June 24th, 5:40 PM
He waited five minutes after the door closed before he started to laugh.
Yes, he was in incredible pain, the sort of physical agony that he'd never experienced before. And yes, he had just been threatened with the eradication of his memories if he didn't give up the one hobby that gave him any sense of purpose at all.
What did any of this matter? The Blue Lynx and the Black Bobcat had been inside his house.
Two superheroines, in the flesh, their colorful spandex pinching the skin around their magnificent asses, their breasts bouncing in their low-cut V-necks, their long, sexy legs strutting across his house to beat HIM up, to throw HIM around, to make HIM cry like a pathetic bitch. Two superheroines, the Blue Lynx and the Black Bobcat, the two he had written so obsessively about for months, treating HIM like a supervillain.
He picked himself up from the floor, his broad smile beating back a series of winces. What kind of week was this? First he had learned the Blue Lynx's secret identity, and now the woman herself was in his house, touching him. Him, Zilch, the lowly writer of fan fiction, elevated to a CONCERN in the life of the city's greatest superheroine!
He looked down at his laptop, broken into at least thirty pieces. It was busted beyond all repair, no doubt. Who cared? He had all his stories-- and all of his evidence of Erin Steele's secret-- uploaded to the Cloud. And, regardless, the last ten minutes were worth a thousand stories. The last ten minutes were the best ten minutes of his entire life. He instantly wanted to live in those ten minutes forever: to have them, the Blue Lynx and the Black Bobcat, focused on him, and only him, until he died. That was all he wanted, now.
And the most amazing thing was, he could have that time, because those cocky superheroines had made a tragic mistake. They should've given him that injection while they had the chance; this erotic writer had absolutely no intention of putting a halt to his work. How could he? Writing those stories had brought the Blue fucking Lynx to his house!
He had to have her back. And this time, to stay.
Getting her to return would be easy. The Blue Lynx was clearly a hothead-- a simple post on his blog about revealing her identity to the world would have her charging through his door in twenty minutes. But keeping her around? Capturing a superheroine? That task seemed a tad more challenging. His still-smarting abdomen attested to a chick who was incredibly strong and fast. Even if he booby-trapped his house and somehow got the drop on her, he'd couldn't beat her in a fight (hell, he could probably not even beat her sidekick). He would need more people. People who were as interested in he was in imperiled superheroines.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. The guys at "Superheroine Identity Theft"-- they would be very curious to know about this dilemma.
He started a thread called "Blue Lynx is in my House (For Real, and I need help)."
Hey guys, he typed. So recently I discovered something kind of interesting: the secret identity of the Blue Lynx. The only problem is, the Blue Lynx knows that I know. So today, she came by my house (with her cute friend, the Black Bobcat) and beat the shit out of me.
I know you all want to know more, and I'll tell you... I'll even give you the chance to unmask the Blue Lynx yourself... All I need is your help. Tonight. When I have the Blue Lynx over.
He sent the message and waited.
The replies came swiftly.
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