Pariah #3: 'Wolves Among Sheep'

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What would you like to see as Pariah encounters Ogre and Fontaine in the Underhaven garage?

Light peril - Pariah more or less wipes the floor with the bad guys.
0
No votes
Pariah struggles - in a hard fought encounter fraught with peril, our heroine overcomes the hunters.
0
No votes
After a close battle in which Pariah just manages to defeat Ogre, she is captured by Fontaine.
7
18%
After a close battle in which Pariah just manages to defeat Ogre, she is NEARLY captured by Fontaine.
3
8%
Pariah is overwhelmed by the physical force of Ogre - death peril.
0
No votes
Pariah Is defeated and then dominated by the imposing might of Ogre - sex peril.
7
18%
The henchmen of the garage surprise the heroine by nearly capturing her.
2
5%
The henchmen of the garage, against all odds, manage to capture the heroine.
5
13%
Somehow detective Locke becomes involved, and must face peril of her own.
0
No votes
Pariah takes the day after a drawn out fight, but is sucker-punched and captured in the end.
2
5%
Its not Pariah's day at all - multiple near-defeats from all bad guys involved.
1
3%
Its REALLY not Pariah's day - multiple sexual perils from the bad guys involved.
13
33%
Plot twist! Throw in a THIRD hunter!
0
No votes
 
Total votes: 40
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Sargeant
Sargeant
Posts: 140
Joined: 10 years ago

Here we go again!

This will effectively be the third episode of the Pariah series, and it is very much entwined with the previous two stories - particularly with the second story: 'The Hunt' (found here: viewtopic.php?f=9&t=22272 ). I plan on recapping a touch at the start of this story so it isn't totally necessary to have read anything from before, but it will probably be a better experience if you know what/where we're coming from. I had at one point planned on this story and the story that will follow this one (and maybe one more after that) all to be contained in the 'Hunt' story but I've opted to split them into different posts to allow each chapter to be readily accessible. It does mean, however, that nothing will be fully self-contained, which is sort of a shame, and each episode will be a snippet of the overarching 'Underhaven' arc which pretty much defines all these stories so far.

Once again I am sort of using this as an excuse to practice differing styles of writing, so I really apologise if the story comes across disjointed or at odds with itself in terms of tone. I'm pretty certain on roughly what the chain of events are going to be now throughout this arc, and I've pretty much zeroed in on how I want to format and tell these stories, but I am still VERY open to input from you guys in terms of content. I sort of like the idea of giving the reader some power and influence over how things play out, and so on that note I think I'm going to open up the floor for you guys to indirectly decide Pariah's fate - and in so doing, keep me on my toes. I really like how Omega Woman has shown the power and effectiveness of using Polls to give the reader input on the story in his CYOA story (found here: http://www.superheroineforum.com/viewto ... =9&t=22562) and I might see if I can make use of a similar concept to allow people to push for an outcome they'd like to see, without having to post a comment. I'll give it a whirl and see what we get - I have a decent idea of what I'll do if you guys just want to leave it to me, though. The poll is going to presume you know events from the previous story and will remain open until I get to write the bits of the story that the poll would concern. I am also open to suggestions if anyone wants to add in their own options to the poll. I think I'm gonna fire up a lot of options and give everyone two votes, so they don't just have to get behind a single thing when they like two ideas. I really don't know if this will work or not - I can see it easily falling flat on its face - but if you like the idea of having some input on the direction of the story, this isn't a bad way to go.

If anyone wishes to contact me directly to leave feedback, make a request/suggestion, ask or answer a question then you can reach me here: [email protected]

Fair warning: Will include scenes of a graphic violent and sexual nature, and will possibly include depictions of violent death.

Disclaimer: After semi-recent events in California, I feel the need to just clarify something that is obvious to everyone, but I'll say it none the less. Everything depicted in this story comes very much under the blanket of 'fantasy,' and is meant in no way to glorify or endorse the reality of that content, much as war fiction isn't intended to encourage war in real life. The villains in these stories have some super derogatory views of women, but these characters are damaged, horrible people - and they are objectively wrong. They can be enjoyed in fiction; they would (and should) rouse only disgust in reality.

On that cheery note, on with the story!

Edit: I intend part one as a bit of a recap and as consolidation for the story - if you just want to get to heroine action, feel free to skip it entirely.

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Pariah #3: Wolves Among Sheep


Part One: Silent Night


Azure was not a city that slept peacefully.

Each night the city would come to life in ways that made Azure a restless place at the best of times. Revellers and party-goers would flock to the abundance of bars, clubs and venues to partake of the thriving night-life, and nearly a quarter of all business in Azure would remain open through the night, with an estimated sixth of businesses only actively opening once the sun had gone down. While the streets became comparatively clear of traffic, city engineers would get to work to repair roads, burst pipes, cables, or any of a number of vital veins running through the city - their work necessarily loud and unapologetically protracted. Street lamps and a multitude of contrasting hues from varying advertisements and establishments would stutter into life and bathe much of the city in chaotic light until the sun rose the next morning.

The usual rhythm of any large city at night, these were the activities that made Azure - or any city - sleep only lightly.

However, unlike most cities, Azure's emergency service call-outs would surge dramatically each night - up from what was already a significant rate during the day. Fires, traffic accidents, robbery, drunk and disorderly, stabbings, shootings, muggings, rape, arson, meta alerts - the list of events that Azure had to contend with on a nightly basis was long and impressively diverse. The spike in activity would sweep through the city each night as Azure clawed at itself in the midst of multiple living nightmares.

There were some districts that bucked this trend. Most were the upmarket areas where crime was vanishingly rare, but a rare few were places so forlorn that, generally, the emergency services were not called upon. In these places the ACPD or the Azure government held authority in name only; the reality was that a different law, enforced by entirely different masters, was the pervading power.

Nowhere was this more apparent than in Gallowgate. It was equal amounts ominous and comedic to observers around the city when they compared the sharp rise in police call-outs throughout Azure to the conspicuous silence of Gallowgate. With each passing night the Gate would increasingly take on the aspect of a crypt - a place where once the city lived, but now was long dead.

Until recently.

It had all started to change over the last month. The enigmatic vigilante that the papers had dubbed 'Pariah,' had swept through the district like an avenging phantom, ending gang-rule in numerous neighbourhoods and increasingly forcing the ACPD to step in. Each scene would be left with an emergency call from either a victim or a bystander - in some cases even suspects had been forced to make the call - and the ACPD would arrive to a crime scene littered with unconscious gangers and with incriminating evidence neatly gathered for their convenience. The vigilante's activity had initially been sporadic and unfocused, with no real pattern to when she might strike next, starting with the city at large and then gradually narrowing down to the Gate, with the occasional strike in the neighbouring Old Town area.

A few days ago it had become very, very focused.

The Pariah would strike each night at an underground criminal fraternity known as Underhaven - a group the ACPD had once thought to be urban myth. Each night the ACPD would be called out to a new crime scene with fresh suspects to apprehend and question to further open up the case. It had acted as a call-to-arms of sorts, rallying the ACPD to involve themselves in an area they had nearly abandoned, and it was noticeably changing the perspective of the beleaguered residents of the Gate - many were now reaching out to the ACPD with newfound hope that their neighbourhood wasn't beyond help.

She had orchestrated it all. Each and every night the Pariah would hit, each and every night she would summon the ACPD, each and every night attitudes were adjusted.

But not tonight.

Detective investigator, third grade, Chris Blake had stayed awake all night waiting for the call. He had spent the entirety of the previous day unravelling and following up leads that had been exposed by the antics of the night before, when the Pariah had struck an Underhaven narcotics lab, and he had been one-hundred per cent positive that there would be yet another call-out tonight. Even though he hadn't slept for nearly thirty-nine hours now, Blake had dutifully and resolutely waited for the call from Gallowgate.

It never came. Gallowgate was as silent tonight as it had been since before Pariah's arrival in Azure.

Blake stood atop the rooftop of the ACPD second precinct building watching the crisp morning sun rising over the Azure skyline, casting long shadows through the assorted buildings as it washed away the contrasting din of city lights. A hand-held police scanner sat on the ledge next to him, squawking quietly with police transmissions, and he sipped pensively at a half-finished mug of coffee - his umpteenth of the day.

His mood was low, and it wasn't just his gnawing tiredness; he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach that something had happened to the vigilante.

Ostensibly the ACPD was charged with arresting the Pariah as an unsanctioned meta and a serial vigilante - to say the least. Many regarded her as little better - or perhaps even worse - than the other meta-powered criminals running loose through Azure. They thought of her as a menace that eschewed the law of the city with impunity as she set about her own personal agenda of terrorising the streets and brutalising its people at will. Blake himself had thought the same when he first encountered reports of the Pariah. But now... Now he found himself admiring the vigilante for her actions. Her targets, the way she handled her targets, the way she dealt with the victims on the scene, and the way she actively involved the ACPD at every turn had painted a picture of something noble - perhaps even heroic - in Blake's eyes. With each new report he had begrudgingly changed his mind on the Pariah until he found himself now worrying about her welfare.

Whatever the vigilante deserved, Blake felt sure she didn't deserve death or worse at the hands of a group like Underhaven - he wasn't even sure if he wanted her to be stopped at all. His conflicted feelings about the Pariah were in stark contrast to his ever-growing animosity for the group that she was targeting. They did deserve the treatment meted out by the heroine - they probably deserved even worse - and if the vigilante's involvement accelerated the end of Underhaven, then Blake could make his peace with that.

If not for her, they wouldn't even know Underhaven existed.

The last night she was active, the Pariah had broken her silence in directly dealing with the ACPD, both speaking to them and leaving them a note - a warning of the dire risk posed by the suspects she had left for them. Underhaven was being increasingly revealed as a hugely funded and equipped organisation far and a way above anything Blake had seen before, and the Pariah was starting to encounter people so dangerous that she had felt the need to break her code of non-communication with the ACPD. The subtext of it all gave Blake the impression it was escalating wildly, and he feared the vigilante was reaching waters too deep for her.

Tonight's silence did very little to assuage the concern.

He let out a long breath and looked down at his cooling coffee, casting his mind back over the recording of the Pariah's brief call to nine-one-one which had summoned them to the narcotics lab. It had been an exciting experience to finally hear the voice of the meta-vigilante that they had been chasing after for so long. She had sounded... tired. Of what little he could glean from the recording, that was what had stood out the most - though sometimes he felt there was something in the voice that was almost familiar...

'You're an idiot.'

Blake jumped with shock as he was brought out of his brooding thoughts. He spun around to see detective Mary Locke at the doorway back into the building, the veteran detective lighting up a fresh cigarette as she regarded him. Recognising his colleague, Blake forced a smile, 'Erm, I'm sorry?'

'I said, you're an idiot,' Locke replied simply, walking over to join him at the ledge.

'Why's that, then?'

She gave him a sideways look, 'You know why. You haven't slept in much too long, and now you'll be no use today.' She took a long drag on her cigarette, 'God knows we have a lot to do today, and you're in no state to do it.'

'Nonsense. I'm fit as a fiddle,' Blake quipped, 'and besides, I haven't been sat here all night twiddling my thumbs.' He gave Locke an exaggerated admonishing look, 'I've got a lot of work done on our case, while you slept soundly in your bed.'

Locke gave him a wry smile, 'Oh yeah? Go on then, impress me.'

Blake could tell his friend and occasional mentor was trying to take his mind off of the Pariah -and he was grateful for the distraction. 'Well, our many guests from Underhaven have been completely uncooperative, as you know, but I'm building a framework of known acquaintances and previous affiliations with each suspect, and a few patterns have started emerging. Not only that but I've started researching what other sites there could be in Gallowgate that could be repurposed like we've seen them do with all the previous locations.' Blake took a drink from his mug before continuing, 'I know those are both very, very long lists but with any luck I'll be able to correlate the two and we'll have a healthy lead on this thing - maybe we'll get ahead of the Pariah...,' Blake trailed off. 'You know, assuming she's still...'

'You have been busy,' said Locke with genuine admiration, cutting him off before he could recede back into his concern for the heroine. 'Getting ahead of this would certainly be nice... Though we'll have to watch ourselves as we get deeper.' She flicked the butt of her smoke off the rooftop and turned to walk back inside, 'Alright then, I'm going to check out what you have and see if I can help it along some. Go home and get a few hours of sleep, Blake, you're burned out.'

He wanted to protest but reason kept him from contesting it. He did need to get at least some rest before tackling the day ahead. 'Yeah, alright,' Blake said, finally letting his weariness show, 'but promise not to wrap this case up without me.'

Locke snorted as she reached the door, 'Yeah, I'll do my best. Phone me when you're ready to come back in.'

Blake watched her leave and then gathered up his things to head back inside. He took one last wistful look over the city skyline before he left, as though perhaps he might catch sight of the call-out he had been waiting for all night.

He couldn't help but hope the next night wouldn't be quite so silent in Gallowgate. In a city where emergency service calls heralded trouble and despair that would disrupt the normal peace, the calls from the Gate delivered hope and relief to an area badly in need of both.

Blake dragged his gaze from the city and made his way to the door, resigned that there would be no activity from Pariah today. As Azure woke from another night's restless sleep, he would try to get an uneasy rest of his own so he would be ready to stand vigil the next night.


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Elsewhere...


My life has been... eventful.

The traumas of seeing my hometown in Everwood Springs ravaged by meta-powered lunatics, followed by a lifetime of actively chasing after - and then confronting - real-life monsters, would be enough to get in to anybody's head. The things I have seen, along with the life I have had the dubious honour of living has burdened me with a generous supply of unresolved grief and a surplus of frustrated rage.
Whether it's my buried fears or my catalogue of regrets, I have a small army of personal demons that I have battled with most of my life.

They haunt my dreams routinely.

It is something that I have grown accustomed to; I gave up on expecting nights of peaceful sleep back when I was still a teenager. In my waking hours I stay on top of all my baggage, I master it and in many cases disregard it so that I can focus on what I need to do; so it is when I sleep that I mostly allow myself to be vulnerable enough to actually process all the different feelings I have been supressing. I suppose I ruminate, or at least acknowledge the various emotions that I stubbornly deny during the day.

When I was shaped into the fighter that I am today I was taught to cast off the shackles of fear, doubt and sadness; to focus on my task as though I were a tool designed only complete it, entirely aloof from human frailties that might blunt my purpose. My former mentor, Shingen Kamura, had likened it to becoming a blade; shaping oneself into something that transcends human weakness. I took to the skill not only as a method of becoming a more effective hunter, but also as a coping mechanism to relieve myself of the burden of my past. I'm good at it.

Perhaps too good.

However, I am human, and I still struggle with these things like anyone would. Kamura was hounded by his own personal demons right up to the day he died, and I know first-hand that he succeeded only in keeping them at bay - much as he tried to hide it, I knew they would visit his dreams just as my traumas would visit mine. I have resolved much these days, but there are still plenty of nights that my old memories come back to hurt me and, in the privacy of my own company, I'm as much a victim in the clutches of those nightmares as anybody else.

I've woken from plenty of nightmares before, screaming or crying, drenched in sweat and shaking with distress - In those moments I am nothing like the blade Kamura taught me to be. Revisiting pain, horror and sadness is just something I've come to expect of my dreams. In some way I've even grown to appreciate it as a chance to release pent up tensions that I've been carrying around, like a purge. I think I take a small measure of ghoulish comfort from the anguish and the torment; they serve to prove to me that I haven't lost touch with my humanity. Not yet, anyways.

I am not, and I haven't been for a long time, someone that sleeps peacefully.

But tonight my dreams are disturbed in ways that I am not accustomed to. Tonight I am struggling through dreams that I have not accepted as a facet of my eventful life so far. I lie in my bed, tossing and turning in the throes of something somewhere between a nightmare and a fantasy. It is deeply unfamiliar to me, worlds apart from the trauma I am grimly resolved to experiencing, and it undermines my considerable self-discipline right down to the core.

I am not revisiting pain or misery; I am not running from or being murdered by a terrifying foe - it is much, much more unsettling.

It is a vivid dream of sexual domination. I am helplessly bound and being utterly dominated by sadistic men and women who seem to take great delight in mastering me. Dark carnival masks hide their faces from me, but their beautiful bodies are plainly exposed for me to see - just as I am revealed for them except for my mask. They pleasure me and take pleasure from me equally as they break down my will with deriding words and possessive touches. I am fighting them, and the pleasure they are forcing on to my flesh, but with each passing moment I yield to them, accepting their control more and resisting just a little less. It is shameful and dirty, but it also blissful and liberating. Their control unburdens me of everything I would be responsible for - all I need do is relax and enjoy the hedonistic delights they lavish upon me, which are many.

My naked body twitches and spasms within the bindings that hold me, writhing against the exquisite touches of my captors as it is overloaded with sordid sensations. My body is completely betraying me, and I can’t stop it. I have honed myself, body and mind, for years, for violence and hardship – but this… this sweet, delicate, delicious pleasure… it is suffocating me. It fulfils me in unspeakable ways, and my body craves every moment of it like a starving man craves food, or like an addict craves their next hit.

I don’t know how to fight this. I don’t know how to fight the sinful desires of my own body.

I only know how to surrender to it.

As my pleasure rises and my defiance fades, some of the figures around me remove their masks and lean down so that I can see their faces. I see the dark, exotic features of two young twin sisters, their eyes gleaming with excitement. 'How does it feel, hero?' they ask me together, their lilting voices filled with sadistic glee, 'Tell us how it feels?'

'It feels amazing,' I whimper back to them, unwilling to offer anything but the truth. My desire to surrender and feel greater pleasure is now far greater than my will to resist.

Another face comes down to me, this time a handsome devil of a man who is as intoxicated by me as I am by him. 'Tell us you love it, baby.'

I know it is wrong... but I don't care enough to hold back. 'I love it,' I sigh back to him, looking up at him with submissive, pleading eyes as I beckon him to continue my torment.

They all giggle as other figures move around me, their faces still obscured by masks, and voices from all around me call out, 'Surrender, Pariah. Surrender, Evelyn. Surrender, whore.'

Pleasure and debased ecstasy even greater than I have felt so far is offered to me, and all I need do is embrace it. Hands softly caress my face before grasping the edges of my mask, slowly and deliberately peeling it from my face, stripping me of my pride and my strength. I feel my lips tremble as I prepare to offer myself entirely to these people and to this feeling.

They are going to take everything from me – and I want them to. I want them to free me from all my pain. I want to surrender…

'No!' I moan as I bolt upright in my bed sheets, accidently firing off a wave of telekinetic force that leaves my body as an explosive gust of wind that throws my nearby possessions into disarray. After a few seconds the wave of force subsides and the banging noises around me recede back into silence.

I look around myself in a stupor as I try to clear my befuddled mind, recognising my studio apartment and the first rays of morning sunlight creeping through my windows. My awareness moves from my surroundings to myself, noticing how aroused my body is and how wet I am between my thighs. It takes a few moments for my breathing to settle down from the excitement and fear I had felt, and it takes longer still for my mind to fully extract itself from the torpor of my sex-dream-come-nightmare.

My hand unconsciously moves down my body to gingerly stroke myself where I am still sensitive and excited. I feel a thrill of pleasure through my body as it gratefully receives my touch, the near-orgasm from my sex-dream still screaming out for satisfaction. The perverted fantasy, still warm in my mind, returns to my attention and I find myself recalling the details of it as my fingers ever so slightly speed up, causing my breathing to hasten.

I then recall the faces in the dream, and I instantly snap out of my erotic daze. I growl low in my throat with frustration as I draw my hand back and lie down into my sheets, angry at myself for enjoying the dream and even more so at having the dream at all. I also feel a small measure of frustration that my sexual tension will go unfulfilled, and the realization makes me more annoyed still at my own weakness.

Of the many horrors to visit me in my sleep, I have never woken up like this. This is new, and it has gotten under my skin in a way the others never could - I was never conflicted about whether or not I enjoyed them.

My time in Azure City has shown me many things and taught me many lessons as I have struck out on my own, finding my way out from under the shadow of my former mentor. I've taken it all in my stride, I think, except for my exposure to the seedy group known as Underhaven; a sleazy collection of traffickers making their money on the subjugation of women. Scum of the earth, frankly. I targeted them in the mistaken belief they would be like the numerous other criminal syndicates I had put to the torch before them.

I have learned the hard way that they are different. They are very different.

They are far larger than I had imagined, with far greater influence throughout Azure than I would have ever thought possible, and they have developed weapons that completely belie their image of street-level gangers. One of their powerful secret weapons, known as 'the aria', had nearly captured me on my first night hunting them, and I hadn't escaped its influence without first receiving some perverted treatment at the hands of their well-trained personnel - one of whom managed to escape my wrath. It still unsettles me to consider how and where they got the means to use such a potent piece of technology, and I have learned to expect similar tricks in the future.

Similarly I had underestimated the calibre of opponents I would find among them. On my last night out against them, I found myself opposed by the ruthlessly cunning and skilful Ryder sisters; two non-meta goth girls who I consider among the most dangerous opponents I have ever faced. Their guile and sheer audacity had all but beaten me, and had they not chosen to kill me by tormenting me then I would now already be dead. As it was they had drugged me and taken me on a rollercoaster-ride of unwilling pleasure, forcing an attraction to women onto me that I had never felt before, and ultimately dragged me to mere moments from death - stressing my heart almost to the point of stopping. My body had been so taxed that it was necessary for me to take the next day to try and recover my strength - I feel the ache in my chest even now.

In both instances my resolve was tested - and in both instances I had very nearly failed. Looking back on it, I wonder if perhaps I did fail, and I succeeded only in undoing my failures afterwards. In any case, I had been nearly defeated and my estimation of my opponents had been wrong.

As I lie here in my bed, recovering from my lurid dream, what vexes me most is that they have gotten into my head. My near-defeats and recent experiences with Underhaven has gotten under my skin in more intimate ways than just disgusting me. My own sexual urges are things I had become used to burying under layers of self-discipline, and I had gone about my life thinking about such things only rarely. I certainly never dreamed of anything like I did tonight. This is a new and confusing experience for me, and I'm not equipped to deal with it like I am with my usual nightmares.

A new demon, then. Thanks Underhaven.

I let out a groan and turn to face my open wardrobe, sitting just across from my bed. Hanging in the centre of the wardrobe is Pariah's outfit, newly repaired after my fight with the Ryders, and Pariah's equipment litters the floor around the suit. The sight strengthens my spirits, as childish as that may sound, and it reminds me of my power. It reminds me that I have the means to exorcise this particular demon and become a more literal one to the animals of Underhaven.

They have come close to making me their prey, but I have so far victimised Underhaven, and likely gotten under their skin, far more than they have me. Tonight is probably a good example of that, actually.

My lips curl into a predatory smile.

As bad as my sleep has been tonight, at least I slept. Tonight will have been the first night since I struck at the seedy group that I have left them alone, and I am very confident that they will have sat awake all night in their many bases, waiting on edge for a strike that never came.

The other night when I had struck at the narcotics lab in the New Hope hostel, I had anticipated that they might think I was coming, but I hadn't expected them to bring in specialists like the Ryder twins just to wait for me. The skill of the two sisters, as well as certain things they had said, made me certain that they were there with the sole purpose of responding to my attack. If that was the case then it was reasonable to expect the same of all the other Underhaven sites I had yet to hit out at.

So I took the night off.

I needed time to recover from my near-execution at the hands of the goth twins, but more than anything I made the decision to take back my advantage. At the end of the day, all of our encounters happen on my terms; at the time and place of my choosing. As big as they are, they are helpless but to wait for my next blow to fall - so let them wait.

My plan the other night had been to strike them twice in one night in order to wrong-foot them, but I had underestimated what I would find in the hostel, and had been entirely unable to follow up afterwards - I had barely made it back to my apartment in my weakened state.

I'm done underestimating them.

This time I'm coming for them during the day. They have waited all night for an attack that never came, expecting the daytime to be safe because it always was before, and I suspect many will be sleeping, as I often do, in order to be ready to do it all again the next night. I'm rested; they won't be.

My target this time will be the garage they use to launch and maintain all their transports for moving goods around the city. If I hit them fast enough to prevent them getting the word out, and get the right information out of them, I'm hoping to use those same transports to get the jump on another site - though I'll have to adapt my plans to events on the ground.

This time I'm trying to expect the unexpected as best I can. Hidden secret weapons, fake victims, powerful specialists; I'll take nothing for granted and hopefully be prepared for the worst.

I reach out with my mind and pull my mask towards me, flying it out of my wardrobe in a bubble of light-blue force and placing it in my hand. I run my fingers over the surface of the leathery material before bringing it up to my face and pressing it until it adheres to me like the skin of a second face. I feel empowered by the simple gesture, like I have banished the woman I was moments ago in my dream and become the unaffected hunter I was trained to be. In this aspect I am untouchable to all of my personal demons - they can go to hell until my next uneasy sleep.

I rise from my bed, naked except for my thong and my mask, and I pad across to my mini-armoury of equipment to suit up for the day ahead. The time for brooding and licking my wounds is over. Today I hunt again, and I very much plan on taking my revenge for the ways that Underhaven have gotten to me.

For the first time, Pariah will prowl in daylight.


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Elsewhere...


Fontaine was just about to dose off when he was stirred by the door to the lockeroom he was snoozing in being slammed shut.

He looked up to see the giant form of the meta-human known as Ogre standing over him. The big man's shoulders were slumped and his face was weary with lack of sleep, but he still projected alarming intensity into everything he did. Ogre sat down heavily onto the opposite bench from Fontaine, causing it to creak loudly as it stressed under his bulk.

'No activity tonight, stalker,' said Ogre in a mildly deflated tone, his voice still deep to the point of being a joke. 'No sign of the Pariah anywhere; not here, and not at anywhere else in the 'Gate - or beyond, for that matter.'

Fontaine rubbed his eyes and checked his wristwatch, noticing it was now the late morning, before sitting up from his make-shift bed. He wasn't really sure what the brute wanted, but he knew it probably involved not ignoring him.

Ogre had been convinced Pariah would strike the garage the previous night, he had been pumped up and ready for the encounter, patrolling the perimeter routinely and checking in with Grail, the garage's overseer, every hour to see if the vigilante had struck another location. The garage had grown tense as Ogre's frustration had mounted, and he had very nearly throttled one of the mechanics to death a few hours ago simply because the guy had tried to get some sleep - which made Fontaine's current situation a little awkward.

Both men had been charged by the red mistress of Underhaven to hunt down the vigilante that was plaguing the organisation, and both men had decided the best course of action was to wait for her at one of the places she was sure to attack - it had already worked for their fellow hunters, the Ryder twins, for all the good it had done them.

'Yeah,' Fontaine agreed in a hoarse voice, his own tiredness readily apparent.

Ogre leaned forward on his bench, drawing more plaintive creaks from it, 'Tell me, what do you think it means?'

The stalker frowned and searched the expression of the tattooed beast sitting across from him to see if he could make sense of the question. 'Does it have to mean something?'

'Yes.'

Fontaine stifled a chuckle. Laughing at the Ogre would be prodigiously unwise. 'Well... I don't think she's done.'

'No,' Ogre agreed.

'So,' Fontaine continued, 'I guess this means she is either doing something that we aren't noticing, or she is, for whatever reason, opting to do nothing.' Fontaine sniffed, 'Or, you know, something else came up - maybe she's been killed.'

Ogre gave a grumble of annoyance, 'It displeases me, stalker. Which do you think it is?'

Fontaine rubbed at his beard as he thought about his answer. 'She's probably busy with something else,' he lied, 'So I think we're just gonna have to be patient, big guy.'

'So it seems,' Ogre allowed as he rose back up to his feet. 'I really hate waiting... But anyone who can humble the Ryders may just be worth it.'

The two exchanged stares in the silence of the locker room. Fontaine found holding the giant's gaze unbearably uncomfortable, but held the other man's stare all the same. He got the distinct impression that the Ogre was assessing his honesty.

'It is strange, is it not?' said Ogre after a moment, 'Being the ones who are hunted. Huddling together like sheep while we wait for the wolf to appear.'

Fontaine grinned, 'Yeah, I guess it's kind of ironic. I'm a stalker waiting to be stalked.'

Ogre grunted his mild amusement before turning away to leave the locker room. 'So be it, then. I go to rest - only disturb me if it is important.' He paused as he made his way out the doorway, 'We are not sheep, stalker, it galls me to wait for my prey like this. If I am not satisfied soon, I think I will have to make sport of the meat that surrounds me currently.'

The threat was obvious.

'Then lets hope she doesn't keep you waiting too long, huh?' Fontaine said lightly.

The brute said nothing more, lumbering away from the doorway and leaving Fontaine with the certainty that the garage would become an increasingly unsafe place to be the longer the vigilante remained away.

Fontaine broke in to a wider smile now that he was in his own company.

Like any good stalker, the Pariah was circling her prey and letting it tire before going in for the takedown, he knew it - he would do the same thing. It confirmed what he already knew.

She was an experienced predator, just as he was, and he was as much her prey as she was his. The prospect delighted him greatly; he had grown tired of the usual thrill of hunting sheep. Nothing was more exciting than getting the chance to stalk a fellow wolf.

Fontaine nestled back down on his bench, feeling anticipation like a kid before Christmas - like he used to feel before capturing his first victims. His eye was briefly drawn back to check his array of equipment in the lockers behind him. Whenever the time came, he knew he would need every trick in the book - and every opportunity he could get - to achieve his greatest capture.

