Chapter One
June 22nd, 1:52 AM
Erin Steele didn't want to be here anymore.
She looked around the laboratory, still in disrepair after the long, excruciating battle against Sunny and the Spaniel, and sighed. Yes, the Blue Lynx had won, largely thanks to Margot, who had intervened as the Black Bobcat just when all hope seemed lost. And sure, it seemed possible that her life might actually get back in order after months of secret identity panic: the Spaniel could barely remember who he was, and after a long interrogation of Sunny (they had tied her to the torture rack with great pleasure), they determined that her own injection had robbed her of at least three weeks of memories about the Blue Lynx. At long last, Erin was triumphant. And yet, she couldn't help but be anxious in... this place. This place where so many horrifying tortures had been inflicted on her.
"Margot," she whispered. "Can't we just take the laptop and go?"
Sitting in the desk chair behind the computer, the Black Bobcat raised a single purple glove. "It'll just be a couple more minutes," she said. "Be patient."
Erin shook her head. She was tired of waiting. What she wanted more than anything was to be home in bed-- to sleep for at least twenty hours-- to spend a whole day in front of TV-- to forget all about the last several weeks. Why couldn't Margot understand that?
"We have to do this now, Erin," Margot repeated, for at least the fourth time. "We have to know. This could be really bad."
Erin took a seat. The "this" her friend was referring to was the Sunny's Donator page. Margot had been trying to break into it for half an hour. The thing they "had to know" was if Sunny had released any images of the Blue Lynx's secret identity to the public. Of course Erin understand how important this was-- it was her life, after all. But in her exhausted, bruised, almost-mind-wiped-just-hours-before state, what mattered more was just getting some rest, as soon as possible.
She looked at Margot, sitting pertly at Sunny's desk, her costume snug against her newly muscular body, her mask a perfect replica of the Blue Lynx's own, and wondered if she was now more into superheroine life than Erin herself was. Even at two in the morning, in the confines of Sunny's massive maze of a hideout, Margot maintained her intensity. Of course, she hadn't been stripped and drugged and bound and imprisoned for days on end.
"So, what's happening?" the Spaniel said. He had been sitting silently in a chair at one of the center table ever since Margot had taken her seat behind the laptop.
Erin turned to face him. "You don't need to know that."
The Spaniel shrugged. "Okay."
Erin thought about what they would do with the Spaniel, with Brian, now that he was essentially a blank slate. They could recruit him as a sidekick-- he was still a strong, agile guy, and he seemed into fighting alongside the Blue Lynx when they were ripping through the hallway henchmen. But that didn't seem right. What the Spaniel needed was time alone. Years of memories had been taken from him thanks to Sunny's drug regimen. It was a sick fate, and Erin couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt when she thought about him no longer knowing who she really was.
"I'm in!" Margot suddenly exclaimed, typing furiously. "I got it!"
Erin leapt up from her seat. "Alright!" she said. "What's the deal?"
Margot stopped typing. She squinted. She scowled. And then she gasped.
"What?" Erin said, racing behind the desk. "What is it?"
Margot pointed at the screen. "It's... a list. Of everyone who donated. Their contact information."
Erin scanned the page. There were dozens of names, e-mail addresses, phone numbers. They were organized into tiers. Tier one had the largest amount of names by far.
"So who are those people?" Erin said, placing her finger against the screen.
"The small fries," Margot said, with a gulp. "The people who donated fifty dollars or less."
"And what did they get?"
"Umm, nothing much," Margot said, scrolling down. "Pictures of you tied and gagged, I think."
Erin blushed. She folded her arms across her body, as if to protect herself from the gaze of dozens of strangers. "That's not... so bad," she murmured.
"No, it's not," Margot replied. "Here's tier two."
It was a much smaller group. Apparently for people who donated between fifty and five hundred dollars.
"And what did they get?" Erin asked.
"Umm. A bunch of things," Margot said. "A couple of your Lynx darts. A video of you losing a fight. Pieces of your hair."
"Eww!" Erin said, recoiling. "What the hell is the matter with these people?"
"I don't know. But I don't think they're an issue, either."
Erin stepped back toward the laptop. "So... is there an issue?"
Margot rotated the chair to face Erin. "Yeah," she said, quietly. "There is."
Erin placed her hands on the desk and looked at the screen. The final group on the page, Tier Three, had five names in it. Each of its members had donated between five hundred and five thousand dollars. And each of them had received video footage of the Blue Lynx being unmasked.
On to Chapter Two
Damage Control: Fan Fiction: Chapter Two
Chapter Two
June 24th, 10:25 AM
The video had been taken during Erin's first staged fight against the Spaniel. It showed her struggling in a headlock, gasping for breath, as her opponent peeled at her mask. As the blue fabric come off, the camera zoomed in, making it quite clear who lay behind the Blue Lynx disguise. The clip ended as Erin passed out in the Spaniel's arms, the sounds of Sunny laughing and clapping echoing in the background.
It was a humiliating video, and an incriminating one. There was no room in it for Erin to plant seeds of doubt: it definitely showed the Blue Lynx being unmasked, and definitely showed the face of the mayor's daughter. The other videos and pictures in Sunny's cache-- the photos of her semi-nude, the gifs of her bound and crying out for help, the goofy images of her gagged and tied to train tracks-- were damaging to her reputation, but not to her identity. This one was different. And it had apparently been seen by at least five people.
"We've got to start tonight," Margot had said. "We'll track these guys down, and we'll..."
Erin had shaken her head. "No, Margot. I can't. I just... can't. Not yet."
She almost fell over right there. Margot had to help her out to the car. It was Margot, too, who called the cops, letting them know about Sunny's operation, hoping they'd make some thug arrests. Margot who had led Erin to her bedroom, sat her down, undressed her, and practically tucked her in. Margot, the Black Bobcat... She was making the Blue Lynx look like the clueless sidekick. And at least for now, Erin was okay with that.
Erin had spent the next day almost entirely in bed. She didn't want to think about what she'd been through, but the memories were too awful to be tamped down. She'd sleep for fifteen minutes at a time, dream about Sunny spanking her, and wake up with an imaginary throb in her butt. She'd try again, and visions of the Spaniel when he first discovered her secret would race into her brain. She was too exhausted to move, and too damaged to rest. She was a wreck.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Margot couldn't sleep, either. But that was at least partially by design. Ever since the girls had gotten home, she had been hammering away at two laptops-- hers and Sunny's-- and uncovering every piece of stray data she could about Hammerson, his operation, the Donator page, and the Donator supporters. It was an obsession for her-- she knew that-- but it was totally necessary. Just because Erin had been freed didn't mean she was truly "free." As long as anyone had that video, her life would be in danger, and Margot couldn't allow that.
She worked through one night, and then the next, and when Erin finally left her bedroom, her hair a big greasy mat, dressed only in panties and an old grey tank-top, Margot had a thirty page word document ready.
"Check this out," Margot said, beckoning Erin to the computer. "I've found out a lot about..."
"First, coffee," Erin mumbled, walking into the kitchen. "Then, whatever you want."
Margot frowned as Erin brushed past her. She understood Erin's hesitation before-- she had just been through, well, a lot-- but now? After almost forty hours of rest?
Erin poured her coffee to the brim and sat down at the kitchen table next to Margot.
"So, umm, how did you sleep?" Margot asked.
Erin took a big sip of coffee, and swallowed. "Not great," she muttered. "There's something about being drugged and beaten for days on end that really messes with your sleep cycle."
Margot nodded. Oh course she could sympathize. But this seemed to her to be dangerously close to the self-pitying Erin she had lived with for far too long after that fateful night with the Spaniel. She didn't want to live with that Erin.
"Well, uh," Margot said. "Maybe you should take a bath, or something."
"I think I will," Erin said, getting up from the table.
"Wait!" Margot said. "Don't you want to, umm..."
Erin took another sip of coffee. She stared at Margot. Her face seemed whiter, as if the computer screens inches from her cheeks had leached the color away.
"I appreciate what you're doing, Margot," Erin said. "But maybe you could use a bath, too."
Margot's face suddenly reddened. She stood up to meet Erin eye-to-eye.
"Listen, BLUE LYNX," she said. "I'm glad you appreciate my work. Because I'm doing it all for YOU. It's not my secret identity that's in the hands of some random strangers. It's not my life and career that's on the line here. This isn't just some little project I'm tinkering on. This is your future, Erin. Don't you understand?"
Erin's face was reddening, too. "Oh, I understand," she said. "But you clearly don't. You just think this is a big game. You have no idea what I was put through. You have no clue because you haven't asked me, once. They fucked me up, Margot! While you were outside, playing with your phone..."
"Playing with my phone?" Margot yelled. "I was trying to rescue you! Which I fucking DID! And that wasn't exactly easy, either."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Erin said, with a sarcastic grin. "Did it hurt when Mr. Spaniel hugged you? Did he make it too tight? Aww."
Margot was scowling now. "When I got there, you were face first on a rack, getting your ass beat red. I was the only thing standing in the way of you and Sunny. But I don't know. Maybe you were fine being Sunny's bitch. Maybe you enjoyed--"
Erin took a swing at Margot, but Margot turned to the side just in time, letting the fist just graze her breast.
"You ungrateful... cunt," Margot whispered, her eyes wide. "How dare you..."
Erin took another swing, and this time, Margot ducked. She lowered her head and shoulders and plowed into Erin's abdomen, sending the two girls to the floor. They locked hands and wrestled, Erin turning Margot on her back, pushing her into the ground. But Margot resisted, and eventually found herself pushing back Erin's hands. The young women soon changed positions. It was hard to say who was more surprised when, minutes later, Margot had her knee pressed into the small of Erin's back, one hand with a fistful of hair, the other hovering directly over her foe's rear end.
Erin grunted furiously. "Get off of me, you bitch!"
"I don't think so," Margot said. She was enjoying this tremendously. "Not until you come to your senses, Erin."
"Fuck you!"
Margot applied more pressure to Erin's back, and Erin whinnied in agony.
"Maybe you're right," Margot said. "Maybe you should stop being a superhero. You're obviously not very good at it. I just kicked your ass all over the apartment."
She couldn't see Erin's face, just hear her seething, her breath coming out in short, irate blasts. It was time to turn things up a bit.
"You like being a bitch so much?" Margot yelled. "Well here!"
Without any further warning, Margot grabbed Erin's panties and jerked them down her thighs. Erin gasped, but before she could protest, Margot was slapping her ass with big open palms.
Erin cried out. "No! Augh! Margot! Stop! AUGHHH!"
