programmed with outdated slang.

She raised the car above her head with ease, and the landers trapped beneath quickly wiggled out. Anemona gave them a genial smile, which they tentatively returned.

There was a breeze.

And then the car was suddenly very, very heavy.

Bones cracked.

Somewhere in Paragon…

Thop thop thop.

Three more arrows hit three more targets.

There were twenty targets in all, each arrayed around the archer standing in the middle of the room; each target was impaled with an arrow through its bull’s eye. The distance ranged from 10 feet to 30 yards. She knew she could hit at longer ranges, but for this type of exercise, short range was preferred.

She turned and started walking away, placing the bow and the quiver on the stand where they belonged. One of her minions would be by later to clean up after her. Then her eyes locked on the television, a breaking news alert mutely flashing across the screen. She quickly grabbed the remote to turn up the volume.

“… all over the city are losing their powers! Whatever the power, whatever its source, both heroes and villains alike are just suddenly becoming impotent!”

She switched off the television, sensing opportunity, “Eagle, get Liger and assemble the men. We have a crime spree to go on! Gotta love the media.”

Somewhere in Paragon…

Platypus Man no longer felt the connection to his fellow Platypi.

It was quite traumatizing.

He curled up in the fetal position.

Somewhere in Paragon…

Event Horizon felt true power.

Chapter 33

The earth shook and Diane worriedly raised her head toward the ruined plaza where Shade was meant to meet her teammates. After much exasperation and bickering, Kara had dropped her off a block away, not wanting her anywhere closer to other heroes. Then she’d told Diane to stay as if she was some sort of dog. So, obviously, Diane had ignored that instruction and had been steadily creeping closer to the check-in point.

She yelped when debris crashed down not far from her, stumbling in her haste to back away. The decrepit skyscrapers of Faultline did not have a lot of stability to begin with; any tremor in the earth, even one as minor as this, could tip their precarious balance.

Diane huffed and got up, ignoring the dull pain of a bruise on her leg as she resumed her sneaking.

Then she realized – the pain wasn’t going away.

She wasn’t healing.

Diane reached for the earpiece Shade had given her. “Kara? Something’s wrong,” she whispered.

There was no answer.

***

Shade dropped to her knees as a pulse washed over her, gasping for air. This close to its epicenter, it felt like a tidal wave crashing into her. Her ears were ringing and she felt the sharp sting of her earpiece short-circuiting. She dimly heard a thump and a pained groan that could have been the Captain.

It washed over her, leaving her shaking and weak. She slowly raised her head.

Amethyst was holding herself completely still, lips parted, eyes closed. A multitude of expression flitted across her face. The rage that had twisted her normally pretty features gave way to ecstasy, and she gasped softly – only to grimace in pain.

Then there was nothing. Her face was perfectly still. She almost looked like she was at peace.

And then she opened her eyes.

They were like stars, shining and glowing and so very distant.

“Amethyst?” The Captain was groaning, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. He swayed as he stood up, and frowned down at himself in confusion.

And Amethyst laughed. It started as a low chuckle that escalated into giddy laughter. Shade slowly backed away, while the Captain hesitantly stepped toward her.

Shade’s mouth was dry. She wasn’t quite sure what just happened, but it was plainly evident that there was something wrong with the heroine. “Amethyst, you need to calm down.”

“But I am calm.” Her smile widened. “Do you remember what you told me on that roof, Shade?”

Shade didn’t answer. She had no idea what might set her off.

Amethyst didn’t seem to care, answering her own question. Shade realized she was monologuing. Never a good sign. “You said that we had to do the right thing no matter what. And I did. I have always done the right thing. Even when it was hard. Even when I could have walked away and been better off for it. I have sacrificed.”

Her heels clacked on the ground as she walked closer. The pavement splintered under each footstep.

“And they never appreciated you for it?” Shade’s voice was low, with just a hint of dry sarcasm. David shot her a furious look. Amethyst was slipping into speeches Shade had heard a thousand times before. From villains.

Amethyst cocked her head. “No. They did. I had action figures.” She paused for a moment, gaze lingering on the Captain. “But one so-called mistake took it all away. And I have replayed that night, over and over again. And do you know what conclusion I’ve reached?”

There was a long moment of tense silence.

“I would do it again. It was the right thing to do. I made the world a better place.”

She spread her arms wide and smiled. “This? All this? It’s a game we play. Heroes and Villains. We put them in jail, and they escape, so we put them in jail again. And then they escape, again, and people die, but we can never kill them, because it’s wrong. Nothing, nothing we do ever makes a difference. Their taint just spreads more and more. Even to you, Shade. Well, I made a difference. I broke the rules. And they hated me for reminding the world that we have the power to do that.

“I was right to do what I did.

“This game we play, of pretending that it’s normal to live in fear of someone suddenly deciding to destroy the lives of good people just because they have the power to do it, is sick. Villains are a stain on this world.”

She paused and gazed at Shade for a long moment. “I thought you understood that.”

The Captain’s eyes were wide with dawning horror. He reached to grab her arm. She grew very still. “Amethyst, listen to what you’re saying. Okay, I don’t know what happened between you and Shade, but…”

Amethyst interrupted him by laying a finger on his lips. She cocked her head at him, looking at him as one might look at a bug one found crawling on one’s arm.

“You play the game very well, Captain.”

She turned her head fully toward him, that terrible gaze seeing right through him. Her lips curved into a serene smile. “People love you, do you know that?”

The Captain stood frozen.

“It’s not anything you did. You didn’t earn it. They just love what you stand for.” Her smile widened and she reached for him, brushing her palm over his cheek. He leaned away from the touch, eyes wide. “I loved you, too.” And then he stopped trying to lean away, rocking back on his heels. “I wanted to be like you.”

Her finger gently stroked down his cheek. And then she roughly grabbed his chin and her face contorted into fury. “Of course that was before I met you!”

The Captain’s body went flying, a purple burst of light hitting him square in the chest.

He collapsed a few yards away. He didn’t get back up.

“I am done playing the game. I will wipe every single villain off the face of the earth. They will hate me for it. But I, as always, am willing to sacrifice.” Those stars in her eyes gleamed as she raised her head, her eyes locking on something in the distance. “And I know just with whom to start.”

***

Diane had snuck close enough just in time to see a caped man hit the floor. Her eyes widened when she recognized the iconic costume.

And then she recognized the psychotic heroine from the hospital. Who was closing in on Kara. And without even thinking, she started running. Her chest hurt, heart pounding against her ribcage, and she tried accessing her well of blood magic in vain. It was just like in the hospital, and she hated this sensation. Hated being powerless.

The woman in white raised her head and met her gaze.

“Diane, duck!” Kara’s voice cut through the blood rushing in her ears and she barely dropped to the floor in time.

Heat washed over Diane, singing her hair. Somewhere behind her she heard the boom of an explosion, the slow screech of metal giving way, followed by the rumble of falling rubble.

Diane blinked and opened her eyes, gazing up.

