Chapter Eleven
June 17th, 4:58 PM
Just before she knocked on the Spaniel's door, Erin paused.
She looked down at herself. The last time she had been standing here, she had been the Blue Lynx: well-built, perfectly toned, a stunning superheroine in blue and white. That night, nearly a month ago, was the last time she had worn that costume. Today, she came to Brian Nelson's apartment in light blue jeans, black boots, and a yellow v-necked T-shirt. She came there, in short, as Erin Steele: a little less muscular, a little less intimidating, a normal young woman who you would never guess was once the city's most feared crimefighter.
She sighed. She truly had no idea what she was getting into. When Margot asked if she could come along, Erin had shaken her head. "I know you're going to try, anyway," Erin said. "But I really need to do this one on my own." It was for Margot's own good, but it was also for Erin's confidence. She needed a win tonight. Or she need something, anything, other than another humiliating defeat.
She was lost in thought when the door opened, startling her. Brian stood there, in a tucked-in shirt and jeans, as average-looking as she was.
"Erin Steele," he said, barely containing his grin. "Right on time. Come on in."
Erin didn't say anything. She shut her eyes and walked through the door, letting Brian close it gently behind her. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that the apartment was mostly dark except for the light of four candles. The candles were standing on a long table decorated with flowers, a silk tablecloth, and silverware that glimmered in the faint light.
"You should take a seat," Brian said. "You've had a rough twenty-four hours."
Erin gulped. "Is this... a date?"
"Not exactly," Brian said. "But you are my guest. I actually invited you this time. So please." He gestured at the table.
Erin moved without enthusiasm to a chair and sat down. She scooted it up to table, keeping her hands by her sides. The table had been set up for two, with matching plates, bowls, glasses, and two chairs facing each other.
"So... what are we... umm... having?" Erin asked.
Brian laughed. "First, some wine." He skipped to the fridge and pulled out something white. "Chardonnay okay with you?"
Erin nodded. "Yeah, sure."
"Good," Brian said. He uncorked the bottle and walked to the table. "I know you love this stuff," he said, turning the bottle over and letting the liquid flow into Erin's glass. "I know pretty much everything about you, and your habits."
Erin watched as the wine filled into the brim. It did look tasty. But she knew she couldn't drink. Not all of it, anyway. She had to be lucid. If she could just stay sober while the Spaniel got drunk, she might get an edge.
"Taste it, for me?" Brian said.
Erin brought the glass to her lips and took a sip. "It's good," she said. She set the glass back on the table. "You should have some."
"Of course," Brian said, pouring himself a serving as big as Erin's. "It's important to enjoy yourself, every so often. Even as a superhero." He rested the bottle between him and his guest and dropped into the empty chair. "Don't you think?"
"Whatever you need to do to keep sane," Erin said. "It's a tough job."
"Oh, it's not that hard," Brian said. He took a big gulp of wine and wiped his lips. "You just have to be stronger and faster than your opponents. And I haven't met anyone yet who is stronger or faster than me."
He was such a cocky bastard.
"I guess you're speaking from your experience, though," Brian continued. "It must be harder for girls. Because, you know, they're smaller. Weaker. Less muscle mass."
Erin furrowed her brow. The Spaniel was obviously trying to get under her skin. She knew that she shouldn't take the bait. Still, the bait was very, very difficult to resist.
"Like that first time we fought," Brian said. "You've got some good moves. But remember how easily I just, like, overpowered you? Pinned you down? Wrapped you up in bolas? That was just me being naturally superior."
Erin gritted her teeth. "We should re-match," she finally said, quietly but firmly.
"Maybe some day," Brian said, with a small smile. He took another swig of wine, swallowed, and exhaled noisily. "Last night, too," he said, resuming his subject. "That was another case of you just being overwhelmed. That doesn't happen to me."
"Overwhelmed?" Erin said, instinctively. "You mean when I broke into Hammerson's office and was attacked by thirty armed guards?"
Brian nodded. "Yep. Not a good showing, Blue Lynx."