Margot didn't stop. She was in a trance now, smacking Erin's considerable backside again and again, with barely a thought about why she was doing what she was doing. Was it for Erin's own good? She didn't know anymore. She thought it was kind of funny. But more than that, she thought she simply had to do it... to show Erin... something.
And then, out of nowhere, Erin started laughing.
Margot paused. She lessened some of the pressure on her friend's back. Erin had turned her head to the side, and Margot could see a wide smile and closed eyes brimming with tears.
"This is... ridiculous," Erin muttered. through giggles. "Get off me, you little bitch."
June 24th, 10:25 AM
The video had been taken during Erin's first staged fight against the Spaniel. It showed her struggling in a headlock, gasping for breath, as her opponent peeled at her mask. As the blue fabric come off, the camera zoomed in, making it quite clear who lay behind the Blue Lynx disguise. The clip ended as Erin passed out in the Spaniel's arms, the sounds of Sunny laughing and clapping echoing in the background.
It was a humiliating video, and an incriminating one. There was no room in it for Erin to plant seeds of doubt: it definitely showed the Blue Lynx being unmasked, and definitely showed the face of the mayor's daughter. The other videos and pictures in Sunny's cache-- the photos of her semi-nude, the gifs of her bound and crying out for help, the goofy images of her gagged and tied to train tracks-- were damaging to her reputation, but not to her identity. This one was different. And it had apparently been seen by at least five people.
"We've got to start tonight," Margot had said. "We'll track these guys down, and we'll..."
Erin had shaken her head. "No, Margot. I can't. I just... can't. Not yet."
She almost fell over right there. Margot had to help her out to the car. It was Margot, too, who called the cops, letting them know about Sunny's operation, hoping they'd make some thug arrests. Margot who had led Erin to her bedroom, sat her down, undressed her, and practically tucked her in. Margot, the Black Bobcat... She was making the Blue Lynx look like the clueless sidekick. And at least for now, Erin was okay with that.
Erin had spent the next day almost entirely in bed. She didn't want to think about what she'd been through, but the memories were too awful to be tamped down. She'd sleep for fifteen minutes at a time, dream about Sunny spanking her, and wake up with an imaginary throb in her butt. She'd try again, and visions of the Spaniel when he first discovered her secret would race into her brain. She was too exhausted to move, and too damaged to rest. She was a wreck.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Margot couldn't sleep, either. But that was at least partially by design. Ever since the girls had gotten home, she had been hammering away at two laptops-- hers and Sunny's-- and uncovering every piece of stray data she could about Hammerson, his operation, the Donator page, and the Donator supporters. It was an obsession for her-- she knew that-- but it was totally necessary. Just because Erin had been freed didn't mean she was truly "free." As long as anyone had that video, her life would be in danger, and Margot couldn't allow that.
She worked through one night, and then the next, and when Erin finally left her bedroom, her hair a big greasy mat, dressed only in panties and an old grey tank-top, Margot had a thirty page word document ready.
"Check this out," Margot said, beckoning Erin to the computer. "I've found out a lot about..."
"First, coffee," Erin mumbled, walking into the kitchen. "Then, whatever you want."
Margot frowned as Erin brushed past her. She understood Erin's hesitation before-- she had just been through, well, a lot-- but now? After almost forty hours of rest?
Erin poured her coffee to the brim and sat down at the kitchen table next to Margot.
"So, umm, how did you sleep?" Margot asked.
Erin took a big sip of coffee, and swallowed. "Not great," she muttered. "There's something about being drugged and beaten for days on end that really messes with your sleep cycle."
Margot nodded. Oh course she could sympathize. But this seemed to her to be dangerously close to the self-pitying Erin she had lived with for far too long after that fateful night with the Spaniel. She didn't want to live with that Erin.
"Well, uh," Margot said. "Maybe you should take a bath, or something."
"I think I will," Erin said, getting up from the table.
"Wait!" Margot said. "Don't you want to, umm..."
Erin took another sip of coffee. She stared at Margot. Her face seemed whiter, as if the computer screens inches from her cheeks had leached the color away.
"I appreciate what you're doing, Margot," Erin said. "But maybe you could use a bath, too."
Margot's face suddenly reddened. She stood up to meet Erin eye-to-eye.
"Listen, BLUE LYNX," she said. "I'm glad you appreciate my work. Because I'm doing it all for YOU. It's not my secret identity that's in the hands of some random strangers. It's not my life and career that's on the line here. This isn't just some little project I'm tinkering on. This is your future, Erin. Don't you understand?"
Erin's face was reddening, too. "Oh, I understand," she said. "But you clearly don't. You just think this is a big game. You have no idea what I was put through. You have no clue because you haven't asked me, once. They fucked me up, Margot! While you were outside, playing with your phone..."
"Playing with my phone?" Margot yelled. "I was trying to rescue you! Which I fucking DID! And that wasn't exactly easy, either."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Erin said, with a sarcastic grin. "Did it hurt when Mr. Spaniel hugged you? Did he make it too tight? Aww."
Margot was scowling now. "When I got there, you were face first on a rack, getting your ass beat red. I was the only thing standing in the way of you and Sunny. But I don't know. Maybe you were fine being Sunny's bitch. Maybe you enjoyed--"
Erin took a swing at Margot, but Margot turned to the side just in time, letting the fist just graze her breast.
"You ungrateful... cunt," Margot whispered, her eyes wide. "How dare you..."
Erin took another swing, and this time, Margot ducked. She lowered her head and shoulders and plowed into Erin's abdomen, sending the two girls to the floor. They locked hands and wrestled, Erin turning Margot on her back, pushing her into the ground. But Margot resisted, and eventually found herself pushing back Erin's hands. The young women soon changed positions. It was hard to say who was more surprised when, minutes later, Margot had her knee pressed into the small of Erin's back, one hand with a fistful of hair, the other hovering directly over her foe's rear end.
Erin grunted furiously. "Get off of me, you bitch!"
"I don't think so," Margot said. She was enjoying this tremendously. "Not until you come to your senses, Erin."
"Fuck you!"
Margot applied more pressure to Erin's back, and Erin whinnied in agony.
"Maybe you're right," Margot said. "Maybe you should stop being a superhero. You're obviously not very good at it. I just kicked your ass all over the apartment."
She couldn't see Erin's face, just hear her seething, her breath coming out in short, irate blasts. It was time to turn things up a bit.
"You like being a bitch so much?" Margot yelled. "Well here!"
Without any further warning, Margot grabbed Erin's panties and jerked them down her thighs. Erin gasped, but before she could protest, Margot was slapping her ass with big open palms.
Erin cried out. "No! Augh! Margot! Stop! AUGHHH!"
Margot didn't stop. She was in a trance now, smacking Erin's considerable backside again and again, with barely a thought about why she was doing what she was doing. Was it for Erin's own good? She didn't know anymore. She thought it was kind of funny. But more than that, she thought she simply had to do it... to show Erin... something.
And then, out of nowhere, Erin started laughing.
Margot paused. She lessened some of the pressure on her friend's back. Erin had turned her head to the side, and Margot could see a wide smile and closed eyes brimming with tears.
"This is... ridiculous," Erin muttered. through giggles. "Get off me, you little bitch."
Margot chuckled, sliding her knee to the floor. "So I take it you agree with--"
Before she could finish, Erin had spun around and clocked her in the side of the head with a tightly balled fist. Margot flopped to the floor, chest-first, the hard floor splaying her arms to her sides. Erin tugged her panties up her legs with one hand and began wailing on Margot's back with the other, pounding her down into the ground, paying no attention to Margot's high-pitched cries of distress.
"Come on, BLACK BOBCAT," Erin cried, "Show me what you got!" She was straddling Margot's waist now, not letting her turn onto her back, hitting her again and again. Once Margot seemed too exhausted to fight back, Erin twisted backward, pinched the waist of Margot's pajama bottoms, and pulled the soft fabric down and off her buttocks. An eager grin spread across Erin's face as she gave her sidekick's bare ass a firm spank. Margot gasped in pain.
"Now listen her, FRIEND," Erin said. She spanked Margot again, producing another high, satisfying cry. "I'm going to give you back every smack you gave me." She added two sudden, hard slaps for emphasis. "And then, I'm going to keep going, until you admit that you made a mistake... Until you cry for mercy and know that you don't fuck with the Blue Lynx!"
"I know!" Margot sniffled. "I know that!"
"Really?" Erin said, shifting even more of her weight onto Margot's back, and bending down to put her lips near her ear. "Then say it. Say that the Blue Lynx is the superhero, and the Black Bobcat is the dumb sidekick."
"The Blue Lynx..." Margot whispered.
"LOUDER!' Erin yelled, striking Margot's behind with a jiggle-inducing chop.
"Ah!" Margot cried. "The Blue Lynx is the superhero! The Black Bobcat is the dumb sidekick!"
"Good girl," Erin said, standing up from the floor and adjusting her panties. She looked at her fallen roommate-- her clothes and hair dishevelled, her pajama bottoms bunched up around her knees, her bare butt shining pink in the fluorescent light of the kitchen-- and smiled.
Margot had begun to move again. "I hope you're fucking satisfied," she groaned, slowly pulling her pants back up. She dragged herself into a sitting position against the wall. "You psychotic bitch."
"You started it," Erin snapped.
"I was trying to help you," Margot said. "That's all I'm ever trying to do." She sighed. "And I don't fucking know why, anymore."
Erin looked Margot in the eyes, and suddenly felt a drop of pity, a drop that quickly became a flood of guilt. She knew her friend was right: she couldn't just do nothing now that at least five people knew the Blue Lynx's secret. Wallowing in her misery was not an option, not if she cared about herself, or her superheroine career. Not if she cared about Margot.
She crouched to the floor. "I'm sorry," she said.
Again, Margot exhaled.
Erin gulped and continued. "I've been a big jerk the last couple of days." She found it hard to look at Margot, even as Margot made no effort to return her gaze. "I've been treating you like shit... And... You don't deserve it. I'll look at your research, Margot. And we'll get these guys. We'll stop the baddies, again. The Blue Lynx and the Black Bobcat. Together."
Margot finally looked up at her. "You promise?"
Erin extended her hand. "I promise."
Margot placed her fingers in Erin's, and Erin lifted her to her feet. Margot brushed herself off and laughed.
"That was an intense fight," she said.
"Nice way to start the day," Erin replied, giggling. Her adrenaline was till flowing, and her arms were sore. "You've gotten stronger."
Margot furrowed her brow sarcastically. "And you've gotten... Dirtier."