Amethyst Star was standing in front of her, white cape billowing in the wind. How had she closed the distance so fast?

Her eyes were beautiful and terrible.

“Do you feel that? In your bones?” Her voice was so soft it was barely audible. “The weakness? Knowing that you are facing someone who is infinitely more powerful than you and who decides whether you live or die on a whim?

“It’s how your kind makes good people feel every day.

“Say goodbye to this world, Dionaea. I will eradicate every last one of you and no one can stop me.”

“I’d like to test that theory,” said Cinder Snow.

Amethyst Star turned toward the new voice.

There was a deafening screech as light shot past Diane by a hair’s breadth.

The earth shook as the nearest skyscraper began to crumble.

Amelia casually adjusted the laser cannon mounted to her arm as it neatly folded back into her tech-armor. The dust slowly settled around them. Her lips curved into a small yet triumphant smile.

“Science. It works, bitches.”

Chapter 34

Amelia wasn’t having the best day.

In fact, she’d been having a week that was decidedly non-optimal. This displeased her.

She sighed softly, taking off her goggles and massaged her temples.

Working with magic was infuriating on any day, but today it was making her feel like she was six years old again, just starting to study quantum physics and being absolutely incensed at the sense it did not make.

This isn’t ever going to get better.

She stared at the inky black portal swirling in front of her, the gaping abyss leading to some sort of eldritch dimension she’d pinpointed as the source of arcane energy. A source, anyway. Magic didn’t even have the decency to be internally consistent, being powered by several clashing sources leading to very confused mage apprentices who were told they had to be calm and precise to cast their magic, only to grow strongest during irrational emotional outbursts.

“Foolish Mortal!” The voice was a low snarl, its terrible cadence capable of tearing apart the minds of lesser humans. It peeled away the thin threads of sanity, playing them like an instrument to create a symphony of madness. Amelia had captured its owner a few days ago; fished it right out of the portal in front of her. She’d been bored. “Stare Not Into The Sacred Depths of Our Home, For Our Home Is Vast And Terrible And Stares Back Until It Swallows You Whole And Your Feeble Mind –“

“Hush, Sir Fluffington. Don’t make me turn the translator off again.”

The abomination currently inhabiting the form of one of her test rabbits bared its teeth at her, but had the good sense to shut up.

A breeze blew through her long black hair and the portal disappeared with a pop.

Amelia blinked and tilted her head.

She was suddenly very cold. The fine hairs on her arms stood on end as she shivered.

Amelia hadn’t been cold in years. Her powers kept the air around her perfectly attuned to her comfort zone.

She did not care for the feeling. Not one bit.

Amelia snapped her fingers, but no blue sparks appeared.

Some mild curiosity stirred and she tapped a few buttons on her wrist. The panels on the walls detached themselves to reveal her computers. She checked the security feeds for intruders foolish enough to think they could defeat her with a mere power suppression field. Amelia did not need to be able to set anyone on fire with her mind to win. She had piranhas for just such an occasion.

The halls and winding paths of her lair were deserted.

Amelia was alone.

She scowled and expanded her search, activating her bugs. They were tiny little nanobots she’d scattered all over the city, appropriately enough disguised as flying insects. While Amelia did not particularly care what was going on outside, it was still a good idea to keep an eye on things. It had served her well when her bugs had transmitted images of where exactly her minion had been sneaking off to.

It had sickened her.

Granted, she had watched for a while with morbid curiosity when she’d realized that the man Diane had been painstakingly squeezing into a corset was not just any hero, but Shade. She remembered him, as she remembered everything thanks to her flawless memory. He’d once assaulted her as part of a taskforce, those plasma blades of his leaving scratches on her armor before she swatted him away like the insignificant fly he was. One of the few heroes who’d managed to get close enough to even remotely damage her. None had been able to do more than that.

Well, until Constance. Constance had taught Amelia the meaning of pain, a lesson she had not forgotten.

She exhaled, sensing the dark nature of her thoughts, and forced her attention on the screens.

The power suppression field appeared to be affecting the entire city; or at least most of it. The outer districts and the suburbs had been spared. The footage her bugs displayed flickered rapidly, showing the extent of the devastation. Amelia focused on the outer districts, looking for the edge of the field. It did not take her long – 16 seconds, to be exact – to determine that the field was radial in nature and likely dome-shaped as well, extending some 8 miles in diameter. A quick calculation told her it was centered on Faultline.

She leaned back in her chair when she saw who stood at the focus point of the field.

Amelia did not know the red-haired woman. Back when she’d been active, she’d made a point of knowing every single active Meta in the city – specifically their weaknesses – and had accounted for all of them in the designs of her armor and weaponry. All but Constance, of course.

This meant this Meta had to have become active after Amelia’s retirement. The field was coming from her.

But she did not matter as much as the black-haired woman who was kneeling in front of her, slowly pushing herself to stand up.

Was Shade about to get killed? Oh, but she hoped so. Amelia would send the red-haired woman a gift basket.

They called her a mad scientist. They were wrong.

Amelia was not, nor had she ever been, mad. Madness was not conducive to doing science properly, and thus she had no use for it.

Madness was trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

Science was trying many different things, making note of the result, and then adjusting until she could create the result she wanted.

PsyKick had taken Constance from her.

Shade was taking Diane from her.

And while the urge to punish the hero was so very, very strong, she refrained.

What she’d done to PsyKick had been wrong.

Not morally. Amelia did not care about that. No, it was wrong because it had not worked. Constance had left.

Amelia did not quite understand why it had not worked, but she chalked it up to people being irrational. She often wished people would have axioms and rules from which their behavior could be logically predicted. Like math. It was how she had approached the PsyKick situation – like a math problem. The obvious solution had been to shuffle the problematic variable from one side of the equation to the other in order for the equation to make sense.

But it had been wrong. Amelia did not like being wrong. And she did not make the same mistake twice.

She had tried warning Diane. She had tried sending her on villainous errands to deepen the rift between them. She had tried sowing distrust in Shade’s mind.

And she had tried telling Diane just how lonely she was without her sister.

And then Diane had left.

Telling her about PsyKick had been wrong, too, she saw that now. Hindsight was, as the lesser mortals said, 20/20. There were simply too many variables for Amelia to navigate if she wanted to predict other people’s reactions, and she found that infuriating beyond measure.

She could take the variables away, of course. She could turn her brainwashing machine on Diane. Wipe Shade from her mind or, better yet, make her hate the hero. And make her love and serve Amelia.

Amelia could not really find a fault with this plan – Diane would never, ever leave her again.

But.

Something about it made her uneasy.

Amelia wasn’t really sure what, exactly, made Diane so important to her. She was not like her sister; Amelia couldn’t carry a real conversation with her. Diane was, to be perfectly candid, an imbecile. No more an imbecile than the rest of the human race when viewed from Amelia’s high vantage point, but an imbecile nonetheless.