"What are you talking about?" Erin said, her voice climbing. "I went up against THIRTY guards. No one person can take on thirty men. I don't care who you are. That was not me being weak. That was an impossible situation."
"I don't think there were thirty," Brian said. "But regardless of the number... The fact is that you put yourself in that situation."
Erin recognized more than a bit of truth in the Spaniel's words, which might have made them even more infuriating. "No, Brian..."
"Spaniel," Brian replied. "You refer to me as The Spaniel."
Erin groaned. "Okay, Spaniel. You want to talk facts? You put me in that situation. You sent me on that dumb mission."
"I did," Brian said. "But when I went in there, I had no trouble sneaking around. I got into Hammerson's office, just like you. And then I beat Sunny and her thugs and rescued you. Something I hope that you appreciate."
"You got into Hammerson's office?" Erin said. "Really? So what was the point of me going in there?"
Brian finished off his glass of wine with a long swallow. "Ahh," he said. "What's the point of any of this, Erin Steele? I just think it's fun to torment you."
Erin's fingers had turned into fists in her lap. She looked at the candles to avoid eye contact with the Spaniel, which she knew would only enrage her further.
"There's just one thing about that night that bothers me," Brian said. "And that's what Sunny was saying. She said she knew your secret." He paused for effect, staring into Erin's eyes. "Does she?"
Erin shook her head. "No," she said, lying. "She has no idea what she's talking about."
"Good," Brian said. "I want your secret to be mine and mine alone. For now." He picked up the wine bottle and poured himself another glass. "Want some more?"
Erin shook her head again. "No."
"Suit yourself," Brian said, setting the bottle between them. He pulled his phone from his pocket. "Hey, I want to show you something."
He got up from his chair and moved around the table, eventually squatting down next to Erin. He held his phone out in front of his body so that both of them could see it.
"Cat video?" Erin asked.
"In a way," Brian said, with a small, menacing giggle. "You probably wanted to know why you're here, Erin Steele. Well, consider this your first clue."
Brian touched the screen, and a video began to play. The video was shaky and dark, clearly shot on someone's phone. The deep voice off camera made it obvious whose phone it was.
"Okay, here we go," the narrator in the video said. The camera panned up, and suddenly, in blurry but still recognizable detail, there she was. Her. Erin. The Blue Lynx. Unconscious. Her arms and legs splayed out among the splintered remnants of a shattered table. Her belt jostled up to the middle of her torso, her boots and gloves filthy with wood dust, her face nestled into her shoulder, hair obscuring most of her expression.
The camera moved closer. "Here she is, folks," the narrator announced. "The Blue Lynx. Helpless. In my apartment." The lens surveyed the wreckage of the table before holding still on her upper body. "It only cost me my kitchen," the voice intoned.
"Spaniel," Erin said. "I don't have to see this..."
"Shh," Brian said. "The best is yet to come."
The camera zoomed out, showing Erin's motionless body in full, and then moved down, eventually settling on the Blue Lynx's white boots. "The legendary beauty," the narrator continued. "Finally defeated." A hand appeared from the side of the shot, landing on the toe of Erin's boot. It squeezed the rubber a few times. "Just exquisite," the voice said. The camera began to scan up the length of Erin's legs. When it arrived at the place where the seam of her spandex met the upper thigh, the narrator sighed with pleasure. "Such a wonderful ass," he said, the hand re-appearing to poke the side of Erin's butt cheek.
Erin shut her eyes. This was almost... Pornographic. It was sick.
The camera and the hand now crawled up Erin's abdomen and chest, the hand caressing her belly and poking her breasts along the way. "I can't believe this," the narrator whispered. The camera was shaking as it climbed the unconscious superheroine's neck. "We're finally going to know... Who she really is." The camera froze. The hand cautiously lowered itself again, sweeping away the mess of hair on Erin's face. "Oh man." A forefinger gently lowered itself beneath Erin's chin and drew it upward, so that the Blue Lynx's face took up the entirety of the frame.