Erin laughed out loud. "Hey, you're the one who PULLED DOWN MY PANTIES and SPANKED ME, Margot. That was your idea, remember? You pervert."
The girls' laughter could barely be contained.
"Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking," Margot said. "I guess I've been reading too many weird superheroine stories online."
She glanced at the computer, and gestured toward Erin.
"Oh hey, that reminds me..."
Damage Control: Fan Fiction: Chapter Three
Chapter Three
June 24th, 5:10 PM
The goons had her now! They carried the Blue Lynx kicking and screaming over to the long table. They set her on top and spread out her arms and legs. The superheroine could only squeal and twist her torso as the men tied her wrists and ankles with thick rope. Once the tight knots were securely around her limbs, the men lashed the other ends of the rope to the table legs, rendering the once-confident superheroine totally HELPLESS.
"Looks like the TABLES have turned, Blue Lynx!" Brutus said.
The Blue Lynx sneered back. She tried lifting her arms and legs and could only get them an inch off the table. There are been just too many of them! Not even her karate could overcome six large men.
"Now make sure she's beaten," Caesar said. "Take away her weapons."
A goon put his hands around her back and unsnapped the clasp of her utility belt. He removed the belt from her waist and the men laughed at the Blue Lynx's horrified expression.
"You're going to pay for that!" she cried.
"Now, make sure she's TRULY beaten," Caesar whispered. "Take off her mask."
"No!" the Blue Lynx shouted, but it didn't matter. Goons were on her again in an instant. A pair of hands held down her head, two other pairs held down her shoulders. Brutus leaned over her and placed his fingers on her cheek. He waited a second, sexually excited by the sight of the superheroine squirming, and then brought his hand across her face, taking the Blue Lynx's mask with it!
"Oh my GOD!" Brutus yelled. "The Blue Lynx is... ERIN STEELE!"
The writer paused.
His heart was racing, his loins were aching, and he was hungry. He hadn't eaten since early this morning, when he'd gotten up to start his newest story.
He saved the document and closed his laptop, sighing. He hadn't gotten it quite right yet, he knew that. The first draft was always an adventure: he'd have to go back over this chapter, and the rest, to perfect all of the sexy details. But he had time. There was no need to rush this, especially with so much on the line.
He went to the fridge. It was nearly bare-- there was just a little bit of milk left in the carton, half a stick of butter, some stray pieces of fruit, and a couple cans of beer. He took an apple and one of the Budweisers and went back to his kitchen table, where he had sat alone for the last eight hours or so. He cracked open the beer and took a sip.
He was just a guy in his late twenties, slightly overweight, with frizzy overgrown hair and glasses. A beer-drinking white city hipster like any other, but for one peculiar hobby. Ever since he'd had first seen the news stories about the mysterious superheroine called the Blue Lynx, he had been obsessed, and when he was obsessed with something, he wrote about it. For the past half year he had used his free time to write fan fiction about the Blue Lynx: erotic stories of the superheroine being tortured and stripped and groped and fucked silly.
It was odd, he knew that, to write about a girl (she was really just a girl) who happened to be a real person in his city, doing real superheroine stuff, and to write about her in all of these twisted ways... but he couldn't help himself. There was just something about her: about the way she looked in that skintight blue-and-white costume, about her thick, shiny black hair, about her rippling muscles and firm, copious ass, about her sensuous voice (only caught on tape a few times... times the writer had saved, and savored), about her fearlessness and cockiness and tremendous superheroine abilities. She was perfect, as perfect as a woman got (her partner, the Black Bobcat, being a close second), and the writer celebrated that in the way he knew best: with twenty-some-odd stories placing her at the hands of the most sick and sadistic sexual monsters imaginable.
But up until very recently, there was a problem with his stories: authenticity. Nobody knew who the Blue Lynx was. The superheroine had kept her identity the most closely-guarded secret in town. There wasn't a journalist or criminal in town who'd even gotten close to figuring it out (at least as far as the writer knew), which made his fictionalized unmaskings seem a little... anti-climactic. Sure, the writer could make up names, and he did (he liked "Amber Raven," for some reason), but they never quite fit in right. He had discussed his problem with members of an online Superheroine Unmasking community, "Heroine Identity Theft," and their ideas hadn't been particularly helpful.
"Why don't you just unmask the Blue Lynx yourself?" someone had posted.
That, of course, was impossible. Even if there were some way to get the Blue Lynx to pay any attention to him at all, he had simply no chance of besting her in combat. She was fast and strong and cunning; the writer was slow and weak and had never been in a fight. He could set a trap, sure, but that would require the superheroine to come to the exact place he was at, which, again, didn't seem likely.
It bothered him deeply, not knowing the Blue Lynx's secret, and knowing that he would probably never know. After months of frantic speculation, the writer was on the verge of insanity... And then, he found a bizarre Donator page. "Find a Cure with Help from the Blue Lynx."
Someone, this weird lady, Regina Sunflower, had captured the Blue Lynx. And in exchange for donations, Regina was offering Blue Lynx-themed prizes: images of her tied up and naked, videos of her losing fights, and, the real coup de grace, information about the superheroine's secret identity.
It was like Satan himself had heard the writer's prayers. This was everything he wanted; it was like Regina Sunflower was inspired by his stories to create live-action versions! Of course he paid every amount as soon as he could, putting off food and beer and utilities and every other obligation until he had it: the knowledge he had been craving. The knowledge that the Blue Lynx as none other than the mayor's daughter, Erin Steele.
It was too good to be true. Erin Fucking Steele. He had seen her on TV before. She was a radiant beauty, poised and athletic, the girl-next-door in some kind of heavenly neighborhood. A goody-two-shoes, for sure, but with a wild side. An ambitious, pretty young thing looking to do her father one better, and fight the city's criminals mano-a-mano. It all made sense now. He had found the missing piece, and it slotted into the rest of his puzzled seamlessly.
The challenge now was writing this story, the story that would tell the whole world what he knew, the story that would make him the most notorious writer of erotic fiction in the country. He finished the apple and opened his laptop, scanning his newest chapter for mistakes. The grammar seemed fine, but something else didn't. He hadn't gotten it right-- he hadn't drawn it out enough, this final moment, this unmasking. He knew he had to scrap it and try again.
He moved to delete the file and heard a knock on his door.
"The fuck?" he thought. Nobody knocked on his door. Who the fuck knocked on doors?
He sighed and slowly got up from the table. He was about to go to the door when the door flew open with a crashing sound.
Two women walked into his house. Two women in spandex and boots and masks. Two superheroines.
"Oh my fucking God," the writer said.
Damage Control: Fan Fiction: Chapter Four
Chapter Four
June 24th, 5:26 PM
Erin stormed into the writer's house, Margot alongside, and slammed the front door.
She looked at the lone man standing awkwardly near a kitchen table, just a few yards away.
"You're Zilch?"
The man made a strange gesture that was somewhere between a nod and a shrug.
"Figures," Erin said. A flabby, awkward, bespectacled white guy. In an over-sized white t-shirt and sweatpants. Exactly the kind of creep she'd expecting-- exactly the sort of nerd who'd get off on her going through the worst ordeal of her life.
"That the computer where you write your little stories?" Margot asked, pointing at the laptop.
Zilch looked at the machine with an almost puzzled expression, and then back at the Black Bobcat. He made the same gesture that he had for Erin.
Without warning, Erin marched across the room, shoved Zilch to the ground, and grabbed the computer, yanking its cord from the wall. She held the machine up above her head so that it almost grazed the kitchen ceiling.
"You wouldn't like it if we destroyed it, would you?" Erin snarled, staring at the young man sprawled across the floor. "Bet you have all kinds of files on it."
"Don't!" Zilch said, mechanically. "Just... be careful!"
"Sure thing," Erin said. She brought the laptop down and then hurled it frisbee-style across the room. It hit the far wall next to the TV and exploded into pieces.
"Ahhhh!" Zilch cried. "My laptop!"
Margot bent down and grabbed Zilch by the front of his shirt, hauling him easily to his feet. "It's no fun when people take special things away from you, is it?" she said, menacingly.
"No fun when people start poking around your private life, IS IT?" Erin added.
Zilch looked frantically back-and-forth and the two women, Erin could see the sweat pouring down his face, could practically hear the guy's heart pounding. She almost felt sorry for him in that moment. Almost.
"What... what do you want?" Zilch cried.
He was as pathetic as she had expected. His Blue Lynx stories were lewd and stupid, and not even very well written. He probably had never had a girlfriend; he had probably had never had sex. He was a loser, this "Zilch," real name Patrick Kuntsler. She wondered how he was even able to afford his house, which was small, but near the city center-- just ten minutes away from Erin's own apartment (which was why the women had decided to deal with him first).
Erin stepped up to where Margot held the writer, pushing her breasts inches away from his shivering expression. It was merciless, how they could taunt him. He deserved nothing better.
"I want you to stop writing stories," Erin commanded. "Immediately."
Zilch gulped. "Sure, sure thing."
"And I want you to delete from whatever files you have all knowledge of my secret identity. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah. I got it."
Margot released his shirt, and Erin, inspired by just how miserable he seemed, socked him hard in the stomach. Zilch bent over and coughed, dropping to one knee.
"Now you know how it feels to be punched by a superheroine," Erin said.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" Margot said, grinning, happy to see her friend get some revenge.
Zilch nodded wordlessly. He was still coughing, still clearly in pain from the assault.
"I can do a whole lot worse," Erin said, grabbing the writer by the hair and pulling him up, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "And I will, if I ever get any kind of indication that you're even THINKING about spilling the beans."
Margot unsnapped a button on her belt and pulled out a small syringe. "You see this, Zilch?"
Still frozen in place by Erin's grip, Zilch could only move his eyes to see what the Black Bobcat held. "Yes, yes," he muttered.
"This is a drug that we uncovered from a villain's lair," Margot said. "An amnesia drug."
Erin nodded in agreement. What Margot said was true. What she held was a small sample of the very concoction that Sunny had almost jabbed into the Blue Lynx's ass at the end of her last excursion. Margot had taken it from Sunny's lab thinking it might come in handy, and though she hadn't been able to discern the formula's ingredients, the vial she possessed had enough fluid in it for maybe four or five injections. The perfect insurance policy for the Blue Lynx.
"I stick this in your arm," Margot continued. "And boom, your memories are gone. Everything you know about the Blue Lynx will disappear. Along with everything else you've ever thought."