But she also made Amelia smile. She had extended a hand in friendship without Amelia having to do anything. Amelia hadn’t threatened loved ones. Amelia hadn’t threatened her. But Diane still did what she asked, sometimes.

It was unprecedented.

And Amelia had grown used to it, basking in the knowledge that she had a minion who served her faithfully and willingly.

A brainwashed Diane would never know the difference. Amelia would.

But if Shade died at hands that were not Amelia’s… Amelia smiled brightly and leaned back to watch.

Her smile died when her bugs transmitted the image of a woman at the very edges of the plaza, slinking between the broken buildings.

No.

Was it not enough that Shade was stealing her minion? Now she put her in danger as well?

And when the red-haired woman turned her glowing gaze toward Diane, Amelia barely even thought about what she was doing, activating her teleport to go save her friend.

Chapter 35

Shade’s eyes widened in disbelief as Cinder Snow materialized in a bubble of electricity behind Amethyst, taking a few seconds to fade in – tech-based teleportation was quite crude compared to her own – and then blasted Amethyst with a gigantic laser beam.

As sneak attacks went, it was low on the stealth aspect, but compensated for it with a colorful light show as the beam travelled further to hit the nearest skyscraper, neatly cutting it in half. Shade could see the metal glow red hot at the incision before the building began to collapse in on itself.

As much as Shade longed to run to Diane, she could see that she was unharmed. So she sprinted toward David instead, skidding to a halt next to him and grabbing his wrist to check his vitals.

Amethyst’s blast had been weak compared to the one she had fired at Diane; Shade didn’t understand how it had taken the Captain down so easily. She could feel Amethyst’s link on her; her shadows refusing to materialize, so the Captain’s invulnerability should have protected him.

David was still breathing, and groaned when Shade not-so-gently shoved him.

“Fucking hate pain,” David mumbled under his breath, rolling over and slowly pushing himself to sit up. “How do you people live with it?”

Shade’s blood ran cold. “Why are you feeling pain?”

David gave him a flat look, devoid of the usual warmth he had toward her. “Because I just got hit by an energy beam to the chest.”

“Your invulnerability…” Shade whispered with dawning horror and twisted around to stare at Diane. She’d summoned no vines, and was kneeling where she had fallen to evade Amethyst’s attack, staring up at Cinder Snow.

“Amethyst took i– is that Cinder Snow?!” David sounded horrified. From what Shade heard, Snow had taken him down particularly hard to make a statement when she first appeared. Apparently she retained her ability for dramatic entrances.

Shade’s gaze moved to Amethyst’s motionless form, a few yards away from where Cinder Snow had hit her point blank. The right side of her uniform was scorched and black, and Shade could see her exposed skin was red and bubbling.

Shade swallowed the lump in her throat at the sight. If Amethyst was truly dead, she reasoned, Shade would have her powers back, which she didn’t.

David had apparently followed her gaze because he gasped and immediately scrambled up to get to her. Shade grabbed his arm and yanked him back – and actually managed to do so. The Captain’s superstrength was gone. “Stay away from her,” she hissed. “She’s dangerous.”

The Captain whirled to face her, and for the first time in five years, Shade saw him truly angry. “What did you do to her?”

“I… she was trying to hurt a friend of mine. I stopped her.”

“A friend,” the Captain repeated flatly. “A villain?”

Shade said nothing.

“You’re the last person I’d have expected to switch sides.”

“I didn’t,” Shade hissed. “I just…” Her gaze helplessly strayed to Diane who was finally getting up as well. She appeared to be talking to Cinder Snow, but it was too far away for Shade to hear what they were saying. “…love her.”

David turned his head, narrowing his eyes. “Friend of Cinder Snow’s? This is just getting better and better.”

“They’re nothing alike,” Shade said with conviction. “Look, this is not the time to judge my life choices. Do you have your power suppression cuffs?” Shade kept hers on her real costume. Since she’d fully expected to team up, she hadn’t felt the need to take the time to modify her utility belt so she could bring them. “We need to put them on Amethyst to get our powers back.”

Then they might actually stand a chance against Cinder Snow.

David looked mutinous. “We will have words about this, bro” he said in a low growl, and for once he actually managed to sound genuinely threatening. He reached for the cuffs on his belt anyway.

A purple beam of energy burned them away, and took David’s hand with it.

He screamed in agony and dropped to his knees.

Amethyst was slowly pushing herself up, her arm outstretched in their direction. The burned skin was now merely blistered, and healing rapidly. Her eyes glowed even brighter than before and there was no trace of that unhinged smile, only mindless fury.

Shade felt fear’s icy grip.

Amethyst did not have a healing factor.

Which meant she was using a power that was not hers. She’d done more than taken them; she was learning to use them, too.

The former heroine turned her murderous gaze toward Cinder Snow. Toward Diane.

The familiar hum of her blades being drawn echoed in Shade’s ears.

Yes, Amethyst was monstrously powerful.

Yes, Shade was powerless.

But that had ever been her odds.

Kara crouched low, and then started running toward Amethyst.

She had never needed powers to fight.

***

Diane was staring up at the woman who had saved her life. Again.

Amelia held out her hand.

She didn’t take it.

The villain dropped it with a disappointed sigh. “I saved you.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t come back.” Amelia’s voice was soft.

Diane licked her lips, her mouth dry. “No.”

“And you’re still not coming back.”

Diane slowly shook her head.

There was a long silence as they stared at each other, Diane slowly pushing herself to stand up.

And then there was a low scream and she whirled around. Amelia tilted her head with mild curiosity.

Kara was running toward the psychotic heroine who had somehow survived that laser, placing herself in between Diane and the heroine. What did that idiot hero think she was doing? Noble sacrifices were not allowed; they’d discussed that!

Her kick sent Amethyst flying. She hit the pavement hard enough to crack it.

Amethyst just got up again.

And as Kara’s blade swirled and she dodged blast after blast, Amelia smiled, doing nothing.

She’s waiting for Kara to get killed.

Diane whirled to clutch Amelia’s shoulders. “Save her!”

“Why would I?”

Diane’s grip tightened until her knuckles were white. “If you save her, I’ll be your minion forever, I promise!”

Amelia tensed.

Then she laughed. It sounded wistful. “It would not be the same.”

***

Amethyst’s movements were slow and sluggish; she was obviously in pain from her burns.

Shade feinted, dodging a badly aimed blast and balancing herself on one hand – then swept her leg in an upward arc. Her foot connected with Amethyst’s jaw and the former heroine stumbled back, reaching up to clutch it.

There was a horrible crunch as she popped it back into position, her healing factor taking care of the rest.

That opening was all Shade needed. She dropped low, sweeping her leg once more, and tripped Amethyst’s precarious balance. Then she lunged forward, her blade pressing against Amethyst’s jugular.

The key to defeating regenerators was to utterly destroy vital areas.

All Shade had to do now was flick her wrist.

She didn’t. Amethyst’s healing factor was stolen, meaning that if she lost consciousness, there was a good chance she might lose it and bleed out. They stood frozen in a stalemate.