"Here it is, folks... the secret identity of the Blue Lynx." The hand clutched the right edge of Erin's mask, and stopped. There was a deep breath. Then, in a slow, patient motion, the hand passed over Erin's face, tugging the Blue Lynx's mask along with it, peeling it from Erin's skin inch by inch. When the hand had arrived at the other side, the mask was completely in its grasp. And Erin's face was completely exposed.
"Oh shit, oh shit," the narrator said. The camera lurched backward. The narrator was standing above the Blue Lynx once more, looking down. "I know that face. That's... the mayor girl. Erin Steele."
Brian paused the video. He turned to Erin, who was still and silent in her seat. "I think you get the picture," he said.
Erin gulped. She had never seen herself being unmasked. She had unmasked herself in front of a mirror, of course. But to watch it happening without her involvement... To see herself unconscious and at the mercy of this creep, who enjoyed it so thoroughly... To see how easily he had stripped her of her greatest secret... It created a sense of helplessness in her like little else. Which of course was was the Spaniel was aiming for. The bastard.
"Are you threatening me?" she asked. "That's not great evidence. You look like a huge tool in it. And there's no proof that you're actually unmasking the Blue Lynx. That could've been me just dressing up for your weird sexual inclinations."
Brian slid the phone back in his pocket. "You're right," he said. "I know."
Erin paused. What was he getting at? What did he want?
"I've probably watched that clip one hundred times, Erin." He walked to the other side of the table and resumed his seat. "It just makes me feel... So good. So powerful."
"I'm your fetish," Erin snarled.
Brian smiled. "Maybe. Whatever you want to call it, that video is currently my most prized possession. I love it so much that... that I want another."
Erin blinked. "Another video?"
Brian nodded. "One that's clearer, more professional. One that can be admitted as evidence, but more importantly, one that lingers even longer on the good stuff. I want to take my time with this one."
Erin almost wished she had drunk more wine. A little alcohol might have helped make this insane situation more bearable.
"You'll find your costume in my bedroom," Brian continued. "Put it on."
"Put it on?" Erin said. "Are you kidding me? I'm not your little sex toy."
"I have your unmasked face on my phone," Brian said. "And your costume in my bedroom. You can choose to cooperate. Or we can test just how persuasive my little clip actually is. I'll send to everyone, right now, Erin Steele. Every social media site. Every newspaper..."
Erin groaned. "Yeah, I know." My God, he was so annoying. And yet, the more Erin thought about it, the more she liked this idea. She doubted that Brian was giving her her belt back-- that was too risky, even for an overconfident jackass like him. But Brian was giving her time, alone, in his bedroom. She could get her costume back, defeat him, and come up with a plan.
"I see the wheels turning," Brian said. "You see this as an opportunity to get free from my clutches. And you may be right. But I'm willing to take that risk for another video."
Erin stood up. She picked up the wine glass and took a hearty swallow. She slammed the glass back on the table. "Great," she said. "Where's your bedroom?"
"Just down the hall," Brian said, grinning. "Take your time. Get superheroinely, for me."
"I will," Erin said.
She left Brian, walked down the hall, and opened the door to his bedroom, where laid out on the bed like school-clothes were her spandex outfit, boots, gloves, and mask. As she had expected, there was no utility belt in sight. But the mere act of seeing her Blue Lynx stuff again filled her with incredible emotion, equal parts sadness over the last month and hope for the near future.
"Okay," she thought, pushing the door closed. "Let's do this."
Erin shimmied out of her jeans and T-shirt, leaving her civilian clothes in a pile on the floor. She caught her reflection in a full length mirror on the bedroom wall. She adjusted her thong and her bra, fixed her hair, and flexed. She wasn't in peak condition yet. But she did feel powerful, enough to beat the Spaniel tonight, at least. She picked up her spandex from the bed and brought it to her face, taking a long whiff. It hadn't been washed since she'd last worn it. "Such a creep," Erin thought, pushing her feet through the costume's leg holes and gradually pulling the spandex up and over her shoulders. She put on her boots next, then her gloves, and then went back to the mirror with her mask. She sighed, looking at Erin Steele's face, and then pressed the blue fabric against her skin.
Her secret identity was obscured, again. Once more, she was the Blue Lynx.