Erin was not looking forward to actually using the drug-- even for a slimeball like Zilch, it seemed severe-- and was hoping the threat of it would be enough to enforce silence. Looking into Zilch's eyes, it seemed like the strategy might work.
"Jesus, okay, okay!" Zilch cried. "I won't say anything, okay? I promise!"
Erin released Zilch's hair and once again tossed him to the ground. The writer rolled onto his stomach, breathing heavily and making strange sounds. He was a defeated man.
"Good," Erin said. "Don't make us come back here, little boy."
She nodded at Margot and the two superheroines spun around, confidently walking out of the house and politely closing the front door behind them, leaving the writer wincing on the floor, alone once more.
"Do you think we were too hard on him?" Margot asked, as the girls jogged to her car.
"No way," Erin said. "He was asking for it."
She laughed out loud. "Maybe he can write a stupid story about it to make himself feel better."
Damage Control: Fan Fiction: Chapter Five
Chapter Five
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.
Damage Control: Fan Fiction: Chapter Six
Chapter Six
June 24th, 10:03 PM
"I just can't believe this guy," Erin said, pushing her mask across the bridge of her nose. "I just really can't believe he'd be this stupid."
The girls were sitting in Margot's car, parked across the road and down the street from Zilch's house. It was the beginning of summer and the sun had only recently set, revealing a gorgeous night in its wake. The air was crisp and cool-- the perfect weather for fighting crime. Which the had to do tonight, because this ugly little writer dweeb had decided to push their buttons.
Margot had checked in on his blog each hour, waiting to see if he'd be dumb enough to make a move. They went home, had dinner, and had even believed for a brief moment that the Blue Lynx's scare tactics had worked. Then, just after nine, a short piece with a simple message appeared at the top of the blog.
AT MIDNIGHT TONIGHT, I WILL REVEAL TO THE WORLD THE SECRET IDENTITY OF THE BLUE LYNX. PLEASE TUNE IN LATER TO GET THE STORY OF THE YEAR!
Minutes later, the girls were out the door, again on the road toward the house of this guy, Zilch, who was proving to be quite a thorn in their sides.
"This'll be fun," Erin insisted as they drove over. "You could probably do this on your own, babe."
Margot smiled and shook her head. "I don't know. There something about this that seems... fishy."
Erin laughed. "Come on, Margot. You saw him earlier. This isn't, like, Steve the Ninja here. This is just a little nerd. What's he gonna do? Flick you in the boob? That would probably make him..."
"I'm just saying," Margot said, cutting her friend off. "Why would he do this? Why would he put his life in danger, and make it so obvious to us?"
"Because he's a moron."
Margot sighed. It couldn't be that simple, could it? Nothing about being a superheroine was ever that simple. Unless this was the one night where the girls were allowed to just not worry and beat up a goon.
They were in the car now, getting ready. Margot slid her fingers into the purple gloves of the Black Bobcat outfit, watching Erin click her belt on from the corner of her eye. Erin wasn't worried, not at all. So why should Margot be? The Blue Lynx was right: this guy, Zilch, was a pushover. Margot had absolutely had his way with him earlier in the day. Why should tonight be any different?
"Okay, girl," Erin said. "You ready?"
Margot nodded.
"Alright, then. Let's go get this punk."
The two superheroines got out of the car and dashed down the street, two dark, silent figures in the warm summer night. Margot could already feel her heart starting to race. It was like this every time they went on a mission together-- she could never train herself to be as fearless as Erin. And even if sometimes that seemed like a good thing, she still couldn't help but feel in awe of her intrepid partner. She watched the Blue Lynx climb the porch of Zilch's house and slink up against the wall next to the front door.
"Front door?" Erin whispered, looking at Margot.
Margot half-sighed. Why hadn't they discussed the entry before? She didn't have the guts to tell Erin "no," now. So she nodded.
Erin grinned, turned toward the door, and kicked it in with one powerful motion. The girls ran inside the house, as they had this morning, and once more found the writer, still dressed in a white tee and sweatpants, still standing awkwardly near the kitchen table.
"Oh shit!" Zilch cried.
"We're backkkk," Erin cooed. She folded her arms and stood with her legs wide, clearly satisfied with Zilch's petrified expression. The writer backed away from the table now, still facing the superheroines.
"I... I'm sorry... I just..."
"Sorry's not good enough," Margot barked. "We gave you a chance, and you blew it."
"And now, you pay the price, Zilch," Erin said.
Zilch spun around and ran, dashing through the kitchen and into a hallway. Erin scoffed and followed, taking strong but slow steps. Margot imitated her friend's gait and smiled. It was great to see the Blue Lynx back to being a superheroine-- she'd spent way too long feeling sorry for herself.
The girls turned into the hall, where in the dim light they saw the entrance to what looked like the bathroom and, at the other end of the corridor, maybe twenty feet away, a staircase. They heard Zilch's feet clambering up the steps.
"You gonna make us chase you?" Erin bellowed, pacing toward the stairs.
"Every ten seconds we do this is another punch to the face," Margot said, with a small laugh. She liked that.
Erin climbed the steep, creaky stairs with quiet intensity. The pathway was narrow, with one space for one woman at a time, forcing Margot behind her friend. She looked up into the dark path, around Erin's perfectly sculpted ass, and saw it open up near the top. "It's a loft," she whispered to Erin.
"I can see that," Erin said, her eyes now peeking over the level's wooden floors. She had stopped moving, and was standing about five steps from the top.
"I don't see him, though," she murmured. "An old couch, an air hockey table, some bookcases. Where is he?"
Margot stood on the step directly behind Erin, her body almost pressing against her partner's. She could now scan the room like Erin, and she didn't see Zilch, either.
"Okay, Zilch!" Erin yelled, suddenly. "We're coming up. Make this easy on us, and we'll make it easy on you."
Erin darted up the remaining portion of the staircase. Margot followed, and gasped-- three men leapt out of the sky! Erin looked up, but it was too late-- the dark net came down, smothering the Blue Lynx's outstretched arms, blanketing the superheroine's whole body in thick, black webbing. Margot charged up the stairs, watching the trio of goons sweep Erin's encased body off its feet. They threw her to the floor, and she let out a cry of pain. Margot jumped toward them and threw a wild punch at one of the men, but before it could reach its target a pair of hands grabbed it out of the air!
"Not so fast, girly," a voice hissed in her ear. She felt her arm pulled out and around her back. She cried out, and a pair of bodies barreled into her back, pushing her across the room. She hit the wall hard, lost her breath, and felt still more hands turning her around. She was facing into the room now, where she saw for the first time her attackers. Two men in dark clothes-- black in the unlit environment of the loft-- of medium height and build, both wearing black ski masks. She could smell their hot breath and hear their deep chuckles as they grabbed her gloved wrists and pinned them against the wall.
"Status report?" a familiar voice called out.
"She keeps kicking around!" another voice yelled. "But we got her!"
Margot twisted her neck to look beyond the two men holding her in place. She saw three men, all darkly clothed, also with masks, crouched down around a squirming black blob of fabric. They were grunting, trying to get a grip on their target, occasionally throwing haphazard punches and kicks at the mass... at Erin, grunting and crying out...still fighting but... for how long?
"I've got to help her!" Margot thought. "Come on, Black Bobcat!"
"What about the sidekick?" the voice from before asked.
"Got her!" the man holding her left wrist yelled. He looked hard into Margot's eyes and smiled. "And she's not going anywhere."
"We'll see about that," Margot snapped.
The man leaned toward her, dropping a hand from the Black Bobcat's wrist. "What are you gonna do, babe?" he cackled, letting his free hand fall onto Margot's hip. He fingered the space between her black spandex and purple utility belt. "God, I've always wanted to say that..."
He was horny and distracted, so Margot made her move, slamming her forehead into the goon's. The man screamed as he flew backward and released Margot's arm, which she immediately brought across the face of her other assailant. That man stumbled to his right; Margot pushed herself from the wall and plowed into him, hitting his body hard and knocking him to the floor. She quickly pivoted to re-face the first man, who was stumbling around in a daze.
"Help, guys!" he muttered, just before Margot connected her fist to his jaw. She looked across the room at the three other thugs. Two of them were leaping to their feet while the other straddled the netted, struggling heap that was Erin. She quickly scanned her side of the loft-- the two thugs she had dispatched were still floored, still collecting themselves-- and then advanced. She had moved past the air hockey table, her fists raised in anticipation of the next fight, when she felt a CLANG against the back of her neck.
The Black Bobcat stumbled back and fell into the arms of Zilch.
Unconscious.
Damage Control: Fan Fiction: Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
June 24th, 10:22 PM
From inside the thick, dark net, and underneath the substantial bulk of the man sitting on her thighs, Erin could see, barely, through the darkness of the loft. She had watched as Margot had successfully fought off two thugs; had cheered to herself as the Black Bobcat had confidently made her way toward her captured partner; had watched it all come apart as, from out of nowhere, Zilch appeared behind her friend and bashed her on the back of the head with a skillet.
Erin gritted her teeth in rage as the writer cradled her unconscious friend, hating the way his greasy hands held her up and against his tubby body, wanting nothing more than to sock that stupid, chest-ogling leer off his face.
"Wow," Zilch said, letting the Black Bobcat bounce in his careless caress. "I can't believe that worked."
The two thugs Margot had defeated were now picking themselves up from the floor, holding their faces and grimacing. They gathered around Zilch, and were also interested in the shape of her body, but with rage in their eyes.
"Fucking bitch," one of them spat. "Almost broke my goddamn jaw."
"I swear to God, Zilch," the other one added, his hand scratching his forehead furiously. "If you don't give me some quality time with this one, I will fucking..."
"Don't worry about it," Zilch said, calmly. He let Margot's limp body slide from his arms and hit the floor with a soft thud. "There will be enough time for everyone."
Erin blinked. Time for everyone? To do what? Who the hell were these people?
She looked up at the three men nearest to her. They didn't seem like the traditional thugs. The "uniforms" they wore were just dark sweats, and none of them seemed particularly strong or agile. If they hadn't have thrown that net on her, this wouldn't even be a contest... But she'd been careless, and had let herself fall into a trap. And now, netted and writhing under 250-some-odd pounds of nerd, she had to admit that she was in trouble.
"Is the Blue Lynx out?" Zilch asked, looking over her way.
"I don't think so," the man on top of her belched. "I can feel her kicking, still." He bounced up and down on her thighs, forcing Erin to whinny slightly.
"Okay, well, let me talk to her, then," Zilch, ambling over.
Erin rolled her eyes. The writer of erotic fan fiction was trying to be a real villain, now. It was almost cute.