He only had to hope the Ogre wouldn't kill him before she arrived - and that she would be formidable enough to survive the beast herself.

'All good things come...' Fontaine chuckled to himself as he settled back into an easy sleep.

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So ends part one. I had actually intended for Pariah to visit Crowly again in this part, but it was just filler and a bit uneccessary, I just didn't bother. We'll see Crowly again when he has more narrative purpose than to just remind us he is there. I could be accused of time wasting as it is... I just want to set the scene for the fighting/peril to follow. As always, I'll probably need a day or so to edit this into a decent form. I quite liked doing a bit of the heroine's perspective in present 1st person, how did that land with you guys? I'm thinking I might do more of that.

My plan as it stands is to get right into the action in part two... I'm keen to get to it and I don't think I need to build into it any more than I already have. Anyways, feedback of any kind is gravy to me, so lay it on nice and thick... I probably ran with that further than I needed to! I have a growing concern that I'm taking too long to get into every scene, and I'm maybe leaving on a lot of dead weight that I ought to have cut away. *Shrugs*

Sorry as well for torturing the metaphor in the title and just generally for the abusive strip-mining of hunter/prey references. I'll... try to tone it down... no promises, though...
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Waiting for part two...
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Hey folks, I'm so sorry for such a long break in activity; a mixture of (good) real-life stuff and turning my attention to other, less adult, writing projects kept me away from this for longer than I intended. To make up for it I think I will devote all my writing time to this until the end of October, which might actually result in me posting up stuff too frequently... but we shall see how we go. Either way, thanks for the prod to remind me to get back on with this - little things like that make a big difference to my motivation.

I think I stayed away longer than I meant to because I lost a little bit of heart with the direction I had taken the story. The good thing with short, self-contained stories, at least as concerns SHIP fiction, is that they can be that *one* bad event that befalls the heroine, and it has more impact because it is breaking new ground in the story of that heroine, rather than if it is the fifth or tenth time the heroine has faced that kind of peril. There are lots of awesome things about having a long, on-going story like the one I have set up, but the SHIP elements and the believability of how they interact with Pariah's character could easily get watered down with each successive encounter - which isn't helped by this Underhaven arc all being contained within the space of a single week so far. I also worry that because this tries to be both hardcore SHIP fiction as well as being serious-faced heroine/hero fiction, it succeeds at being neither and just sort of strands itself out in no man's land between the two. Then again, I think I started this whole thing because I wanted to blend those two together as best I could.

Anyways, to help me address that first concern, I might be including one or even two other heroines in the Azure universe to help me walk the line and keep this from sagging down into the realms of being 2D fiction, so to that end I am open to input from you guys. If there is an idea for a heroine or even just qualities/attributes you might like to see in a heroine facing the perils of Azure, then feel free to msg me or say something here.

In the meantime, we finally resume the story. The voting thing looks like it fell a bit flat... regardless I'll try to incorporate the results into the story as it plays out. Sorry again for the wait!


Part Two: Remorse


Chuuck.....Shhhhhck.

Ryan Sellick had been sat in an exhausted daze for the last twenty minutes when he was finally broken out of his stupor by the soft sounds coming from the short-wave radio he kept clipped to his belt. He had been sat in the back of one of the vans out in the parking-lot of the garage, checking and maintaining the various restraints, sedative drips and aria speakers that the vehicle used to contain its human cargo. The monotony of the task, combined with his total lack of sleep from the night before, had wearied him to the point of falling asleep while he was sat there, and he was grateful for his radio's distraction.

He rubbed his bleary, reddened eyes with the backs of both hands and shook some wakefulness into himself before lifting his radio from his belt and bringing it up to his lips to transmit. 'Who's fucking around with their radio?' he asked as he glanced out of the open backdoors to the van, seeing the bleak landscape of Gallowgate lit with unkind sunlight, shaded grey from the thick clouds that covered the sky like a blanket. Sheltered behind the garage as the parking-lot was, there was precious little movement to catch Sellick's eye - the whole city just looked dead still.

Ten seconds passed by and no response came; there was only silence.

Sellick furrowed his brow in annoyance, 'Wakey, wakey, assholes. Who was playing around with their radio? I'm trying to concentrate here.' He crouch-walked his way to the back doors of the van so that he could look around the parking-lot and back towards the garage building, surprised not to see anyone out and about. The old brick building had been converted from a fire station in years gone by and still bore two large shutter doors, which were both open at this time but still Sellick could see no activity inside the garage. He supposed it shouldn't be too surprising; everyone was as burned out as he was, and activity around the garage had slowed to a crawl by the time they had hit mid-afternoon - three hours ago.

'Quit screwing around, I know someone was broadcasting...'

'Sellick!' came the angry voice of David Grail over the radio, the man who, until twelve hours earlier, had been the undisputed boss of the garage. 'The only person fucking around on the radio is you, jackass. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.'

The combination of tiredness and tension had made everyone around the garage irritable recently - none more so than Grail.

'Sorry boss,' Sellick said hastily, 'But I heard...'

'Jesus, Sellick, don't make me come out there and kick your ass,' Grail interrupted, 'We all got a big night ahead of us, so do us all a favour and not ruin this small window of rest with your stupidity, will you?' He did not wait for a response, 'Finish up on the vans and then check the roster for tonight's movements. When you're done, come show me.'

Sellick bit back an angry retort, the gig he had here was far too lucrative - in terms of money and fringe benefits - for him to dare risk his position with backchat. 'Sure thing, boss,' he said as sweetly as he could before taking his finger of the transmission. 'Prick,' he muttered darkly as he deftly returned the radio back to his belt and kept gazing around himself, scanning for any signs of activity from the other men working the garage.

There were supposed to be two other guys in the parking-lot with him, helping him prep the vans for the next cycle of movements - infrequent though they were as of late - but there was no sign of either of them. Likewise, there was supposed to be three other guys patrolling the perimeter to the garage, one of whom was supposed to be overseeing things from the rooftop of the garage, but they were all similarly scarce.

Sellick felt a sense of unease rising in him as he felt suddenly very isolated, as though he were alone in the world save for the disembodied and perpetually pissed voice of Grail. He was about to risk more of Grail's ire by trying to raise his companions on the radio before he spotted legs dangling idly from the back doors of the van two across from his, recognising the boots to be those of one of his colleagues.

'Am I the only fucker who hasn't snuck off for a god-damned power nap?' Sellick lamented as he heaved himself out of the van and started marching past the adjacent vehicle. He would take shit from Grail because he had to, but he was sure as hell going to dish it out to guys who thought they'd let him do all of their work while they slept.

'Having a nice rest, sleeping beauty?' he mocked as he rounded the open doors, 'Ramon, you cocksucker, get...'

Ramon wasn't lying back in the midst of a midday snooze; he was out cold, lying in a bloodied, crumpled heap with his hands bound tightly behind his back, half buried beneath three other men in the exact same state.

Sellick's mind struggled to process the sight, trying to reconcile this totally out of place shock with the reality that he understood. In that panicked moment he thought they were all dead, just a pile of corpses strewn about the van in a perverse parody of the restrained women that this same van would deliver to these very men. He had been working barely meters away and he had spoken with Ramon less than an hour ago - the sheer implausibility of it made it difficult to accept, even whilst staring directly at it.

'Shit,' he breathed, vocalising his shock after a few muted seconds that seemed to drag on for a lifetime. His mind finally got past the surprise and made the obvious connection.

We're under attack. She's here. The Pariah is here.

His hand shot down to his radio, thumbing the transmitter as he brought it up to his mouth to raise the...

Heavy impacts rocked him from behind, forcing Sellick violently forward and causing him to drop the radio in his hand. The sound of the radio connecting for a second before ceasing its transmission made a familiar noise over the channel that made Sellick's blood run cold.

Chuuck.....Shhhhhck.

As his mind raced to catch up with the heavy trauma, he felt the whisper-soft touch of a long thin fabric wrapping around his neck before constricting dramatically, choking him beyond the ability to even make a noise and completely controlling his movement. It lifted him off the ground, effectively hanging him, and he was spun on the spot to face behind him - to come face to face with the Pariah.

She was right there, stood a few feet away from him as though she had always been there, her sleek, dark figure contrasting vividly against the greyscale backdrop of the sunlit city. The tail of her long cloak was coiled up over her head like a more literal tail, and was acting as the noose that was controlling Sellick, lifting him as though it were alive. The vigilante's hood cast her face in shadow, and all Sellick could make out from the darkness was two glowing blue eyes staring back at him.

Sellick clawed at the fabric around his neck, desperately trying to relieve the stress from the weight of his body and to loosen its choking hold, but it was futile. The grip of the cloak tail was completely intractable, actually tightening further as he fought against it. He gargled pathetically, unable to force any more of a sound through his throat as he franticly resisted the noose. It became suddenly very important to Sellick to recall the grim tableau he had discovered in the back of the van seconds earlier.

Had those men really been dead?

The glowing blue eyes of the heroine studied him dispassionately as he continued to flail about. She folded her arms across the curves of her chest and tilted her head to the side, seeming to be completely relaxed as she patiently watched Sellick fight a losing battle for his life. Finally she spoke, her voice soft and assertive.

'You're done, Sellick, stop fighting and I'll let up.'

She knows my name... Why the fuck does she know my name? It was like a nightmare that he couldn't wake from. Sellick's addled mind started to wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep in the van and he was in the throes of a terrible dream.

'It's up to you,' she said in a slightly warmer tone, 'You can choke to death, if you prefer.'

Feeling utterly helpless, Sellick could think of no response other than to do as he was instructed, letting his hands fall to his sides in resignation and looking down at the dark heroine with pleading eyes as he felt darkness closing in on the periphery of his watery vision. Just as he thought he was about to black out, he was rewarded with the noose lowering him back to the ground enough that he could support his weight with the tips of his toes and the constriction around his neck loosened just enough for him to suck in small amounts of air.

Sellick gasped and coughed as he balanced on his toes and worked air back into his bursting lungs. There was no dignity in it but Sellick was well past any considerations other than basic, animal survival at this point. A small flicker of defiance in him briefly considered using his recently recovered voice to try and call for help, but he knew he wouldn't be able to make any kind of noise before the noose would crush his throat once more, and he discarded the idea immediately, instead focusing on keeping the heroine from hanging him again.

'Good choice,' she said quietly, as if somehow reading the thoughts going through his head, 'I'm going to ask you a few questions, and you are going to answer them honestly, Sellick. You are going to do this because you're a smart man and you know I've already questioned the other men in that van behind you, and I'll know if you're lying.' She took a step towards him and the blue lights of her eyes flashed even brighter for a moment, 'You know it will be much worse for you if I catch you in a lie. Are we clear?'

Sellick's gaze briefly moved over his shoulder to the open garage shutters, willing somebody in the building to be there, for someone to be seeing the heroine, brazenly standing in the middle of the parking-lot in broad daylight, who might be able to offer help, but like any nightmare there was no one to see his plight. The vigilante was using the vans to block line of sight to most of the garage, making it next to impossible for someone to see what was happening even if they were there. 'Ugh...W-We...We're clear...,' he stammered.

'Good,' she said softly before glancing over his shoulder herself to look into the garage, 'How many more men inside?'

'Uhh...Sgh... Seven, I think... No, wait, nine... There's nine,' he managed, trying to recall the information as best he could.

The heroine tilted her head further as she regarded him, 'Is that your final answer?' The noose tightened testily around Sellick's neck as she asked the question.

'Gngh... There's been... a lot of personnel changes... recently,' Sellick wheezed, reflexively bringing his hands up to pull against the cloak tail, 'It's... It's tough to keep up...,' he gestured weakly around himself, 'Given the circumstances...'

The heroine chuckled and lightened up the hold of her cloak, 'Fair enough, Sellick. Eight it is, then.' Her amused tone evaporated as she asked her next question. 'Are you holding any girls here?'

Sellick shook his head quickly, 'No... Not today.'

She stepped closer to him, causing the pale, graceful features of her face to resolve beneath the shadow of her hood, 'I heard mention of a roster on the radio; where might I find it?'

'The... The manager's office near the front of the building,' Sellick answered quickly. He didn't think to even question how she knew the things she did - he was at the point now where he believed she simply knew everything and was testing him, toying with him.

'Good,' she said, an element of warmth returning to her voice. She regarded him for a few seconds before asking her next question. 'Are there any surprises waiting for me in there, Sellick?'

He looked back at her, trying to work out what her vague question meant. 'Probably not,' he said after a moment, 'I don't think anything would surprise you... But there's a meta in there... I think he came for you.'

His initial words brought a lop-sided smile to the heroine's face, but her expression now shifted to frightening intensity. 'Tell me about him, what are his capabilities?'

The noose tightened again, seeming to mirror the tension in the heroine's voice.

'I...,' Sellick gulped, 'I don't know... I only know his reputation... They... They say he can't be killed; they say he's a monster.' He watched a flicker of frustration pass over the expression of his captor and felt the noose tighten even more, 'Puh...Please... I don't know any more than that - none of us do. Please.'

His answer hung in the air for several long seconds. Sellick braced himself for more pain.

'Alright, Sellick,' she said, loosening the grip of her cloak tail, 'That'll do. I...,' the heroine's voice trailed off and the light dimmed slightly in her eyes as her aspect became more thoughtful. She looked up at him, searching his eyes as if looking for something. 'I have one more question, then I'll let you go.' She stepped even closer, now barely inches away from him, and lowered her voice down to an intimate hush. 'Sellick... Do you feel any shame at all for being a part of all this?'

Sellick found it hard to meet the intent gaze of the beautiful vigilante, 'I... I don't know what you mean...'

'Do you have a mother, Sellick?' she pressed quietly, almost imploringly as she continued to search his expression.

He felt an unexpected surge of anger push through his terror, 'Of course I have a fucking mother,' he spat back at her, 'What's that got to do with anything, you crazy - ngggghhhhh,' the noose pulled taut and cut him off, rendering his anger impotent and lifting him back off his toes.

In desperation he swiped at the heroine but she flowed back from his grasp with such speed that his eyes barely kept up with her. The last Sellick saw of the dark heroine's face was a look of something between anger and pain before her movement caused it to vanish back under the darkness of her hood, back to unreadable dots of blue light.

'If she were here, Sellick, she would know exactly what I mean,' she said coldly. 'We're done.'

No, no, no - fuck! Sellick struggled desperately against the noose choking him out. He couldn't even make a noise of protest as he was hung, helpless to do anything to the impassive figure watching his demise. As darkness closed in on him, Ryan Sellick was trapped with useless fear and anger; his last thought before he lost consciousness was of deep, powerful regret - though it was not the kind of regret the heroine had been looking for.

Darkness closed in until all there was in the world was two points of blue light, judging him, and then there was nothing.

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I wait a moment as I guarantee unconsciousness has claimed Mr Sellick, watching all the tell-tale involuntary movements of his relaxing body until I am confident that he won't be waking up any time soon.

I could kill him, of course. I could hang him here like the remorseless animal that I think he is - a sinister part of me genuinely considers it, however fleetingly - but that's not how I do things. As personal as my business with Underhaven has become and as much as I hate what these people do, I still have a code to follow - a line I am unwilling to cross as I prosecute them. I acknowledge that angry part of me that wishes to go further, but I discard it as a selfish, petty, impulse.

Using my telekinetic will through my cloak, I carry Sellick's limp body forward and turn him to lay face first atop the mound of his unconscious buddies in the van. Relief surges through my body as I release Sellick and allow my cloak to drape back around my shoulders. My force of will to maintain the prolonged telekinesis finally at an end, I feel the pressure in my head subside as the stress of my focus gets released, the sensation briefly causing me to feel dizzy. I ignore the nausea as I walk up to Sellick and pull back his arms to bind them tightly with one of the cable-ties from my belt.

I direct my mind away from the gnawing headache that is setting in from the exertion of my meta ability, and instead take stock of my situation.

So far my plan to catch Underhaven unaware has worked a treat. After surveying the garage for a thirty-minute period, I confidently picked my way through the men outside the garage, starting with a snoozing watchman on the rooftop and then working my way down to the men in the parking-lot. I had moved swiftly and boldly between them, careful to prevent anyone from raising the alarm and expediently taking information from them where possible. Having taken a radio from the watchman on the rooftop, I had a steady bead on whether or not the men in the garage had any idea something was wrong.

I have dispatched all their men outside the building and the men inside don't even know they are under attack yet. I suspect most of them are in a similar state of exhaustion to the men I have already dealt with, and I take a small measure of satisfaction from how smoothly this has gone so far, even though I know I'm far from finished.

The knowledge that there is a meta - a monster, no less - waiting for me somewhere inside the garage leaves little doubt in my mind that the real work is about to begin. I am also mindful that the watchman I interrogated also suggested there was another unusual visitor staying at the garage; some sort of veteran kidnapper. On a normal day I would disregard the threat of a simple abductor out of hand, but after my recent experiences with Underhaven I am hesitant to take anything for granted.

I turn away from my stash of conquests and examine the old brick building of Finnie's garage. The building shares the same dilapidated aesthetic as most of the Gallowgate area, and it shares the same sense of perversion as the other Underhaven locations I have seen. A fire station turned over into a private mechanics workshop by a former fireman by the name of Finnie Mackay, bought and sold multiple times over the years until it fell under the shadow of Underhaven. I am becoming increasingly convinced that whoever is making the decisions at Underhaven has a penchant for laying low or corrupting anything that ever stood tall - or even attempted to stand tall.

I check my equipment one last time as I make my way between the parked vans toward the garage shutters. My recent dalliance with Sellick has limbered up my mind and the toned muscles of my body are similarly warmed up and ready for action. Assessing myself as being fully prepared, I take a deep, steadying breath and then break into a run from the cover of the vans towards the nearest open shutter.

There is no hesitation or doubt as I fling myself across the threshold of the shutter into the unknown of the garage.

Whatever I am about to face, I am ready for it - and I doubt it is ready for me.

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So ends part two, and, to cry out what is fast becoming my catchphrase, I am going to need to edit the crap out of that before I move on to part three. I already know that I indulgently overwrote a decent amount of it, not to mention all the typos and such, so bear with me on that one - I will go back over it. After I've edited it up to being somewhat respectable I will be moving right on to part three, so don't expect a very long wait for that.

With an on-going story like this, do you want me to reintroduce/re-explain plot stuff that we saw in a previous episode but not in the current one, or would you rather I press on as if you already know what it is because you have already read the previous episodes? This is pertinent with every time we see a character for the first time in an episode, but also with plot mechanics like the aria from the first episode, or the rapture drug from the second one.

Anyways, Fontaine and Ogre await... I'm expecting a drawn out, proper fight ahead, so buckle up.
Last edited by Void 9 years ago, edited 4 times in total.
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The chapter was good, but I'm honestly looking forward to the next chapter
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I've been equally looking forward to this bit and sort of dreading it. I've known for months what I want to do with it, and I've known all that time that I shouldn't do it that way... So forgive me for my selfishness that I did it the way I shouldn't have - I hope you enjoy it regardless!
I am curious, though, if you guys like this bit or tolerate it.

I'm zeroing in more on the other potential heroine(s) I may add to Azure, but I'm still open to input from you guys if there's something you'd like to see. The two nuggets of ideas I'm working away at hark back to the characters implied by the first part of the first episode. I'm liking the idea of non-meta, highly skilled heroine with various gadgets and weapons, and I'm liking the idea of a really conventional superwoman-like heroine who plays much more the generic heroine with bright colours and campy dialogue - and who will probably be a wee bit more mature, maybe even married. My only problem with that last one is I feel she would need a weakness of some kind, but I have no idea what weakness to give her. Ideally I'd like something that takes away or diminishes her powers, but I don't really know where to go there. Anyways! On with the story.
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Part Three: Interloper


The first man went down silently. A swift kick to the back of his knees was followed up with a full-bodied elbow to the back of his head, and he was down before he even knew what was happening. She didn't bother binding him; she simply swept on in to the workshop, stalking her next unsuspecting victim.

This phase of the attack was all about speed. There would be no chance or opportunity to hide the defeated - the best way to conceal them was to incapacitate those others who might find them.

The second man, a six and a half foot wall of muscle, managed a gargle of surprise before unconsciousness took him. Pariah pounced on him with a diving-kick to the back of his head before accelerating his fall to the ground by holding on to his neck and using her weight and momentum to guide his head to the concrete floor with a sickening thump. Size and strength counted for little in the face of cranial trauma - they were all human, and limited by the universal frailties of the human form. Pariah rolled off his supine form and dived back into the shadows of the workshop, her eyes already set upon the next man she was going to drop.

The gargle and the overly loud thump of his demise had been enough to rouse some concern from the men of the workshop. They began calling out for each other as they looked up from their duties to search for the source of the sound, becoming belatedly aware that something was happening.

The third man was the last to be taken by surprise, having enough sense to interpret the unusual sounds as reason to draw his pistol, and coming up on his unconscious buddy before Pariah could get into a decent position to silently take him out. Pariah concealed herself under a raised car lift until she saw the coming man's face register shock upon setting eyes on his downed friend, and then she leapt out at him, catching him in the moment he was processing his initial surprise. She swept his legs out from under him and used her telekinetic focus to massively accelerate his fall to the ground, effectively slamming him, before pounding her fist down to his forehead to bring an abrupt end to his day.

It would have been a crisp take-down had it not been for his hand jerking as he fell, causing the pistol to go off. The gunshot resonated loudly around the garage and shattered any chance that Pariah had of catching the remaining residents unaware. Cries of panic sounded out around the workshop, followed by heavy foot-falls as multiple men ran to converge on the heroine's position.

Pariah cursed softly under her breath as she rose back to her feet from the prone alarm-raiser. It was good while it lasted, she thought as her hands swept down her lithe body to pockets at either side of her dark metal belt, But this works too. The heroine retrieved two flash discs from each pocket, priming them and flicking them out around her in one fluid motion before gripping the side of her cloak and whirling it around herself to shield her eyes from the coming assault. She tensed all the muscles of her body in preparation for when she would spring back into action, closing her eyes and visualising all her next moves based on where she heard the foot-falls coming from - which were now so close that the men were barely a second away from finding her.

The metal discs scattered around the workshop floor timed out, popping open simultaneously to emit a barrage of blinding white light and deafening noise that blanketed the garage like an explosion. Multiple voices could just be heard over the cacophony, screaming out in confusion and distress at this latest surprise as they tried to process or block the sensory overload.

Under her cloak the heroine ignored it all as she continued coiling up her focus in readiness for when the storm of noise and light finally broke. No-one would be spared for questioning tonight - she was simply going to put them all down as fast as she was able, with no quarter given. With a meta somewhere in the building whose abilities she didn't even know, there was no room for mercy or risk; there would only be extreme prejudice and decisive violence.

Here we go.

When the flash-discs finished their work the heroine erupted into action, and all hell broke loose in the garage.

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In the midst of dreams only a monster could have, the gunshot had served only to stir the Ogre from his slumber. The subsequent explosion of noise from the flash-discs and the accompanying din of men screaming had been enough to drag the beast from his sleep - though only just.

Slowly the big brute regained consciousness, groggily pawing at his eyes as he sat up from the desk he had been resting on and brought his attention to the sounds that had disturbed his sleep. From beyond the manager's office, out in the garage workshop he heard multiple more gunshots followed by bangs and crashes as some kind of violent tempest swept through the workshop. Through the blurry glass of the door he could just make out a dull blue light that pulsed with intensity each time there was a new bang. Panicked voices were calling out in a mixture of pleas, threats and pain.

All in all the sounds weren't much different from what he had been dreaming about.

The soundtrack reminded Ogre of the times he had 'visited' Underhaven's rivals, bearing an uncanny similarity to the background noise he heard whenever he went into action against the cattle that he considered most of the world to be.

As he fully cleared the fog of his sleep, realisation finally dawned on him and he felt a thrill of anticipation shoot through him. Despite himself, a smile broke out across his face as he climbed to his feet - it had been so long since anything had excited him like this.

'Finally.'

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Fontaine had already been woken by the sound of Grail shouting at Sellick over the radio, minutes earlier, and he had suspected immediately that it entailed the Pariah had arrived. He had shaken off his tiredness and moved over to where he had stored his gear in the locker room, methodically checking his equipment and arming up as he got ready to stalk the vigilante. If he was right about what the radio transmission implied he figured he had about ten minutes to get ready and move into position before he would be at risk of getting caught out by the heroine.

The moment he heard the gunshot - followed by the chaos that almost instantly came after it - his heart had sunk in his chest as he realised that he had grossly overestimated how much time he had. Barely five minutes after Sellick was complaining about something on the radio the Pariah had suddenly made the entire garage feel completely unsafe.

Fontaine hadn't expected her to move so fast or to be so brazen - or to get so close before springing into action - and he cursed his lack of information for what to expect from the heroine. He wasn't used to knowing so little about what he was dealing with, and it had already led to a pretty serious error on his part.

He hadn't even fully geared up yet, let alone getting into position, and the prospect of venturing out into the workshop seemed akin to jumping off a cliff. The unknown beckoned, and it wasn't exciting or enticing like it had been hours earlier; it was now frightening and unnerving.

He sat with his back against the lockers, clutching one of his half-empty duffle bags as he stared unblinkingly at the door out to the workshop. The door rattled and shook as blue light pulsed from around the frame, shaken as if being battered by a severe storm. The crashes, gunshots and cries from the men out in the workshop started to become far less frequent.

Caught with his pants down like this, Fontaine didn't feel the cool calm of the hunter but rather the unfamiliar alarm of the hunted, making him indecisive at a time where he knew he needed to be anything but. He licked his dry lips as he zipped up the bag and put the straps over his shoulder, deciding it would be most prudent to leave the rest of his kit where it was and make the best of what he already had. He patted himself down, unconsciously checking his belt and pockets to ensure everything was in the right place, before picking up his slick black dart gun from where it rested against the lockers. The weight of the compression weapon delivered a sense of comfort to him, reminding the stalker that he was still a hunter here and he was a serious threat to the woman rampaging beyond the door - if he could just sneak into a better position.

He reassured himself that he had picked this room to rest in because it would be the lowest priority for the heroine to go to. She would prioritise the workshop and manager's office, as would Grail's people, and the Ogre would be seeking her out as keenly as she was seeking out danger in the garage. The Pariah would be distracted and busy long before she would come to this tiny, irrelevant room, and the stalker would get the chance to sneak out while she was preoccupied - then the advantage would be his to hunt her as he pleased. He just needed to be smart and patient.

The old plan was unravelling – clearly not equal to the task of dealing with the enigmatic vigilante – but that didn’t mean he couldn’t adapt to a new plan.

As he started to weigh up his options for when to make his move, he received his second surprise of the day.

The door to the locker room burst open, causing the stalker to snap the compression rifle up in preparation to fire before he recognised the pale, terrified face staring back at him.

Grail stood in the doorway, smoking pistol in hand, visibly in shock and with blood dripping from a mean-looking blow to his head. 'Fontaine,' he said dumbly, 'We're under attack!'

For the second time in less than a minute Wesley Fontaine's heart sank. He stared in disbelief at the garage overseer as he felt his adrenaline spike, feeling anxiety like he hadn't felt in decades. It was like Grail had just walked in with a ticking bomb strapped to his chest.

'It's the Pariah!' Grail continued helpfully from the doorway, 'She's here, Fontaine! What should we do?'

'You came here?' Fontaine hissed at the overseer, 'Why on God's green earth would you come here, you idiot!' He franticly waved the barrel of his weapon at the other man, 'Get the hell out of here, go get the goddamned Ogre! You're leading her right to me!'

Grail looked sheepish as he shrunk back under the stalker's scolding, 'But... I thought...'

The overseer was interrupted by a loose tire flying into his lower back, winding him and knocking him to his knees before the dark form of the heroine arrived in a blur to deliver a spinning kick to the back of his head. Grail collapsed lifelessly to the ground at the vigilante's feet like he had just been shot in the head. The Pariah stood over the downed man, her cloak fluttering faintly about her toned figure, and the piercing blue light of her eyes moved up from Grail to lock on to the stalker.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl for Fontaine as he finally caught sight of his quarry.

She was perfect; matching and even bettering what he had been building up in his mind. He could just make out the elegant features of the young woman's face beneath the hood, obscured though it was by the mask plastered over her glowing eyes. Angelic blonde hair framed her face, with wisps of it coming forward to either side of her full, pink lips. Her supple body was clearly on display in the form-fitting, leathery material of her black and jade bodysuit, and it was accentuated all the more by her heavy breathing.

However it wasn't the heroine's curves or graceful features that most drew in the stalker's eye - it was all the subtle details that revealed the character and calibre of the woman he was dealing with.

At a glance the stalker could see this was no amateur shmuck off the street; this was something that lived up to its achievements. The heroine's whole outfit looked designed and custom-built to aid her in both stealth and combat, while she clearly had an array of advanced tools contained within the sleek metal belt clasped around her waist. Even more than her imposing display of clothing and equipment, it was the woman herself that most clearly communicated that she was something formidable. Fontaine could see it in her commanding body language, the way she moved with absolute surety, and he read it in the fierce, powerful eyes staring calmly back at him.

There was no question about it; she was a wolf.

A wolf that had just spotted its prey.