“Why do you defend her?” Amethyst’s words was barely decipherable through the broken jaw.

Shade was breathing heavily with exhaustion

“Because it’s what heroes do. We save lives.”

Amethyst wasn’t moving, just staring off into the distance. Kara could see the skin on her cheek mending and smoothing. It was almost fully healed now. Once the burns were gone, Amethyst’s healing factor would be even more potent.

“She’s a villain.”

“That doesn’t mean she deserves to die.”

Amethyst swayed a little and reached to wipe the blood from her corner of her mouth.

“There’s a betting pool, you know. In the E. Who’s going to be the next one to pull an Amethyst?” She chuckled bitterly; a low, broken sound “Your name features prominently at the top of the list.”

She stared at the blade pressing against her skin.

“They’re wrong of course. You’d never be stupid enough to execute someone in public.” And then she raised her gaze to look at Shade, looking almost pleading. “You’d do it in the shadows.”

The blade dropped.

“I am not a murderer.”

Amethyst’s smile widened. A tear streaked down her cheek. “I am.”

And then she attacked, her fingers tightening around Shade’s throat. Kara choked, fingernails uselessly clawing at Amethyst’s arm as she was lifted off the ground. She was so strong.

“I liked you, you know. I thought we were the same. But if you are so eager to die for your villain, then I’ll oblige.”

“Amethyst, stop.” The voice was weak and barely audible. Amethyst slowly turned her head toward the Captain. He was shaking, his cape crudely wrapped around his bleeding arm. “You’re better than this. Do you want to prove them right in what they say about you?”

Shade couldn’t breathe. Her lips parted but not even choked sounds were escaping her. Her toes were no longer touching the ground.

The light in Amethyst’s eyes dimmed. “I do not care what they say.”

“You do. I know you do, and it’s killing you. You are not a murderer. Not… not yet.”

Amethyst cocked her head as if listening to something. “43 people fell out of the sky. I doubt they all survived.”

“What?”

“I have come too far to stop now. If I give the power back now it will have been for nothing.”

The Captain swayed, seeming on the verge of losing consciousness.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I don’t care. This isn’t you. You are good, and kind, and…” He broke off, grimacing.

“A murderer,” she finished softly.

“A hero.”

She slowly shook her head.

He took a step forward.

She took a step back, dropping Shade to the ground, who collapsed and started coughing viciously.

“Stop it. I hate you,” Amethyst snapped. “I have always hated you.”

The Captain shrugged and somehow his lips curved into a tired smile. “I know. Did I disappoint your expectations for Captain Patriot? I’m nothing like my father. I don’t know what to say to you to make this better. He would, but I don’t. But I know that you don’t have to do… whatever it is you feel like you have to do.”

Her eerie eyes blinked rapidly. “I just wanted to make the world a better place,” she whispered.

“Do you really think that’s what you’re doing?”

Her gaze dropped to Shade, who was still wheezing, and then lingered on the Captain’s stump of an arm. She took another step back.

“You need help.” The Captain’s voice broke. “Please let me help you, Amethyst.”

There was a long silence.

“Amethyst Star is dead,” she said flatly.

And then she disappeared in a swirl of shadows.

The power suppression field disappeared with her.

Chapter 36

Paragon City was in chaos.

Paragon City was used to chaos.

But even on the high bar set for the city, The Event – a name community consensus would soon settle on – would live in infamy.

The one affected the hardest were those who had their powers stripped from them while using them for travel. Several superspeedsters found that velocity was a harsh Mistress indeed. One teleporter was lost in the space between dimensions. And dozens fell out of the sky that day.

Some were flying low enough to survive the impact, and could be tended to. Others were flying high enough that they had the time – and presence of mind – to manually override their med ports to save themselves before they hit the ground. One villain had the fortune to be fleeing a winged hero, who caught him.

Most were not nearly as lucky.

A villain had been walking through a hail of police bullets, confident his invulnerability would protect him.

A hero had been surrounding herself with an air bubble underwater, trying to infiltrate a villain lair.

A shapeshifter had been mid-transformation, leaving him stuck in a grotesque half form that was not biologically viable.

The fallout left the hero response to The Event crippled; not only because most had lost their powers, but because those who were still fully functional were busy saving what they could.

That was why it took more than 20 minutes to locate the source of The Event and to then assemble a first response Taskforce, consisting of eight tech-based heroes. They all had some variety of flight capabilities, be it in the form of jetpacks, rocket boots or power armor. They needed it to navigate the canyons of Faultline, but mostly they needed it so they could run away should the source of The Event prove too powerful, and report back what they had seen.

Tech-splosion – no relation to Texplosion, and both of them in a bitter rivalry over who first laid claim to their respective name – activated the camera in his visor, and would be transmitting images back to home base where more heroes were slowly filtering in.

“All right,” he said in a distorted voice, speaking through his helmet. He’d been selected as leader. “Move out.”

***

Shade rubbed her aching throat, breathing in sweet, sweet air.

David sank to his knees beside her, cradling his bleeding arm. She wasn’t sure but she thought she heard a suppressed sob. She swayed as she stood up and tentatively took a step forward, trying to think of something, anything she could say–

Something unseen slammed into her from the side.

And hugged her.

***

Diane held Kara tightly, planning on never, ever letting go again.

She’d been so helpless watching the fight unfold; without her powers she’d only have gotten in the way or, worse yet, could have been actively used against Shade, like in the hospital.

Kara’s hand buried itself in her hair and pressed her even closer.

“You can do better than her.” Amelia’s voice was low and foreboding.

Kara tensed, muscles growing rigid, and Diane turned her head, gazing at the woman who had saved her.

The villainess was standing with her arms crossed; there was a flickering sheen to the air around her that Diane recognized as her giving off scalding heat. Diane realized that she, too, now had her powers back.

“Don’t want to,” Diane whispered. “We fit.”

Cinder Snow’s expression was entirely unreadable through her black goggles, but Diane saw her mouth tighten.

“So do we.”

“Once,” was Diane’s soft answer.

Amelia said nothing. Then she raised her head, seeming to notice something in the distance. Then her lips curled into a sneer. “The cavalry. Took them long enough.” She lowered her gaze again. “They’ll arrest you, Diane.”

“No, they won’t,” snapped Kara.

“Yes, they will,” said Captain Patriot in a weak voice.

“They’ll have to go through me first.”

All around them there was the hum of machinery as they were surrounded. Diane drew back out of Kara’s embrace to survey their surroundings.

Eight Heroes were spread around them, all of them pointing some manner of weapon right at Cinder Snow.

Amelia gave them the Queen Elizabeth wave.

“I suppose that concludes my retirement. Pity. I got so much science done.”

Then she ignored them, eyeing Kara with what Diane could only assume was distaste.

“Know this, hero. Hurt her and I will beat you to death with a shark, feed you to my piranhas, grind their molecules into a fine, red mist and then disintegrate them. I am not joking. I will do it. And I have ways of making sure you stay conscious.”