"Can you believe this, man?" one of the men said as Zilch positioned himself above Erin. "We got her! We got the Blue Lynx!"
"It's insane, I know," Zilch said, trying to find Erin's eyes. "And we're just getting started."
Erin groaned. "You've sealed your fate, Zilch. Once I get out of here, you can kiss your memories goodbye."
The six men giggled.
"Wow!" one of them cried. "She's bantering with us! The fucking Blue Lynx!"
Another one whispered. "What does she mean by... that? Kiss you memories goodbye?"
"Don't worry about that," Zilch said. "The Blue Lynx is doing what superheroines do in situations like this. Trying to intimidate us. And grasping at straws."
"Wrong," Erin thought, silently unbuttoning one of the flaps on her belt, which the man on top of her had accidentally pushed up her abdomen. "The Blue Lynx is doing what she does in situations like this... Distracting the baddies in order to escape."
She fingered a Lynx Dart, removed it from her belt, and grinned at Zilch through the thick netting. You'd think such an avid writer of superheroine stories would've anticipated this. Oh well...
"I don't know who you guys are," Erin said. "Or if your buddy Zilch here is telling you the whole story. But if you all leave now, I promise, I won't hurt you."
There was more laughter. "Wow," another guy said. "We're being threatened!"
"I'm going to erase Zilch's memories tonight," Erin continued. "With a secret potion." She was sawing the side of the net with the Lynx Dart, looking Zilch directly in the eyes, hoping he wouldn't see anything in the dark. "Don't make me force it to use it on you guys. Because I will if I have to."
"Don't listen to her," Zilch mumbled. "I have no idea what she's talking about."
"Yeah, you do," Erin said, feeling the serrated edge of the Dart cut through the netting. "I saw your face this morning. You knew exactly what I was talking about, then. You looked like you wanted to throw up. Or pee your pants."
A few of the goons chortled. "Wow, Zilch! You just gonna let her say that?"
"Listen here, girl," Zilch yelled. "I'm the one who's in control now! You hear me? I could end your little double life right now. I know your identity, remember?"
"Yeah, but you won't say it, not yet," Erin said, as the dart sliced through more of the netting. "That wasn't part of the deal, was it? I'll bet you told these guys they'd get to unmask me themselves. I doubt they'd be too happy if you just spilled the beans."
"She's right, man," the goon sitting on her legs said. "That would be fucked up. Don't say shit."
"Yeah," another guy added.
More netting snapped. Erin had a clean line through the web, now.
"Will you all just shut up?" Zilch said, turning around to face the five men in turn. "You're going to get what I promised. Okay? Okay?"
"OKAY!" Erin shouted, shoving the Lynx Dart into the back of the sitting goon. The man squealed and jumped into the air. Her legs now free, Erin punched up through the netting and quadrupled the size of the dart-made tear. In seconds, she was up and out of the trap, looking out at Zilch and his goons with a glimmer in her eye.
"So much for your net," Erin said, kicking away the remaining fabric clinging to her ankles. "Don't you guys know that cats have claws?"
Zilch stepped back and stared speechlessly at the newly-liberated superheroine. Panic has seized the other five men.
"Shit! Shit! She's free!"
"Fuck! Whadda we do?"
"Goddammit! Ahh! My fucking back, man! She put something in my fucking back!"
"Oh God, oh God..."
"We gotta do something! We gotta do something!"
Erin smiled. They were right to be afraid, right now. They'd all just made a huge mistake. She crouched down into a fighting pose, eager to pounce on the first goon dumb enough to waddle her way.
"Be cool!" Zilch yelled. "Be cool! Remember what we talked about! There's six of us, and one of her. Stay together!"
"If that's their only tactic," Erin thought, "then they're in big trouble." She was tired and sore, for sure. The fat man sitting on her had almost reduced her legs to jelly, and the punches and kicks she had sustained, while pretty weak compared to the sort of attacks she was accustomed to, had definitely worn her body down. But her bruises and aches didn't change the facts that she was superheroine, and that these guys were all posers.
They were bunching together now, the six clowns, like scared zebra. Erin had had enough.
"Payback time!" she yelled, rushing toward the men, her fingers outspread like talons, her hair flying behind her. She dodged the first attack-- a way-too-slow cross that floated harmlessly through the air-- and connected with a series of jabs. The group of men stumbled, and Erin pushed her way through, shooting her leg out and catching one of the men's ankles, flipping him head over heels, and following up with a hard elbow to another man's chest. Erin saw another punch coming from the corner of her eye and danced backward, letting the fist glide past by her before she grabbed its accompanying arm and brought it down powerfully on her knee. As that man pulled back, howling, Erin continued forward, shoving a man across the room. She saw Zilch's terrified gaze just inches away from her, and brought her arm back, ready to punch his lights out. But grubby hands prevented her from pushing her fist forward! She tried twisting free of her assailant's grip, but he was locked on tight. She could sense the men regrouping, getting closer; she flicked her eyes to the right to a second goon reaching for her other arm. She flung her free hand out, and the approaching man grabbed it with two hands! With both arms securely in their grasp, Erin could only gasp as the two men pushed her backward, sending her toppling over another man's tripping ankle and flat on her back.
"Quick! Get her!" Zilch cried.
Hitting the floor had stung her, but Erin was still lucid enough to see three of the less-injured men moving down to hold her in place. She flicked her boot up and caught a man in the abdomen. She speedily launched herself from the floor and into a crouching position. But she wasn't fast enough to avoid an oncoming kick to the side, which dropped her to one knee, and soon afterward she felt fat fingers sink into her thick hair.
"I'll admit, you're strong," the thug gripping her scalp laughed, as he pulled her up to her feet. "But at the end of the day, you're just a girl, and..."
Erin didn't want to hear this, so she kneed the man in the groin. He instantly dropped her, giving Erin the chance to plant a two-handed axe-handle chop across his face. He collapsed with a shout of pain, and Erin re-scanned the scene. Zilch was still on his feet, standing cowardly apart from the fray, and so were three other guys, all of whom wore scowls of pain and discomfort. Erin licked her lips, seeing the possibility of ending this battle quickly.
"I'm gonna save you for last, Zilch," she called out. "You're going to get an extra thorough butt-kicking."
The trio of standing, swaying thugs lurched toward her. Erin spun and released a roundhouse kick that caught two of them high in their chests. The third man tried to attack her low, but Erin blocked the punch with her wrists, and countered with a knee to the thigh. As the thug crumpled over, she slapped him across the cheek, sending him to the ground ass-first. Erin moved to finish him off when, suddenly, Zilch's voice rang through the loft.
"Surrender, Blue Lynx!" he cried. "Surrender, now, or I'll cut your friend's throat!"
Erin turned her head to look at the writer. He was kneeling on the ground with Margot's upper body laid out on his thighs. She was still unconscious, with her head tipped back over Zilch's legs, leaving her throat exposed. Zilch had a small, glimmering pocket knife pressed to the skin near Margot's Adam's Apple.
"You wouldn't dare," Erin said, instinctively.
"Don't test me, girl!" Zilch cried. He poked Margot's throat, and a minuscule trickle of blood oozed down her long, defenseless neck. "I'll do it!"
Erin let out a frustrated sigh. She shook an angry fist at her side, and then let her fingers relax. "You... cheater," she muttered. "You worthless brat."
The men she had injured but not knocked out were gradually getting back to her feet. Some of them were laughing as they took in what was happening: the boss using the sidekick as bait to force the Blue Lynx's hand.
"It's your own fault," Zilch said, starting to enjoy himself again. "You're the one who brought the Black Bobcat along! Now..." He gestured with the pocket knife at the floor in front of the Blue Lynx. "On your knees, superheroine."
Erin glared at Zilch with pure fury in her eyes. "You're going to pay for this. I swear."
She lowered herself to the floor with as much dignity as she could muster, placing her shins carefully on the cold wood, and keeping her back straight as she set her buttocks on the heels of her rubber boots.
"Good girl," Zilch said. "Now... put your hands up."
Erin shook her head, still keeping her eyes burned into Zilch's own, and raised her biceps up, her arms now a "U" with perfect right angles. There were men on her sides, and at least one behind her back.
"Now," he said, taking his eyes off the Blue Lynx for a second. "Which one of you brought the stuff?"
The man standing behind Erin made a small sound, and rustled for something in his pocket.
"Great," Zilch said. "Now... do it."
The man on Erin's left snatched her left wrist; the man on her right did the same with his side. They pulled her arms out, away, and behind her body, pushing her chest forward, and pushing out a small cry of pain. She was helpless in this position-- stretched out, almost crucified by the two men-- and could therefore do nothing when the man behind her pushed himself to her back, scooped her head in his hands, and pressed a damp rag to the Blue Lynx's lips.
"I'm going to enjoy watching you squirm, Blue Lynx," Zilch chuckled.
"MMMPHH!!!" Erin cried. She knew what they were doing-- she knew what this substance was-- she knew all about this smell-- and her body automatically attempted to fight back. She twisted and contorted in the clutches of the three men, but her powerful muscles, weakened by myriad punches and kicks, humiliated by their surrender to Zilch's blackmail, and already sapped after just seconds of chloroform exposure, were like a kitten's, now. Her senses were rapidly dimming, almost mercifully: soon, she wouldn't have to hear them laugh at how the once-mighty Blue Lynx didn't "look so tough"; wouldn't have to feel the warm blasts of breath on her reddening face; wouldn't have to watch Zilch's eyes open wider and wider and he watched every failed attempt to escape, every involuntary spasm, every slackening limb, every sudden in-take of breath, every flutter of her eyelids...
She wilted in the men's arms.
Damage Control: Fan Fiction: Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
June 24th, 10:41 PM
Zilch didn't believe in God. Scratch that: he hadn't believed in God, until today.
It was highly unlikely that he would determine the Blue Lynx's secret identity, but he had. It was even less likely that the Blue Lynx would come to his house, throttle him, and then return to throttle him so more, but she did. But the probability that, upon returning, the Blue Lynx would encounter five guys he had assembled from an internet message board and somehow lose the fight? That he would get a front-row seat to a superheroine being manhandled and chloroformed and rendered unconscious?
He knew all that was simply impossible. And yet, it had happened. And now the Blue Lynx and her partner were laid out-- defeated, because of his ingenuity--- in his own house.
"Good thinking with the knife, man," one of his masked associates said. He didn't know exactly who it was, but he guessed it was HeroineHunter. HeroineHunter seemed like a friendly guy.
"Thanks," he muttered. "I didn't know if she'd take the bait."