Fontaine sighted down the barrel of his rifle at the heroine as she burst into movement towards him, reacting on instinct as she charged into the locker room. He tracked her perfectly and fired a precision shot aimed at the muscle of her left thigh, which was snatched out of the air by the tail of the heroine's cloak, wreathed in blue light as it sprang into life to protect her. Fontaine was loading in his next dart as soon as he had fired the first, his hands working like lightening over the rifle as his eyes remained focused on the onrushing vigilante. He knew he wouldn't have time to fire a third shot before she was on him as he tightened his finger over the trigger, already trying to set his mind on what he could do next. As he fired his second shot he flicked a switch on the barrel of the rifle to turn on a bright halogen beam light, mounted under the barrel, which he pointed squarely into the eyes of the heroine.

Blinded, the vigilante came to an instant stop and enveloped the entirety of her cloak in blue light as she summoned it to uncoil and shoot out in front of her to act as an impromptu wall. The blanket defence easily caught the dart in the air, mere thousandths of a second before it would have struck her, and also served to block the light beam from blinding the heroine - however it also blocked her line of sight to the stalker.

Fontaine's trigger hand shot down to a glass bottle of chloroform holstered at his hip while he kept the beam of light focused on trying to blind the Pariah, and as soon as he had a grip on the neck of the bottle he moved to throw it at her feet.

However the heroine was thinking and moving every bit as fast as he was, and she built up a wave of telekinetic force from behind her cloak-shield which she unleashed at Fontaine as she swept her cloak aside and continued diving towards him. Just as the bottle left Fontaine's hand, the wall of force impacted him like a room-sized fist which lifted him off his feet and threw him back into the lockers along with his bottle of chloroform, which duly smashed against the lockers and doused the area around him in a fog of sedative miasma.

Things were not going very well, he reflected.

This wasn't part of the plan; it wasn't supposed to go this way. The Pariah wasn't meant to get so close before the alarm was raised, Grail wasn't supposed to lead the vigilante right to him, she wasn't supposed to corner him in a tiny room and force him into a stand-up fight that he had no hope of winning. He was meant to get his chance to study her and work her out from a distance before getting her by surprise. He was meant to get the chance to stalk her. As Fontaine struggled to rise back to his feet, soaked in the vapours of his own chloroform and wracked with pain as if he had just fallen three stories, he couldn't help but waste a thought on considering how direly it had all gone.

As darkness closed in on Fontaine's vision, and a combination of dizziness and nausea threatened to overwhelm him, he threw the unloaded rifle at the heroine while his other hand snapped down to a full face mask clipped on to his belt, which he hurriedly pressed into his face and sealed into position. There was no doubt in Fontaine's mind about who was the cat and who was the mouse in this ordeal, and far from considerations of stalking, his mind was now plainly set on surviving.

He had to get out of this room. He had to get away from her.

Pariah didn't break stride as she batted the rifle aside and leapt at the stalker, kicking him hard in his chest and forcing him back down to his knees before following it up with a downward elbow aimed at the top of his head. Fontaine gritted his teeth as he forced his afflicted body to move, pushing himself off the lockers as hard as he could to propel himself forwards into the heroine in a clumsy - and ambitious - attempt to tackle her.

He knew if he could just get a hold of her then the toxic vapours that surrounded him would work on her.

His move worked in as much as it got him out of the way of the Pariah's elbow, which connected painfully with his upper back rather than terminally hitting his head, but the heroine was far too dexterous to be caught in the tackle, gracefully flowing away from Fontaine's grip as he threw himself forwards into nothing but empty air.

The stalker landed in a heap at the heroine's feet and he saw that she was already drawing back her left foot to kick his head. He rolled to his side as fast as he could, but he knew from having already seen how quick the heroine was that it was a futile attempt to evade her, and that these were his last moments of consciousness.

However instead of kicking the prone stalker, the heroine staggered back a step as the noxious fumes surrounding him finally affected her. She wobbled slightly before bringing a hand up to cover her mouth, taking a breath and shaking off her dizziness.

It was scarcely a second's reprieve but it was enough for Fontaine to drag himself back to his feet and try to push his brief advantage. He pulled out two more bottles of chloroform that were holstered at his hip before haphazardly dropping them to the floor at his feet and moving forward to meet the heroine. Protected as he was by his face-mask, the toxic fumes that surrounded him were the best defence he had against the hooded woman and they even allowed for him to try and become the aggressor in the confined space of the locker room. With no choice but to go through her anyways to get out the room, Fontaine launched himself towards the Pariah.

The dark heroine reacted quickly, being prescient to the danger that the stalker posed now that she realised he was covered in chloroform. She focused her will back through her cloak, causing the tail to coil up and strike at Fontaine. The bunched-up point of the tail swung around and knocked the stalker from his side, feeling like a car had just backed into him and smashing him hard against the wall.

But Fontaine endured the punishment and kept his forward momentum going, fully aware that if he could just get in close to the lithe woman that the vapours around him, and that were building up within the room, would do their work. He continued to stagger forwards, catching the heroine by surprise with his persistence and managing to wrap his arms around her waist to pull himself in against her.

'Hah!' he exclaimed, his voice sounding strange and muffled within the mask. 'Breathe it in, sweet cheeks,' he panted as he tightened his grip on the heroine.

Pariah's blue eyes fluttered slightly in her head and her tight body noticeably relaxed in the stalker's arms as the thick vapours did their insidious work on her. However despite the recent chain of events and the clear sapping of the heroine's strength, the Pariah was grinning back at Fontaine.

The stalker's own triumphant smile fell from his face as he realised the vigilante had allowed him to take a hold of her.

With his own arms locked around Pariah's waist to hold on to her, Fontaine was helpless to protect himself as her hands moved up to swiftly unseal his face-mask and bring it back to delicately seal it over her own face. The stalker reflexively let go of the heroine to desperately try to reclaim his mask, but the heroine was already ready with her next move. With his mask stolen, the light in her eyes intensified as she enveloped Fontaine in a bubble of telekinetic force and threw him, once more, back against the lockers.

Fontaine could only grunt in protest as he collided with the lockers for the second time, desperately trying to hold on to his last lungful of clean air. As he fell back to the ground he watched the heroine slyly back away to the entrance to watch his demise within his own chloroform fumes. Despite his breath being held he could still feel his strength withering away and his nausea spiking under the influence of the vapours that coated him and surrounded the room. His whole body ached with the severe beating he had taken, and it was a struggle to work his limbs as he scrambled back to his feet.

Outwitted, outmanoeuvred, and outgunned, Fontaine knew the fight - if it deserved to be called that - was over. But he'd be damned if he was going to go out like a meek victim - like all the other common thugs the heroine dealt with.

He was going to go out swinging.

Fontaine willed his body to move, ignoring all its protests as he forced it into a run to escape the cloud of vapours while he franticly tore himself free of his chloroform-soaked shirt. His strength gave out just as he cleared the toxic fumes and he collapsed back to the ground to skid to a halt at the heroine's feet, barely a few feet away from the doorway out to the workshop.

With effort he lifted his head to look up at the woman standing in the doorway as she calmly detached his mask from her face and tossed it away. Her blue eyes glared down at him contemptuously as she came forward to finish him.

The stalker found himself grinning up at the heroine as she came for him, almost on the verge of laughter. The whole encounter had been an unremitted disaster, and Fontaine couldn't help but see the comedic value in it. He could imagine how he might tell the story of his attempt to hunt the Pariah, and it came off like some kind of tragic comedy.

She was ridiculous; the red mistress had no idea what she was dealing with.

He dearly wished that he had got the chance to stalk her. The thought pained him far more than anything else he was suffering.

'Heh... You kinda... caught me… at a bad time, toots… Fighting... ain't really my thing,' Fontaine rasped as he weakly lifted a taser from his belt and tried to point it towards the heroine.

Pariah casually kicked the taser out of his hand and raised her fist up, 'You're annoying,' she said bluntly before...

The heroine suddenly whirled around to face away from Fontaine and her cloak tail swept around with her to unfurl in front of her. There were multiple loud gun shots from the workshop and Fontaine could hear the bullets impacting against the cloak-shield. As soon as the shots stopped firing, the heroine released her hold on the cloak and instead seemed to focus on something Fontaine couldn't see. He heard something heavy clatter to the ground in the workshop, followed by a cry of pain from someone - presumably whoever had fired the shots. Then the heroine charged back out into the workshop in a blur of motion, clearly following up on whatever she had just inflicted on the poor fool who had just saved Fontaine.

As Fontaine heard a series of knocks and thumps that could only be the heroine pounding the hell out of his saviour, he wearily climbed back to his feet. Finally with a stroke of good fortune, the stalker intended to make the most of the opportunity to escape. He limped out of the locker room and turned away from the sounds of violence to make a break for it through the workshop.

He heard a last gurgle of resistance from the brave thug before there was a distressing crump , and silence settled back in over the garage. Fontaine could see unconscious men strewn around the workshop floor as he picked his way between car lifts and stacks of tyres, and he figured that last guy was probably the last of Grail's crew who had yet to be dispatched by the cloaked woman.

The eerie silence around the workshop seemed to confirm that notion.

Then Fontaine heard soft, rapid foot-falls as the heroine started hunting him down again. He hadn't looked over his shoulder when he left the locker room but he reckoned it likely that she had been aware of his departure and she probably already knew what direction he had gone. He felt his urgency rising as the foot-falls grew closer at an alarming rate, and he willed his body to move faster as he continued to weave a route through anything that could obscure line of sight. He passed between two vans that had been jacked up, breaking into a full-blown run as he rounded the vehicles in the hopes he might be close enough to the rear fire-exit to get there before the heroine spotted him.

It was a long shot, and he knew it wasn't likely going to work, but it was the best play he had.

Instead he ran headlong into the Ogre as he rounded the vans.

Fontaine gasped with surprise as he was met with the hulking beast, literally bouncing back off the Ogre's tattooed chest. 'Jesus,' he breathed, surprised to be feeling such relief at finding the Ogre. 'You make an amazingly little amount of noise for a big fella, don't you?'

Ogre sneered down at him, looking entirely nonplussed by the situation they found themselves in. 'Hello stalker, were you going somewhere?'

Fontaine ignored the menace in the brute's tone, 'She's here, jackass, it's time for you to go to work.' He nervously glanced over his shoulders, 'She's all yours, big guy, go knock yourself out.'

Ogre gave a half-shrug of his wide shoulders, ‘There is no rush, stalker. I shall crush the interloper when she appears before me.’

Things were now really looking up for Fontaine. With the Ogre here there was an obvious and immediate barrier for the heroine to deal with if she was going to chase after him through the fire-exit. Suddenly the stalker's chances of escaping the garage were skyrocketing. There was no way she would ignore the Ogre - and there was absolutely no way the Ogre would allow himself to be ignored - so Fontaine was now guaranteed a chance to get away and hide.

His mind started racing as he realised he could not only escape but he could even get his chance to stalk the heroine. In spite of it all, things could actually go as planned - as they were meant to.

He flashed the Ogre a wide grin as he started to move past him. 'Well... Good luck, big guy. I think you may need it.'

He was stopped by one of Ogre’s large hands moving up to grasp his chest and push him back a step.

Fontaine tried to brush Ogre’s hand away but it was like trying to move a statue. He fired a quizzical look up at the big man, ‘What the hell are you doing?’

Ogre’s lips curled into a disdainful snarl and he growled low in his throat as he looked down on the stalker. ‘You are such a pathetic little man,’ he spoke deeply as he raised his hand up to grip Fontaine’s neck in a vice-like hold, ‘I don’t know how you can stand it, stalker – it vexes me just to look upon you.'

Fontaine clawed at the hand around his throat as Ogre’s hold started to choke him. Panic surged through him as he realised how serious his predicament was, and it made it difficult to think clearly about what he could do to stop it. ‘You… bastard,’ he croaked, ‘Wh…Why?’

Ogre looked down at him dispassionately as he started to lift Fontaine up in to the air by his neck, bringing his feet off the ground. ‘Hmm, you ask a philosophical question, stalker. I fear you don’t have the time to get into the nuances of such a deep question as “why”. I assume you’re curious why I’m murdering you,’ Ogre inclined his head as he mused, acting as though throttling Fontaine one-handed was no effort whatsoever. He continued to speak over the vain chokes and non-verbal protests of the stalker, ‘There are many, many answers for that one: you annoy me; you are within reach; you are a disgusting, hapless parasite; you almost certainly intend to interrupt my sport with the Pariah; or, perhaps most importantly, you are a mouse that lives as though it were a lion, and it offends me.’

Fontaine felt the grip around his neck constrict even further as Ogre adjusted his massive hand into position to snap his neck. He didn’t bother trying to reach for any of his remaining tools or weapons; he knew they would all be utterly useless against the Ogre. All he could do was uselessly struggle, unable even to voice his outrage at being double crossed right when things were starting to look up. Instead of being knocked out by the Pariah, he would be killed by the Ogre.

It wasn’t even funny. Unable to do anything else, he stared down into the Ogre’s soulless eyes to show his defiance as he braced for his end.

‘It is good to see you face your death with some dignity, stalker. I must confess I did not expect that from you,’ Ogre said with a hint of begrudging respect. ‘Now die.’

The pressure on Fontaine’s neck grew until…

The ground around both men was impacted with multiple small ball-bearings which ignited into dense clouds of black smoke. Just as the pellets exploded, a toolbox, lit in hues of ethereal blue light, fired into the Ogre’s face so hard that it deformed on impact. As the big man reeled backwards from the blow, Fontaine could just make out the form of the dark heroine moving through the smoke, running and spinning her whole body behind a round house kick to the back of the Ogre’s head.

The Ogre blindly swatted about himself as if trying to dissuade a wasp, causing the heroine to dodge around, gathering up a ball of force in her hands as she moved, and unleash a blast of telekinesis right into his chest. It was a far, far greater show of force than Fontaine had yet seen, almost blinding him with the brilliant intensity of the light, and it hit the Ogre like a bus. The explosive release of energy dissipated the smoke in an instant and fired the big man across the workshop, sending him through the door to the manager’s office.

Mercifully for Fontaine, he didn’t join Ogre on his journey back to the office. Instead the beast had released him as he had instinctively tried to arrest his flight across the room. Fontaine landed awkwardly as Ogre disappeared in a shower of splinters through the office door, amazed to still be in one piece.

Quickly getting a hold of himself he propped himself back up and checked around about him for signs of the Pariah. He anticipated she would be breathing down his neck and eager to finish him off, but was surprised to see she was prowling away from him, towards the office. She was clearly intent on finishing the Ogre, deeming him – correctly – the greatest danger in the garage.

Discarded and forgotten, Fontaine carefully picked himself up off the ground and backed away from the Pariah, slowly moving himself towards the garage shutters. He didn’t dare get his hopes up that he could yet escape this rollercoaster ride of contrasting fortunes – he felt that any second the heroine would realise she hadn't finished him off yet, and spin around to deal with him.

He felt like he was backing away from a hungry bear.

From somewhere unseen through the office door, Fontaine heard a deep, throaty chuckle that built into a loud and powerful belly-laugh that echoed all around the garage.

The stalker turned away from the sight of the Pariah marching towards the source of the crazed laughter.

‘You two deserve each other,’ he muttered bitterly as he slunk away into the shadows of the workshop.

And just like that, he was back on plan.
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There we have it, folks. I'm really glad to have this part behind me, it really threw up alot of issues for me and I feel that now my writing time directed to this is going to be far more productive. I am really keen to know if you guys liked this part or if you pretty much hated it... I know the main focus of these stories ought to be heroine peril, and this part was ALOT of words with very little peril - but I hope you see that it is building up to a big pay off, peril wise. This was something crazy like 6K words, so I feel it probably should have been way more to the point... but at the same time I'm actually pretty chuffed with what I got. I like what this does for the parts I know I will do next. Anyways, I'll crack on with part four tomorrow and see if I can get that out in the coming weeks. Stay tuned for part four: The Ogre! Expect a TONNE of danger peril and maybe quite alot of sexual peril... The poll was sort of indecisive on that one.

Feedback on this part (whether you enjoyed it or hated it) will really help guide the way for me on how I do the next part. Thanks for your patience, guys.
Last edited by Void 7 years ago, edited 4 times in total.
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valugi
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I enjoy a well-developed story, then it is going very well in my opinion
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I am LOVING the Pariah character and I really, REALLY like the way you wrote up these last instalments, minimizing her peril via her mostly dominating success. At the same time, the "hint" of peril you introduced is deliciously enticing! I can't WAIT to read your next instalment!

As for how I would like to see things proceed. I am hoping that she has a good battle with Ogre, but honestly, overcomes him without tooooooo much difficulty. I am much more, shall we say "hoping" that her actual peril to come is at the hands of Fontaine, whom is able to exploit her distraction / resulting fatigue from her battle with Ogre.

Alternatively, I think it would be REALLY exciting if after she get past Ogre, then has trouble against Fontaine, but still overcomes him with a little bit of peril, but not too much, that her REAL peril comes from an even more unlikely source, at the hands of one or two of the previously thought defeated henchmen. :-)

Anyway, regardless, loving the Pariah character and your stories. Keep up the terrific work ... and please, work FASTER! ;)
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Thanks guys, I've started on the next part and it should be up around this time next week. I'm swithering about just how epic the encounter with Ogre is going to be - I had initially planned for it be a mega fight complete with dramatic flashbacks and everything - so that is holding me up a tiny bit, but at the same time I think I'm going to let that organically work itself out as I write it. In the mean time...

As the first episode of these stories falls into the murky depths of the second page of the story section, with the second episode soon to follow it, I thought I would pay some tribute to a few stories that I've found on this site that have fallen silent for so long that I'm not sure it's still okay to comment on them. It's a nice thing to do to highlight some stories that you could easily miss that have dropped into obscurity, and it offers up some cool stories for you guys to hopefully enjoy during the wait for the next part of this story. It's also a bit of a consolation/apology for how slow I have been in adding in new parts.

So here we go. I should start by saying it is well worth sifting back through the older stories on the forum, if you get the time, for hidden gems because I think there's loads of cool stuff back there.

Kicking things off we have this fun little romp by rb9: http://www.superheroineforum.com/viewto ... f=9&t=8495 For a really brief but fun Ivy story, this ticks a lot of boxes for me. I actually think I read this story before, back when I merely dabbled with looking at this sort of content, way, way back in the day. I may have a rose-tinted thing going on with it, but it's still an enticing read.

Next up we have Dr Dominator's batgirl story that made good use of Clayface as a perilous enemy - that character really lends himself well to sleazy scenes with a heroine, and this story demonstrates that brilliantly - http://www.superheroineforum.com/viewto ... 38&t=20476. You'll all be familiar with his superb Wonderwoman versus the superheroine serial killer story, but you may have missed this one posted in the dungeon. If you want a shorter story focused on batgirl that isn't afraid to get right into its peril, you can't go far wrong with this. It's grown on me more and more, and I hope Dr D does more like this.

Also from the dungeon we have this beast of a story from Batgirl 1969 (although it is far from clear if Batgirl can take all the credit for it) - http://www.superheroineforum.com/viewto ... =39&t=9637. It is a pretty long tale, so it will keep you busy for awhile, but it is well worth the effort. It's a proper defeat story concerning Batgirl falling into the dastardly (and I mean DASTARDLY) manipulations of the Joker. As you'd expect from the dungeon, it is pretty hard-hitting stuff, but it is done really well and although it's already received a fair amount of love, I wanted to tip my hat to it. Look out for a fantastic second chapter that gets extremely sexual without ever being in any way graphic or explicit, and also look out for the awesome, dark ending which really compounded the heroine's fall from grace. The ending dialogue from the Joker is chilling and horrible and I love it.

Finally I'd like to give a shout to all of Ladyjane's stories. There's a few if you work your way back through the pages in the story section, and each one is well worth a visit. The one I reckon least people have seen is this one - http://www.superheroineforum.com/viewto ... =9&t=11458. I really, really like what she did with perspective in this story and I wish there was more out there like this - I often consider having a go at it myself. I love the use of 2nd person, and the whole scene is wonderfully intimate between the writer and the reader. But all of Lady Jane's stuff deserves revisiting in my opinion, so go check it out.

Oh, and while I'm paying tribute, you should check ALL of this out if you haven't already - http://www.dangerbabecentral.com/xpage/ ... ories.html A super powered heroine who gets physically weakened by arousal and pleasure, written amazing well against every sort of villain and peril you can think of (well, there's a massive variety at any rate). If you like sex to be the focus of the peril then you'll love this. Perhaps it lacks depth or character, but it is still done very well and it was a game changer for me when I first found it.

Hope you guys enjoy!
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flirty_but_nice
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Void wrote:...
Oh, and while I'm paying tribute, you should check ALL of this out if you haven't already - http://www.dangerbabecentral.com/xpage/ ... ories.html A super powered heroine who gets physically weakened by arousal and pleasure, written amazing well against every sort of villain and peril you can think of (well, there's a massive variety at any rate). If you like sex to be the focus of the peril then you'll love this. Perhaps it lacks depth or character, but it is still done very well and it was a game changer for me when I first found it.

Hope you guys enjoy!
Mmmm, I LIKE the concept, but then, you already know that because of how I have my Aurelia heroine repeatedly thrown off track by the intoxication of arousal. I have read the first chapter at the link you recommended and really liked it. The affect of arousal is different than in my stories on my Aurelia character, but I like this take very much as well.

Thanks a bunch for the recommendation!
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Jenn (aka Flirty)
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Ms.Marvelous for me is one of the best stories I've ever read in this style has lots of dangers, with a heroine beautifully crafted story and a lot of determination to try and go through all the adversity, with also quite interesting villains. Too bad he does not update with new stories.

When I was reading Pariah story I saw some traces of the writing of Steven Bell.

I'll also recommend a history of only two chapters called F-Force is phenomenal with great scenes of danger and great villains, sorry that I did not think anything more of this writer and the e-mail that talks to him is off.

http://www.dangerbabecentral.com/xpage/stories/chez.htm
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Thanks for the link, Valugi! I enjoyed that, and it took me by surprise that there was anything left on that site that I hadn't found yet. I particularly like how the author managed to describe combat - there's some really nice descriptions of complicated movements that read very smoothly. I wish I could do that!

Funnily enough I tried to avoid anything that would be similar to Steven Bell's stuff - but I suppose I sort of tripped myself up at the start with a blonde heroine who's powers get shut down when she gets distracted by pleasure... Doh! I really do think a lot of Steven Bell's stuff, so I take any comparison to him as a mega-compliment.
Lost in the night, and there is no morning.
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Here we go! We're finally at the confrontation with Ogre - I'm sorry we took so long to get here. I'm excited and scared, and I haven't even written a word of it yet! However I've had the rough outline of this ready in my head for months and months, so I feel like I'm about to dictate the events of a film as I watch it, and I know it's going to be a violent film. There will be a mini intro to this part which you guys may feel is out of place and stupid - in which case I will just edit it out - and I'm worried right out the gates that the coming content may warrant a mod's wrath/moving the story to the dungeon. If a mod feels this is better suited to the dungeon, could you message me instead of moving it, so that I can tone it down? I'd rather keep all the Pariah stories in the same part of the forum. I have tried to contextualise it all well and I’m *implying* a lot more than I am actually *showing* - so hopefully we’re okay. Hopefully…


*Tightens random ninja bandana* Let's do this thing.


Part Four: The Ogre


******Fourteen years earlier...******


Word only reached Father Mallick as dawn broke. The baker's boy, Luka, had seen the men in camouflage jackets and heavy boots arrive late in the night on the back of a blacked-out governmental truck. They had convened with the frightened, angry mob of men from the village being led by elder Zhirko, and the mob had led them up the hill towards the Orlov farmstead.

They had gone for the ogre boy.

Father Mallick's stomach had twisted in his gut as he heard the news, knowing that he would be much too late to talk down the emotional mob and fearful of what their madness had made them do in the night. Generations of bitterness towards the Orlov family had boiled over into a toxic mix of rage and terror against the Orlov's son when his unnatural ability had been discovered. The inclusion of the army's call to contain all 'freaks' had been the final pull on the strained tension holding the madness back, and Father Mallick knew in his bones that Zhirko's mob had lost all touch with their reason.

As he ran up the hill towards the farmstead, seeing that it trailed thick, black smoke, he prayed to God that the mob had reserved their collective ire only for the ogre boy. He already knew the boy would be dead, but he yet hoped the rest of the family had been spared the chaotic wrath of the people.

He tried to ignore his disgust and his outrage at the men he had known for their entire lives as he continued to run through his exhaustion toward the smoking building, doing his best to choke back the growing lump in his throat. His troubled thoughts kept returning to his part in all of this - to his abject failure to prevent it from happening.

Nearing the buildings he saw the truck parked haphazardly in front of the manor entrance, though he saw no signs of anybody moving around. He came to a stop to rest against the truck, trying to catch his breath as he gazed around the still, silent farmstead.

The door to the manor had been busted open and left ajar, allowing Father Mallick to get a partial view of the ransacked interior of the home. The top floor of the building had been scoured by a fire that had collapsed much of the roof and charred the walls a dirty black. His gaze was drawn to the barn next to the manor, seeing the prone form of Gregor Orlov lying in a congealed pool of his own blood. The head of the Orlov family's eyes were still open, frozen in a look of terror at some unknown executioner.

Mallick's whole body went heavy as the sight confirmed his very worst fears.

Father Mallick wept silently as he approached his old friend, seeing the man had been badly beaten and stabbed before he had finally been shot to death. No doubt he had fought like a man possessed trying to protect his family, but it hadn't been nearly enough to stop the mob. 'Oh Gregor...,' Mallick whimpered under his breath, coming to a halt at the side of his body, 'I...,' Mallick brought a shaking hand up to his mouth as he choked back a sob, 'May God forgive us, Gregor.'

There was a movement within the barn that caused Father Mallick to look up from the miserable sight - and his mouth fell open in shock as he was met with something altogether more disturbing.

In the centre of the barn was a mound of bodies. These weren't the Orlov family; these were the men - all of them - who had come to the farmstead, baying for blood.

The men were strewn about in a mutilated heap of gore, each with a more vicious array of wounds than the other. Father Mallick stumbled inside in dumbstruck horror as his eyes moved from one butchered man to another, seeing the faces of men he knew well and seeing the occasional face of one of the military men that he did not.

They had not been shot or stabbed - they had been torn apart.

'Oh my God,' he exhaled, bringing his hands up to cover his nose and mouth as the smell of the gore hit him all at once.

'God isn't here, Father,' came a deep, cold voice from somewhere in the darkness of the barn.

Mallick jumped with fright as he heard the voice, scanning around the room as he sought to find where it came from. 'Dimitri? Dimitri, is that you?'

As Mallick went to take a step his foot scraped something on the floor, causing it to roll away and produce a cascade of quiet metal clinks. Mallick looked down to see the floor all around the barn was littered with countless casings of spent ammunition.

'Dimitri was here, Father,' the voice replied. 'However he was killed in the night. They killed him twelve times, in fact. He begged and he pleaded with the men but they laughed in his face; they tortured him and they tortured his family long into the night.'

Mallick cautiously walked around the barn in search of the voice, 'Dimitri... what have you done? Did you do this?'

'I told you, Father. Dimitri is dead. He died while he watched his sisters being raped again and again. He died as his mother pleaded with men she had helped to raise for their mercy, mercy which they showed her at the points of knives and in making her suffer the same wretched treatment as her daughters. They all begged, they were all defiled, and then they all died, one after the other.'

Father Mallick gave up on searching for the voice as he listened to its words. He dropped down to his knees, 'My God, Dimitri... I am so sorry. I failed your family.' Mallick lowered his head in shame, feeling himself being overwhelmed by the storm of emotions. 'This is such madness... How did we get to this?'

'Dimitri and his papa were very weak, Father,' the voice answered calmly, 'They could not protect their family; they couldn't even protect themselves. The strong crushed the weak, as it always has and as it always will. It isn't madness, Father, it is nature - it is the one truly sane thing about this world. The very same law was expressed when I killed them all. They were helpless to stop me, so I slaughtered them. They knew it even before I did, Father. They saw their doom in me and they simply tried to stop me first - you might do the same if you found your natural predator. Alas, they were much, much too weak, and they merely hastened their end by coming to me.'

Mallick shook his head as he listened, 'You are a traumatised boy, Dimitri. You know not what you are saying...'

'I keep telling you,' the voice growled, 'Dimitri is gone, Father. He is dead, much like his family and much like these pathetic animals. They all died like cattle - suffering the inevitable, deserved fate of the weak.'

'Please, Dimitri... you can come back from this,' Mallick said imploringly as he started looking back around the shadows of the barn, 'Let me help you, let...'

'Stop. Calling. Me. Dimitri.'

Something heavy was suddenly moving around within the barn.

'These animals came to kill a monster, and they found one. They found me.'

It emerged from within the pile of corpses, shambling from them like a living nightmare and reaching for Father Mallick with its many bloody hands.

Mallick could only gasp in horror as it picked him up off the floor to cradle in its many arms like a living doll. He looked up into its inhuman, bestial face and had to fight the desire to scream.

It leered down at him, 'Soon I will return to the village, Father. I'm going to kill them all. I promised these men, before I ripped their lives from them, that I would visit each of their families - like a true monster should.' It looked over Mallick's shoulder to gaze out the barn doors towards the village at the bottom of the hill, 'When the sun goes down tonight there will be no one left but me.'

'You... you are not Dimitri,' Mallick spoke through trembling lips, 'Who are you?'

Its soulless eyes focused back on him. 'I am exactly what they came to find. I am the Truth that they expressed to the Orlov family. I am Ogre.'

Mallick heard a wet crack, and then there was nothing.

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******Now...******


Pariah had found her monster.