"Alright," Erin said to herself. "I wonder if there's anything else in here that will help me..."
A crash came from outside. Erin pushed herself against the door. She heard Brian yell, and the sounds of other voices. Something broke. Banshee-like female laughter rang out loud and clear. Laughter Erin recognized.
"Oh no," she thought.
She dashed out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen. The scene had changed. Four huge men, all armed, were now standing around, two of them pinning Brian to the ground with their boots. Brian lay there, seemingly unconscious, amidst fallen chairs and broken glass. They had broken in, beaten him up, and were now waiting for something. Her?
"What's going on here?" Erin said. She placed her hands on her hips.
"Oh, I think you know, Erin Steele," a familiar voice said. From behind the four men emerged a smaller figure, a woman with bleached blonde hair, clad entirely in leather. Sunny.
"Sunny!" Erin cried. "What are you doing here?"
"Why, following you, of course," Sunny said. "Isn't it funny how Erin Steele came in here half an hour ago... And now I see only the Blue Lynx?"
Erin grunted. "You're... tracking me? Tracking Erin Steele, I mean?"
Sunny giggled. "You should know by now that I'm a persistent woman. Once I have a theory, I want to see some proof. Well, I think I got it now."
The room was spinning. Everything about this situation was overwhelming. The guards, Brian unconscious, the mess that had happened in just a few minutes. Had Sunny really seen her arrive at Brian's apartment?
"You... you..." Erin said, her facing flushing red. "I'm gonna... destroy you..."
"Not so fast, Erin Steele," Sunny said, holding up her hand. "Come quietly, or your boyfriend here gets it." She pointed at one of the guards, who in turn pointed his gun at Brian's head.
"Go ahead, do it," Erin thought. That would take care of one of her problems... But no. She couldn't. She was a superheroine. She could never willingly place another person's life in danger, even if that person was a huge asshole like Brian. She couldn't fight back. She had to surrender.
"Okay," Erin muttered, lifting her arms in the air at right angles. "I'll come quietly."
"Perfect," Sunny said. She snapped her fingers. Two guards wandered over to Erin, each one at least a foot taller than her. They stood by her sides, grinning at their prey, waiting for the next door.
"Hold her still," Sunny said. The guards snatched Erin's arms. She tried to fight them off, perfunctorily, but even if she had really wanted to break free, she probably could not: their hands wrapped around her biceps like rubber bands, squeezing her muscles into jelly. There was an arm for each guard, and they pulled her wrists back behind her easily. The guards braced her feet with their own boots, so that Erin could finally only move her head and neck. She whipped around her hair, glaring at Sunny.
"You haven't won," Erin said, watching her opponent walk toward her with arrogant strides. "You think this is over, but it's not. I'm the Blue Lynx, and..."
Erin was suddenly silenced by a cloth pressed to her lips. Sunny had one hand around the back of her head, her long fingers digging through the dense thicket of Erin's hair, and the other pushing the chloroform against her face. The surprise forced Erin to take a deep breath, which immediately drained her of half her energy. She stared at Sunny, who stared right back, her eyes wide open and shining, clearly enjoying the picture of Erin struggling against the chloroform, the guards, the situation in general.
"You're going to rest, now," Sunny said. "You're going to sleep for a while, and you're coming to come with us. And when you wake up, you're life will have been forever changed."
Erin felt her eyelids flutter. Her whole body was beginning to wilt under the pressure of the chloroform. Her knees were buckling, her posture was slumping. She tried to maintain eye contact with Sunny. She wanted her to know that... she... could still... fight...
"And I want you to know right now that, even if you don't remember this moment... This last moment of your superheroine life... I will remember it. Forever."
"Mmm?" Erin said, weakly. "Mmmph mmph mmph mmphing mmph..."
And then, just as Erin's eyes rolled back into her head, Sunny moved her free hand and, with a dramatic flourish, launched the Blue Lynx mask from her face. The guards released Erin's arms and she sagged to the floor, hitting it knee-first, and then toppling over, finally hitting the ground with her bare face just as her blue mask settled calmly beside her.
THE END?
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