"The Blue Lynx is always looking out for her little friend," another man said, tapping the Black Bobcat's thigh with his toe. "That's her weakness."
Who was he? The guy who just went by "Sam"?
"That, and the fact that she's so fucking cocky," a different man towering over the Blue Lynx's body grunted-- the profanity made Zilch think of "Venom." "Swear to fucking God. Who knew the bitch was so fucking irritating?"
"She put one of her little things in my ASS!" the largest man yelped. He was still holding onto his back. He was probably... Tightslover? Which meant the other fella-- the guy who was still on the floor, writhing in pain, was Badman.
HeroineHunter, Sam, Venom, Tightslover, Badman, and him, Zilch. Just six guys on a message board-- six guys who happened to live within an hour of Zilch's house. Six guys who were willing to come here and put their bodies on the line to capture the Blue Lynx. Six guys who had, improbably, succeeded.
Zilch was in awe of them.
"She's fucking ruthless," Venom sneered. "Fucking nearly cracked my ribs. And her fucking partner almost broke my jaw. Who knew a fucking girl could hit so hard?"
"Dude," HeroineHunter said, "she's a superheroine. Remember?"
"Oh, I fucking remember. Aren't supers supposed to have, like, a fucking code?"
Zilch smiled in silence as he calmly walked to where the Blue Lynx lay. He was excited as the others, of course, but he didn't want anything to distract him from this moment, right now. He wanted to savor every tiny detail of the superheroine's unconscious figure. How her legs were still bent, but slightly to the side; how her arms splayed out on the floor; how sweaty black ropes of hair blew out from her face and stuck to the ground. How her face looked: her eyes closed, with her mask peeling ever so slightly away from the skin of her temple; her jaw hanging to one side, opening her pink lipsticked lips. How her magnificent breasts swung underneath her blue spandex; how sweat blotted the areas near her armpits; how her utility belt had inched up her waist, with one side nearly resting against her ribcage. He noticed it all: the small floret of light pink lace poking out from where her bodysuit met her upper leg; the contours of her bra winding around her back, and the black strap pushed up an inch from her collarbone; the small bruises on her thighs; the way her ass slightly ballooned at the place where her buttocks met the floor.
"Hey," a voice said. "Hey."
Zilch looked up at HeroineHunter standing on the other side of the Blue Lynx.
"You're in a trance, bud."
"Yeah," Zilch said, shaking his head. "I know."
"So what are we gonna do now?"
Zilch looked around at the five men-- at some point Badman had gotten to his feet-- and remembered that he was the leader of this thing: they were waiting on him to decide what to do next. It was simply unreal, all of this.
"Well, gentlemen," he said, regaining his composure. "I think it's time you all learned the secret identity of the Blue Lynx, don't you think?"
The men nodded and chattered excitedly.
"But let's do it right. Tightslover, help me get her downstairs, in my bedroom. And which one of you said you were a cop?"
Sam raised his hand.
"You got those handcuffs, right?"
"Oh yeah," Sam said, jingling the pocket of his cargo shorts.
"Alright, you guys come with me. The rest of you can tie up the Black Bobcat. The rope is over there. Maybe strapping her to the air hockey table is a good idea?"
"It's an excellent idea," Venom crowed. "I'll do that with great pleasure."
"Cool," Zilch said. "We'll go get the Blue Lynx ready, and then we'll draw to see who goes first."
"First?" Badman said. "First to do what?"
Zilch grinned. "First to take off the Blue Lynx's mask, obviously!"
More laughs and high-fives ensued. Satisfied with his leadership, Zilch gestured at Tightslover and Sam, and then at the Blue Lynx. The big man reached underneath the superheroine's back, looped his arms underneath her armpits, and lifted her off the ground. Sam grabbed her by the ankles, and then moved in closer, eventually holding her by the crook of her legs. The Blue Lynx now firmly in the arms of the two men, Zilch proceeded down the stairs. He clambered down as quickly as he could and then turned around to watch the pair transfer their unconscious cargo. Once they had reach the first floor, Zilch directed them down the hallway to his bedroom, a small square with one window, a dresser, and a twin-sized bed.
"Alright, throw her on there," he ordered. The men tossed the Blue Lynx onto the mattress, which bounced faintly on impact.
"Now, let's make sure she can't escape. Take off her belt and boots and gloves."
Zilch watched with an ever-increasing... fascination as Sam unlaced the Blue Lynx's white boots, tugged them little-by-little, and eventually pulled them off her delicate feet, which were now cased only in sweaty white socks.
"Socks, too?" Sam asked.
"Sure," Zilch said. "Why not?"
As Sam rolled the white fabric down the Blue Lynx's ankles, Tightslover wrestled with her wrists, yanking her gloves off one finger at a time. Once her hands were bare, he stepped over to the superheroine's waist and, with observable glee, shimmied his hands behind her butt, found the belt clasp, and unclipped it. He then snatched the strip of weapons from her midsection and handed it to Zilch.
"Thank you," Zilch said. Sam and Tightslover tossed the boots, socks, and gloves into the corner of the room while Zilch fingered the flaps of the utility belt.
"Now cuff her," he said, pulling a small pellet out of one of the belt's many pockets.
Sam removed two pairs of handcuffs from his shorts and passed them to Tightslover. The cop clicked his two sets first around each of the Blue Lynx's bare wrists, and then around the posts of Zilch's bed. After observing Sam's technique, Tightslover moved to the superheroine's ankles and fastened his cuffs tightly. He then attached the other half of the cuffs to the lower bedposts, stood back, and checked his work.
"She only looks half as super now," Tightslover chuckled.
"I know," Zilch said, his eyes focused totally on the Blue Lynx's unconscious expression. "Just wait till you see her without her mask."
Damage Control: Fan Fiction: Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
June 24th, 11:11 PM
Someone was tapping on her cheek. Patting it with their fingers like they were trying to wake a child.
"Come on, Blue Lynx," a voice said. "Time to get up."
Erin blinked her eyes rapidly. The light above her was harsh, and it made the face of the man above her a shadow. No-- it wasn't just that-- he was wearing a mask...
It all came back to her in a second. The writer. Zilch. His home. The loft. The net. The fight. Margot. The chloroform.
"Shit," she thought. "Shit."
The man was still touching her face, clearly enamored with it.
"Will you stop?!" she shouted. The man jumped in response, removing his hand from her cheek. He stepped away from Erin and chuckled softly.
"You're... awake," he whispered. "Finally."
How long had she been out? The light told her she wasn't in the loft anymore. The light, and the fact that she was on something soft-- a mattress.
She tried to move, and heard a metallic clatter. She glanced up at her raised arms. Handcuffs, wrapped around her wrists (what happened to her gloves?), which were then wrapped around metal bed-posts. She suddenly felt a cool sensation on her ankles, and looked down to see additional cuffs shackling her legs. They'd taken her boots, and her socks, and, she noticed now, her belt.
"Not good," Erin thought. "Not good..."
She turned to face the man next to the bed, who was hovering close to her again. She couldn't tell much about him: his mask and dark clothes obscured his features. What she knew was that he was young, white, and male, i.e. he was like the majority of people who had ever tried to put Erin in a predicament like this. The creep class.
"Who are you?" Erin asked, shaking her manacles. The handcuffs were clearly police-grade, and she'd have little luck trying to break them on her own.
"Name's not important," the guy said. "Call me HeroineHunter."
"HeroineHunter?" Erin said. "As in, you hunt heroines? Clever."
"I've already had enough of your talk."
HeroineHunter bent down toward Erin and placed his hand on her throat. Erin reflexively thrashed about, but the cuffs wouldn't budge, and the man was able to pacify her with minimal effort. Once Erin stopped fighting back, HeroineHunter picked up a rag, jammed it in her lips, and tied it in a knot around the back of her head. "MMMPH!!" Erin cried, resuming her panicked twists and turns. HeroineHunter gave the knot one last tightening tug before standing up and giving his captive the once-over.
"Much better," he said.
"Mmmph!" Erin said. She hated being gagged. Being tied up was no fun, but she could always maintain some of her superheroine spirit through a well-placed taunt or two. It was impossible not to feel humiliated when you sounded like... the way she sounded now.
"Don't look so blue... Blue Lynx," HeroineHunter said. "Mr. Zilch has ordered us to be gentle with you."
Erin raised her eyebrows. "Mmph?" she asked.
"We each get ten minutes with you to start," the goon continued. "Ten minutes, and then we alternate. Whatever we want to do to you, for ten minutes. But we agreed on strict rules. No costume destruction. No substantial injuries. And no exchanging of... bodily fluids. Yet."
Erin shook her head angrily. These vile bastards.
"Yes, we'll be gentle with you in round one," HeroineHunter said. "I doubt your friend will be so lucky."
Erin's eyes widened. "MMMPH!!" she cried, again rattling the handcuff chains against the bed-posts.
"She's upstairs now," HeroineHunter said. "Tied to the air hockey table. You should see her, Blue Lynx. It's... wow. She's freaking out. Those guys are merciless. That Venom guy, holy shit. The things he's gonna do to her..."
Erin squeezed her eyes shut and pulled her torso up as far as it could go. She wanted to rip the bed in half right now, and then do the same to this HeroineHunter, and then do even worse to those monsters hurting Margot... But she couldn't. The handcuffs only gave a few inches. She collapsed back to the mattress, hot air blasting through her nostrils.
"You're not escaping, Blue Lynx," HeroineHunter said. "You might as well try to enjoy this."
Her heart was racing, thumping against her breastbone with the combined force of anger, terror, and humiliation. How had she allowed this to happen? These men-- these boys-- these punks... they were nothing! They couldn't fight, they could barely think... And yet, they had her. They had found a way to subdue, defeat, and bind and gag the Blue Lynx.
HeroineHunter sat on the bed, enjoying the crazed look in his prisoner's eyes, drumming his fingers on the hard plain of Erin's stomach. He moved his hand up Erin's body, sliding his fingers through the canyon of her breasts, and finally rested it back on the superheroine's face. He then pinched her cheek with rough fingers and shook her head.
"Do you know what brought us all together? Hmm?"
Erin didn't want to meet his gaze, but his grip on her face gave her no choice.
"It was a message board. A forum about superheroines. A forum about superheroines being unmasked."
Erin's body started to shiver. She knew exactly where this conversation was headed: toward the very place that had brought her to Zilch's house to begin with.
"No..." she thought. "No..."