She had known it the moment she had laid eyes on the big brute. It wasn't just his imposing build or his willingness to kill his supposed ally; it was also the air of absolute confidence that he projected, as if he was completely untroubled by the events taking place in the garage. Pariah had seen boldness born from ignorance or stupidity, and she had seen boldness born from storied experience - and this man was most definitely the latter.

Everything about his body language and manner conveyed that he considered himself superior. It was an attitude prevalent among metas, and it was the clearest indicator of all that this was her man.

After watching him for a moment from the shadows to try and glean more information about him, she had been forced to intervene when he betrayed his colleague - much as a small part of her was tempted to let him kill the slippery thug from the locker room.

Judging the tattooed giant to be the meta she was searching for, and not wanting to take any risks with him, she had gone right to the upper-end of violence she was prepared to use. She set on him with attacks that were each weighted to decisively put him down. Firing the toolbox into his face alone was at the absolute limit of risking permanent damage, and yet she had continued her onslaught, following up on her first move with equally ruthless strikes. She had used the full strength of her powerful body to deliver a thunderous kick to the back of the man's head, and she had proceeded to gather and unleash a focused blast of telekinesis the likes of which she hadn't used since the night Kamura died. The close-range concussive blast had launched him across the room and through the door to the manager's office as if he had been fired from a cannon. She even surprised herself with the excessive force used in that final attack, feeling an instant tightening in her stomach as she feared that she had gone too far.

Ignoring the piercing pain in her head caused by the use of her telekinesis, Pariah had immediately stalked after him to check how seriously she had injured him. Much as she judged the big man to be more durable than the average person she still knew she should of held back a little more than she did. In all likelihood she had broken most of his ribs, ruptured some of his internal organs, damaged his spine and cracked his skull - she hoped it wasn't any worse than that.

Instead he was laughing.

The booming laughter resounded loudly around the walls of the garage, sounding like the man had just heard the punch line to a hilarious joke. Pariah could just make out his large silhouette in the darkness of the office as he climbed sluggishly back to his feet, his whole body shaking under the force of his laughter. There was no sign in his movement that he was in any pain or had suffered any damage at all, and his mirth gave even stronger testament to how unharmed he seemed to be.

A monster that can't be killed, Pariah thought to herself, remembering the words of the thug she interrogated out in the parking lot concerning the meta that awaited her. She grimaced under her hood as she realised the balancing act it was going to be to put this man down. If he had higher limits than the average person - and he clearly did - then that meant she had no idea how much punishment would be enough to take him out of the fight and how much would be too much. She also felt a small measure of relief that she hadn't overdone it with her initial attacks - seemingly she could have afforded to go much further.

She allowed herself a quick sideways glance at the bearded miscreant from the locker room limping towards the shutters. It was mildly impressive the man could still move after the punishment he had suffered, and Pariah felt a pang of frustration that he was going to escape her following their tussle in the locker room, but she knew that the laughing giant demanded all of her attention for now. Perhaps if she could finish the giant quickly enough she would be able to catch up with the limping thug.

'Pariah!' the big man called out, his voice deep and rich with an eastern European accent. 'You know how to make an entrance - that is good. I think I might like you.'

He grabbed the desk in the office and threw it like a spear through the doorway towards Pariah in once clean movement.

Pariah's eyes widened in surprise at the speed the big man managed to impart on to the heavy desk, and she broke her stride to dodge to the side of the flying object, only narrowly avoiding it by a couple of inches. The desk flew past her with enough velocity to generate a slight wind that ruffled her cloak, and it impacted on one of the jacked vans with enough force to literally explode into jagged fragments and splinters. The chassis of the van contorted inwards from the force and the whole van fell to its side as the energy from the collision diffused through it.

Though it was only a couple of seconds, Pariah drank in all the details and assessed their implications. He's very strong and he's very resilient. I can't afford to take a single hit from this guy...

Her thoughts were interrupted by the telltale click of a gun being primed, and her gaze returned to the tattooed giant to see he had drawn two hand-held sub-machineguns from within his sleeveless jacket. No sooner had she recognised the danger than he opened fire, bathing the garage in the cacophony of his weapons' firepower.

She summoned the tail of her cloak to shoot in front of her and uncoil in her defence, creating a hasty wall which she enveloped within the blue glow of her telekinetic will to hold in place. The bullets impacted the wall as soon as it was up, arriving like a sudden downpour of heavy rain and leaving a clear imprint in the taut material of the cloak for each bullet it stopped. Pariah winced slightly under the mental strain to keep the deluge of bullets at bay, with each impact requiring more force on her part to maintain the position of her nano-bonded cloak.

Pariah could hear heavy foot-falls as the big man trudged out of the office towards her. His continued fire kept her pinned and momentarily blinded from seeing him, but she was already preparing for when his shooting ceased - for when his weapons clicked dry. She knew the models he was carrying only had thirty rounds in their magazines and she patiently counted them off to be ready to move at the soonest possible moment.

The footsteps grew louder and closer. The number of bullet-dents in the cloak became so frequent and numerous that it was hard to pick out individual dents.

Then his weapons clicked empty.

Pariah immediately fired a wave of force into her cloak, projecting the sixty bullets she had caught in it back towards the oncoming man in a hail of flak. She swept her cloak aside to see the big man standing barely a few feet away, discarding his guns and completely ignoring the explosive wave of shrapnel firing over him as he dived forwards to punch her. He didn't even flinch as the fragments of used ammunition covered him in dozens of tiny flesh wounds.

He moved much faster than his size and apish demeanour suggested. Pariah only just dodged to the side of his heavy fist, and was forced into similarly close evasions as the big man continued his assault. There was no technique to his punches, no finesse or style; there was only raw, crushing force. He continued to lunge after the heroine, throwing punches with the full force of his body and with absolutely no regard for any form of defence. His strength clearly translated into alarming speed as he barraged Pariah with one haymaker after another, leaving her with little time to consider anything other than getting out the way of his next hit.

His recent display of strength meant that Pariah wasn't even considering attempting to block his attacks. Even with her telekinesis she wasn't sure her mental strength would be greater than his physical one, and she was loathe to risk her life on the attempt. She had undergone intense physical conditioning in her time, and she knew how to take a punch, but she was certain any impact from this man's fists would kill her - or at least knock her out of the fight.

Every time she tried to dart back out of his reach he simply followed her, diving from one overextended lunge into another. Each attack sailed perilously close to hitting her, forcing her to rely on her sharp reflexes and instincts to remain just out of harm's way.

Pariah's blue eyes were wide and unblinking as she studied her adversary. There wasn't a mark on him. None of her attacks had left any trace on his muscular body, though she was positive she had marked him with each of her earlier attacks. Barely seconds earlier she was sure the flak of spent bullets she had showered over him had drawn blood - yet there was no trace of it now.

He's healing or regenerating somehow, she thought as she tried to assess him, He must be. He isn't just resilient and strong - his wounds heal almost instantly. It would explain the reputation that he can't be killed, and it explains his brazen attitude.

Darting aside from yet another of the big man's strikes, Pariah gathered her focus into the tail of her cloak and sent it up over her head to strike him in the centre of his face. She put a lot of force into the tail-strike and it was enough to stun the big man, sending him back a few paces. He recovered quickly and was about to resume his flurry of attacks, but the small break in his onslaught had allowed Pariah time to gather together a more potent ball of force. She leapt at him and fired the ball of force, point-blank, right into his face.

Bright blue light flashed from her fingertips as the collection of force was released, creating a satisfying bang as it smacked into the big man's face and carried him backwards to a nearby wall with enough momentum to crack the wall where he struck it. He bounced back off the wall and landed heavily on his knees with his head slumped forward. There was a steady trickle of blood cascading down his face, neatly pooling on the ground beneath his face and marking the ground in thick crimson.

Pariah was breathing heavily now as she drew herself back to a combat-ready stance and carefully watched her rival. She was momentarily dizzy from the exertion of that last attack, feeling a stabbing pain in her head that reported how much she was taxing herself mentally. She knew she had just used an attack that would certainly be fatal to a normal human.

She also knew it wasn't going to be enough to stop the big man from getting back up like nothing had happened. He was far from a normal human.

He shook his head slightly, scattering tiny droplets of blood on to the ground, and then heaved himself back to his feet. The chiselled features of his face were unmarked when it became visible to Pariah, showing no sign at all of where he had been bleeding from or even that there had been blood on his face to begin with. He rubbed one of his large palms over his chin and craned his neck from side to side as he stared back at Pariah.

I'm not having any effect, she assessed coldly as she returned the giant's stare, What's it going to take to bring this guy down?

'Hmph, you truly are telekinetic,' the big man mused, 'The wonders of the meta-human never ceases to amaze me, even now. However I am not like these worthless whelps,' he gestured around at the unconscious thugs littering the workshop, 'You will need to do much more than that if you wish to best me, Pariah - you don't mind if I call you Pariah, do you? It is what the people of Azure call you, but perhaps you call yourself by a different name?'

Pariah was happy for the time to recuperate and to further consider how to handle the big man, so she indulged him.

'It is what you can call me,' she replied icily, 'What I call myself is none of your business.'

She took a step backwards as the big man took a step toward her, something like irritation bristling over his face.

'That means you don't call yourself Pariah,' he said simply, 'You wake up in the morning with a different name, don't you? Perhaps you still use your human name? Something sickening like "Ann" or "Sophie" - something that lets you pretend you're like all the pathetic cattle of the world, even though you know in your heart that it's a foolish pretence.' He gave a derisive snort as he took another step towards her, 'Like a lioness pretending she is a warthog.'

Pariah arched her brow at the hulking figure as she stepped away from him, 'You're reading an awful lot into that. I suppose you have adopted a street name?'

'I have "adopted" nothing,' he spat back at her as he took yet another step towards her, 'I have accepted my identity. Much as you are labelled "Pariah" by the people, I was given a similar name and I embraced it when I learned that it was my true identity. I am Ogre.' The tattooed brute puffed out his chest as he said the last word, his face briefly showing an element of pride.

'Ogre? You're called "Ogre"?' Pariah grinned back at him as she taunted him, carefully taking a step back for each of his steps forward. 'You wake up in the morning and think "I'm Ogre"?'

He growled at her, 'Don't you dare mock me. I was seen for what I was and I was named for it. I accepted it as who I am and what I am. But you... Do you not see that you and I are the same?'

His words caught Pariah off guard. 'What?' she asked, surprised to hear anger in her voice. 'I'm nothing like you. Nothing.'

She stopped backing away.

Ogre stopped approaching the heroine as he noticed his words had affected her. The tattooed features of his face broke into a menacing smile. 'You and I, we are both outcasts; we are both feared by the pathetic sheep that know they cannot control us. They label us as exiles because they see us as their natural successors - and in our hearts we know they are right...'

'Wrong,' Pariah interrupted, the blue light of her eyes flashing fiercely, 'I don't think of myself like that...'

'Oh no?' Ogre shot back at her, 'Look at what you do! You terrorise Azure like a wraith, beating up and hospitalising all who stand before you...'

'I protect people,' Pariah tried to interject, 'I put an end to...'

'Who cares what your reasons are?' Ogre's voice boomed over her. 'You enforce your will, your personal motives, on to those around you. And why do you do this?'

'Because I...'

'Because you can,' Ogre continued with satisfaction. 'You do it because they are weaker than you and you have the power to press your will on to them. The strong decide the fate of the weak; you know this to be true, I can see it in you. It is why you act on your own motives, why you are here right now, and why you pay no attention to the law that demands you cease. It doesn't matter of the police call for you to stop, or if Underhaven demands you submit, or if politicians implore you to surrender yourself to meta-containment. You don't care what they write about you in the papers or whether you are thanked or blamed. You put your will above that of all other considerations, and you do it because you consider yourself above it all. You have the strength to decide what happens and you use it as it pleases you - just like I do.'

The light ebbed slightly in Pariah's eyes, the brute's words were striking a chord with her that she didn't expect. 'No... I... I stop people like you, because if I didn't then you would do more harm. Try to pervert it all you want, but what I do is on another planet from what you do.'

'What you do with your will and what your desires are have little consequence,' Ogre said dismissively. 'All that matters is that you consider yourself superior to the others. You consider yourself exempt from anyone's will but your own, simply by virtue of your strength.' He took a heavy step forwards and gestured his arms up towards the dark heroine, 'There is no shame in it, Pariah. You are better than them. All of these weak fools are beneath the likes of us. The world belongs to the strong to play with it as they desire - it is the Truth. Even if you continue with the charade that you are defending the helpless cattle of Azure, I can tell that you know the Truth as well as I do - don't deny it.'

Pariah took a breath as she stared back at Ogre. His eyes glowered at her as he waited for her to respond, clearly intent on hearing her reaction to his sermon. The rippling muscles of his body were all tensed and ready to resume the fight at any moment, and she knew, whatever her answer, she was about to be embroiled in an intense fight for survival against the beast.

'Maybe,' she said softly, 'Maybe I do act because I feel I have the power to influence things. Perhaps there is arrogance in that - there probably is - and maybe I do think of myself as being above the law. I know I don't always obey it and maybe I'm too comfortable with that. I know that strength can be abused and I agree that the strong often oppress the weak.' She shrugged her shoulders and glanced around at the battered, unconscious thugs, 'I guess you could call what I do to people like this a kind of oppression. I... I do think I'm better than them.'

Her eyes lit back up in bright hues of blue light and she took a step towards Ogre.

'But I feel that way because of what they do, not because they are weak or strong. You keep trying to dismiss the why and the what strength is used for, but that misses the point entirely. Strength can also be used to shelter the weak from oppression, to empower the weak and punish those who abuse them. I am not here because I'm satisfying my own urges or because it pleases me; I'm here because people like you are wrong, and you have to be stopped. I have the strength, and the courage, to at least attempt to stop it - so here I am.'

She took another step closer. The light grew brighter.

'Can you say the same?'

Ogre curled his lip disdainfully at her. 'Semantics,' he hissed. 'You know the Truth but I see now that you are also in denial. How disappointing.' His skin started to take on a greyish complexion as he spoke and his muscles seemed to bulge even larger, causing many of his veins to become more visible under the strain. 'I embrace what I am but you hide from what you are. The people of Azure, or the world beyond, will never accept a freak like you. You can protect them and fight for their weak, pathetic lives all you wish - they will still hound you until your dying day.' His colour was becoming increasingly inhuman and his shape became more distorted as his muscles continued to shift. Even his voice was starting to sound more bestial and guttural. 'Your high-minded ideals mean nothing in the face of the Truth. The strong rule the weak - that is all there is.'

His hulking body rippled as changes from deeper within his frame started to take place. The breath caught in Pariah's throat as she watched the flesh at either side of Ogre's lower torso literally open up, and a pair of grey, muscular arms burst forth to fill the holes.

The four-armed monster lowered itself to the ground in readiness to charge, speaking now with a voice that wasn't at all human.

'Allow me to demonstrate.'

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a very, very difficult decision.

Run for certain safety, or remain for likely pain and death.

A very difficult decision.

After such a recent brush with the beating dished out by the Pariah and the near-murder dished out by the Ogre, Fontaine was fully aware of what dangers awaited him back in the garage. If the Ogre defeated the heroine then it was all too likely he would seek to finish his business with Fontaine, and Fontaine knew he had nothing in his diminished arsenal to offer any resistance to the big bastard. Likewise if the Pariah triumphed, she would similarly look to conclude what she started with Fontaine in the locker room, and he already had a taste of how poor his chances were in that contest. This was all if the cross-fire between the two metas didn't kill him before the fight was even over.

And yet...

Fontaine had never run from a challenge in his life. He was Underhaven's alpha stalker precisely because he took on any job, no matter how audacious, and he made it happen. It took smarts, preparation, and big balls, but with enough of all three Fontaine was convinced anything was possible. He had been born an opportunist, always committing himself to every tiny chance or opening that life gave him - and it was a talent that translated perfectly to the job of stalking women.

For all the adversity he had just faced Fontaine knew that this was a moment rich with opportunity, if he just had the cunning and bravery to seize it. He had the element of surprise back in his favour. He could study the heroine from a distance as he crept up on her, learning everything he could about her to maximise his chances when he struck out from his concealed position - all while she was vulnerable and weakened from her fight.

Just like he had hoped he would be able to, Fontaine would get his chance to stalk the Pariah.

If it came to it, he could also attempt to poach her out from the Ogre if the brute overcame her, but something in Fontaine's gut told him that the hooded woman was something even more formidable than the Ogre. Though the Ogre was terrifyingly powerful and had a monstrous appetite for violence, there was just something about the Pariah that made Fontaine sure she would be the victor. She was too smart, too fast, too skilled, and too refined to be caught out by a brute. Fontaine had seen it in the steely conviction of her eyes and he had experienced it himself as she effortlessly bested him. Where the Ogre was a savage, feral animal, the Pariah was a pedigree hunter, an alpha predator honed over years of practice.

She was a seasoned stalker just as Fontaine was, but her prey was monsters like the Ogre rather than beautiful women - like she was.

It was too good an opportunity to let go - even if it cost him everything to attempt it. Fontaine had to stalk this woman.

Having made his decision, the stalker unslung his duffle bag to re-equip the last of his gear, doing his best to ignore the pressing sounds of the combat between the two meta humans, and then he doubled back around to creep to a better position from where he could study his target. He patiently took his time as he ensured there was no chance he would be spotted sneaking into place, using the distraction of the conflict between the two metas to guarantee he could move unseen between different hiding places.

His heart raced as he heard and watched the contest between the two contrasting figures. Lithe, graceful skill clashed with blunt, brutal power - and both were awe-inspiring in their own way.

Though it took some time, the stalker eventually found his way to an ideal spot to conceal himself and still monitor his quarry. He settled gingerly into position as the two metas geared up for their second clash, both seeming to truly unleash their respective powers.

The stalker grinned nervously as he watched it all unfold. His focus unwaveringly followed the dark heroine as she fought for her life against an increasingly horrific monster. He took in every nuance of her movement, every twitch of her face, every brilliant display of her telekinesis, and every inch of her supple body.

Diligently, he watched for weaknesses.

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Alrighty, I'm stopping the action there for now. As always, there will be some stuff in there that needs editing, and I will get to it. There's alot more to come from the fight with Ogre and I'm conflicted if I should edit it in to this part or continue the action in a seperate part so as to prevent this part not being like 10K words. Do you guys have a preference if it all goes into this part, or if it gets seperated under two parts? How many more times can I say 'part'?

I've thrown more drama and comic-book action into this episode than I did the previous episodes of this series. Is that working for you guys or do you feel its dragging? Either way, the kinkier stuff is on its way. The next episode will also have a much greater focus on sexual peril, I think. Talking of the next episode, do you guys have a preference if Dryad or Mask make a showing? I keep swithering over which of them wants it more. Whoever is in the next episode will mean the other one will be waiting at the big showdown at the Silk Dungeon with Malone and his crew, in the episode after that.

Apologies that this took awhile - I've had a busy week and the near future looks similarly busy as well.
Last edited by Void 7 years ago, edited 5 times in total.
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The wait was not wasted, as this is a really good update. I especially liked the Ogre back story. Amazingly, you actually succeeded in causing me to view him with a degree of sympathy! The build up for the upcoming battle between Pariah and the Ogre is well set up. Ogre is presented as so darn powerful and impervious, though, that impending peril for Pariah will not at all come as a surprise. It's almost more of a case of how the heck can she possibly defeat this formidable foe?!

As for Fontaine, I think you have really set things up well for him being a problem for Pariah down the road, which should come as quite the unexpected surprise to Pariah (unless of course you have her too weakened by the Ogre). Honestly, I almost find myself hoping that Pariah's battle against Ogre is not nearly as difficult as we are expecting, which would make her peril to come against Fontaine all the more delicious, because of how surprising it ought to be. :)

Once again, I am on the edge of my seat waiting for the next installment with much anticipation! A job once again very well done, Void. <applause>
xoxo
Jenn (aka Flirty)
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valugi
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The chapter was really good, I liked the character's origin, as the next episode will think the heroin problem against Ogre and managed to defeat him, about the appearance of perhaps the Dryad would be more interesting, so we balance a little. In waiting for the next
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Pariah Landscape - Copy.jpg
Pariah Landscape - Copy.jpg (423.25 KiB) Viewed 20557 times

*Bam*

So I've been tentatively thinking about wrapping the Pariah stories up into a format that I could take to the kindle market (I'm not taking anything down from here, nor am I thinking about stopping contributing) and I took the plunge and commissioned an image of Pariah that I could use as a bitching cover. So, here we have it! There's things I would tweak, certainly - her fingernails are mega girly here and she shouldn't be topless under the suit, and she's maybe a little bigger up top than I imagined - but other than those foibles, I think it came out really well. What do you guys think? Does it match up with what you had in mind, or is it miles out? For me personally, other than the things I mentioned, I think it hits it perfectly. I love how it captures and conveys the tone of the character. Big, big , big kudos to the artist, Isikol. He is well worth checking out, just generally, and especially if anyone out there is looking to commission an image. I can't recommend him highly enough - as long as you don't mind parting with some moneh.

Thought you guys might get a kick out of that. How does that hit you for a short story cover? It would be a cover for 'New Arrival'.

Anyways. Sadly I haven't even started work on the next part, but hopefully I will do soon. I want to be done with this whole episode before January. Just need the real world to stop spinning long enough for me to do that! I do have an update for the Aurelia story in the dungeon coming pretty soon, though.
Lost in the night, and there is no morning.
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valugi
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The drawing was very good and take the essence of Pariah
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Hey folks! So it's been well over a year... There's a long and interesting story for why it's been so long but I'm not going to bother this post with an update about me - though I might do that after I've updated the story. So for now, *massive* apologies to everyone who was kept waiting for the update. The frustrating thing is I had most of this part written before I even took this break. If this is effectively threadromancy I guess I've then reached the stage where I can't finish the story here - so I hope it's okay.

The story is now written in full and I'll try to drip in the various parts here to line up with the final part falling at the same time as the book gets released on Amazon. As you might expect I had some trouble with this coming part... It got rewrote a number of times, if I'm honest, and even now I'm pretty medium on it and the part that follows. I don't think I even intend to include the flashback that begins this part in the book release - I fear it is too much of a break away from the real action and is too on the nose when it comes to comparing the two characters. We already know this stuff, and I'm not sure that taking a peek at it here is all that helpful. Worse, I think it's indulgent on my part. Feel free to let me know if you would miss it, or if you would prefer the story without it.

Anyways, here it is - hope you enjoy!



Part Five: Clash of Exiles


*****Once...******

'Run! Run! Run!'

The call had peeled out after her, the most desperate, terrible plea she could imagine. It was so primal, so raw, as though her father could propel her to safety by the power of his screams alone.

Screams were all he had left; he had already given everything else to the effort.

'Don't stop running!' the cry came again, his voice threatening to break into a gurgle as he suffered the wrath of the devil that he was holding back. Even in these final, excruciating moments of his life, her father's call was something elemental.

She had been moving even before his call came.

She had forced her shocked body to move, each step like she was moving an unwilling puppet, and she ran from his final moments like an animal from a storm. She had turned away and she hadn't looked back. Even when the call dissolved into incoherent cries of agony, even when the crazed laughter bubbled up from the creatures that held him, even when her father went silent.

She did not look back.

Running was all there was to her. All she could do was process the singular drive to flee, to get as far from this hell as possible. Tears stung her eyes and her weeping was near-hysterical, but she was only aware of her flight. Her panicked gaze raked repeatedly around the path ahead of her, scanning for new things to terrorise her and futilely seeking out any form of shelter.

She had to get away. She had to get to safety. She had to run.

All around her the town was burning, smothering the sky in charcoal-black smoke and filling the air with cloying ash. From some buildings she could hear the cries of other victims, other people desperately begging for their lives or calling out to each other, and she fled past each in turn. She could hear them, too; their amused hoots and bellows sounding out as they revelled in their cruel games.

From the outer reaches of the town she could hear sporadic gunfire that echoed around the surrounding valley, sounding like hundreds of distant explosions. Occasionally there came much louder booms that would arrive along with tremors through the ground at her feet, and she felt the loud reverberations hit her like a wall that shook her entire body. Some were alarmingly close while others seemed very remote, but each made her jump with fright.

There was a war setting into the valley around her, and it was circling closer and closer to her from all directions like a tightening noose.

From behind her she heard the first calls of the devil that had claimed her father. He was coming; he wasn't going to let her go. Her father's defiance had further fuelled his desire for her - even with the world falling apart around them, she knew he wasn't going to stop coming for her.

'Come back, sweety pie!'

She weaved her way through the nightmarish streets, turning sharply wherever she could to try and lose her pursuer. She taxed herself as much as she was able, to keep slamming one foot down in front of the other and to keep moving towards a safety that didn't even exist in her own mind. The effort to sprint while crying was bringing her perilously close to hyperventilating.

Each dread-filled moment passed sluggishly into the next as she pushed through her mounting pain, avoiding real and imagined perils alike as she snaked through the streets of her childhood. Each moment felt like her last, and each moment she braced herself for the manifold terrors of the next.

Behind every turn there were more fresh bodies.

Finally, while making her way through an alley, an especially deafening concussive boom shook her so much that she stumbled to the ground and collapsed with exhaustion. She tried to push back to her feet but her beleaguered body faltered in the effort and she crumbled back to her knees, gasping for air. Momentarily robbed of the ability to flee, she sat in a stupor, unwillingly taking stock of the coiling madness that was taking place around her.

Terror and grief threatened to immobilise her there and then, but she was shaken from her state by hearing the voice of the devil emerging from the other end of the alley.

'Hey, sweetie pie, are you waiting for me?'

He stepped around the corner of the alley, swaggering into view with a smug smile across his panting face. Needle-like spikes protruded from his bare skin, glistening a wet red in the firelight. Around his forearms other, much larger, much darker spikes extended and retracted from his skin as he flexed his bloody hands.

Startled, she tried again to stand but instead stumbled back to the ground. She whimpered and sobbed as she met eyes with the devil, feeling her terror start to freeze her joints.

'Please,' she mewled back to him, 'Please!'

The devil chuckled and licked his hungry lips as he continued approaching her. 'Not tough like your daddy, are you, sweety pie?'

She crawled backwards away from him on her hands and knees, 'Please don't. Please...'

He sneered down at her, 'I think your daddy broke my nose - I wonder how I'm gonna pay the old man back?' The dark blade fully extended from his right arm, 'I think you and I are in for a long night.'

She frantically looked about herself, wishing for someone to come and save her; wishing for there to be someone to step in and stop this nightmare from unfolding.

But there was no one. No knights in shining armour to come to her rescue, no heroes to prevent the pain; only other victims and more killers.

So she wiped her eyes, scrambled to her feet, and she ran.

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******Now...******

It was a furious fight.

The two combatants were a continuous whirlwind of movement, neither giving any ground to the other, as they sought to overwhelm each other with their relentless aggression.

Pariah danced around the Ogre, flowing past his multiple fists with preternatural grace as she evaded every single flurry of strikes he unleashed. The giant monster tirelessly swung for her, always closing with her, always keeping her within reach as his fists fired at her in a blur. Each punch would be a deathblow, but the Ogre struck nothing but air, always missing the heroine by the narrowest of margins.

At every opportunity she struck back at the Ogre, making clean, precise impacts against his face, neck and joints with her lean limbs. Her cloak tail whipped about her like a living thing, striking the beast like a giant fist whenever there was an opening, hitting his face with enough force to punch through brick walls. Some moments the tail wrapped around one of his over-extended limbs and wrenched him further forwards to leave him open for a torrent of counter-strikes from the heroine.

With increasing frequency the heroine unleashed wild bolts of force at the beast that struck with thunderous bangs and rocked him backwards. Some she fired at him like missiles while others she built up in the palms of her hands and struck the Ogre with directly, pulverising him with the explosive bursts of raw force.

Blood misted the garage with each fresh strike she landed. Bones broke and audibly snapped. Arteries were opened, organs were crushed, teeth were shattered. With each passing moment of the frenzy, Pariah crossed new lines of restraint that had been instilled in her - using greater force and inflicting more grievous attacks. A lifetime of learning how to hold back in order to preserve life was being discarded, and in its place she was beginning to turn to the kinds of attacks she was expressly taught to avoid.

The Ogre did not care. He did not slow, he did not tire - he didn't even flinch.

His wounds healed shut twice as fast as the dark heroine opened them, and his bones knitted back together instantaneously after each break. The big brute didn't even grunt with pain.

He just kept coming at her.

Meanwhile her fists, elbows, knees and feet all throbbed with pain. Her mind ached with the sharp tax of using her telekinetic will so freely and it sent waves of nausea through her that threatened to steal away her sense of balance while she needed it the most. She could feel the first trickle of blood in her nose, and knew that her body was starting to struggle with the effort of projecting so much force in so little an amount of time. Throughout her body she could feel the sting of her exertion as it fought to maintain the blistering pace she required of it.

Pariah was handily out manoeuvring the Ogre, raining down blows on him that would mortally wound a normal human, but she was becoming more and more fatigued. With each fresh moment of the frenetic exchange she was starting to tire. She was beginning to slow, her attacks landing less often and with less force, while she was having to make increasingly more desperate evasions to avoid the Ogre's fists.

He... won't... go... down, Pariah thought, feeling a mix of frustration and anxiety as she leapt and pirouetted around the barrage of attacks. He might be... truly immortal.

She didn't even consider attempting to retreat from him. Her only thoughts were of overcoming the monster.