Kara blinked slowly.

“…okay?”

“Cinder Snow,” snarled a distorted voice. It came from an armored man, dwarfed by the folded steampunk wings behind his back. Diane could see the intricate clockwork whirring within. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done today. Surrender!”

“Hush, insignificant one. The important people are talking.”

There was a furious yell as he fired the cannon mounted on his shoulder. It ricocheted off of Amelia’s forcefield, hitting another hero, who barely dodged in time. The missile brushed her rocket boots, upsetting her balance and sent her careening out of control. Another hero broke from the circle with a curse to go catch her.

“This is why reforming is pointless. See this, Dionaea? Firing rockets at me for saving lives. An ungrateful lot if there ever was one.”

“Saving lives?” The robotic voice managed to sound utterly furious despite being flat and cold. “You killed dozens with your power suppression field.”

“What…?” whispered the Captain, looking up and blinking rapidly. He was swaying dangerously, about to pass out from blood loss.

“It wasn’t mine, imbeciles.”

She took a step forward, away from Diane who tentatively and uncertainly stretched out a hand for her. The circle of heroes backed away, tensing.

“Call me when you rediscover your standards, Dionaea. Shade, go die in a fire. Nameless and unimportant heroes – do spread the word.” She smiled. “I’m back in town. And no magic will ever defeat me again.”

Lightning struck as she activated her teleport beacon, leaving behind nothing but a smoking crater.

And then Diane realized she was a lone villain surrounded by very, very angry heroes.

***

“…did she just call one of us Shade?”

Some of the heroes craned their neck in confusion, looking for the infamous vigilante.

Bitch.

Kara gritted her teeth; Cinder Snow had to have used the name on purpose. She suddenly felt Diane tighten her grip on her and realized what a precarious situation they were in.

“Don’t see him. I think I’d have noticed the creepy vibes.”

“Yes,” Shade said in her best approximation of her old low growl. “Your observational skills are clearly superior.”

Stunned silence.

“Magical accident. Don’t ask.”

“…is that Dionaea you’re holding?”

“Yes.” She arched an eyebrow, daring them to say something, milking her intimidation skills for all they were worth.

There was an awkward shuffling of feet as confusion spread through the heroes. Shade did not make common cause with villains. He could barely bring himself to be polite toward reformed ones.

David chose that moment to pass out, hitting the broken pavement with a thump.

“Fucking hell, his hand,” yelled Tech-splosion and quickly crouched beside him. “What happened here?”

Shade didn’t answer, and just looked down at the unconscious hero. He was so terribly pale.

“We got a medic?”

“I got a first aid kit.”

“Why didn’t his med port go off?”

“System’s overloaded.”

“Shouldn’t someone arrest the villain already?”

Cold eyes turned to Diane.

She pushed herself out of Kara’s embrace and straightened her back, raising her chin.

“Out of my way, amateur,” she said to the heroine kneeling over David’s prone form with a bandage.

“Villain, step back, or I won’t be responsible for what I do to you. I have had a really shit day.”

“I am the best fucking healer you’ll ever meet in your life. Now get out of my way and prepare to be awed.”

“Let her,” Shade said.

Most people had to use threats in an if, then, this construction. If you don’t do what I say, then I will do this most unpleasant thing to your various orifices.

Shade didn’t need to. It was implied in just about everything she said.

Ghost Current wisely backed off.

***

Diane raised her head to look at the sky.

It was a bright, sunny day.

She reached for her magic and was glad to find it whole and intact and at her disposal once more.

She knelt over the still form of Captain Patriot. He was important to Kara, she could tell. Diane would mend him to be good as new. She hoped. She had never regrown someone else’s limbs before.

Just to be sure, she gathered as much magic as she could.

And the sky lit up with red.

***

Transmitted through the camera lens of the First Response Team, almost all of Paragon saw the villainess Dionaea heal a national icon.

***

Somewhere in Paragon, a mad scientist was clearing out her lair.

She brushed her fingertips along a cage, and sharp bunny teeth snapped at them.

“You’re my only friend now, Sir Fluffington.”

Interlude IV

The first time Elaine sees a superhero, she is 8 years old.

She later learns that there is a giant squid rising from the west coast, and that’s why Captain Patriot is flying cross-country as fast as his superspeed will allow.

He breaks the sound barrier over her small town.

The sonic boom is deafening and exhilarating.

A little pig-tailed girl stares at the sky with wide eyes, thinking it’s the coolest thing she has ever seen.

***

Elaine grows up to be average.

She is neither particularly short nor particularly tall.

She is neither particularly smart nor particularly dumb. She makes good grades through effort, not talent.

She is neither beautiful nor ugly; most guys just call her cute. The only thing about her appearance that deviates from the norm is her lack of endowment; a crisis of epic proportion to her teenaged mind.

There is not a single thing she truly excels in. She has tried her hand at art, and poetry, and music. She has tried to be athletic. She has tried to get herself to care about science. But nothing calls to her and says Yes, this, this is what you are meant to do.

Maybe she just needs to keep looking until she finds a talent.

But she is starting to fear that she is going to grow up to be dreadfully boring.

***

Elaine stares at the college brochures.

She still does not know what she wants to do with her life.

She has a vague desire to leave the world a better place than she found it, but not a clue how to go about achieving that. Elaine doesn’t really feel like she has to offer anything that someone else couldn’t do better.

She eyes the social justice degrees, but common sense – in the voice of her parents – tells her that’s the fast track to being stuck in the fast food industry. She looks at the science degrees and a voice in her head whispers that she is not smart enough for that. She looks at the law degrees and decides that maybe she could do that.

Elaine may not be all that talented or smart, but she has worked hard on her grades.

And then she finds something that makes her heart nearly explode with happiness.

There are scholarships to Paragon University, and she qualifies. It has lower standards than the rest of the country; apparently most people who do not grow up within the city soon find themselves in the midst of a nervous breakdown when exposed to its dangers.

Elaine does not care about the danger.

Paragon City is special.

And maybe if she lives there, she can experience what that’s like. Just for a little while.

***

Paragon City is wonderful.

Elaine has been here one week and she is already deeply in love with the place.

She is standing in line for a cup of coffee and there is a superhero right there. He just strolls up to the barista, blue cape billowing behind him, and asks for his usual. Elaine smiles at him shyly and he smiles back. Then he casually strolls out with a small wave, sipping his coffee.

***

Elaine returns to that coffee shop. A lot.

So does the hero, and she somehow scrapes up the courage to mumble a greeting.

He is gentle and polite, smiling at her with indulgence. And somewhere along the way they actually start talking to each other.

His name is Freeze Flash.

***

She is not quite sure how exactly she ends up making out with a superhero in an alley, but it is glorious. Elaine laughs as his ice breath tickles her skin, sending shivers down her spine and curling her toes.

She draws him in for another kiss and then there is a spark.

He stumbles away from her, disoriented, while electricity runs through her veins and she drops to her knees, hugging herself. She moans in what is both pain and pleasure, skin sizzling.