"You've been a pretty big topic there for a while, of course," HeroineHunter said. "Our city's own, home-grown superheroine. The Blue Lynx. Sexy babe in blue tights who goes out and kicks ass. We've been obsessed with you, bitch."
Erin slammed her eyelids shut. "No..."
"We've theorized about your secret identity for months. But none of us in our wildest dreams thought we'd ever get a chance to actually unmask you ourselves. So when Zilch posted tonight about how he was having you over... Well... I mean, I didn't have a choice."
He slid his thumb up Erin's cheek, poking it beneath the lower corner of her mask.
"No... No... No..."
"I had to know, Blue Lynx. I had to know."
Erin flung her body as hard as it could and screamed. But the cuffs meant she only traveled an inch, and the gag turned the shout into a high-pitched whine. None of it was enough to stop what was happening. None of it could prevent HeroineHunter from hooking his thumb around the eyehole of the Blue Lynx's mask and dragging it to her forehead, where it immediately pasted itself to sweaty skin. None of it could prevent her captor from recognizing her, instantly, as the daughter of the Mayor: Erin Steele.
Damage Control: Fan Fiction: Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
June 24th, 11:06 PM
Margot had felt it in her gut. She had known, parked across the street from Zilch's house, getting suited up with Erin, that something wasn't right. Zilch was obviously a loser-- on that topic, Margot agreed with Erin a hundred percent-- but stupid? Reckless? That didn't line up with the facts she had uncovered about Patrick Kuntsler. The guy had a master's degree. He was a software developer making close to six figures a year. He wasn't the kind of person who would just invite the Blue Lynx and the Black Bobcat back into his home without a plan. And when Margot had saw that net coming down on Erin... it was immediately clear, right in that moment, that the girls were in big trouble.
But "big trouble" only scratched the surface of the dilemma Margot found herself in now. They had knocked her out-- the back of her head still ached from the blow-- and tied her up. Thick ropes wrapped around her bare wrists and ankles-- at some point, the goons had removed her boots and gloves, along with her utility belt-- locking her in a face-down spreadeagle position atop a long table-- the air-hockey table she had spotted in the loft, probably. This embarrassing situation was made moreso by the dense cloth gag that had been stuffed in her mouth. If there was anything hopeful about her current predicament, it was that the ropes had some give; just enough for Margot to bend her neck and see the area in front of her, an area currently occupied by a pair of men in dark clothes facing away from her.
"Everybody clear on the order?" a voice said.
Zilch. Margot instinctively grimaced.
"I don't think the straws were right," another man said. "Can I see them one more time?"
"Fuck, no, you can't," Zilch said. "You'll get your goddamn turn, Tightslover."
Tightslover? What kind of name was that? Who the hell were these people?
"Okay then," the man referred to as "Tightslover" said. "Just repeat the order then."
Zilch sighed. "Yeah. HeroineHunter, Badman, Venom, Sam, and then you."
"Pseudonyms," Margot thought. "Ridiculous nicknames." Even if she recognized the fiendishness of their trap, she still couldn't believe she had lost to such a low-rate set of hoodlums. And Erin, too! How were they possibly able to defeat the Blue Lynx? Eavesdropping on their conversation, she had determined that they were keeping her downstairs. She was alive-- thank God. But what were they planning to do with her?
"And the rules, again?" Tightslover asked.
"Pay the fuck attention," another man growled. "Ten minutes. Whatever you wanna do, but no tearing the costume, no making her bleed, and no fucking her. Alright?"
"But that's all the fun stuff."
"This is just the first round, man," a different voice said. "We'll get to that stuff, eventually. This is just the first round to introduce ourselves."
"And unmask her," the growling voice cackled.
"Exactly," Zilch said. "I wanted all of you to feel the way I did when I discovered who the Blue Lynx was."
Margot took a deep breath. So that's what they were doing: having an unmasking party. The twisted degenerates.
"Okay, 11:09 now," Zilch said. "Go down and have some fun, HeroineHunter."
"Will do, man," a voice replied. "Will do."
Margot heard the stairs creak as "HeroineHunter" bounded down to the first story. "Mmmph," she murmured, thinking about what was in store for her poor friend.
"Look," Tightslover said. "The Black Bobcat's awake."
"Yeah," the growling man said. "I can see that fat booty quiver."
Fat booty? What? Margot knew she had curves... But fat seemed a little...
Suddenly, a whirring sound enveloped her, and she felt little streams of cold air shooting up at her bare legs and chest. "MMMPH!" she cried. What the heck was happening?!
The whirring stopped as abruptly as it started, and the thugs, now positioning themselves around her, laughed.
"Poor thing," a voice she hadn't heard yet said. "Freaked out by an air-hockey table."
"Just wait till we really get going," the growling man said. He bent down at the head of the table so that Margot could see his face. He was wearing a mask, but the cold glare of his eyes were unmistakable: this was one of the men who had tried to pin her to the wall.
"How's your jaw?" she said. It came out as "Mmph mmph mmph?"
"Sorry, bitch, you'll have to speak up," the growling man replied, cupping his hand to his ear.
"Hey, boss," Tightslover said. "What were the rules with this one, again?"
"No rules," Zilch replied. "Do whatever you want to her. What do I care?"
"Sweet," Tightslover said. Margot felt a large, clammy hand slap against the back of her thigh. "Mmph!" she yelped, twisting her rear, trying to shake it off. The hand wouldn't budge, though; it kneaded her leg with vigorous, wandering fingers, moving up and down from the back of her knee to the place where her black spandex costume pinched her buttocks.
Margot's attention suddenly diverted to a hand pushing up on her chin. It was the growling man, again, lifting up her head and compelling her to look into his icy eyes.
"I want you to remember my name: Venom," he said. "I don't want you to have a quiet moment anymore without thinking about me. Venom. Venom. Venom."
Without warning, Venom took his other hand and backslapped Margot across the face. Her head dropped hard to the table. "Mmmphhh..." she whimpered, her cheek already reddening, her whole face throbbing with pain. Before she could brace herself for the next blow, Venom snatched her hair, lifted her head up, and slapped her again. Margot sunk her face into the crook of her arm. Every nerve seemed to burn; everything felt hot... But at least the pain distracted her from the now multiple pairs of hands that were pinching her butt, massaging her legs, and tugging at her costume.
"This is great," Tightslover said, grasping the seam of Margot's costume, yanking it away from her body, and releasing it, letting the spandex SNAP against her quickly pinkening skin.
Venom's fingers weaved into her hair again, wrenching her head up. She saw his dark, cruel face through red, teary eyes.
"You won't be needing this anymore," Venom said.
With no further delay, he plucked the Black Bobcat's purple mask from Margot's face and flung it to the floor. Margot gasped, digging her head into her elbow.
"Oh shit!" another voice said. "You took off her mask! Who is she?"
She fought as hard as she could, praying for the strength to keep her face to the table, but not even Erin could have stopped the men's hands from turning it up and around, so that all the goons could see, in profile, her secret identity.
"No idea," Tightslover said. "Never seen her before."
"Just a girl."
Margot was anonymous-- she knew that. But that was beside the point. If anyone got a picture of her, they could easily look her up and see who she roomed with. But even that was beside the point: you just didn't get unmasked as a superheroine! It was... disgraceful!
She twisted her head in shame back to the table, and the goons giggled at her unmistakable motification.
"Time to really take the fight out this super," Venom snarled. "Gimme your knife, Zilch."
Margot raised her face slightly from her arm and watched Venom walk away. She tried to turn to see what he was plotting, but there wasn't enough give. A second later, fingers seized the spandex on her upper back and pulled. Margot felt her upper body lift in the air; felt herself dangle slightly; felt air move into the crevice between her costume and the skin of her upper back. It was almost like she was floating, a helpless leaf in a strong wind... Her consciousness fading in and out...
"Remember," Venom said. "VENOM."
The small ripping sound helped her come to. She was fully awake when she realized what was happening: Venom was pushing the knife through the back of her costume, tearing through the stretchy fabric inch-by-inch, slicing a jagged line from the back of her V-neck all the way down to her ass-crack. He was cutting the Black Bobcat in two.
Venom whistled, and more hands gathered on her back, taking pieces of frayed costume and pulling them aside. Margot could imagine what they were seeing-- her matching red bra-and-panties, her bare back, her whole naked figure laid out for their perusal-- and shuddered. She closed her eyes and tried to just ignore it... Ignore all of it...
"Alright, 11:19," Zilch called out. "Badman. Your turn with the Blue Lynx."
"Aww man," the man called "Badman" responded. "But I was having so much fun with the Black Bobcat."
"Don't worry," Zilch laughed. "She'll still be around when you get back."
"We'll see about that," Venom sneered, as he slipped his fingers underneath the clasp and undid Margot's bra.
Damage Control: Fan Fiction: Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
June 24th, 11:20 PM
"Come on, doll," HeroineHunter said. "Pucker up."
The bastard was on top of her, his thighs straddling her stomach, his back bent, his hands grasping her wrists, his lips reaching out for a kiss. Erin did what she had been doing for the past ten minutes: shook her arms and legs-- banging the handcuff chains against the bedposts-- and flung her head back-and-forth, desperately trying to delay this punk's perverted desires.
It was all futile, though. After a brief struggle, he had closed in again, was pressing his chapped lips to hers, was plunging her tongue toward her teeth. He held her there for eight, nine, ten long seconds, and then pulled back, grinning at her as she turned her head to the side and attempted to cough out his embrace.
"I'm disappointed in you, Erin Steele," he said. "I figured a sorority girl like you would know how to kiss."
"I wasn't in a damn sorority!" Erin spat. "And I usually don't kiss goblins."
HeroineHunter laughed. "We'll see if we can adjust your attitude next round."
There was a small knock at the door.
"Shit," Heroinehunter mumbled. "That's it for me."
He climbed off of Erin's body and back onto his feet. He bent down to look at the unmasked, disheveled superbabe with which he had just spent what was probably the best ten minutes of his miserable life.
"It's been fun," he said, sliding Erin's mask from her forehead back to her nose. He pressed it down with firm finger-strokes. Erin only glowered in response.
"Alright, you can come in!" HeroineHunter said. "She's ready for you."
The door cracked open, and a skinny man in dark clothes entered. He took a long look at Erin, who stuck out her tongue at him, and then looked at HeroineHunter.
"The gag's all tied and everything," HeroineHunter said, pointing at the cloth around Erin's throat. "Feel free to use it."
"Okay," the man said.
"You alright, Badman?"
"Yeah," "Badman" replied. "I'm great."
HeroineHunter nodded. "Cool, man." He walked past his partner, opened the door, and turned back into the room.