I need space. I need to finish this.

Pariah ducked and weaved around the Ogre, using her cloak tail to snare him and force him to turn with his own momentum, briefly exposing his back to her. She summoned bright balls of force into the palms of her hands while she moved, and she brought them together at the base of the Ogre's spine. She struck her palms into him, releasing all the amassed force in a fizzling explosion of noise and energy that rattled the entire garage.

The Ogre folded back in on himself under the pressure and flew away from her at dizzying speed. He bounced off the ground, crumbling the concrete where he struck it, and then struck the base of the far wall with enough force to shake the ceiling of the garage. The plaster of the wall turned to dust around him and the brick beneath cracked from the floor to the ceiling, partially collapsing around his impact site. The Ogre slumped to the ground and Pariah lost sight of him in the thick cloud of dust that his collision had stirred up.

She wavered on her feet as she scanned for him. Her vision momentarily blurred as her nausea soared to new heights, and she had to wipe away a small trail of blood from under her nose - the first true indicator that she was asking for more of her meta ability than was safe. She spluttered and coughed as she heaved in each shuddery breath, feeling like she had just reached the end of sprinting a marathon.

There was a brief silence in the garage. For a moment Pariah began to hope that the big beast wouldn't be getting back up.

The moment was short-lived.

She heard the deep thuds as the Ogre punched his fists into the ground and hefted himself back to his feet, and she made out his towering silhouette as he righted himself in the swirling cloud of dust. She heard the snicks and the cracks as his inhuman body sowed itself back together. The Ogre shook himself off and then was already stepping out of the dust to return to her.

Pariah wobbled and then crouched down to her haunches to try and regain her stamina, the light of her eyes dimming while she fought to ready herself. She studied the Ogre as he trudged towards her, looking for any sign that she had done lasting damage to him, and finding none.

'Hmph,' Ogre rumbled as he came for her, 'I'd almost forgotten pain - it's refreshing to feel it once more.' He rolled his joints as he neared the exhausted heroine, 'You're as proficient as I'd hoped, Pariah. You possess great strength - but it is a shame that it is belied by your weak character.'

The beast's guttural voice resonated oddly within the room, sounding almost as though his voice was emanating out from the very walls.

Pariah grimaced as she raised herself back up to a combat-ready pose, feeling sore and bruised even though it was the effects of her own successful attacks that afflicted her. I need time to recover, she thought wearily, I need time to figure out a better plan. There has to be a way to keep this thing down.

But the Ogre wasn't giving her any time. The hulking giant broke into an explosive run towards her, eager to resume their combat, and retrieved a heavy-calibre revolver from his jacket with one of his lower arms.

Pariah reacted instantly to the burst of aggression, flashing into a blur of motion to evade him and avoid the deafening shots from his magnum. Ogre tracked her lazily with the weapon, firing off rounds at her without even bothering to sight down the barrel, all while lunging after her with his other limbs.

The heroine dodged the shots with practised ease, resolving to try and counter the Ogre after his six shots were spent, but her plan evaporated as she realised the path of one his shots would hit one of the unconscious thugs on the floor.

It was a moment of instinctive action.

Pariah actively placed herself in the path of the shot, summoning her cloak tail to unfurl in her defence. She gritted her teeth as she strained to maintain the necessary force to catch the heavy bullet, and she had little choice but to remain where she was as the Ogre proceeded to empty the revolver at her. She winced as she maintained her telekinetic will through the composite fabric of the cloak, feeling piercing pain in her head with each violent impact.

One of the Ogre's fists arrived with the last bullet, finally making proper contact with the heroine while she stood sentinel over the thug.

'Offt!' Pariah wheezed as the blow struck her cloak-shield. The force of her telekinesis was overpowered by Ogre's strike, and it followed through, striking her hard on her abdomen. She briefly saw stars as she was lifted off her feet and thrown backwards several feet, skidding across the ground and landing in a winded heap under one of the jacked up vans.

The Ogre snarled with disgust as he rounded on Pariah. 'What? You would sacrifice yourself to the defence of your enemies?' he bellowed, his deep voice thundering around the garage, 'It's not enough that you won't kill your enemies, but you won't even let your enemies kill each other?'

Pariah barely heard him as she lay choking and coughing on the ground. Her toned body was wracked by the air being knocked from her lungs, and even with her training it was a challenge to regain her breath.

The giant prowled towards her, his eyes lit with something approaching outrage. 'What kind of pathetic worm puts their own neck in the noose to save their enemies?' He discarded the empty revolver as he neared the supine heroine, 'All your power, all your strength - and you render it useless, meaningless, with your cowardice!'

Pariah struggled to get back to her feet, hearing the Ogre's loud footfalls coming up behind her.

Get up, get up, get up.

She got to her feet just in time to desperately avoid the monster's onslaught, darting and ducking around his wild swings. The effort took her continuously off balance, with each new evasion even more precarious than the last.

'You are a pointless wretch,' Ogre roared at her, his anger surging higher, 'You say that you are here to "stop people like me"? You won't even allow "people like me" to stop each other! You are so weak-willed that you defeat yourself!'

Ogre suddenly changed his angle of attack and barged forwards towards the wavering heroine. With no time to move aside, Pariah braced herself and crossed her wrists in front of her face. The Ogre's shoulder struck her like a battering ram, and it sent her sprawling to the floor where she skidded across the ground until bumping into the damaged wall that she had fired the Ogre into moments earlier.

Pariah shuddered on the ground as she tried to work her beleaguered body. Everything hurt; it was a minor miracle of her physical conditioning that nothing was yet broken.

Argh... Damn it, she thought, cursing herself for being caught out by the simple move, Get up, Evelyn. Get up and fight.

'Get up,' the Ogre spat at her, 'Stand up, pretender.'

Groaning in discomfort, Pariah pushed herself back to her shaky feet and made to move away from the Ogre, but he was already there. With the wall behind her there was nowhere to retreat to and she was unable to stop the beast capturing her wrists with each of his upper arms. She cried out as he pinned them painfully to the wall over her head, hefting them wide apart and so high that her feet were left dangling off the ground. His lower hands shot out to circle her throat, easily sealing her windpipe within his grip and silencing further protests from the heroine.

Pariah croaked as she tried to lash out at the beast with her legs, battering him with all the strength that she could muster but failing to deter him.

The Ogre lowered his face down to hers, staring at her reddening face with pure hate in his eyes. 'You stop nothing, Pariah. Only death is an ending. Every one you "stop" will reoffend. Every single one. Do you hear me, craven?'

The dark heroine was kicking back against him less often now, instead mustering bolts of force out of the air to fire at his face. The Ogre weathered each blow with a sneer, and, gradually, the bolts would strike weaker and less often, too.

Pariah's face was starting to turn a shade of purple. The light ebbed from her eyes until it was gone altogether. Darkness closed in on her vision.

'Do you take the blame for each crime they commit after the moment you spare them? Hmm?' Ogre admonished her, gripping her wrists tighter, 'When the Ryders kill again - and they will kill again - will it be their fault, or will it be yours?'

Pariah started to go limp, her eyes fluttering open and closed as consciousness threatened to slip away.

'You are a weak woman, with a weak purpose, aren't you? You lack the conviction to do what you must, and instead swaddle yourself in half-measures.' Ogre's face hovered inches from hers as he watched her strength give out. 'You think you have courage, but all I see here is a pathetic fraud.'

Can't... move... him...

'You are no saviour,' Ogre grumbled, 'There are no saviours. There is only Truth.'

One of his hands left her throat and freely slid down her body, roughly fondling the heroine through her tight bodysuit. She croaked a weak protest as his hand painfully squeezed her bosom.

'You live a feeble lie, Pariah,' Ogre tutted, his hand roving lower down to forcefully rub the heroine's crotch, 'You have not yet suffered enough to accept the Truth - you have not yet felt it as I have - but you will.' His hand pushed in between Pariah’s thighs, firmly massaging his meaty fingers up and down the length of her most intimate area through the close-fitting fabric of her suit. His hand pushed further forward until his fingers traced the cleft of her ass through the suit, applying more than enough pressure to feel every single curve and fold of the heroine’s body. His thumb slowly and methodically rubbed the heroine where she was most sensitive, pressing the cool, leathery material of her suit against her crotch with enough force to easily define the lips of her sex. ‘Oh, you will most certainly feel it,’ the Ogre growled hungrily as his thumb pressed higher to rub rough circles around the top of her slit.

Pariah groaned, feeling something dark stirring in her as the Ogre rubbed her. Treacherous heat was unfurling through her body and stealing away her focus as she tried to gather it. She rubbed her thighs together around the hand that was exploring her and bucked her hips back against the wall in a futile effort to get free of the Ogre’s touch, but succeeded only in riding his hand and encouraging him to push harder against her.

The Ogre relaxed his grip at her throat by a small fraction, allowing the heroine to suck in small, shallow breaths to just keep herself from fainting. Pariah moaned despite herself as she took the opportunity to breathe again, feeling totally dominated within the Ogre’s arms.

'I wonder what kind of doll the red mistress will mould you into,' the Ogre mused as he ran his hand back up her body, casually pulling down the zipper of her black and jade bodysuit. 'I wonder how many of the men you spared will fuck you.'

Pariah squirmed helplessly within the Ogre's vice-like grip, completely outmuscled by the brute, as his hand slipped within her suit to roam over her bare torso. Her struggles lessened as she watched the Ogre’s massive hand cup and knead her breasts through her sports bra, her ample bosom looking small within his grip. She could do little but endure it as the giant's hand moved up to callously pull her sports bra up and over her heaving breasts.

Need to get free of him, she thought, trying to remain tactical and set her mind back on freeing herself as she felt the Ogre's hand touch her flesh more intimately. She felt her cheeks flush with shame as he freely touched her, painfully pinching her nipples to emphasise her powerlessness, It can't end like this... I'm better than he is...

The Ogre's gaze roamed down her exposed body, 'How soft you are, Pariah,' his thumb flicked over her right areola, circling around it and teasing the bud at the centre to harden. 'You could have been something fierce and mighty - a monster I could respect - but instead you are this...,' he squeezed her erect nipple between his thumb and forefinger, causing her to gasp softly, '...a weak, cowardly, ineffectual liar, whimpering for mercy. You will learn the Truth at the mistress's feet, and she will make you into a slave befitting of your toothless ideals.'

His grip constricted around her throat, re-sealing her windpipe as he moved his free hand over to tease her other nipple. Pariah's eyes bulged as she was once again starved of breath, and she thrashed uselessly against the arms that held her.

The Ogre looked back up and into her eyes as she felt her world beginning to go dark, 'It is such a shame,' he sighed as her other nipple began to stand up under his touch, 'You are not at all what I hoped you would be. You disappoint me.'

The heroine began to fade, her muscles began to relax and her sleek body went limp.

Ngh... The... wall...

Pariah clawed inwards, pulling forth all the focus that she could muster. The entire time that the Ogre had taunted her she had been preparing her mind for one final bid to escape, and she knew she was out of time to prepare for it. It would be now or never.

Her eyes lit back up a fiery blue as she conjured a glowing bubble of force between her and the Ogre's face. At the same moment she animated her cloak to push back with all she had against the wall behind her. She had already coiled the cloak tail into every crack and crevice in the wall around her, seeking out every point of instability she could to be ready to act when this moment came.

The cloak crunched into the weakened wall, punching through it like a massive claw tightening its grip, and she detonated the ball of force between her and the Ogre. The concussive eruption was like a focused hurricane in the confined space, rocking heroine and beast alike under its force.

The Ogre was implacable; he did not relent.

But the wall did.

There was a cacophony of loud cracks that proliferated up and down the length of the wall, and a metre-long stretch of it simply collapsed around the two metas. With the resistance of the wall gone, and under the force of the explosion, the Ogre tumbled forwards under his own weight, giving a surprised grunt as he failed to arrest his movement.

Pariah and Ogre both fell through the rupture in the wall as the debris fell around them. Pariah half-expected to die in that moment, knocked over the head by a stray brick, but instead she felt something that filled her veins with iron resolve.

The Ogre had released her.

Game on, asshole.

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It was genuinely unsettling to watch.

On a primal, caveman level, Fontaine felt a rising sense of terror at what he was witnessing. It was wrong. These people should not be able to do these things; they both stood against reason, against the way the world was supposed to be.

Seeing the two exiles going at each other was like watching gods collide, and it brought into stark reality the sheer freakish wrongness if what they were capable of. How could any sane man accept a world where people like these existed? None of the rules of physics mattered for as long as beings like these could dance across the boundaries with such impunity.

Fontaine had always known about metas, he had seen plenty of the freaks in his day, but he had never seen them on a level like these two. He had never seen them forced to reveal their powers to this extent, and there was something wounding about now witnessing it.

It scarred him with a sense of powerlessness that he figured he would probably never shake.

The two rivals had battled back and forth across the garage like a tornado of violence, frequently causing the stalker to fear he would be uprooted by the conflict, and he had watched it all, slack-jawed.

Yet for all his distress, Fontaine never took his eyes off the prize. He remained fixated on the lithe form of the heroine, studying her with hungry fascination as she fended off the monster. He admired her every move and marvelled at every flourish of her telekinesis.

She was a beautiful, terrible thing to behold. A wrathful goddess; an Amazonian firebrand.

Fontaine drank it all in, feeling his desire for the woman start to boil over towards need. As each second of the fight unfolded he learned new things about the heroine and picked up on subtle aspects about her that further fuelled his growing obsession with her.

He found himself willing the enigmatic woman on, inwardly cheering for her to defeat the immortal, treacherous bastard. There was no way he would get his shot at her if the Ogre had her, and the prospect caused him more discomfort than the display of super powers did. A knot of jealousy curled in his stomach as he watched the Ogre gradually take the upper hand in the fight - helped along by the heroine's selflessness.

Once or twice he had been tempted to act, but after now seeing so clearly what the Ogre was he did not dare move from his hiding place. He had sat, impudently watching the Ogre paw at the Pariah like she was his toy to play with. Fontaine's heart sank as he took it in, fearful that his prize was going to be taken right in front of him, and he watched enviously as the heroine's body was further exposed by the Ogre.

It did not escape the stalker's notice that, even under these dire circumstances, the woman's supple body was reacting to the brute's touch. He saw the shadow pass over her face as she felt her body's betrayal, and he noticed the seed of doubt creep into her eyes as she was berated by the Ogre.

Just as he began to resign himself to the grief that he would not have this catch, he watched the strength rally back to the woman's eyes. The light blared from her eyes and, right where she was looking, the woman manifested her power once more. Fontaine couldn't help but smile as the Pariah showed her grit and blew both her and the Ogre through the garage wall. His smile became a laugh as he saw the Ogre's hands reflexively let go of the heroine while the big idiot tried to correct his fall into the collapsed wall.

It wasn't just the heroine's escape from defeat that made Fontaine feel such elation.

He had finally spotted the weakness he was looking for.

He now knew everything he needed to make her his.

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******Elsewhere******

There was an irritating ringing. It pierced the veil of his restless sleep like a hot poker, stirring him from a distressing dream about the execution of a princess.

Chris Blake rolled over in his bed, groaning with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. He'd slept a mere hour before this most unwelcome disturbance and he sorely needed the rest. If the ringing had been anything but his work phone he would have stone-walled it without so much as a second thought.

But it was his work phone.

He snatched at the cell phone and answered it without even checking the incoming number. 'Blake,' he rasped, his voice not quite fully working yet.

'Chris, get to the Gate,' Locke's voice came back to him, filled with urgency.

Blake frowned as he tried to process it, 'What? Has there been another incident?' Adrenaline suddenly flooded his system and he sat bolt upright in his sheets, 'Is it the Pariah?'

'It's happening right now. Uniforms are making their way there as we speak. The call outs are describing it like a god-damned war is breaking out.'

He was already scrambling around his room, throwing on cloths. 'Is it her? Is it the Pariah?'

'It ain't Santa Claus, Blake. Finnie's old garage, twenty-third street. Get down there, now.'

Blake pocketed his phone as he raced to the kitchen to collect his keys and gun. He was already turning the situation over in his mind at a rapid pace.

Everything else from the Pariah had been done relatively quietly until now, concealed in the dead of night. This was loud and during the day - what did that mean? It was testament to the affect that she had already had in the Gate that it was even phoned in at all.

He moved down his stairs in a flash as he struggled into his jacket. He at least knew the vigilante was alive, for now at least.

'Hold on,' he muttered to nobody, 'Cavalry is coming.'

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So ends part 5. I think it would need to physically hand out free candy, mountain dew, and playstations to be remotely worth the wait, but there it is. It's a lengthy pain to format the story from a word document to this and I have very little time to dedicate to it, so it may be a week between updates.

I'm also keen to update other open-ended projects I have on this forum (hello, Aurelia) so that may also slow me down some, but bear with me. I'm eager to try and get all this down here before the end of the first week in July, when I'm hoping the book will drop (if I can get the cover sorted).

Stay tuned for part 6: 'The Wolf Appears'. (You didn't think I was done with contrived wolf references, did you?)
Last edited by Void 7 years ago, edited 9 times in total.
Lost in the night, and there is no morning.
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Whew. This is where I read back over it, a piece of work written and edited yonkers ago, and think, 'That really needs editing...'

Anyways, I just want to throw out another apology that this was left in the dark for so long. I've been busy with other projects and commitments - you know how it goes. I am grateful, though, for every single gentle prod or reminder from people to continue the story - without them I'm not completely sure I would have come back to this.

I have missed every development in this forum for about 18 months now, and I am eager to catch up on the many, many, many stories that I've missed. I'll sift through the pile in my own time, of course, but I'll happily take any directions if there's any real gems that I should be putting at the top of the pile. If there was a real corker posted over six months ago, chances are that I won't have the time to find it on my own.
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Void, I'm glad you wrote again, it is no secret that I love this story, and returned as well, this chapter was very good.
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This latest update has me on the edge of my seat, more than ever waiting with excited anticipation to read how Fontaine will do battle with Pariah, after having watched and learned on how she does battle. Mmmm, I suspect it is going to be a tantalizingly saucy confrontation!
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Onwards, to glory!

I fear some among you won't like this part - there's quite a lot of cheese in it... Reading back over it all I am a little worried that I've thrown too much at 'drama' and not enough at 'peril', but I hope you guys still enjoy it.

Rest assured, however, the real 'peril' is coming. My next worry will actually be whether the parts following this one will still be okay in the regular forum, such is their content - though if these flashbacks have been okay then I assume we'll be fine. Incidentally, what's the verdict on them? Are you bemused at them or do they add to the drama of the fight?


Part Six: The Wolf Appears


The world raced around both exiles as they tumbled through the collapsing wall and its bricks showered around them. They fell together from the darkness of the garage into the light of the street, both looking like displaced creatures of the night as they scrambled out into the harsh sunlight.

For heroine and beast it changed nothing; the fight was immediately resumed.

Pariah had adjusted her costume even while falling through the wall, snapping a hand up to pull her sports bra back into position while her other hand yanked up on the zip to her bodysuit. She landed in a practised roll that diffused her momentum and carried her safely away from the rain of debris. At the end of the roll she deftly sprung to her feet and turned to meet the Ogre.

The Ogre was already right there, coming for her. The brute hadn't cared at all about the debris crashing over him, and had immediately heaved himself after the slippery heroine he had so nearly choked unconscious. He gave a guttural roar of frustration as he launched himself at her once more, swinging each of his four arms at her.

Even while still coughing and spluttering from her recent throttling, Pariah still danced around the Ogre's attacks. His anger made him even more predictable and easy to read than he already was, and Pariah was drawing extra strength now from her own fury. She weaved around his attacks for a few moments before returning his aggression in kind.

Her eyes flashed an angry blue as she once more amplified her strikes by building up and releasing balls of force within each punch she threw. There were mini detonations of blue force that followed every blow she landed on the beast, booming and popping with each release and staggering the Ogre. Once more her cloak tail coiled around her and stung the Ogre with high-velocity strikes.

The Ogre weathered the torrent of blows. His bestial body regenerated itself rapidly after every bloody strike and he continued on with his singular drive to pound on the dark heroine.

Deja vu.

It was futile. On some level Pariah knew it was; she knew that she had tried this already and it hadn't worked. She knew that it was very unlikely that she was going to exhaust the giant's ability to heal - she considered it probable that his ability was inexhaustible. She may as well have been beating her head against a wall.

But the Ogre's words had incensed her. His molestation had disgusted her. He had stirred insecurities and uncertainties in her, waking a discontent in her that she thought long buried. In so many ways he represented the worst demons of her past.

In that moment she hated him.

She hated his words. She hated his deeds. She hated his truth.

Most of all she hated the part of herself that agreed with him.

Beating on the big brute was cathartic. She needed it. Stubbornly, she refused to back down from him, even knowing that this was not a fight she could win. Pariah's pride and anger prevented her from withdrawing, instead driving her on to meet the intractable Ogre with a rage that matched his own.

'This... is... better,' the Ogre rasped between each crushing blow the heroine landed on him. 'I knew... there was... a monster... in you...'

He's an animal, Pariah thought as she beat down on the beast with even more powerful bursts of telekinesis, using techniques that Kamura had once forbidden her from turning on living creatures, He is a rabid animal. How many people has he slaughtered? How many people has he orphaned? How many more will he make suffer?

She was snarling with each strike now. The burning light in her eyes was growing with intensity, making her aspect increasingly demonic.

Telekinetic projections of the heroine were starting to strike the Ogre as well, manifesting out of the shimmering air around Pariah as ethereal blue silhouettes of her and striking or blocking the Ogre before popping back out of existence. Taken aback by this unexpected technique, the Ogre was forced into leaving more and more openings for the heroine to pummel him with greater ferocity.

Her nose was starting to bleed freely as the heroine dug deeper and deeper into her power.

'You've... been... holding... back,' Ogre laughed as his body was inflicted with one bloody injury after another, seeming to relish the experience. 'Look at you now! You're magnificent!'

The cloak tail shot out, glowing radiant blue with the heroine's power running along it, and impaled the beast like a lance through his chest. Pariah pushed her hands to the spot, cackling power fizzing around her fingertips as she began to focus all her power into one point.

I'll blow him apart. I'll destroy all that he is. I'll...

There was screaming. People were screaming.

In the frenzy of the fight, with blood pumping in her ears and her attention so focused on the monster, Pariah hadn't noticed that the street wasn't empty.

It was far from empty.

There had been gaggles of people, roused from their homes and places of work by the sounds of violence in the garage. Traffic had stopped on the road, with the occupants stepping out to see what was happening. Many had been sent fleeing for safety by the noises, but others had gathered in crowds to gawk at the building where the noises had come from. When the fight spilled out into the street, with the two metas going at each other with their full power, the crowds had scattered in a panic.

The panicked residents of Gallowgate were now nearing hysteria as the fight had become more explosive and raw. The people were running for their lives, screaming, and looking back on the two metas with sheer terror.

Looking at her.

After all her years of hiding away from public sight and concealing her powers, of staying in the shadows and covering what she was - she was now caught at the zenith of her power. She had never been this exposed before; never been truly seen by the people she fought for.

Were it not for her mask, she might have considered that this was a nightmare.

Pariah faltered. The red mist that had descended over her was lifted instantly, and the flare-like light of her eyes dimmed down to a peaceful glow. Her eyes scanned around the street at the fearful people of Azure, feeling an emotion rising up in her that she couldn't quite place. The blinding force in her hands dissipated away into nothing.

She was suddenly very tired. Terrible pain pulsed within her overburdened mind. All of her fatigue bore down on her shoulders like the weight of the world.

They're so scared of me...

The Ogre lurched forwards again, recovering from the severe beating he had been receiving and moving while the heroine's resolve wavered. He wrapped his arms around her lithe figure as he took her by surprise and lifted her into the air, pressing her tightly in against the bunched muscles of his torso.

'What's wrong Pariah?' he growled into her ear, 'Where did the monster go?'

Pariah wheezed as she struggled to free herself from the Ogre's grip. She was totally enveloped by the mass of the giant, feeling his bulk tightly all over her sleek body. The colossal strength of the Ogre began to bear down on her, squeezing her within his four-armed bear hug.

Damn it, she thought as she fought to prevent the brute from crushing her, compelling her cloak to remain rigid and resist the force compressing it. Shouldn't have taken my eyes off him for a moment... Stupid mistake...

Ogre's gaze briefly swept over the terrorised bystanders before looking down into Pariah's face, inches from his own. 'Does the herd concern you so much, coward? Are you so desperate to be one of them? Do you imagine your weak principles protect them?' His tone had shifted back to simmering rage.

The heroine gasped and croaked as she tried to free herself from the crush, feeling her whole body begin to compress as her telekinesis was gradually overpowered. Ever so slowly, the Ogre was squeezing the air out of her.

'Look at them,' the Ogre commanded her, 'See how they cower from us. See the cauldron of fear we stir in them.'

One of the Ogre's arms came around to seize Pariah's jaw and turn her face painfully to the side to force her to look upon the people. They were running and hiding in all directions, calling out in a general din of distress that canvased the street in a soundtrack all too familiar to Pariah.

Ogre continued, his voice shaking with raw disdain, 'This is the flock you protect, Pariah. These are the spineless children you risk yourself to save.' He crushed yet more of the breath from Pariah's lungs, making her croak out in weak, plaintive noises. 'This is the Truth. They hate you; they will never accept you. Are they worth it? These bleating sacks of meat? Do they deserve your sacrifice?'

Pariah's resistance through her cloak was giving way now, her mind failing to uphold the force required, and her body creaked as it compressed to the point of no return. She opened and closed her mouth noiselessly as she lost the ability to even draw breath.

She was so tired now. She just wanted to go to sleep, to be away from this pain and these confusing thoughts - to be sheltered from the anger and the sorrow.

Pale, terrified faces looked back at Pariah from the crowd. They were the expressions of people witnessing something that they desperately wished did not exist. Faces all too familiar to her. In the distance Pariah could hear the faint sound of approaching sirens.

The police... Ugh... He'll kill them all...

Pariah shook within the Ogre's grip, her dazed blue eyes beginning to flutter as she looked out over the people she was there to protect.

'You can die within your lie, then,' the Ogre whispered to her, 'Right here, in front of the flock you so wish to join. See how they don't care.'

The heroine relaxed her body in resignation, feeling the giant's arms tighten around her and closing her eyes.

I should have done more... I should have...

'Fight!'

The voice was small and frail, and yet it was filled with such passion. Pariah opened her eyes, seeking the source of the call.

Across the street, stood apart from the crowd with her father futilely trying to drag her away to safety, was a girl. A teenage girl. She met Pariah's gaze, looking at her with tears in her eyes.

'Fight him!'

Ogre's grip relaxed on the heroine as he too heard the girl. A plethora of emotions flickered over his surprised face. 'Wh... What?' He stared back at the girl, looking at her as though she had betrayed him.

The girl was clearly afraid, traumatised by what she was witnessing, and yet she would not allow her father to pull her away. She looked to Pariah, pleading for her to rally. It was the familiar gaze of someone who had been desperately seeking a hero to save her and to stop the nightmare from taking place.

But she had found one.

The girl was looking at Pariah. Looking at something that gave her hope and courage, making her stand her ground even where no one else would.

It was the bravest thing that Pariah had ever seen.

'You can do it!' the girl shouted, her voice growing in strength.

Other cheers started to bubble up from the crowd, gathering in confidence as the people followed the lead of the teenager. It went from a smattering of quiet voices to over a dozen people shouting encouragement. More and more voices joined the fray as each moment passed.

'Pariah!' 'Fight back!' 'Don't give up!' 'Come on, Pariah!'

Ogre cast his gaze over the people, glaring from one cheering citizen to another with alarm etched over his troubled face. 'No... What is this? What are they doing?' There was something in the giant's voice that was new to Pariah.

It was fear.

You're the hero, Evelyn, Pariah thought, feeling emotion swelling up in her chest, And it's time to deliver.

Making the most of the Ogre's distraction, Pariah summoned her focus back with renewed vigour. Her eyes flashed with light as her cloak flooded with her power once more and turned vibrant blue, pushing back against the Ogre with enough force to outmatch his strength.

Ogre ground his teeth and returned his attention back to trying to destroy the heroine, squeezing with all his might. 'You stupid bitch! You are a false idol! I will kill all these fools! All of them! I will...'

'No,' Pariah spoke over him, her voice like cold steel, ‘You won't.'

A bubble of force explosively released around the heroine, the extra force of which broke the Ogre's hold and cast the giant away from her like a stone skittering across waves. The Ogre landed atop a pile of bricks at the threshold where the wall had collapsed, and he sluggishly began to return to his feet.

Pariah landed softly on the ground before summoning a swirling ball of force into each hand and then combining them together into an even brighter conflagration. It crackled and spat within her hands as she turned to the Ogre and fired it at him in a brilliant spear of light.

The Ogre was just back to his feet when the blow struck him, detonating in a deafening bang and firing the giant back through the opening into the garage like a bullet from a gun.

Ugh... Just a little more, Evelyn. Keep yourself together… just a little longer.

Pariah shuddered on the spot, taking a split second to recover herself before wiping away the blood under her nose and turning around to face the people in the street. She met eyes with the teenage girl, who was now cheering wildly with a relieved smile across her face.

Thank you,' Pariah said with real feeling, holding the girl's gaze. 'You're all safe - but please stay back until the authorities are here. I’ll take care of this.'

Pariah turned from the crowd and ran through the opening of the collapsed wall, hearing their cheers behind her - the sound heartening to her beyond words.