Her eyes glow like stars.

***

Elaine is special after all.

She just needs to be around other special people to access it.

And as she stands atop a rooftop, white cape flapping in the wind, she smiles down at the most special city in the world.

Finally, Amethyst Star has found a talent of her own.

She can make the world a better place.

Chapter 37

Kara sat down next to David on the lavish couch, setting the scotch decanter on the glass table in front of them. It was a fine vintage, worth an utterly obscene amount. It had been bought by her father, long ago, and she hadn’t really touched his liquor collection, leaving the wine cellar like a morbid memoriam to what her father had loved most.

Somehow preserving her family’s things just as they were was not nearly as important as the pain of her friend.

She poured both of them a glass. Then, for good measure, she added more to David’s and held it out to him. He wordlessly took it and gulped it down.

They didn’t really say anything for a while.

After Diane had regrown his hand, he’d woken up almost instantly, confused and dazed. The other heroes had immediately started asking questions which David haltingly stammered non-committal answers to, seeming unwilling to reveal Amethyst’s fall. Shade, sensing his distress, had simply grabbed both him and Diane and teleported them to her mansion.

They would deal with the fallout later.

David hadn’t really said anything, though he couldn’t seem to stand Diane’s presence, so for now Kara had separated the two. Diane was upstairs in Kara’s bedroom, no doubt going stir-crazy, while the Captain lay curled up on the couch, staring blankly at nothing.

“So. A villain.”

Kara looked up and took a slow sip. “Not anymore.”

“How did that even happen, Shade?”

She didn’t answer for a long moment, swirling the liquid in her glass as she pondered how to answer that loaded question.

“...she caught me wearing panties.”

Thousands of dollars’ worth of scotch were utterly wasted as the Captain did a spit take. Kara smiled wryly and took another sip.

“Are you serious, dude?”

“Very.”

“Are you… are you telling me you’ve been wearing women’s underwear under that oh-so-intimidating black costume?”

“Pink, even.”

And then David started laughing. Kara smiled.

“Shit, I knew you were just being way too comfortable with being a chick.”

Kara leaned back. “You know that if you tell anyone I will have to kill you, right?”

“Goes without saying, bro.”

Their grins slowly faded.

“You attacked Amethyst.”

“Yes.”

“That was that thing at the hospital.”

Kara nodded slowly.

“It pushed her over the edge.”

Kara closed her eyes and nodded again, bracing for the blame and anger she so rightly deserved.

It didn’t come.

“She’s been on the edge for a while now.”

A long pause.

Kara tentatively opened her eyes. David was staring off into space.

“I tried… I really tried to reach her.”

“I know,” Kara whispered.

“I just couldn’t find the words. Nothing I said really made any difference.” His lips briefly twisted into a mocking smile. “All I’m really good for is hitting people really hard.”

“David…”

“If I wasn’t… If I wasn’t so fucking dumb I could have…” He buried his face in his hands.

Kara tentatively reached out and wrapped her arms around her friend.

“So go save her,” drawled a familiar voice.

David looked up with narrowed eyes and Kara cursed herself for not locking doors.

Diane was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“You’re a hero, aren’t you?” She arched an eyebrow as if the solution was obvious.

“Amethyst killed…” David trailed off, not seeming able to finish that sentence.

“Yeah. She did.”

Her gaze met Shade’s.

“But who says villains can’t be redeemed?”

***

Elaine curled her legs closer to her body, trying to will the shaking away. Her arms wrapped themselves tightly around her knees and she winced at the pain in her right arm.

She’d let go off the power too soon. Her skin wasn’t fully healed. A burning gash still ran over her eye, making her vision blurry.

Or maybe it was blurry for other reasons.

She’d never meant…

She had been so angry.

And then her link had expanded, and she let it, and then her body had been truly alive, and her head had been filled with such clarity.

Elaine could still feel Shade choking under her fingertips.

She hadn’t meant to hurt other heroes. Just… why did they have to fight to protect villains?

Just thinking the word made the ever-present fury inside of her churn.

Villains corrupt.

She slowly unfurled her legs and stood up, raising her head toward the darkening sky.

Elaine had made a terrible mistake. Now that her rage had cooled, she could see it clearly. She had taken too much power. She had not controlled it right. She had lashed out and hit people who did not deserve it. What had happened to Shade was not his fault.

Purge the corruption at its source.

She splayed her fingers, purple energy crackling between them.

She would learn to control her new powers. She would use them with precision. She would make the price the city paid for her lapse in judgment worthwhile. She would make things right again.

And one day, she would cleanse this city of villainy.

***

Despite the key witnesses’ disappearance, the world knew that Amethyst Star had snapped before the day was over. Once the location of the Event’s source was known, it was easy to pull up satellite images.

Pundits congratulated themselves for correctly foretelling her Fall.

And, as images of Dionaea healing Captain Patriot flashed across thousands of screens, they likewise celebrated their prediction of Redemption.

The news that Shade had a magical gender bending accident was buried beneath the weight of The Event and the return of Cinder Snow.

But some did take notice.

A lone woman was lying in a hospital bed, her broken bones temporarily set in casts until the healers got around to her; they were prioritizing those whose lives still hung in the balance.

Dazzling Dawn stared at the footage of her former lover and arched an eyebrow.

Elsewhere, Texplosion started laughing until he couldn’t breathe. He choked on his laughter when the camera panned to Cinder Snow next.

Fangirls everywhere either howled in outrage at having their slashfics ruined by het or jumped ship to the SS ShaDi.

***

“oh baby” shade maoned, lifting her ass up in the air and putting her moist anal caverns of wonder on display for her one true love “im so ready for you. take me! take me hard!”

Dionaiya stands beside her, her glistening womanhood hidden beneath a strap-on.

“take my anal virginity! i give it to you as a gift!”

***

David watched the villainess currently draped all over Shade, giggling in her ear over some private joke they shared. He had never seen Shade look so content, even though her mouth would still tighten if they so much as skirted the events of the day.

Three empty bottles were spread out between them.

David flexed the fingers of his restored hands, knowing he owed them to her. Not many healers could regrow limbs.

And Captain Patriot decided that as far as villains went, Diane was sort of okay. She had an absurd sense of humor and, being the only one comfortable with the sound of her own voice, was telling the most ridiculous stories.

David found himself fighting a smile once or twice.

Her words still echoed in his mind.

David had never really had a reason to be a hero. He did it because he’d wanted to be more like his father and every step of the way he was reminded that he was so much worse at it. Somewhere along the way he’d started playing up his idiosyncrasies just so people would stop having expectations of him. Then he couldn’t disappoint them, as he invariably did.

He’d never had anything he was truly fighting for.

Somewhere deep inside conviction was slowly taking shape.

He was going to find Amethyst Star.

And he was going to save her.

Chapter 38

Ian Reynolds’ legendary temper had somehow received an upgrade.

They were all beyond doomed.