"Adios, Blue Lynx," he laughed, slamming the door on his way out.
Erin sighed, watching Badman check the door and then move toward the bed.
"Badman, huh?" she asked.
"Did he unmask you?" Badman said, tersely.
"Wouldn't you like to know."
"Listen, I know who you are. You're Erin Steele."
Erin gasped. But... how?
"I knew before tonight. I was one of the subscribers to that Donator page. Regina Sunflower? My name is Larry Rogers."
Erin blinked. Larry Rogers. Yes. That name was on Margot's list, for sure.
"We've got to get you out of here," Badman said, producing a small key from the pocket of his black jeans.
"What?" Erin said, almost breathless as she watched the strange man uncuffing her ankles. "What's going on, here?"
"I want to help you, Blue Lynx. Honestly, I do." He unclicked the second leg cuff and then scooted down the mattress toward the superheroine's wrists. "When Zilch sent out that message... I knew bad shit was going down tonight. I knew they'd try to hurt you. And I don't want that."
Erin stared at Badman and shook her head. "No. This doesn't check out. So you were ready to pay to learn my secret identity, and then come along tonight... to stop the others from learning?"
Badman nodded. "Yes. That's right." He let the cuff on her right wrist clang against the bedpost. "I'm trying to help you."
Erin scoffed. "Well, you're doing a hell of a job. You let them net and chloroform me!"
"What was I gonna do? I can't fight. You know that, having beaten the shit out of me."
Badman undid the final cuff, and Erin sat up on the bed, rubbing her wrists. She looked over at Badman, whose face was an unreadable blank. These men, these men who were obsessed with her... there was something both comical and sad about them. At least when they're weren't being creepy villains.
"Those guys up there? Zilch? Venom? They're into dark, dark stuff. They're torturing your friend. I just..."
"Torturing her?" Erin said, jumping to her feet. "We've got to move!"
She dashed to the corner of her room where her gear has been so carelessly deposited. She slid into her boots, plunged her hands into her gloves, and fastened her utility belt around her waist.
"But, Blue Lynx!" Badman cried. "You can't do this! There's five of them! And..."
"Back me up if you're worried about me," Erin said, opening the door. "But I know all their tricks now. Those clowns don't stand a chance."
Erin scanned the room quickly. "Where is she?" she called back to Badman.
"Loft! Upstairs!"
Erin felt adrenaline shooting through her limbs. She saw a familiar hallway, sprinted toward it, and then saw a familiar staircase. She sprang up its length, taking four or five steps at a time, until she was back in the loft, looking out once more at five men in dark clothes and masks. They were gathered around the air-hockey table now. Stretched out on the air-hockey table, bound hand-and-foot, with the back of her costume torn to shreds, was Margot.
"Hold it right there, you bastards!" Erin shouted, her voice rippling with anger.
The men turned around and, just as they had when she'd escaped from the net, erupted into sound and confusion.
"What? No!"
"But... She was just there... I swear... When I left!" said HeroineHunter.
"Shit!"
One of the men stepped forward and laughed. He held a pocket-knife in one hand and a tattered red article of clothing in another. Erin narrowed her eyes: it was Margot's bra, sliced into pieces.
"Look who's back," he said. "You want to lose your undies, too, Blue Lynx?"
Furiously, Erin tore a smoke bomb from her belt pocket and dashed it against the floor. The loft became instantly unnavigable to all but her, and in seconds, she had covered the ground between her and the man in the knife, ramming him in the solar plexus and forcing him to drop the knife. She put him to the ground with a swift kick, and then darted around the table, dispatching each of the men standing there with devastating combinations. She took a head and slammed it against the air-hockey table; she tossed one of the others into a nearby bookcase. By the time the smoke had cleared, only one of the goons remained standing: Zilch, once again well outside of the action, looking on in sheer horror.
"I... I... I don't understand..." Zilch said. "Those handcuffs..."
"You had a mole," Erin said, resting her hands on her hips. "Badman. Turns out he's on the good guys' team."
"Badman?" Zilch said, lowering his gaze to his feet. "Dammit."
"Now it's time for you to pay, Zilch..."
Erin had just begun her march across the room when she felt something grab her ankle. She looked down, and then felt her feet fly out from underneath her! Her knees slammed against the floor. Erin's cry of pain was smothered when a bony hand seized her throat, hauling her back to her feet. She was suddenly looking into piercing blue eyes.
"Hello there," the man whispered, his eyes glowing with the sight of the helpless superheroine. "Don't think we've met yet. I'm Venom."
Venom clenched down on Erin's throat and pushed her across the floor, backing her up against a long couch and then bending her spine over its cushion. She was shocked at how strong he was-- or was she just that weak after so much abuse?
She tried punching away his arm, but she couldn't generate any power. Her fists glanced off his bicep without incident. She could feel her consciousness begin to fade away when she saw him once more brandishing the pocket-knife.
"Don't fall asleep yet, Blue Lynx," Venom growled. "Or you'll miss the magic trick."
Erin made a small, terrified sound as Venom placed the blade of the knife between her breasts. She felt its cold, hard edge slither down her bare skin, and then heard it catch the fabric of her costume's V-neck.
"This shit is tough," Venom said. "But that didn't save your friend, and it won't save you either."
Erin was squealing now, helpless in the thug's grip as he sawed away at her costume, cutting a long line down to her navel. Erin could sense the spandex splitting open, revealing her perfectly toned but currently useless body, and could practically feel Venom's gaze cutting through her under layers.
"Your friend wore red," Venom chuckled, mirthlessly. "And I see you favor the flesh-colored ensemble."
The blade of the knife was resting on the top edge of her panties, dancing on the elegant, lacy band. He was toying with her, this punk, this... nobody... Bent over the couch backward and thoroughly humiliated, Erin suddenly felt lightheaded... Black dots appeared in and out of her field of vision... She couldn't believe she was going down like... this...
Venom ran the knife along the front of Erin's underwear, tracing a winding path over her pelvis before edging the blade underneath place where the tan cloth met her tan thigh.
He howled with excitement. "Let's see what you're made of, Blue Lynx!"
He brought up the knife, and then, it jumped out of his hand. He emitted a loud squall of pain and toppled to the side, hitting the couch and unleashing Erin from his grasp. Erin leapt to her feet to see a woman with an outfit even more tattered than her own: Margot, unmasked and untidy, without gloves or boots or her belt, but standing tall, with fists locked and loaded.
"That one was for me..." she grunted, staring menacingly at Venom's injured body. "And this one..."
She tore her fist across Venom's face, creating a loud SNAP and dropping him to the floorboards.
"That one's for the Blue Lynx."
"Mar... Black Bobcat!" Erin cried. She stepped over to her partner and wrapped her in a massive hug. "How did you escape?"
Margot giggled. "These goofballs don't know how to tie knots."
"I guess not!" Erin said, jubilantly. "I thought I was a goner!"
"That Venom guy is dangerous," Margot said, kicking the fiend's prone body for good measure. "But I don't think he'll be messing with us anymore."
"No, you kicked his ass," Erin said. She looked around at the bodies strewn about the floor. Everyone was either unconscious or semi-conscious or rolling on the ground in pain-- there would be no more surprise attacks, now.
"How did you escape?" Margot asked.
"It's a long story," Erin said. "We've got one more piece of business to take care of, first."
The girls turned, completely unconcerned with the ravaged state of their costumes, and looked at Zilch, who was still standing just as he was before. Same awkward frozen posture, same awkward frozen expression.
"Now, ladies..." he said, holding his hands up. "Perhaps we can..."
The superheroines spent the next ten minutes passing him back and forth, trading off punches and kicks, enmeshing him in a comprehensive beating the likes of which he had never experienced. When it got to the point where he couldn't stand, the girls picked him up and forced him to endure even more. When he finally blacked out, the Blue Lynx wiped her gloves clean, as if trying to remove some malodorous, sticky liquid.
"Pervert," she said.
"Bastard," Margot added.
"Weasel."
"Loser."
The girls were continuing to direct insults at their unconscious enemy when Badman came up the stairs. Margot heard the steps creak and turned around.
"Ah!" she yipped. "There's one more!"
"No, BB, don't worry about him," Erin said. "That's Badman. He's on our side."
Badman observed the girls, their remarkably curved bodies even more visible than usual through the jagged tears of their mutilated spandex outfits, and let out a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry, Blue Lynx," he said. "I thought I would help, but..."
"It's okay, Badman," Erin replied. "I had the Black Bobcat."
Badman scanned the room and saw their were no men left standing. "Wow," he said. "You guys destroyed them."
The superheroines laughed together. "Indeed we did," Margot said.
"So..." Badman said. "What happens now? HeroineHunter knows your identity. And so does Zilch. And so..." He gulped. "So do I."
"And they all saw my face," Margot said. She found her mask a couple yards away from her and pressed it back on the bridge of her nose. "What do you think we should do, Blue Lynx?"
Erin unbuttoned one of the flaps on her belt and took out a small vial. Sunny's amnesia drug. She could erase the memories of everybody here with the contents of this tiny container. But doing that would exhaust her supply-- and their were three more people on Margot's list, all of whom could be as intractable and insane as Zilch.
She looked up at Margot. "Did they get your picture?"
"When they unmasked me? No."
"Okay," Erin said. "So we'll do Zilch and HeroineHunter because they know my identity. And we'll do Venom because we don't like him. And we'll trust Badman here and the rest to keep quiet."
Margot stared into Erin's eyes with confusion. "I don't know about that, Blue."
Erin sighed. "Listen, I don't know either. It's a risk. But they didn't recognize you, Mar-- Black Bobcat. They definitely recognized me."
It was an impossible decision. The goons they let free might remember Margot if they saw her on the street. And Erin had no idea if Badman was being truthful about his motivations. But they also had no idea about their adventures to come. Knowing their luck, they'd have to use Sunny's formula again-- they simply couldn't blow it all now on one night gone wrong.
"Okay, okay," Margot said. "I get it."
"What are you going to do?" Badman asked, nervously.
"Good question," Erin said. She walked over to where Zilch laid, removed a small syringe from her utility belt, and plunged it into the bottle of formula. "And I don't know exactly."
She crouched down toward her nemesis's unconscious body, lifted his shirt up, and found a good spot.
"But I'm definitely going to enjoy this."
Erin stuck the needle deep into Zilch's skin. Badman took a deep breath. And Margot, strapping her belt around what remained of her black spandex outfit, simply laughed.
"Keep on writing, Zilch," she chuckled.
THE END
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)