Time to finish this.

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Ogre's vision swam and he had to try three times to get back to his feet as he recovered from the imposter's most recent attack. His regenerative abilities had to work hard to piece him back together in time to move when he wanted it to - which was immediately.

He was so outraged. He was now totally set on murdering the so-called heroine and then going on a rampage into the street. He didn't care about the police - he would kill until his fury was slaked. The people needed to be punished; their impudence could not be tolerated.

But first her.

As Ogre's vision corrected itself he just managed to spot the dark silhouette of the woman as she ran back through the rupture in the wall. He tracked her and then lost her as she ran behind a parked van.

He grumbled as he stomped towards the van, irritated that the bitch wouldn't come to him directly. He broke into a run and barged into the van, hitting it with enough force to knock it over and send it screeching across to the wall behind it.

The Pariah wasn't there.

Ogre rapidly scanned left and right, seeking her in the shadows of the garage. 'You're running from me now, whore?' Ogre bellowed out to the room, his deep, monstrous voice echoing back to him from all around.

There were loud snapping noises towards the back of the room and the garage shutters came crashing down, one after the other. As they closed they sealed away the giant streams of daylight that they had been letting into the garage, darkening the room considerably, with most light now being provided by the aperture in the wall.

Ogre snarled as he searched for the heroine in the inky shadows of the garage, 'You think you will hide from me? Hmm? You think I'm scared of the dar...'

He was rocked by a blow from behind him that staggered him to his knees. He swiped at the source of the attack but nothing was there to be hit. There were rapid foot-falls as someone moved unseen between equipment and vehicles.

Ogre hefted himself back to his feet, looking about himself now with less certainty.

'Not running,' a voice came back to him from the dark, somewhere off to his right.

'Not hiding.' the voice was now somewhere close to his left, having moved from one spot to the other alarmingly quickly.

Ogre carefully moved towards the voice, his arms all outstretched and ready to lash out at the dark heroine the moment he could. He tensed himself in readiness for anything the cowardly woman could do to him.

'I'm hunting,' she hissed into his ear from behind.

Before Ogre could act, he felt his feet get swept out from under him and something hit him hard on the back, launching him towards the spot he had been approaching. He roared with frustration as he hit the ground, attempting to get back to his feet when he noticed the small metal discs scattered on the floor around him.

The discs each opened in unison with one another and released brilliant white light that bathed the Ogre and blinded him. The light was accompanied by horrendous, ear-piercing noise that made Ogre cradle his head in his hands in a vain effort to stop the discomfort. As the cacophony abated, Ogre was left deaf and dumb as his senses struggled to adjust.

'Argh!' he roared as leapt to his feet and swiped blindly about himself like a wounded animal. 'Where are you!? I'll kill you!'

The fear was back in his voice again.

She struck, though Ogre saw none of her blows. His arms were buckled the wrong way at their joints, audibly cracking, as Ogre's feet were once again swept out from under him. He landed in a sprawled heap and she was on him immediately, the tendrils of her long cloak coiling around his broken arms as they attempted to repair themselves and binding them together in place in a series of complicated knots. The knots tightened painfully until the cloak had no slack left to give, forcing Ogre's broken limbs to remain in place and resisting his body's efforts to correct them. The more he fought the bindings, the more the knots would tighten. Unable to use his full strength, the Ogre's whole body shook as he tried to pull himself free of the cloak, but he could not tear the composite material and instead simply made his bondage tighter.

Robbed of his arms, and with his senses only just beginning to clear, Ogre flailed about ineffectually on the ground trying to right himself.

Her boots pressed down on his back and he heard her icy voice behind his right ear, 'We're done, Ogre. It's finished.'

'I will never be finished,' he spat back at her, 'I cannot be stopped. I cannot be killed; I cannot be contained. What will you do about it, weakling? Stay on my back for all eternity?'

'No,' she said softly as she crouched down on top of him and pressed her hands gently against his back.

'Then what?' Ogre growled, unable to hide his growing unease. 'What will you do, Pariah? You are the last of your kind - there are no more heroes left in Azure. The city devoured them all.'

Blue light pulsed into the room from behind him, gradually getting brighter. He felt a warm tingling in his spine that emanated out and around his body.

What is she doing?

'The Sentinel was executed by the Outsiders,' he continued, 'The Spectre was enslaved by some cult in Ravenport,' his voice was starting to waver as the sensations at his back increased, 'And Avalon disappeared the day that mayor Donovan declared state action against all vigilantes, never to be seen again.' He gulped, feeling deeply unfamiliar trepidation, 'You are alone against it all. What can you do? What can you hope to accomplish?’

The woman did not answer him, instead continuing to focus on whatever task it was that she was instigating. The blue light continued to get brighter, bathing the whole garage in its eerie glow. The sound of approaching sirens out in the city were getting louder.

'Answer me!' Ogre screamed, his anxiety now clear in his voice. 'You can't change the Truth...'

'Do you know that your face twitches every time you talk about truth?' the woman interrupted, her quiet voice still enough to silence him. 'There's a flicker of rage every time you say the word.' There was a loaded silence, 'You hate it, don't you?'

Ogre hesitated, 'I...,'

'You hate the way the world is, I get it,' there was warmth to her voice, 'You hate what you've become, you hate what the world has made of you - you hate everything. I've been there.'

Strange emotions coursed through him, 'You have not been there!' he shouted, 'You haven't seen it, you haven't suffered enough...'

'Yes. I have,' she insisted, her voice firmer, 'I don't care if you believe me, but I have certainly suffered enough.'

He shook his head, 'Then why do you fight it?'

'You know why. The world didn't break me, but it broke you, didn't it? You weren't strong enough. You were weak.' Her voice lacked the hostility of her words - she actually sounded sympathetic. 'You know it isn't weakness that stays my hand; it is a strength that you never had. That's why it makes you so...'

'Stop talking!' he roared over her, his anger surging back up to the surface, 'You don't know me. You haven’t accepted the Truth!'

She sighed, 'You're right, we've talked enough. You're a real talker - you must have gotten along well with the Ryders, am I right?' There was only a small trace of levity in the exhausted woman's voice. More than anything she just sounded tired. She pressed her hands in tighter against his back and took a deep breath, 'For what it's worth, I'm sorry it came to this. I'm sorry there was no one there when you needed it. We both deserved better.'

The feeling at his back was becoming painful. Ogre tossed his head from side to side trying to see what was happening, 'What are you doing? What is this?'

His whole body was starting to glow with the blue light of the woman's influence, making his entire form luminescent. The heroine stood off his back and he floated weightlessly into the air above her, completely held within her power.

'Oh nothing,' she said, her voice straining, 'Just another half measure.'

Then came the real pain. It was a pain unlike anything Ogre had ever known in all his years of hardship. His body resisted the change as best it could, but his power could not stop the warping influence of the woman from reshaping him. His nerves and bones shifted and knotted themselves, moving into positions such that they were pulling against themselves to try and push back into position.

It was pure agony.

Even with all his experience of injury, Ogre could not keep in a groan of distress as he was reshaped by the woman. His body felt like it was burning him from within as it contorted around itself and set into a new state. He cried out, thinking the pain could not possibly get any worse.

And then it stopped.

He was released from the woman's power, the blue light disappearing from his body, and he fell back to the ground with a loud thud. Ogre writhed on the floor as he tried to make sense of what had just happened, feeling a deep ache of pain throughout his once-mighty form as his body continuously tried to correct itself. It pulled against itself, fighting with itself as it tried to force the knots it had been tied into open.

The strain was unending and painful - but most of all it was futile.

Ogre groaned as he tried to move himself, but succeeded only in bucking his crippled body around into a new crumpled position.

Pariah stood from him, her cloak uncoiling and disentangling itself from his arms, and walked slowly around him until she was by his head. She looked down on him with downcast, sorrowful eyes, barely visible in the dark of her hood.

'Stand,' she whispered.

Ogre grunted as he tried to make his body move, but again there was no result. The pain throbbed worse. His grey skin was paling back to his more human complexion now, and his lower arms shrivelled as they slowly retracted back into his torso.

'Ngh... What... What did you do to me?' he stammered.

The heroine knelt down beside him, not shying her gaze away from his. 'Stand,' she repeated.

Ogre looked back at her, terrible realisation creeping into his eyes, 'I... I cannot...'

She nodded her agreement, her expression pained, 'You live your life in contempt of the helpless - now you are one of them.'

'No...,' Ogre breathed, 'No... I will recover... My... My body will overcome this,' he ground his teeth as he once again tossed about pathetically on the ground. 'I am immortal... I will defeat this...'

'Perhaps,' Pariah said softly, 'Or perhaps not. Either way I'll be here waiting for you if you do return. You won't spread any more of your truth.' She heaved herself back to her feet, wincing with discomfort at the effort, and backed away from him several steps towards the last of the intact vans. 'The world doesn't have to be the hell that we have known. It can be something better - you've seen it, and you would have seen more of it if you'd been stronger.'

Ogre slumped in resignation, staring back at Pariah with a mixture of hate and respect. 'Such hope is infantile,' he rumbled, 'It is a lie, Pariah. There is no hope. You are alone - one glittering diamond in an ocean of muck.' His gaze wandered over the dark heroine's shoulder and sadness fell across his tattooed face, 'You will not change the world, for all your power and nobility; it will change you. You are... a hero,' he nearly choked on the word, '... but even you are not strong enough to bear all the horror. This city will break you.'

'We'll see about that,' she said firmly, turning away from the brute.

There was a loud metallic sound off to the far right side of the garage, drawing the attention of both meta humans. In the darkness of the garage they could just make out a wrench ricocheting off the far wall and bouncing down to land noisily on the floor.

The heroine furrowed her brow in confusion as she quickly assessed this oddity. Realisation dawned on her a second later.

But it was a second too late.

He came from the shadows of the van behind her, using the momentary distraction of the wrench he had thrown to get her back facing him and her attention elsewhere. He seized the opportunity like he had been waiting for it his entire life. The heroine was already snapping around to face him, correctly deducing it had been a ruse, but he was already on her.

He wrapped both his arms around her in a flash of movement, pulling back her hood and pressing a rag tightly into her face with one hand while pushing a hand taser into the pale skin of her neck with the other. Pariah's blue eyes widened with surprise as she was assailed by both the chloroform that soaked the rag and the high voltage of the taser. She spasmed and shook within her assailant's arms, almost completely incapacitated by the combination of attacks.

Her impressive self-discipline showed as she managed to fire her elbows back at the man holding her, crunching his torso and bruising his ribs. She flailed her head backwards, catching his jaw and snapping his head back. Continuously her eyes lit up to try and conjure her power, but each time the electric shocks from the hand taser would steal away her focus.

The assailant held on for dear life to the heroine, weathering her hostility with gritted teeth. He yanked her head from side to side, never allowing her an opportunity to look at him, as he wrestled to keep his hold of her. He grunted with pain each time her elbows struck him, but he did not let up.

In a frantic effort to free herself the heroine lashed a backwards heel at her attacker's right leg, buckling his footing and forcing him to fall to his knee, but he doggedly clung on to her as he fell, forcing her weight to go back with him and denying her further use of her legs. The action left a momentary gap where the taser was not shocking her, and Pariah capitalised on it immediately, conjuring a bolt of force before her face and then firing it blindly at the man behind her. The missile whistled past the man's face, missing him by an inch, and connected loudly with one of the closed shutters, leaving a pronounced dent in the steel barrier.

Even before she knew that she had missed she was already conjuring a second bolt into the air, but it fizzled away as her attacker pressed the taser back into her neck and sent her into convulsions. With each shock she was forced to inhale more of the soporific fumes from the cloth held against her lips.

Pariah's eyes were losing their clarity now, glazing over and fluttering faintly as she began to strike back at her attacker less often.

'Come on, darling,' Fontaine breathed in her ear, 'You're tired. Take a nap.'

She moaned into the rag as her body started to go limp. Her moans were fading from noisy alarm down to something gentle and quiet. Her arms stopped lashing out at him, and, gradually, she stopped resisting him at all.

'That's it,' Fontaine encouraged her, 'That's right... Just relax, darling. Breath deep and let yourself rest...'

Ogre watched it all take place, helpless to so much as lift a finger to intervene. He hated to watch the stalker succeed like this, but he was unable to even avert his gaze.

Pariah's toned body began to completely relax, falling backwards into the stalker's arms and requiring his support. Fontaine eased her to the ground, finally relenting with the taser but still holding the rag in place over her mouth and nose.

'Enjoy your sleep, beautiful,' he whispered to her, 'I'd say you've earned it.'

Pariah sighed gently into the rag, her eyes looking confused beyond words as they rolled about in her head. She let out a shuddery breath. Her eyes opened and closed, then eased open one final time before slowly closing.

They did not open again.

'Yeah...,' Fontaine muttered to her. He moved quickly from this point, retrieving black tape from his satchel with one hand while his other continued to keep the chloroform rag in place. With practised speed he wrapped the tape around her head, tightly binding the rag in place over her pouting lips, before moving up to wrap the tape around her head at her eyes. He pulled her limp hands behind her back and bound them together with worn strips of leather, crossing and tying her forearms tightly together. After that he reached around her and unclasped her metal belt with an audible click before throwing it back into his satchel. He did a similar job of releasing the heroine's dark cloak from around her neck and bundling it up in his bag. Finally, he lay the unconscious heroine on the ground and poured the remaining contents of his bottle of chloroform over her face, letting it all saturate into the rag taped over her mouth.

Satisfied that his work was well done, Fontaine bent down and lifted the woman up. He slung her over his shoulder, carrying her modest weight with relative ease, and clung on to her limp body with care.

'You don't deserve her,' Ogre spoke up from the floor, his words dripping with his distaste.

Fontaine looked around at the Ogre, a big, wolfish smile on his face. 'Oh yeah? You think so?'

'I know it, maggot.'

The stalker sauntered over to the Ogre with the dark heroine draped over his shoulder. 'Well guess what, big guy? I don't give a shit. Thanks for the assist though, jackass - you were the perfect lure.'

Ogre bristled, 'You used me?'

'Sure I did,' Fontaine grinned back, 'I was only ever here because I knew this was where you were going.' The stalker shrugged, hefting the defeated woman on his shoulder, 'And look what you delivered to me.'

The crippled giant stirred on the floor, 'I will come for you when I have healed...'

'Ah save it,' Fontaine said, idly kicking the Ogre's face to silence him, 'You're nothing now - the Pariah saw to that. I must say, watching her kick your ass will be a fond memory of mine. It's so easy to talk about strength when you're the fucking super powered immortal, but look at you now. A stupid, scared boy.' Fontaine lowered his tone as he spoke his next words, 'I wonder what they'll do with a freak like you, eh? I bet those shady meta containment geeks will have all kinds of fun cutting you open and studying you - what do ya think?'

Ogre stared balefully back at Fontaine. 'I will remember this, stalker.'

'Good,' Fontaine said with a wide smile before turning away and striding with purpose towards the van he had hid within. 'Well, I gotta get going, big guy,' Fontaine called back over his shoulder, 'It's been emotional, but I got places to be, a wolf to tame. Enjoy your stay with MCU - I hope it's fucking horrible.'

Ogre watched in furious, impotent silence as the stalker cast the bound heroine into the back of the van along with his satchel and then jogged over to open one of the rear-facing shutters. Fontaine saluted the Ogre with a cheeky smile and then climbed into the driver's seat. The van growled into life and rolled out the garage, driving out of Ogre's view as it disappeared out into the city.

Ogre was left in dark silence, the only sound that of the nearing police sirens which were getting louder by the second. He was left with no option but to reflect, and he hated every painful moment of it. Judging by the closing sounds he knew the stalker had likely managed to flee the scene just in time, though he dearly hoped the ACPD would catch him before he escaped with his prize. In his gut he knew the canny stalker would slip the net - this was what the bearded opportunist was best at.

He rested his head on to the cold ground and let out a heavy sigh, feeling the distant embers of sadness in his stomach. The heroine - for that was what she was - had kindled something in him that he thought long dead. He despised her for it.

Azure City will break her.


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So ends part 6! Who knew the Ogre would get so many words, or so much cheese!

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this slightly more mainstream chapter, with the greater focus on drama and combat. Once again it will probably be a week before I get time to format the next part, but I intend to update the Aurelia story first (which requires new material to be written) so that may push this to being over a week, but we'll see how we go. The content of part 7 has been a *long* time coming. I imagine a good number of readers will have just been waiting for that bit, so I hope it delivers!

Stay tuned for part 7: 'The Stalker'

Incidentally, I have considered changing that title, purely because I fear it too easily heralds events in the story if you were to see it on a chapter select page - but then every hunter so far has had a chapter named after them, and that's pleasing. Meh, I'll work it out.

Either way, expect Pariah to have a tough time ahead!
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Another great chapter, I figured it would have to have that emotion of charge and fight against Ogre engagements, especially I liked a lot, so the Fontaine captured heroin was also very good, I am looking forward to the next chapter what awaits Pariah.

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Skadoosh!

So, I've been *really* busy this last week and I'm at least a day away from updating the Aurelia story, which puts me out for nearly a week until I can format the next part of this story to post here. So, by way of apology, here's another picture by Isikol! It's probably pretty evident in the picture itself, but this ended up as the cover for the second episode on Amazon, and depicts Pariah being flanked by the Ryder twins. Some of the cosmetic errors from the first image of Pariah have been corrected here, and all in all I think it's pretty fantastic. Maybe the sisters have too much of a jokeresque expression, but then I sort of like how expressive they are here. Also everyone might be a little more buxom than I imagined, but it's not exactly heinous.

The third of these is currently in the pipes, and I'll post it up here after the book goes up.

In the mean time, I'll hopefully have the next part formatted and posted within this coming week (Wednesday? Maybe?). It hasn't helped that I've had a change of heart with how I've ended the story, and I'm actually in the process of re-writing it to have a better end point for the next episode. Kind of suspect that whatever I do now, though, I'll have buyer's remorse for the ending I discarded.

Anyways, sorry for the delay!
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Sexy cover!

I admit, I was surprised how easily Pariah was defeated at the end of the last chapter!
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Wow - justice be damned, eternal crippling pain for evil doers in the world of Pariah.
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flirty_but_nice wrote:Sexy cover!

I admit, I was surprised how easily Pariah was defeated at the end of the last chapter!
Yeah, I was a little worried the defeat might come across as too easy or too quick. It's a tough balancing act, I guess, because the moment Fontaine's ambush becomes an actual fight he wouldn't stand a chance - as we've already seen. Bear in mind how knackered she is at this point, and that Fontaine has gotten this encounter on his terms. Unlike Ogre she is really vulnerable to any attack that lands on her, as anyone would be.

But you have hit on a concern that I shared, so I have gone back and edited in another paragraph or so of struggle to give our heroine more credit, but nothing I do would change that she is ultimately beaten the moment Fontaine gets a hold of her.
Abductorenmadrid wrote:Wow - justice be damned, eternal crippling pain for evil doers in the world of Pariah.
Huh? Applying Orge's fate universally to every other villain sort of disregards every other chapter of the series, doesn't it? There is probably an interesting discussion to be had about what was done to him, and why it was done, and what a true champion of 'justice' would have done instead - but I think it's fair to assume there is something out of the ordinary about it, rather than the other way around. Then again, maybe Ogre's words left their mark, and maybe this *is* how she'll deal with everyone from now on. Either way, it looks like she has possibly compromised one of her golden rules here...
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For me, the fact that Pariah chose this fate for Ogre makes his fate right. It is a sort of self fulfilling prophecy. It is right because she chose it to be the outcome for him ( am I expressing this well enough?) I just find it refreshing that this was a bad ass form of justice/retribution, whatever word you want, without any sort of cockyness on her part - his fate is what it is because she chose it to be.
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'So you're only going to update once a year with two posts now?'

Quiet you! I'm spinning a lot of plates right now - including a little void-junior who devours time and poops the demand for more time - and, while I'd love to go ham with these stories, I'm starved for time where I have to do more pressing jobs. But, yes, I do suck - and I'm sorry.

Ahem.

Anyways, on we go. I did indeed rejig the entire end of this story - which has been a total pain in my unmentionables - but I ended up on something I was pretty happy with. Maybe. The old ending, which no one will ever see, was too similar to the previous two episodes and built nothing up for the future episodes; whereas now we really are doing things differently and I've gone to quite some effort to establish bigger plot points for us to return to later. Either way, the story is going on Amazon tomorrow (though I might have messed up the manuscript I submitted and need a few days to correct it) so I figured I would make the time to at least drop in the rest of the story here. I'm posting the next two chapters here, and I'll post the final chapter in a few days. Likewise expect the last chapter over in the Aurelia story sometime next week.

I've also juiced up some of the more sexy scenes from earlier in the story in the manuscript I've submitted, and I will try to edit the previous parts here to also include that.

Enough jibber jabber - here's the next parts. Thanks for bearing with me.



Part Seven: Containment


Not for the first time, Blake cursed his commute to work.

The drive through Azure from his apartment to the east-end of Gallowgate, in the midst of rush-hour traffic, would normally have taken thirty minutes – on a good day.

Today, he made the run in ten.

He ran every red light, swerved into on-coming traffic to overtake, used every shortcut he could think of, and generally thrashed his aging Impala for all that it was worth. Blake’s heart had been in his mouth multiple times as he avoided one near-collision after another, and he had come perilously close to running down a pensioner who was slowly crossing the street.

Blake was fairly confident he had done enough to lose his job six or seven times over the course of this single journey, had any of his superiors been in the car to see it. As it was, his rarely-used sirens were doing just enough to alert people to his rapid approach, and allowed him to drive right on the limit of recklessness.

All the while, Blake listened in to his police scanner and monitored the activity at the crime scene as the first responders started arriving. He processed the flow of information as he drove, already trying to study the scene at the old garage even before physically being there.

The radio chatter painted a familiar picture, but already Blake got the sense that there was something wrong with it. The more Blake heard, the more troubled he became.

The first uniforms on the scene reported gathered crowds of bystanders out the front of the garage. The throng of people were in a rush to communicate with the officers, giving wide-eyed accounts of how they’d seen the hooded woman with the glowing eyes battle against the grey monster. They claimed they had heard the monster’s roars as the Pariah vanquished it somewhere unseen in the garage, and they cautioned the officers to wait until the Pariah told them it was safe to enter. The officers on the scene were slowed as they dealt with the zealous witnesses, and needed to take time to set up a cordon to keep back the growing crowd. As more police units arrived at the scene the officers began to investigate the garage itself, reporting scores of unconscious suspects and that there had clearly been an intense conflict of some kind in the workshop.

Just as a description started to come over the radio about a crippled giant, the Meta Containment Unit arrived to take over command of the scene. A curt message from the MCU operatives ordered the ACPD to not engage with the giant, and to comply with their containment procedures immediately.

It was as this last call came over the radio that Blake finally arrived.

The street in front of Finnie’s garage was alive with activity. Dozens of people were gathered around the police barrier, and more people were arriving to the press of onlookers by the moment. There was a buzz of energy in the crowd, somewhere between excitement and shock, as they watched the garage and exchanged accounts with one another about what they had seen or heard. Some of the people at the front of the crowd were chanting out the Pariah’s name, half cheering and half calling for her to return. Pairs of police officers were making their way around the cordon, patiently taking statements from the eager crowd.

Beyond the police cordon, closer to the garage itself, the street was littered with a multitude of police vehicles, their blue and red sirens still flashing silently. Alongside the ACPD cruisers there was also the convoy of black trucks from MCU, still bristling with movement as they rapidly deployed their action teams onto the site. Police officers and meta containment operatives swarmed around the front of the building, entering and leaving the garage through both its main entrance and a large hole in its street-facing wall.

The MCU operatives were suited and booted in full carapace armour, including visored helmets that completely obscured their faces. From head to toe the advanced combat armour they wore was jet black, save for the reflective crimson of their visors, and they cut a distinctly ominous figure alongside their counterparts from the ACPD.

It made Blake uncomfortable to see so many of them here.

The Meta Containment Unit was Azure’s primary line of defence against its surplus of unsanctioned metas. The Unit was more of an elite military endeavour than it was anything like civil law enforcement, and it was largely powered by a partnership with a private corporation. The global umbrella company known as Lohtech Industries had assisted the US government in launching the initiative, and it had poured enormous resources into ensuring that the Meta Containment Unit was one of the most technologically advanced organisations in the world. While there were MCU teams all over America, their base of operations had been set up right here in Azure City, where the meta problem was by far the worst. Over the last few years they had proven an effective means of combating and detaining dangerous metas, but the lines had always been blurry about how ethical their methods were, and how much due process was given to their prisoners.

Blake had heard more than a few stories that made him feel ill, but that he was sure were just nonsense. What he couldn’t deny, however, was that very, very few meta humans taken into custody by MCU ever resurfaced. They would be taken away to hidden containment wards, and that would be that. The few that were released back into the public were always changed people; strangely tranquil and compliant compared to how they were when they went in. They would also be released with all manner of constraints that prevented them from using their meta abilities – enough so that they would be officially classified as ‘sanctioned’.

It was a process fraught with political debate. A great many argued that the MCU had too much unilateral power, and that their use against meta humans was bordering on tyrannical. Others – for now, the majority – were prepared to overlook these issues and support the MCU project. For most, this was the price of security against the manifold powers of the meta human. Rather the guilt of oppression than the terror of vulnerability.

Such was the nature of the meta problem.

Blake tried to put such things out of his mind as he parked up on the pavement and jogged from his car toward the cordon.

Pushing through the crowd of onlookers, Blake flashed his badge to the nearest officer and ducked below the tape to enter the scene. He spotted Locke as he approached the big rupture in the garage wall. The dark-haired detective was lighting up a fresh cigarette as she stood atop a mound of bricks from the collapsed wall, her eyes glazed as she looked down at the dried blood that caked the ground around her.

‘What do we have?’ he called out to her.

Locke snapped her head up to look at him, ‘I… I don’t know what we have.’

Blake gave her a quizzical look, ‘What? What does that mean?’

Locke took a drag of her cigarette, her hand shaking ever so slightly. ‘Go take a look,’ she said as she blew smoke, nodding her head toward the hole in the wall, ‘You tell me what we have.’

Blake frowned and pushed past his colleague into the building, stepping over the pools of congealed blood. He slowed his approach as he took in the grizzly details of the workshop that greeted him.

There was dried blood splattered around the workshop, around the floor and up some of the walls. It seemed like there had been an explosion in here, with virtually every vehicle and bit of apparatus strewn around the floor in a wrecked heap. ACPD officers were standing vigil while paramedics ran between the unconscious men that were scattered around the workshop. Each man looked to have been pounded on in a way Blake recognised as Pariah’s handiwork, and they all seemed to fit the profile Blake had come to form of Underhaven henchmen. Out the backend of the workshop, through one of the open shutters, Blake could see a similar collection of men being seen to out in the garage parking lot.

At the centre of the workshop, surrounded by a dozen MCU operatives, there was a malformed, wheezing mountain of a man. The giant shuddered and shook on the floor as the operatives methodically belted him onto a large gurney. The huge man snarled at them with rage as he flailed his body in an attempt to resist them, and they responded by laying into him with shock prods while others among them continued trying to bind him.

Blake ran forwards, ‘Hey! Hey! Ease off!’ he yelled at the troopers, ‘What the hell is the matter with you? This guy needs…’

The largest of the operatives stepped in front of Blake. ‘Not this one, detective,’ he interrupted, his cold voice amplified through his helmet’s speaker.

Blake stared into the man’s visor, seeing his own face reflected back in shades of red. ‘C’mon now – I don’t care if this guy is a meta, he’s still a human being and he still needs aid. Christ, he hasn’t even been charged yet, so tell your people to stop…’

‘No,’ the other man spoke over him, moving his hands up to unseal and remove his helmet. Blake recognised the stoic features of the man’s face as it was revealed to him. Nathan Temple, the captain of the MCU in Azure, stared back at Blake, his grey eyes filled with icy resolve. Subtle scars lined his chiselled features, hard won through many years of conflict. ‘Not this one,’ he repeated.

Blake took a breath. Interrelations between the ACPD and MCU had always been frayed, and he knew mouthing off at captain Temple would do more harm here than good. ‘Captain,’ Blake said, giving a slight nod of his head by way of respect, ‘With all due respect, this man is dying. He needs…’

‘No, he doesn’t,’ Temple interrupted once more. He turned and gestured down at the crippled man as his men continued securing him to the gurney, ‘The piece of human waste that see before you is Dimitri Orlov – you might know him better back at the precinct as “Ogre”.’

Blake recognised the name immediately, and he looked down in alarm at the supine giant.

‘He’s killed eight of my men over the years,’ Temple continued, ‘and he’s wanted back in Russia for a heck of a lot more than that. We verified it as soon as we arrived, and we will be granting him absolutely no clemency.’ He sniffed as he looked down on the Ogre, the giant meeting his gaze with a sneer of his own, ‘This fucker ain’t dying. He can’t die. Orlov here is probably the most dangerous, bloody-handed son of a bitch in Azure.’ Temple looked back to Blake, ‘Like I said, this one isn’t for you; he’s ours.’

Blake raked his gaze over the giant as he listened to Temple speak. The reports about the Ogre were of an unstoppable beast – a creature that simply could not be killed. It began to dawn on Blake that all the blood around the garage likely came from this one man, even though his hulking body didn’t have a scratch on it. Ogre’s body continued to shift and contort as it attempted to restore itself, but it seemed to be pulling against itself in its efforts and instead was left endlessly straining.