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

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

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

Too bad it couldn’t last.

***

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

“Kara?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The woman in her arms was perfection, too.

***

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

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

Her short hair swayed with the breeze and she raised her head with a small smile. She’d decided to try growing it out.

“Ready, bro?”

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

Diane had waved off on coming along tonight.

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

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

She did not like hero duty. At all. The former villain just did not care for violence, or rather, the kind of violence where she might get hurt. She claimed she had better things to do than “risk her fabulosity for ungrateful peons”. She would likely not be joining Shade on patrol again.

That was okay.

Shade smiled.

Her love would be a different sort of hero.

***

Doctor Mason, Dean of Medicine of Founder’s Creek hospital, sighed and leaned back in her chair as she started tackling the bureaucratic nightmare awaiting her. Their hospitals recent inclusion in the Hero Med Port Emergency Service had created chaos in her staff’s schedule as they scrambled to incorporate the injured Metas teleporting in, their often unique physiology providing medical challenges, all the while still providing good care to their normal patients.

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

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

After picking it up and smoothing the pages, she raised her head to glare at whoever was foolish enough to interrupt her.

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

“Hi.”

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

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

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

“Am I?”

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

PsyKick was bored.

This was not unusual. It was, in fact, his entire existence. He was lying in his small room, strapped to his bed. Sometimes the doctors came in, and then PsyKick would smile and say all the things they wanted to hear. They gave him books to read and he liked those. But they never freed him anymore. When they removed the straps, he was never without supervision.

He shouldn’t try to run so often, then they would take them off more. He knew this. Reminded himself of it every time he charmed a nurse into relaxing the security measures, only to attack the moment he was free. But he couldn’t help it. When he saw an opportunity to escape and finally Serve his Purpose, he had to take it.

His Purpose gnawed at him day and night, punishing him for not Serving.

He could not find anyone to Serve.

They told him his Mistress was dead. Constance killed her. When they told him this, he’d smiled, and then felt deep shame for his disloyalty. When Constance came to visit, he always lunged at her, trying to avenge his Mistress.

Constance never visited anymore.

Neither did Dawn.

But Tex still did, sometimes. He often sat beside his bed and talked to him in a low voice for hours. They would talk and crack jokes and it was just like always – except Tex never really laughed anymore. And whenever PsyKick asked when he was going to help him escape, he would go quiet. Tex kept telling him he was not well, that he was sick. He was wrong, PsyKick was just fine. Tex did not understand why PsyKick had to Serve. PsyKick hadn’t understood it either, until his Mistress had shown him how much sense it made.

PsyKick always ended up yelling at Tex for keeping him in here, for being a bad teammate, screaming every unkind thought he’d ever had about his best friend, until the doctors came and shoved needles into his neck.

Tex’ visits were getting fewer and fewer.

And in some small corner of his mind PsyKick feared that one day he would stop coming, too, and then it would be only him and the boredom.

***

“There’s someone here to see you, Mister Smith.”

He turned his head, eagerly straining against the straps. Was it Tex? He hadn’t seen his friend in so long.

It wasn’t Tex.

It was a woman he didn’t know.

She was beautiful, long blond hair flowing past her waist in bouncy curls. It took him a moment to realize that the red streaks within were not dye, but flower petals. Her entire body was covered with them, vines curling up and down her waist to form something akin to a bikini.

And her eyes glowed red.

“Leave us,” said the woman, and the doctor obeyed. There was a natural authority to her voice that was hard to deny. The door closed quietly behind him and then it was only the two of them, her uncanny gaze on him.

She circled his bed, the slow, calculated movement reminding him of a predator assessing its prey. He kept her in his line of sight, mirroring her intense scrutiny. She came to a halt at his bedside and leaned over him. Then she reached out, and stroked his chin. He shivered at the gentle touch, the first of its kind in too many years.

“Do you know who I am?”

Her voice was sweet, too sweet, the kind of purr he’d heard countless times from villains who wielded temptation as a weapon. A shiver ran down his spine as the dull agony he’d grown used to awoke to rake its claws along his insides. Serve, Serve, Serve, sang his Purpose. Finally someone to Serve.

He shook his head.

“I am Dionaea.”

Dionaea. Recognition jolted something in his head.

“Venus Flytrap.” His voice was rough and scratchy from disuse.

She grinned and for a moment she looked like an eager young girl. “Yes! Finally someone gets it.” Then she cleared her throat and the sinister air returned. “Do you know what I am, PsyKick?”

He shook his head again.

“I am a Villain.”

PsyKick’s heart beat painfully against his chest.

She leaned in closer, her fingertips glowing red as she brushed his scalp. “Cinder Snow made me,” she whispered. “And she gave me a gift.”

His Purpose howled as red filled his vision before it was suddenly silenced. His limbs jerked against the restraints and he squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth.

“What are you, PsyKick?” Her voice was faint, as if carried by the wind from far away. He blinked against the glare of the crimson glow, her face slowly coming into focus.

Serve.

“I’m yours, Mistress.”

He could not be sure – his vision was still blurry – yet for a moment he saw disappointment flash in her uncanny eyes.

But then her lips curved up in triumph.

***

PsyKick shielded his eyes against the sunlight. It warmed his face.

He hadn’t been outside in so long.

He blinked against the sting in his eyes. His new Mistress laid a hand on his back. It was warm, too.

They walked through the flower garden in silence, with him trailing behind her, docile. Where she stepped, the flowers bloomed, straining toward her like she was the sun.

His Mistress had explained everything to him. She, like him, was a creation of Cinder Snow. His old Mistress was alive – he had whimpered at that news – and she had given him to Dionaea as a gift. So he would Serve her now.

She had gone on to say that she was deep undercover, and that they had to pretend to be Good, for a time. While she had promised to make his confinement as comfortable as possible, she would – could – not free him until her plans had been set in motion. When he had asked what those plans were, she had pointedly asked him whether it was his place to know. She was right, of course. PsyKick’s Purpose was to Serve, not question.

His Mistress came to a sudden halt in front of him, and so did he, mirroring her every move. Then she beckoned him to follow as she stepped off the gravel path to make her way to a nearby wilted tree, laying her hand on the bark.

The red glow swirled around her fingertips, seeping into the trunk, and PsyKick watched with interest as the leaves grew green. One of the flowers blossomed, pale petals opening and closing, and within seconds, it had grown to be a ripe red apple. His Mistress reached out, the branch bending to her will, and plucked it. Then she handed the apple to him.

“You’re too skinny. Eat.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She watched with approval as he took a bite, and he closed his eyes, savoring the peace of mind that only Serving brought with it. He wished this serenity would last longer, but it never did, so he relished it for the rare luxury it was.

“I know the horror of hospital food well, but I want you to eat more, okay?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She smiled at him.

She smiled a lot in general. For all that she cultivated the air of a sinister Femme Fatale, she was one of those people who just naturally radiated joy. Not the best trait to have as a villain, yet he could not help but compare it favorably to his old Mistress. She had not been so easy to please, the things demanded of him far more… difficult.