‘What… What happened to him?’ Blake asked after a few seconds of shocked silence.

Temple grinned, though it was entirely without humour, ‘Take a guess, detective.’

Blake averted his gaze, no longer wishing to look upon the wretched state of the giant. He furrowed his brow as he tried to piece it all together. The answer came to his lips unwillingly.

‘The Pariah,’ he whispered.

‘Almost certainly,’ Temple replied. ‘The witnesses outside say they saw her tussling with him out in the street, and then the fight came back in here, to this spot.’ The captain craned his neck as he surveyed the workshop around them, before looking down once more at the giant. ‘She did this to him. You have to admire the savage elegance of her work, turning his body against itself like that, on the fly. I’ve attended meetings with experts from around the world about how to deal with the unstoppable Ogre, and no one came up with a solution as perfect as this.’ Temple shook his head ruefully, unable to conceal a hint of respect in his voice, ‘She neutralised him and punished him all at once. Brutal, cruel, and effective - the Pariah is a piece of work.’

Blake shook his head, ‘It doesn’t fit with her profile. She must have felt this was the only way to make him secure for arrest.’ He reluctantly looked back upon the Ogre as the last of his bindings were secured to the gurney. ‘She… I don’t think she wanted to do this to him.’

The captain snorted, ‘Our profile of the Pariah reads differently. Either way, you see now what she’s capable of – how dangerous she is. It takes a certain kind of person to inflict this on someone. She gave Orlov a life sentence without a trial, and it’s only a matter of time before she does something worse to someone far less deserving.’ The captain nodded his head as he spoke, agreeing with himself, ‘This right here? It’s a turf war. One kind of mob rule clashing with another, and the conflict here nearly caught innocents in the middle of it. These metas are trying to turn Azure into their personal battlefield-come-playground, and Pariah is leading the charge.’ Temple’s expression darkened as he locked eyes with Blake, ‘We have to stop her. We have to contain her.’

‘You’re just reading into this what you want,’ Blake said dismissively, holding the captain’s harsh stare with an intent one of his own. ‘If you can make her out to be a deranged threat to society then you don’t have to worry about trying to detain her, right?’ Blake pointed back out through the hole in the wall, ‘Those innocents you talked about nearly getting caught in the crossfire? They’re out there right now, cheering her name. We’re in Gallowgate – Gallowgate - and people have gathered together to cheer and celebrate a hero. People have hope; work is being done. She’s put a stop to the Ogre – a legitimate walking urban myth – and she’s hammering this mafia out of our streets. As far as I’m concerned, she’s…,’ Blake faltered as he tried to find the words, ‘she’s…’

‘A saviour,’ the Ogre rumbled from the floor, shocking Blake with the deepness of his voice.

Blake and Temple both looked down at the giant in surprise – neither man expecting the Ogre to speak up, let alone say something so profoundly ironic.

The Ogre’s pained face stretched into a wide smile, ‘Perhaps you are both right about her – a hero and a monster, just as Azure deserves.’

Temple scowled back at the Ogre, ‘That’s enough from you.’ He gestured to his men, ‘Get him out of here. Take every precaution - code sigma, understand?’

It took six men to heave the gurney into the air, and it flexed awkwardly as it barely supported the giant’s weight. The Ogre growled at the men as they lifted him, ‘Arrgh... I will remember you all… When I recover, I will...,’ the effort of making his threats sent him into fits of coughs that silenced him from saying more as he was carried towards the open wall.

Temple turned away from the noise of the Ogre’s thrashing and spluttering. ‘We can debate the merits of the freak vigilante another time, detective, but for now we can agree she was sloppy this time.’ He retrieved a dark metal disc from a belt on his suit and lifted it up for Blake to see it. ‘We’d heard accounts of these devices from numerous of her previous actions, but she’d never left any behind for us to investigate.’ The captain gave a sly smile, ‘Today, she left us seven. These puppies are some pretty advanced tech – I got a good feeling that they’ll help shed more light on who we’re dealing with.’

Blake blanched as he looked at the metal disc in the captain’s hand. There was an eruption of cheers from the gathered crowd outside as the Ogre was carried out into their view. Their jubilation upon seeing the defeated giant immediately fed into a louder, more unified chant for the heroine that felled him. ‘No…,’ he breathed, his eyes suddenly darting around the workshop, ‘Oh no.’

Temple raised an eyebrow, ‘That troubles you, detective? Are you so in favour of her evading justice? It’s one thing to debate the threat she poses, but you step on thin ice when you openly oppose our investigation…’

‘No, not that,’ Blake said hurriedly as he whipped his head back and forth scanning their surroundings, ‘This whole crime scene, it’s wrong. It’s incomplete.’

Blake was suddenly darting around the workshop, moving between the unconscious thugs. Temple watched him dubiously.

‘Incomplete how?’ he called after Blake.

Blake whirled around to face him, his expression close to panic, ‘Don’t you see? The Pariah wasn’t finished here – it’s unfinished. She never leaves behind anything of her own. She always binds the suspects, but only the guys in the parking lot are bound. She wasn’t sloppy; she wasn’t finished.’

Temple shrugged, ‘She was never active during the day before. She never mutilated someone before. She’s unravelling.’

‘No,’ Blake said firmly, ‘The Pariah is meticulous – she would never leave the scene like this. She wasn’t done here.’

‘Well, your people were arriving barely a minute after the witnesses outside claimed the fight ended. She probably ran out of time to finish neatly, and ran to escape capture from the closing net.’ Temple inclined his head towards where the Ogre was being taken away, ‘Who knows the toll it took to break Orlov – I doubt she had much left in the tank to polish her work.’

It was a plausible explanation, but it just didn’t sit right with Blake. It was true that she wouldn’t have had time to do much before both the ACPD and MCU responders would be breathing down her neck, but to leave so much of her equipment as she did? It would have been the work of mere moments to collect her weapons, perhaps less with her telekinetic gifts, but instead she had simply left them? When they apprehended the goth sisters from the hostel the Pariah had warned them twice about the danger the twins posed, but in the case of the Ogre she had left nothing.

It wasn’t right.

Blake didn’t respond to the captain, instead sprinting past him and racing back out into the street. He caught up with the containment operatives just as they were loading the Ogre into the back of one of their trucks.

‘Hey! What happened in there?’ Blake shouted at the Ogre, wrestling his way past an escort so that he could stand over the giant and look him in the eye. ‘Where is she?’

Ogre stared menacingly back at him, growling quietly as he continued to endure his body’s useless efforts to repair itself.

‘Tell me!’ Blake roared, refusing to be intimidated by the immortal. ‘Where is the Pariah?’

After a moment, a cruel smile blossomed across the Ogre’s face and he looked away from the detective to cast his hateful gaze over the onlookers still chanting the Pariah’s name.

‘She reaped the rewards of mercy,’ Ogre replied at last, ‘Now she experiences Truth.’

Blake’s gut tightened as he was pulled away by the escort and the Ogre was lifted into the back of the truck. He strained against the operative holding him back as he stared up at the Ogre, ‘What does that mean?’

The Ogre did not answer him. He remained fixated on the cheering crowd, a subtle flicker of emotion passing over his tattooed features, before he was sealed away in the truck.

Blake felt the colour drain from his face as he stumbled back a few steps, the implications of the giant’s words sinking into him like cold knives.

‘Blake? What is it?’ Locke called after him as she approached.

The detective turned to face his partner, ‘Someone escaped the scene. We need to put an order out to stop any vehicle that matches the ones here.’

‘C’mon Blake,’ Locke chided, ‘That was done as soon as we arrived. There was nothing. No one got away from here on the streets.’ Her eyes kept returning to the doors of the MCU truck, nervously watching it as if the Ogre might burst back out of it at any moment. ‘As far as I know, none of the witnesses saw anyone leave. I guess the Pariah got away,’ she allowed, ‘but she’s a ghost – who knows how she…’

‘Someone got out, Locke,’ Blake insisted, ‘I don’t know how, but they did.’ His mind raced, ‘They will have been encumbered; they won’t have been able to just walk away. They either needed transport or a way to move unseen, ideally both.’ He ran his hand through his hair as he tried to piece together the timeline of events, ‘If we haven’t caught them already then there’s some way out of here that we’re missing. If we’d have seen them driving or walking away, what wouldn’t we have seen?’

Locke narrowed her eyes as she listened, dragging her gaze from the truck to focus on Blake, ‘The sewers, possibly, but I haven’t seen any access points. Maybe a vehicle we weren’t looking for - something innocuous - but even then, it would need to have fled the scene minutes before officers arrived, not seconds. You think someone got away during the fight?’

‘No,’ Blake whispered as he watched the MCU truck begin to move away, ‘Not during.’

He turned back towards the garage and began pacing around the building towards the junction into its parking lot. His eyes darted back and forth as he searched, his urgency rising as he pre-empted what he was about to find. Locke hurried after him, now acutely aware that Blake was on the scent of something.

‘Talk to me Blake. What’s on your mind?’

They rounded the corner of the junction, turning off the main street into a lane that connected to the parking lot at the back of the garage. Ahead of them the parking lot was buzzing with ACPD officers processing the still-unconscious henchmen. The lot was surrounded by old apartment buildings, with two small fenced-off alleys connecting to it that delineated the buildings around it. Several unmarked vans were parked around the lot, all in a line in front of the garage shutters save for one that was parked in the back corner, tightly nestled against the adjacent building.

There.

Blake broke into a run towards the stray van, his hand clenched around the revolver in his holster. Locke followed his lead, respecting her colleague enough to trust his concern.

‘Has anyone checked this one?’ Blake shouted to the officers as he approached the van.

The nearest officer looked up in surprise at the detectives, ‘Huh? Yeah – it’s locked. We haven’t…’

Blake drew his revolver and smashed the driver-side door window with the butt of it, setting off the vehicle’s alarm and canvasing the parking lot with its shrill noise. As a ripple of protests spread through the officers Blake reached in and unlocked the door, yanking it open and heaving himself inside in one fluid movement. He had his weapon at the ready as he swept from the driver’s seat into the cargo hold, tracking for any sudden move.

And there it was.

The van’s side-loading door was open, neatly pressed against a window into the building the van was parked so conveniently next to. Concealed by the van itself, the entrance into the building had been invisible to the officers out in the parking lot. The window was completely smashed open, revealing the poorly lit interior of the building beyond.

Shit. Oh shit.

Blake sagged slightly as the sight confirmed everything he feared.

Locke swore as she appeared next to him, ‘God damn it. We’ll extend the cordon and search the entire building. I’ll notify dispatch.’

‘They’ll already be gone,’ Blake muttered quietly, ‘Slipped out where no one was looking,’ he shook his head and leaned against the wall of the van, ‘They got out… She’s gone…’

Locke rounded on him, ‘What do you mean? What are you thinking?’

Blake grimaced as he was forced to admit his fear. His mind raced as he tried to work out the multitude of escape routes from this point, and if there was still a way to make this right. He clenched his fists as he resolved there and then that he would not rest until he made it right.

There’s still time. There has to be.

‘They have her,’ he said as he approached the broken window to climb through it, his voice hard. ‘Underhaven has the Pariah.’



Part Eight: The Stalker


******Two days ago…******


The Silk Dungeon was very much Fontaine’s kind of place.

Where Club Surrender was a classy, multifaceted labyrinth of hedonistic indulgence, the Dungeon was more of an asylum for the depraved. It was a raw madhouse of debauchery and decadence, where just about every physical desire was excessively and bluntly catered for. There was no pretence of it being anything but a parlour of sin.

Where Club Surrender was a highly-refined wine, the Silk Dungeon was like a brutal moonshine.

In the smoky half-light of the den there was no pleasure off limits. Stunningly beautiful women danced and cavorted on multiple podiums throughout the bar, each show more scandalous and provocative than the last. At the centre of the bar stood a much larger podium, where the display put on by the girls was a full-blown sex show, and where paying customers could literally step on to the stage to join the show. Tables were arrayed between the various podiums, where men could observe the shows while ordering both drinks and hard drugs to consume at their leisure. Scantily clad girls flitted between the tables to serve their customers, allowing all kinds of liberties to be taken of them by the patrons, and even leading some costumers away to concealed stalls at the extremities of the bar when the customers had ordered them on the menu. To the far left of the bar there were doors leading off to even more private chambers, where even more extreme forms of entertainment took place. The whole bar positively stank of booze and sex.

Fontaine loved it. As far as he was concerned, there was some kind of primal imperative here – like this place stripped away everything but what really mattered. He imagined that this was the place that someone would dearly wish to come if they were told they had only hours left to live, or if they even reflected enough on the certainty that they were mortal. This was a place where you lived fast, and consumed as much pleasure as you were able to, before your body or your wallet gave out on you.

Whatever else Fontaine thought of Vincent Malone – and it wasn’t a lot – he did at least have to give it to the guy that he ran one hell of an establishment.

Even so, Fontaine didn’t particularly hunger for the beautiful hostesses of the Dungeon, even if he didn’t mind looking at them. They were all tamed creatures, having all been picked up and suitably conditioned by Underhaven towards being the obedient sex-kittens that they were here. They knew how to work their nubile bodies, they knew exactly how to please a man, and they were ravenously willing – but there was something soulless about them that left Fontaine ultimately unfulfilled. The only nights that Fontaine had actively partaken of the Dungeon’s delights was when it exclusively served Underhaven’s personel, and where the girls on the menu were newly captured and fresh in need of being broken in to their new lives.

Those nights, those shows, those sessions… They were incredible.

It made Fontaine giddy just recalling it.

Alas, tonight was not such a night, and the menu of the Dungeon was not Fontaine’s concern this time. Rarely for Fontaine, it was the men of the bar that he was looking at. He prowled the bar, ignoring the flirtatious hostesses as he scanned the dimly lit room for a man he was keenly set on meeting. He ignored the obvious patrons of the bar, instead focusing in on the staff and the men that were clearly Malone’s people.

It wasn’t hard to spot them – they were all a similar type of guy. Young, handsome, arrogant, and insatiable. Fontaine approached them each in turn, inquiring about his man, and needing to raise his voice to be heard over the deep, throbbing music of the Dungeon. Each man was suspicious of him at first, but a mixture of his charming grin and dropping his name was enough to disarm them into talking. They had all heard of Fontaine – he was like an artist whose work they had all studied.

Each guy rolled their eyes at the mention of Fontaine’s quarry, telling the stalker that he was looking for a lying coward who wasn’t worth his time. Fontaine had smiled politely at each retort, and then persisted in pressing them for the whereabouts of the man they were so venomously unimpressed by.

It took time, and considerable patience, but eventually Fontaine was directed to his man.

He found him in one of the secluded stalls at the far edge of the bar, drinking alone on a crimson leather bench, surrounded by empty bottles of beer. The young man was nursing a fat lip and what looked to be a killer hangover from a previous day spent drowning his sorrows. His shoulders were hunched and his head was down, not even looking up as Fontaine slid into the bench opposite him.

Fontaine sat for a moment in silence with the other man, content to take his time studying him and taking the measure of him.

After a few more moments, the younger man finally acknowledged the stalker’s presence.

‘Fuck off,’ he slurred, not even looking up, ‘There’s plenty of other fucking booths – get the fuck out of mine.’

Fontaine grinned, ‘You’re Finch, right? Lenny Finch?’

The younger man sat upright, finally looking at Fontaine, ‘Huh? What’s it to you, hobo?’

The stalker’s smile widened, ‘It’s quite a lot to me. Are you Finch, or aren’t you?’

There was a loaded silence as the younger man frowned back at Fontaine, considering his response. Fontaine could see the cogs slowly turning in the drunkard’s mind as he tried to work out what was going on. After a moment, the other man let out a sigh and leaned back in his seat, brushing his greasy dark hair back out of his face.

‘Alright, hobo, you tell me who you are, and then I’ll see if you’re worth my time – I got shit to be getting on with here,’ the younger man said, waving his hand out over his empty bottles of beer.

Fontaine chuckled and leaned forward in his seat, briefly imagining how easy it would be to open the younger man’s throat using one of those empty bottles, ‘I can see you are very busy, but I promise I won’t take much of your time.’ He reached his hand past the glass bottles and offered it to the other man, ‘My name’s Fontaine, and I’ve been looking for you for hours, slugger.’

The young man snorted with amusement, ‘You? You’re the super stalker? Please. Fontaine is…’

‘Sitting opposite you, considering killing you, yes,’ Fontaine interrupted jovially, his eyes twinkling with dangerous mischief. Fontaine continued on talking as the other man stiffened at the threat, still holding out his hand, ‘But I’m also considering making you a legend, if you play your cards right here. It seems to me that you could do with a helping hand from above right now, eh? Seems to me that your pals all think you’re a lying snake in the grass that abandoned guys, that they all like way more than you, to the Pariah.’ Fontaine held the other man’s sobering gaze as he lowered his voice, ‘It seems to me that you’re just one more wrong move away from ending up in the river, and, slugger, it won’t be cuz you went swimming. What do you think?’

The other man’s face drained as he listened. He swallowed hard and then fidgeted in his seat, ‘You… You’re really the stalker guy? You’re really Fontaine?’

Fontaine nodded, pushing his hand further forwards, ‘And you are Finch, right?’

Lenny took his hand hastily to shake it, ‘Yeah… But nobody calls me Finch – I’m just Lenny.’

‘Alright then, Lenny,’ Fontaine said lightly as he pulled back his hand and nestled back into his seat, ‘You have any idea why I’m sat here, talking to you?’

Lenny glanced around nervously at the bar beyond the stall, ‘Uh, are you going after the Pariah? Malone’s going to war with her… It makes sense that they’d send the stalk…you.’

Fontaine raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t expected Lenny to make the connection so quickly. ‘Bingo,’ he replied with a smile, ‘But not just me; the red mistress has set loose some of the most dangerous killers in Azure to end the Pariah. It’s the biggest show of force since that whole Abrahams thing – but rather than trying to put down a rival empire, this is all just for one single woman.’ Fontaine smacked his lips, ‘That’s pretty crazy, for one woman to draw so much heat from the mistress – she must be quite a woman, this Pariah…’ The stalker scratched his chin and breathed out a wistful sigh as his mind wandered, before returning his gaze to Lenny, ‘And you’ve seen her, right? In fact, if your story is to be believed, you’ve done a lot more than seeing her. As far as I know, you’re the only guy not currently sitting in jail or hospital that has had the pleasure of her company. I’d love to have a chat about her – get the inside scoop, if you like. What do you say, slugger?’

Lenny shrugged his shoulders, ‘But, no one believes me. They think I just ran as soon as I saw her; they think I’m just talking shit to look good and keep Malone from punishing me.’ He idly touched his bruised lip, ‘I’m fucking sick of being called a liar,’ he said darkly.

The stalker inclined his head and stroked his beard thoughtfully, ‘You know, slugger, I wasn’t sure myself if you were telling lies or telling the truth. The first thing I was gonna figure out with you was if you were full of crap or not.’ Fontaine flashed a smile, ‘But, you know, looking at you now, I believe you, slugger.’

The corner of Lenny’s mouth pulled into a hesitant smile, ‘You do? You believe me?’

Fontaine steepled his fingers and rested his chin down on them. ‘I’ll need to hear you tell the whole story, and I’ll decide for myself afterwards. But, slugger, if I believe you, then I can turn this entire situation around for you. You’ll go from the chump that ran away, to the legendary stud who bested the Pariah, and who gave me the means to capture her.’ Fontaine stared intently at Lenny, ‘You’ll be the key that unlocked everything, and it will shoot you right up into the good graces of the red mistress herself. Forget Malone, why be appreciated by the prince when you can be knighted by the queen?’

Lenny hung on every word, licking his lips as he leaned forwards to concentrate more on Fontaine.

The stalker lowered his voice subtly as he spoke his next words, ‘But, most of all, slugger, I’ll see to it that you get right to the front of the line to break her after I catch her. I’ll make sure you get to finish what you started at the depot – would you like that?’

The young man nodded slowly, his eyes glazing over slightly as he recalled the details of his encounter with the Pariah, and the haunting pleasure he had experienced. It was the look of an addict recalling their greatest hit.

Fontaine grinned, seeing yet more evidence that Lenny’s tale was indeed a true one. His interrogation of the lowlife was going exceptionally well.

‘Yeah,’ Lenny said breathily, ‘I would fucking love that. You could do all of that for me?’

‘Sure I can,’ Fontaine said, moving the empty bottles aside to clear the table between them, and taking Lenny’s half-finished drink from him, ‘But only if you give me all the information I want about the Pariah, and if I buy that it’s not horseshit.’

Lenny gawked at Fontaine as he casually swigged on the bottle he had taken, ‘Okay… What do you want to know?’

The stalker beamed a wide smile.

Everything, slugger. I want to know everything.’


******Now…******


He knew what he should do. He knew what was in his best interest. He knew the consequences for making the stupid choice.

Of course he knew.

Just like he knew that he was absolutely not going to make the smart choice. What was best for him was rendered almost insignificant next to the burning desire of what he wanted, and Fontaine couldn’t recall ever wanting anything more in his life. He needed it now. He couldn’t live with the safe decision, not after all he had just come through – not after all he had seen.

He had to have her. Nothing else mattered.

Fontaine’s flight from the garage had been as desperately last-minute as any escape he had ever made before. The police had been parking up out the front of the building even as he rolled out the back shutters. He had suspected he was dooming himself to being caught by waiting out the fight between the Pariah and the Ogre, but, despite all of his survival instincts pleading him to make his escape, he had risked everything on just the chance of a chance. He had stuck around to the bitter end, and was rewarded with the perfect opening to claim the Pariah.

An opening he was sure he would never have gotten again. She was the perfect mix of exhausted and vulnerable after her duel with the Ogre, distracted in her haste to finish her task at the garage and make her own escape from the approaching sirens. She had thought herself alone and secure, and her guard was suitably lowered.

Even then, even with such a great opportunity, and with all he had learned about her from watching her fight, she had come unbelievably close to besting him again. Were it not for his tenacity, or for the tiny margins by which she missed him with her more powerful attacks, then Fontaine would be just another unconscious thug back in the garage workshop. For a few terrifying moments Fontaine had thought she might, somehow, have known his attack was coming and had laid another trap for him, such was the speed of her response.

His ribs still felt bruised and sore, paining him with each breath he took.

The moment she had started to relax, and her blue eyes begun to flutter closed, had been one of the most electrifying, euphoric moments of Fontaine’s life. It was the moment he knew, categorically, that he had her. She could be brought to heel; she could be made helpless.

She could be dominated.

The thrill of having caught her, and the unbearable anticipation of claiming her, had made it difficult to operate with his usual class. With the police bearing down on the garage, Fontaine feared he would see everything unravel right at the end, fate cruelly denying him his prize even in his moment of victory.

But Fontaine had planned for that possibility. Unlike the Pariah, the ACPD were an enemy that he fully understood, and he had long mastered the art of evading them. Fontaine was a man of plans and back-up plans, and he had already scoped out his options for what he would do to make a clean escape from the garage. In his ambition, he had always allowed for the possibility that he would be needing to carry his prize with him.

With the obvious option of simply driving away off the table, he was already prepared to carry the slumbering heroine through the adjacent apartment building. Though the beating he had taken ensured that each step of his flight was painfully taxing, he pushed through it, moving as swiftly as he was able. The prospect of what awaited him was more than enough motivation to power him through the difficulty of the task. He had hefted the Pariah’s limp form over his shoulder, handling her with near-reverential care, and jogged through the corridors of the derelict building, making his way down a route he had already trialled.

He came out a window on the opposite side of the building from where he entered, into an alley where he had parked his own truck the day before. The box truck was an unassuming cargo hauler, like the hundreds of similar vehicles that moved produce around the city, marked with the worn logos of a local frozen foods supplier. Moving quickly, Fontaine unlocked the rear door and slid it up only enough to carefully push the sleeping heroine into the cargo hold before pulling it closed again behind her.

Letting the Pariah out of his sight had been an uncomfortable thing to do. The woman was so unreasonably formidable that he couldn’t be totally sure she wouldn’t somehow wake up and escape her bondage while he wasn’t watching. But he had no other way to conceal her, and had faith that he had done his job correctly in incapacitating her.

With that done he had jumped into the driver’s cabin and made his escape proper. The alley faced out into the opposite block from where the police were arriving, and Fontaine slowly drove the truck out into the street, turning away from where a cordon was already being established and driving off into the city. It was in those drawn-out seconds that his escape hung in the balance, and he held his breath as multiple police cruisers drove past him towards the garage. An unmarked police car was the last to come barrelling past him, it’s dash and grill-mounted sirens blaring loudly. The young driver at the wheel had met Fontaine’s eye as he flashed past, and the stalker breathed a long sigh of relief as he watched the car continue at speed toward the garage in his rear-view mirror. He drove the first few blocks slow and unhurried, like any other cargo hauler would drive, and only marginally sped up as he got more distance from the sound of sirens.

Even this route was one Fontaine had planned for. He weaved his way through Gallowgate, taking frequent turns to make it near-impossible for his journey to be pieced together by any collection of witnesses. Satisfied that he wasn’t being tailed, and that he was essentially untraceable, Fontaine looped around and drove into Ravenport. After several minutes of driving, he turned off the main road and drove onto the grounds of a secluded industrial park overlooking the sea. He finally parked the truck up in the loading bay of a disused warehouse – a haven he had used more than once over the years.

Fontaine took a long breath as he turned off the ignition for the truck, relaxing back in his seat as he took stock.

He had done it. He had won his prize. Fontaine had the Pariah neatly packaged up, totally helpless to stop him from delivering her to the red mistress, and he was well clear of the cops.

The question then became: what next?

He knew that the smart thing to do was to simply deliver the heroine back to Underhaven and be done with it. He would collect the bounty and solidify his – and Underhaven’s – victory over the dark vigilante without risk of something going wrong. Even smarter still, he reflected, would be to kill the Pariah right now, while she was defenceless. The woman was simply too dangerous, too capable, to risk giving any openings to. He wasn’t entirely sure that she could be broken like the other girls, or if she would just be made more vengeful by their efforts; becoming more like the monster that the Ogre had hoped to find in her.

Fontaine had seen it in her eyes and heard it in her voice. There was something powerful and irrepressible about her that made him doubt that she could ever truly be made to submit. She was on another level, in so many ways, from anything Fontaine had seen before. To try to master her was to play with fire.

Primal, hungry, furious fire. The kind that would sear you just for looking at it.

Fontaine practically shivered with anticipation.

He was infatuated with her now, fatally and irrecoverably. He would address the issue of what clever thing to do with the Pariah after he had attempted the stupid thing. It consumed his every thought.

He was going to tame her; he was going to make her his. Or else she would claim him in the effort - either way, it was going to be incredible.

First, she would be his. Then, maybe, he would deliver her to the red mistress.

Fontaine stepped out the driver’s cabin and walked slowly around the truck to the back door. He glanced around, seeing the surrounding industrial park to be deserted and silent. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky above, casting the world in dusky gloom as the night beckoned.

They were alone. The stalker knew there would be not even the chance of someone passing by until the following morning. He and the Pariah had many hours to claim each other until then. He couldn’t help but grin widely as he considered it now: that when the sun rose the next day someone inside the truck was going to be broken. A triumphant alpha would emerge from the back door, and kneeling at their feet would be a humbled beta.

The thrill was that he had no idea which he would be. The Pariah was elemental and fiercely intelligent; he didn’t doubt that she would turn the tables on him in a heartbeat if she could. He had seen her do it to the Ogre, he had heard how she did it to break free of the aria with Lenny, and he could only imagine she did it to the Ryder sisters.

Now me.

He took another long breath as he stood at the back door. At length, he opened the lock and rolled open the door, cringing with apprehension at what the heroine could have done while she was unseen.

He half-expected to be set upon and pulverised, or to find her standing, bold and free, waiting for him to come to her - a force of nature that defied his efforts to control her.

Instead, she lay where he had left her, still sleeping peacefully in her chloroform-induced haze. The lithe woman was completely relaxed in her tight bindings, her face still smothered with the soaked rag that anchored her to her unconsciousness. She groaned very quietly with each exhale, stirring as if in the midst of a sweet dream.

The sight took Fontaine’s breath away.

He leaned forward to look at her more closely, delicately brushing her feathery blonde hair back and away from her face. He ran the back of his fingertips down her cheeks, feeling the smoothness of her pale skin, before caressing the outline of the mask over her eyes. The woman sighed into her gag, unconsciously nuzzling his hand as his touch roused her.

Fontaine’s pulse raced. He felt himself hardening almost painfully in his pants, even this small contact exciting him more than any conquest he’d had before.

‘You’re so perfect,’ he whispered to her as he moved his hand up to stroke her hair, enjoying the conditioned silkiness of it, ‘And you’re mine.’

He heaved himself into the back of the truck, flicking on a battery-powered lamp mounted on the wall to reveal the interior of the cargo hold in warm hues of yellow light. The hold had been modified and custom fit by Fontaine to be his own personal dungeon. His generous funding from Underhaven had been injected right back into his passion for claiming women, and he had spared no expense in turning the confined space into something of a training room for his captives. The floor and walls were padded with cushioned cream leather, much like an asylum cell, and the walls were lined with various racks. The racks were filled with the tools of pleasure and domination that he had grown to favour, offering everything Fontaine could ever need to tame a captive. The focal point of the hold was the frame in the centre: a sturdy metalwork device from which hung multiple red leather straps and braces, with a luxurious sex swing hanging at its heart.