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Whatever Mistress gives me,” he said, and she frowned. His mouth went dry when he realized his automatic answer displeased her.

“What did you like best before you had a Mistress?”

His mouth opened and closed without sound. She was looking at him expectantly and he felt shame burn his cheeks as he searched his once flawless memory, unable to answer such a simple question. It was this place. Denying him his Purpose had ravaged his mind to the point that now that he could think at last, it was all just… gone.

Anxiety gnawed at him, reminding him of that flash of disappointment he’d seen. Damaged by imprisonment as he was, did she find him lacking? Did she not want him? Had he been given as a gift she could not refuse? He’d been given gifts of that nature, too.

“…I don’t remember,” he whispered. Her face twisted in anger, an expression he remembered all too well from his first Mistress.

He dropped to his knees, kneeling to soothe a wrath that never came.

And when his new Mistress gently tugged him to his feet, he vowed to make her see that she’d find no better minion than him.

He liked her.

She’d taken him outside.

***

PsyKick woke with a start when something heavy bounced on his bed, and he blinked up, brows drawn together in a heavy-lidded frown. Red eyes met his, and he exhaled a shuddering breath.

He’d half-convinced himself that her visit had been nothing but a pleasant daydream, courtesy of a mind fractured by isolation.

“Good morning, Stephen.” Her voice was like music.

“Good morning, Mistress.” His voice was a hoarse whisper on the verge of cracking.

“I brought you a little something,” she said, and then presented him with a precariously balanced stack of pizza boxes. He stared as she smiled, ordering him to “eat up” and to tell her which one he preferred.

It was only when he almost threw up that she amended her instructions to trying a bite of each, and apologized for phrasing her original order poorly. It was strange to hear her apologize to him. As if it was his place to judge her.

***

PsyKick’s new Mistress was not very bright.

Sometimes she would point to things and say something blatantly wrong. She would say “Did you know the sun revolves around the earth?” or “Two times three is eight.” or “Platypus Man would defeat Texplosion in a fight.” (As if Tex would lose to that moron!)

He did not give voice to those unfaithful thoughts, of course. He said, “Yes, Mistress,” and nodded.

Bright or not, he craved her company, living his days in anticipation of her regular visits. There was such clarity to his thoughts when she was near. It was because she fulfilled his Purpose.

***

His Mistress crossed her legs and tilted her head up, reclining on the park bench. “Isn’t the sky a beautiful green today?”

“The sky is blue,” he said absently while chewing on the sandwich she’d brought, trying to decide if he cared for the taste or not.

She grew very still and turned her head, staring at him.

That was when he realized what he’d done.

His apology came out as little more than a stuttered mess as his Purpose awoke to punish the transgression.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said, and turned her face toward the sky once more. “Would you look at that? It’s blue. You’re right. I was wrong.”

No, he disagreed with her, he was the one who was wrong, and had to be disciplined, and…

“You can disagree with me when I’m wrong, Stephen.”

His Purpose quieted down, appeased by new orders.

***

PsyKick glared at his Mistress, and she smiled back, the very picture of innocence.

“Let’s see ‘em.”

He triumphantly laid out his Full House. She smirked and turned over her cards, revealing a Royal Flush.

“That’s it! You are cheating, Mistress!”

“Prove it!” she crowed, and gleefully hugged the paper scraps they used as chips to her chest.

***

They never fastened the straps anymore. PsyKick could move around his room as he pleased, and it was wonderful. His Purpose still gnawed at him sometimes, but it was so faint now he could barely feel it. All thanks to his Mistress. It was important to her plans that he stay here, so the compulsion to escape at all costs had faded. He hadn’t attacked anyone in weeks.

He wished he could go outside by himself, though. Just to take a walk.

Perhaps Mistress could arrange it. She seemed to hold sway with the doctors; and not for the first time he wondered why. Maybe she controlled their minds, like he’d once been able to. Before they implanted the power dampeners.

***

His Mistress could do anything.

PsyKick was sitting on the bench in the garden. Alone. There was a book in his lap and he was reading it with a faint smile on his face.

***

His Mistress was a liar.

He paced the length of his room.

Doctor Dionaea.

He had heard them calling her Doctor Dionaea!

She’d been wearing a white coat over her vines, and she’d been laughing with the other doctors. Laughing at him? For being stupid enough to believe her? No, no, no, he liked his Mistress, she cared for him, how could she betray him like this?

Maybe it was just her cover story. His rapidly beating heart calmed. Yes. That had to be it.

***

“Mistress?”

“Yes, Stephen?” she said as she expertly shuffled the deck of cards. He really shouldn’t let her do that. Whenever she dealt the cards, she won. Mistress was quite blatant about her cheating.

He forced the words out in a rush. “What are your plans?” He knew it was not his place to ask, but he had to know. He hadn’t seen her plan much in the way of world domination, as a proper villain should.

She froze. Then her voice turned very gentle. “My plan is to get you well.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“You’re a doctor.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I heard them calling you Doctor Dionaea.”

She smiled wryly. “A joke. I make them call me that. It grinds their teeth. I have no medical degree.”

“So what are you then?”

“A healer.”

He balled his fists. “They say I’m sick but I’m not.” They just didn’t understand that he had a Purpose.

His Purpose.

It was very quiet.

He cocked his head, straining to hear it.

“I know,” she said softly. “But you’re not happy either, are you?”

He didn’t really know how to answer that. A dull pain was spreading through his chest as the implications sank in.

Maybe he wasn’t happy, but he had been content. No, he didn’t have his freedom, or his friends, or… any of the things that used to matter, but he’d had her. He’d had purpose.

And now he didn’t.

She was cruel to give him peace only to take it away.

He’d have to find another villain to serve, a real villain, someone who’d likely show him none of the kindness she had shown him. He would have to unlearn all the bad habits Dionaea had allowed him, relearn how to keep his mouth shut, and need punishment when he inevitably failed, the way he had failed so many times when his old Mistress had first started training him.

He didn’t want to.

“I wasn’t lying, you know,” she said. “Cinder Snow made me. And I was a villain.”

“Was,” he repeated.

“I met this hero. And then I decided I didn’t want to be a villain anymore.” She put away the stack of cards and reached out to take his hand, gently squeezing his fingers. “Wouldn’t you like to do the same?”

“I… I…”

He looked at their entwined hands. He… he missed being a hero, sometimes. But how could he go back? He had to Serve.

Voice so small it was barely above a hoarse whisper, he asked, “How did you do it?”

“I just made a choice.”

And then PsyKick started crying. Silently at first, but then she hugged him and he sobbed while she cradled him in his arms and whispered sweet nothings.

He didn’t want to be like this anymore.

***

PsyKick stood on the edge of the rooftop. There was a wind blowing at this altitude, and it rustled his cape. He opened his eyes and gazed out at the city to his feet.

He smiled.

It was a good day to be a Hero in Paragon City.