The training harness. Her training harness.

Fontaine turned back around and sealed the door behind him, closing away the world outside, before locking and bolting it from within.

‘It’s just you and me now, sweetheart,’ he muttered as he moved past the bound heroine to the nearest rack of equipment. He retrieved a heavy-duty tripod and snapped a release to extend its legs, opening it out before standing it at the door next to the heroine. After ensuring the tripod was securely positioned, Fontaine returned to the rack to collect a high-definition digital recorder, fully charged and ready for use.

A sly smile spread across his face as he popped off the lens cover and checked that it was totally clear before carefully fastening it into place on the tripod. He flipped out the viewing screen and turned on the device, pleased to see the clarity of the picture.

Not that he should be surprised – Fontaine had already gone to great lengths to prepare the training room. He had set the lighting up to be perfect for recording.

After taking several seconds to get the angle and position just right, giving the camera the optimal shot of the harness, Fontaine hit record.

He licked his lips. This was going to be the crown jewel of his collection – utterly and completely towering over them all.

It’s show time.

Fontaine unslung and threw his duffle bag onto the floor before bending down and delicately lifting the Pariah up into his arms. He had to tilt his head back not to be mired in the fumes still radiating from the rag over her face as he carried her into the view of his recorder. He grinned at the lens.

‘Well here we are – ain’t this exciting?’ he said jovially to the camera. He winked at it and then slowly sat the Pariah down, kneeling and resting the heroine back on the floor. She moaned softly as she was stirred more, but still made no move in her bindings as the stalker controlled her body.

It was an effort of will for Fontaine to do this all the right way. He knew it was best to go slow and methodical – to truly savour this prize – but his passion for this woman was unbearable. Just the musky smell of her was driving him insane. The heat of her body and the feel of her toned, exquisite form made him feel like he was a teenager all over again. But this was the stalker’s art; he would not rush a masterpiece.

‘I think it’s time to get to know you better.’

He started with her boots. High-quality, hard-wearing black boots that had been laced up tightly with sophisticated knots, leaving almost no lacing exposed at the top. Fontaine grinned as he fingered the knots, teasing at them until he could work them open. He slowly unravelled them, creating more and more slack as he pulled the laces through their holes until each boot was fully unlaced, only loosely gripping the heroine’s feet.

‘You’re a perfectionist I see. I wonder if you’re this precise in all aspects of your life…’

He took one of her feet in both hands, lifting it slightly from the padded floor and easing the boot off of it. She wore a simple white gym sock underneath, which Fontaine hooked his fingertips under and peeled from her foot. He was surprised to find how soft and supple the skin of her bare foot was – totally at odds with the harsh lifestyle he imagined the Pariah had. Even her toenails were finely manicured.

He kneaded her heel with his thumbs, gently massaging the tender, pliable flesh of her bare foot, and was rewarded with another gentle moan from the slumbering heroine.

‘You take surprisingly good care of yourself. Personal pride? The perfectionist in you, perhaps, or is it something else…’

He repeated the process on her other foot, stripping it naked and taking a moment to massage it.

‘A badass bitch who lives only to kick the shit out of people wouldn’t go to great lengths to have pretty feet – but you did. I like that.’

Fontaine slid his hands up her legs, firmly rubbing up the tight, leathery material of her suit and feeling every curve of her toned legs. He felt up her calves and her thighs, impressed with their firmness, before sliding his hands even higher up her body. His hands passed her hips and worked their way up the sides of her torso, sliding up either side of her breasts before coming together to grip the zip of her bodysuit.

‘I really like the outfit, sweetheart. You’ve clearly put a lot of time and effort into it, but I think now it has to go.’

Taking his time, Fontaine pulled the zip down the length of her torso.

‘It’s practical, I’m sure, for protecting you while still allowing you to move, but it’s also very flattering on you. Did it need to be so tight? It must be hard to squeeze yourself into this every night – but you do. Every night. Right before you target the group of rapists and pleasure merchants. I think we’ll come back to that one.’

The heroine groaned a little louder on the floor as the zip was pulled all the way down her body. She stirred, flexing in her bindings while rubbing her thighs together ever so slightly. The movement was enough to tear the stalker’s gaze away from the hint of exposed flesh beneath the open zipper.

Unbound as her legs were, Fontaine knew well the devilish risk they posed if the Pariah were to wake up. She could kick his lights out before he even knew he was in danger.

‘Hmm, I think we need to hurry this along a little.’

Moving more hastily, Fontaine walked around the heroine and pushed both hands into her bodysuit at her right leg. He slid his hands down her thigh, savouring the feel of her naked skin, before stretching the suit out around his hands and slowly pulling her leg free from the suit. He growled with approval as he fully stripped the suit from her leg, finding it to be as perfectly sculpted as he imagined. Unable to help himself, he took the time to caress her bare leg with both hands, firmly massaging the length of it. Once again, he was astonished at how smooth her skin was, feeling more like the leg of a runway model than a rough and tough fighter.

Under his touch the Pariah sighed and squirmed even more in her restless sleep. Her sounds were becoming increasingly aroused. Fontaine was becoming confident she was indeed dreaming, and that her dream wasn’t at all unpleasant.

‘Jesus,’ he breathed, his excitement in danger of getting the better of him, ‘You really take care of yourself. There’s that perfectionist again.’ He looked directly up at the camera as he stroked his hand up her inner thigh, ‘You want to be sexy.’

He repeated the process on her other leg, peeling it free from her suit with more confidence after managing it with the first.

‘Fuck me, you are gorgeous,’ he muttered, his gaze roving down to her exposed, snug-fitting black thong. He treated her leg with the same tender pampering that he gave the first, drawing more quiet moans from the Pariah. He could see small blemishes on her legs where bruises had begun to form from her fight with the Ogre, and he dutifully massaged the sore spots, being rewarded with more approving groans from the stirring heroine.

Looking more closely now, Fontaine could see the subtle marks of older wounds; the scars left from battles in the heroine’s past. He fingered each faded scar in turn, finding a wide mix of past wounds suffered, from cuts to burns to punctures. Looking up, he could see a similar tapestry woven up the woman’s torso.

‘Ah,’ he whispered as his hands crawled up her legs to start caressing the subtle scars on her stomach and up her sides, ‘This is sad, sweetheart. You’ve lived a violent life, haven’t you? So many battles, so much hurt…,’ his hands roamed higher up the Pariah’s body, caressing her chest above her sports bra before then spreading out to push her bodysuit over her shoulders and down her arms, ‘No one would choose that life… so I guess it was chosen for you, huh? No wonder you’re pissed.’

The heroine’s moans were becoming louder and more lucid. She shivered as he stroked his hands down her bare shoulders, easing her suit down until it reached where her arms became crossed in her binding. Pariah undulated herself under Fontaine’s touch, almost as if trying to encourage him.

She really was starting to wake up. Fontaine’s smile dropped as he realised how distracted he had gotten in exploring the heroine. It was time to secure her properly.

With effort, he pulled back from the heroine’s inviting body and lifted her once more into his arms. In a perfect world he knew he would strip her entirely from her suit, rather than keep it dangling from her elbows, but he considered it an act of lunacy to risk unbinding her arms just for that, so resolved to worry about it later – after she was a tamer creature to handle.

He carried her to the training harness and carefully leaned her down into the swing, supporting her weight with one arm while fastening a padded leather harness around her stomach with the other. After tightly securing two buckles on the harness, Fontaine released the heroine’s weight onto the swing and lowered two sets of adjacent circular straps from the frame. The Pariah flexed once more in her bindings and gave a timid groan of protest as Fontaine lifted her right leg up to the straps. He buckled the thick, padded strap around the heroine’s thigh, securing it in the air, before bending her leg as far as it would go, with the heel of her foot pressed against the back of her thigh, and then bound her ankle in place with the adjacent strap. Taking a second to ensure her straps were tight enough, Fontaine moved and manipulated her left leg as he had the right. He could feel the heroine weakly resisting him now, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from strapping in her thigh and ankle like he had before. With her legs now bound in the frame, the Pariah hung perfectly in place with her weight supported and her bent legs held wide apart.

The sight of her dangling in the training harness was almost enough to drive Fontaine crazy with desire, but he knew he had just a little more work to do before the true fun began. He winked again at the camera before strolling over to another rack and retrieving a metallic black collar, lined with red velvet on the inside. He lovingly stroked his fingers along the surface of it before turning back to the stirring heroine and fastening it around her neck.

‘Damn, that suits you,’ he said warmly as took a step back to admire it. ‘Just one last touch and you’re ready to go, princess.’

From yet another rack he produced a black leather blindfold. He examined it in his hands, making sure the contour of it would be perfect for the heroine’s face.

This was crucial.

After studying it for a moment Fontaine was satisfied it would get the job done, and he returned back to the side of the suspended heroine. He stepped around behind her and began peeling off the black tape that circled her head around her eyes. Fontaine braced himself as the tape was pulled from over her mask and eyes, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when he saw that her eyes were still closed. He could see now that they were moving in their sockets, clearly dreaming, but he took no time to watch them, instead hurriedly pressing the blindfold over her eyes. The fit was perfect, exactly covering her mask, and Fontaine’s wide smile returned as he tightly buckled it around her head.

He walked around the frame to survey his captive from the front, carefully checking all his work one last time to make sure everything was securely fastened.

All the hardship that Fontaine had suffered to get to this point was already worth it many times over just for seeing the Pariah like this. The transformation from when he first laid eyes on her in the garage locker room to this was what Fontaine lived for. She had been an avenging angel – a pristine champion, calmly asserting her superiority over everything in her presence. She had been the very image of power.

Now she cast the opposite image. Stripped of her cloak and her weapons, with her armoured suit pulled from her body, now dangling off the swing from her elbows where it met her bound arms, the heroine hung half-naked in the training harness. Her black underwear did little to conceal her magnificent body, and it was revealed all the more by the way she was suspended in the air by the straps that bound her. The collar and blindfold were the perfect additions to her new aspect, branding her with the symbols of his control and further disempowering her. She was exposed and helpless within her training harness, and for Fontaine it was beautiful poetry.

‘Yeah…,’ he nodded to himself, idly touching the throbbing erection in his pants, ‘This is a good look for you… We’re ready.’

It was about to get so much better.

He reached up and removed the tape from around the Pariah’s mouth, unwinding it around her head and making her grunt with discomfort as it pulled her hair. With the tape freed he discarded it and pulled the rag from the heroine’s face, tossing it back over his shoulder.

Finally free of the chloroform rag, the Pariah’s stirrings became more frequent and pronounced. She gave a heavy sigh as she began to surface from her dreams.

Fontaine stepped back from her, intently watching her as she began to wake up.

Back at the garage they had fought on her terms, and she had totally overwhelmed him, making him feel helpless against her. Now they were going to fight on his terms. Where before he was beneath her notice, now he would be her whole world.

He was going to master her, he knew that now.

There was still a mighty clash of wills to get through before that. No doubt she would try to outsmart him, to manipulate him just as he was going to try to manipulate her. No doubt she would be a mighty wolf to attempt to tame, fraught with the danger of incurring her wrath, but, ultimately, she would yield.

She was an alpha, absolutely - but she didn’t want to be. The stalker saw it in her, and soon she would be seeing it too.

He was going to possess her, body and spirit, and she was going to love it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


And there we have it. Nice bit of double-post action there, and our hero is certainly in a bit of a bind. Hopefully you guys like it and how we're set up for what's to come. Stay tuned for Part Nine: Alpha - it's not a small chapter!
Last edited by Void 7 years ago, edited 3 times in total.
Lost in the night, and there is no morning.
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valugi
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I had no more hope of seeing Pariah's story, how good you did not give up, two great chapters, I look forward to the next, see how the heroine will resist to Fontaine.
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Thanks Valugi! I'm delighted you're still reading - you're a total champ.

Well, here we are. Took us approximately a million (two and a half) years to get here, but we're finally at the sticky chapter. I'll admit, I have mixed feelings about this one now, but broadly I'm still very happy with it. There's an awful lot going on here - for both characters - beyond just the obvious sexual stuff. Maybe too much - there's a real chance this makes more sense in my head than it will on the page.

This chapter was my best effort to honour the results of the poll, as well as just being the culmination of the entire episode. For best effect it's worth reading from the start of the episode, because it is a bit of a love-letter to the chapters building up to it.

Please enjoy!

Part Nine: Alpha


She was adrift in her own mind, struggling to defeat a four-armed giant who she could not put down. She pounded on him with an unending flurry of strikes, trying to break him and banish everything that he stood for, hurling her anger against him with one thunderous blow after another. She raged against him, doing her very best to deny him as she shifted from one desperate attack to another, trying ever harder to defeat him.

But he would not topple; he would not be stopped. He took all of her aggression with a sneer, standing over her and enduring everything she could throw at him without even moving to prevent her.

Finally, shattered from her useless efforts, she collapsed to her knees at his feet in exhaustion. She tried to catch her breath, tried to stand again to continue fighting him, but she was too spent to do any more than keep herself from collapsing further. She had nothing left.

Now the giant moved, bending down and lifting her with his many big arms. He restrained her limbs easily within each of his powerful hands as he sprouted yet another set of arms that burst forth from between his other pairs. Purposefully, slowly, the new arms began stripping her naked, shredding her suit and pulling it from her body.

‘You cannot resist me,’ he told her coldly as he pulled her clothing from her, ‘You cannot change me.’

She was thrashing against him but it was useless – she had no strength anymore. She could do nothing as he fully exposed her body to him. Beneath hooded eyes she watched as he pulled down his pants and readied his enormous pulsing cock.

‘You cannot deny me.’

Too weak to resist, she did nothing as he pulled her naked body to him and steadily penetrated her. She could do nothing but gasp and cry out as the giant began to fuck her. Having total control of her limbs, he moved her rather than moving himself, lifting her up and down on his cock, making her ride it against her will.

His free set of hands wandered her body as he drove her up and down, giving her the full length of his shaft each time. He stroked her cheeks, massaged the heels of her feet, rubbed the lengths of her legs, shifted her from one fucking position to another, and she could do nothing but bitterly accept it.

Despite all her hate, she could not prevent her body’s physical response to her attacker. Her loins ached with pleasure, devouring and squeezing his huge cock hungrily with each fresh thrust. She grew wetter and wetter as the giant continued to violate her, relentlessly driving her on towards a climax that she desperately didn’t want.

His hands began to strangle her and cover her eyes as her orgasm threatened to break over her.

‘You cannot deny yourself.’

He was going to make her come. She couldn’t stop it.

‘Accept the…’

‘No!’ she screamed over him. ‘Never! Never!

In a bright flourish of blue luminescence, she cried out as she…

*****

Pariah awoke.

Her head throbbed with a piercing ache that made her feel ill down to her stomach. The sensation clawed at her, endlessly needling her and making her feel fatigued to the point of wanting to return to sleep just to escape it.

It was a familiar feeling, though it had only rarely ever been so intense. She had overused her telekinetic ability, taxing her innate power past the limit of safety, and her body was punishing her for it now.

Her body… She felt bruised and sore everywhere, aching like she’d just been in an avalanche. There was a sickening taste and smell that made her want to gag and puke, further adding to her strong sense of nausea.

It was so dark. She couldn’t see anything as she reluctantly creeped her eyes open. She couldn’t move, either. There was resistance that firmly held her in place no matter what she tried to do.

Ugh… What the…

Pariah began to remember.

It came back to her through the haze of her bleary memories as she further woke from her torpor.

The Ogre… The garage…

Pariah groaned with distress as she fought to regain clarity through the fog of her pain and tiredness. She tried again to move, becoming more aware now of where she was being restrained – and how.

In a flash, she finally recalled her final moments before waking here. Adrenaline flooded into her system as she realised her predicament. She now recognised the smell of chloroform under her nose and the taste of it upon her lips. She remembered the bearded thug taking her from behind, and the dreadful realisation that he was about to put her under. She couldn’t believe that he hadn’t run away.

I’ve been out, Pariah thought coldly, How long? How far could I have been moved? The police were about to arrive… Is this meta containment?

Her thinking was starting to speed up now as she tried to analyse her circumstances. Her attention shifted back to her inability to move. She shifted and flexed her body, feeling where she could move and where she could not. She was lying on something that comfortably held her whole upper body, like a kind of padded hammock. Pariah attempted to shift in place but found a thick, cushioned belt around her waist gripped her too tight to move. Considering this oddity, she realised that she was also lying atop her arms, which were bound together behind her back at her forearms. She could feel the tight binding around the full length of them, pinning each hand just past the elbow of the other arm. Feeling with her fingertips she could just reach the edge of the leathery strips that were lashed around her, though she couldn’t feel any of the knots that held them. The binding was very tight, offering her no slack at all to create any lateral movement.

Splaying her fingers out she tried to explore the fabric beneath her, but found she was touching the crumpled material of her own bodysuit.

Belatedly, this triggered her awareness of her own exposure. She could feel cool air upon her skin, from her face down to the tips of her toes, and she realised that she was stripped out of both her boots and her bodysuit, down to just her underwear. She was lying over her suit, though she could still feel it closely hugging her like a second skin around her wrists – around where she was bound. Her legs were also supported, held within padded leathery rings that circled each thigh and ankle, keeping them folded in and holding them apart.

Pariah slowly shifted her head from side to side, feeling the restrictive grip of a collar around her neck, cool and metallic around its outer edges while warm and whisper-soft within, tickling her sensitive skin as it rubbed against her. The act of moving her head also drew her attention to the buckle fastened around her head, and she realised the total darkness around her was the result of a heavy-duty blindfold. Aware of it now, she could just feel it over her eyelashes as she blinked.

That… That’s bad, she thought with mounting trepidation as she vainly searched for any small cracks in the blackout around her. Did they know how effective this would be?

Manifesting her power without being able to see whatever she was trying to connect to was difficult at the best of times, only having stunted results compared to when she could truly turn her focus upon something, but now, with her telekinesis so burned out, the task seemed impossible.

Unable to even see the blindfold that shrouded the world from her, Pariah made a quick attempt to conjure her power, to generate the light she needed from her own eyes, but the effort of blindly trying to summon her telekinesis proved too monumental in her present state. Stabbing pain lanced around her head, echoing around her mind repeatedly before gradually receding down to a more manageable burning sensation. For a fleeting instant, her eyes had given off enough of a glow for her to connect with the blindfold, but it was secured so tightly to her head that she couldn’t move it before the effort overcame her.

Pariah winced with pain from the aborted effort as her world became impenetrable darkness once more. Ugh. That’s a problem… If I have the time to recover more I’m sure I can manage it – but it could be hours before then.

Focusing her attention on her face, she could still feel her mask plastered over and around her eyes, seemingly enveloped beneath the blindfold.

At least that’s something, Pariah considered, feeling a measure of comfort, It doesn’t feel like the seal has been broken.

She listened intently around her, hearing only very faint metal clinks from above her somewhere. The sounds suddenly made her current position make more sense to her.

I’m being held from above. I’m suspended on something.

Pariah took in all these details and processed them in scarcely a few seconds, methodically working out her situation in the calculated manner that Kamura had once taught her.

This isn’t meta containment, she thought, having mixed feelings about that conclusion. This is Underhaven…

She felt her heart start to beat faster as the terrible severity of her predicament was dawning on her. A small part of her pride burned with the shame that she had been captured by her enemy, and it stung all the worse as she considered the state she had been trussed up in.

Well, I’m not dead, Pariah thought dryly as she tentatively tested the restraints over her body, feeling for any give and finding none. The slight motion set her swaying in the air a little, further confirming her suspicion that she was hanging like this. That’s their first mistake.

Her fingertips went back to work, stretching out and seeking the knots that tied the strips around her forearms. She arched her back slightly, pulling with her legs against the straps that held them to gain leverage as she tried to contort her right hand further inwards and give her fingertips more reach. The effort rewarded her with finding the tip of a tight, complex knot, and she arched herself more as she tried to feel for…

‘Did you enjoy your sleep, sweetheart?’

Pariah stiffened with surprise as the friendly voice broke the silence. He was standing just a few feet away from her, but had made no noise until now. She relaxed her body, hoping to conceal what she had been attempting.

‘I imagine you probably wanted a longer rest than that, right?’ the voice continued, ‘I mean, after that marathon slugfest with the Ogre? All that discussion about philosophy and having a sappy heart to heart about who broods harder? Exhausting, right?’

The speaker was stepping around her now. She heard his footsteps, sounding like he was walking on a leather couch, and she tried to turn her head to follow the movement.

He’s enjoying this, Pariah assessed as she tried to study the speaker, He’s excited.

‘You must be ready to hit the showers and call it day, am I right?’ He carried on as he walked behind her, ‘Maybe take a spa day or something tomorrow to reward yourself? Hell, I would; I would get the full damn works. Creamy shit on my face, fruit on my eyes – you know what I’m talking about – and some Turkish guy massaging every inch of me for hours on end. You gotta be sore – you took a bit of a mauling from the big guy.’ The speaker was circling back to her front, his upbeat tone getting warmer, ‘It looked brutal, sweetheart. Frankly, I’m amazed you aren’t…’

‘Fontaine,’ Pariah spoke over him, her calm, measured tone silencing the stalker immediately, ‘You sound pleased with yourself. Are you still riding the high of escaping a near-death experience, or are you always so conversational?’

Silence descended once more. The speaker had stopped moving, frozen to the spot.

‘You know my name,’ Fontaine said after a moment, his tone considerably less smug.

Pariah grinned, happy that her ploy to disrupt his stride had worked, ‘Does that surprise you, Fontaine?’

She heard the stalker shift his weight next to her, indicating the body language of someone defensive and uncomfortable.

This isn’t how he wanted this to go, Pariah considered as she focused on working out her captor. He’s nervous. I can work with this.

‘Heh… Okay, yeah, that surprises me,’ Fontaine said at last, giving a slight chuckle. Pariah could tell his levity was forced, further revealing his uncertainty. ‘Colour me impressed, darling,’ he said, regaining his composure as he went back to circling her, ‘I guess Grail did name me before you punched his clock – useless asshole that he was. But knowing my name is hardly going to help you here. You don’t know me.’

‘Don’t I?’ Pariah challenged, trying to keep the stalker off his game.

Fontaine stepped up behind her and leaned against the frame she was hanging from, causing her to sway back and forth with the jolt. ‘C’mon, I’m just thug number fifteen, or whatever, to you. I’m just the annoying guy that got away, right?’

There was anger in his voice. Bitterness.

Insecure. Trying to prove something. Wants to be validated.

She weighted her words to be sharp and harsh, ‘You were just annoying – until I woke up. Now, you’re annoying and easier to read than the back of my hand. I know you, Fontaine. I know enough to understand that you’re in way over your head. I know enough that you would rather run from a fight than be in one – and that this is a fight you…’

Pariah trailed off as she felt the stalker caressing her hair. He ran his fingers through her golden locks from root to tip, gently pulling on the strands he gripped between his fingertips.

It was a simple gesture, but a powerful demonstration of the balance of power between them.

‘Sorry, am I breaking your concentration?’ Fontaine whispered to her, moving up to tenderly massage her scalp, ‘Please, do go on. Tell me all about how well you know me; tell me all about how I’m the one in too deep.’

Pariah shifted in her restraints, unable to move anywhere to escape the stalker’s stroking hands. She ground her teeth with revulsion as she yanked her head from side to side, but Fontaine’s intimate touch always went with her.

He’s trying to assert dominance, she thought, gradually relaxing again in her harness as the futility of evading his hands became apparent. He wants fear, hesitation, weakness. Don’t give it to him. Break his power fantasy – that’s all this is.

Pariah took a long breath, calming herself as Fontaine capitalised on her resignation by more intensely massaging her scalp.

‘I profiled you at a glance, Fontaine,’ she said impassively, doing her best to ignore the stalker’s intimate treatment. ‘You used your weapons and moved like you’d been trained to – like you’d been drilled with procedures - so I guess you’ve served in the forces, probably doing several tours abroad before you were discharged.’ The stalker became even firmer as he rubbed her, the tension giving away surprise – giving away that she was on the right track.

‘Of course,’ Pariah went on, ‘You were dishonourably discharged. Not for molesting local women, though you thought about it all the time, no, you were discharged for cowardice in the field.’ Pariah gave a cruel smile, ‘You had a brush with death and you couldn’t hack it. You’ve never recovered. Now you play power games with Underhaven to feel good about yourself. You use your limited skills to capture women for them, and that’s why they call you stalker, as if you were any good at it.’

Fontaine’s touch left her body and he backed away from her.

‘You like to play God over people, to have power over them, because it lets you forget, for a moment, what a spineless derelict you are.’ Pariah was really trying to fluster him now, her tone becoming increasingly condescending and venomous. All the while she had subtly arched herself again and was working the very tip of her fingers around the shape of the first knot that bound her arms. ‘You’ve been flattered by too many helpless women who could do nothing against you, and it’s deluded you into thinking that you deserve respect. You brought me here, to what I can only imagine is your playroom, because you actually thought I’d let you have power over me.’ She gave a mocking smile, making a show of being amused, before carrying on with the tone of an angry school teacher, ‘This pathetic fantasy is your safe space, the one thing that brings you joy or comfort, and now you’ve ruined it by bringing me here.’

She could feel the stalker’s eyes burning into her, and she knew that she held his attention entirely as she berated him. She was imperceptibly arching her back higher as she spoke, managing to better explore the first knot and start to work at loosening it.

‘You hoped to make me your project, and you’re just now realising what a terrible, reckless idea that was. You could have just killed me, or handed me over to someone more competent, but you got greedy and now you don’t know what to do. Your precious fantasy is being spoiled and you just want out.’

The knot began to loosen under her touch, unravelling at the behest of her nimble fingers.

‘You’re scared…’

Okay,’ Fontaine said loudly as he pressed down on her bare shoulders, pushing her back into the swing, the shift enough to move her fingers out of range from the knot.

‘I get it, you’ve got a barbed tongue and you aren’t afraid to use it,’ Fontaine said more quietly, his voice still tense with restrained anger, ‘That’s something I’ll bear in mind later.’ His hands slid forwards, caressing down either side of Pariah’s lean torso, causing her to shiver in spite of herself, ‘I’ll hand it to you, sweetheart, you got me pretty well pegged. It’s shocking how much you’ve deduced from so little – kudos for that. It’s a neat party trick, but…’

Pariah tried not to be deterred by the stalker’s roving hands. She needed to stay in charge of the exchange; to direct her captor’s train of thought and control his focus.

‘I don’t think you do get it, Fontaine,’ she said commandingly, cutting him off, ‘I think you’re hiding…’

Fontaine’s hands suddenly caressed up her belly to cup her breasts through her sports bra, firmly squeezing them while his thumbs lightly circled her nipples. His sudden forwardness was enough to shock Pariah into silence, halting her midsentence and eliciting a surprised gasp from her soft lips.

‘Uh-uh,’ the stalker chided as he continued to grope and tease her firm bosom, ‘I think it’s my turn to talk now.’ His thumbs flicked faster over her nipples as he spoke. ‘You painted a disturbingly accurate picture of me, though you were wrong about me not molesting those local women - or my commanding officer, for that matter - but now it’s my turn to paint a picture of you, sweetheart. Now then…’

Pariah bucked upon the swing trying to get away from his hands, but it was a useless gesture. She arched her back this way and that in her efforts, making it look as though she was trying to get away from his hands, where in reality she was going back to work on her bindings.

She opened her mouth to speak over him once again, to continue to keep him off balance, but the words caught in her throat as Fontaine hooked his fingers under the stretchy fabric of her sports bra and lifted it over her luscious breasts. He dragged the front of it all the way up and over her head so that it was bunched up behind her neck, only clinging on to her by her shoulders.

‘Shh,’ he whispered into her ear from behind as his hands came back down to rest casually on her ribs just under her exposed tits, ‘It’s Daddy’s turn to speak now. It’s time for you to be a good girl and listen, or else who knows what I’ll do to shut you up.’ He lightly caressed her just below her bare breasts, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up, ‘You keep on trying to talk over me, and I’ll help myself to this stunning body of yours. Your choice, darling.’

Stay calm, Evelyn. Don’t play his game – he is helpless if he can’t take control.

Pariah squirmed in her harness, causing the chains that held up her bindings to clink softly. Her captor had become so forward and possessive with her, it was making it hard for her to concentrate on the delicate task of unravelling the knot. She felt her cheeks flush as her exposure embarrassed her, feeling somehow weaker now that she was more naked.

‘There you go again,’ she said, trying her best to sound stern and unfazed, but unable to hide the subtle shake in her voice, ‘Trying to pretend I’m like the girls that give you power. Do you really think I’m scared of you? Do you really think…’

Pariah cut herself off to take a sharp inhale as Fontaine’s hands slowly, assertively, slid up her ribs and cupped her naked breasts.

Focus.

She let out her breath with an audible sigh, hating the frailty she heard in her own voice, before trying to press on. She redoubled her efforts to undo the first knot of her arm bindings, having to arch subtly once more, further offering her bosom up to her captor’s hands.

‘…Do you really think any of this…’

He patiently and domineeringly explored her breasts while she spoke, firmly kneading the pale spheres of flesh within his grip.

‘…ugh…,’ her lips trembled as she forced herself to go on, ‘…gives you power over me? Do you think it…’

Cupping her succulent breasts in each hand, Fontaine took all their weight, lifting and pressing them higher up her body as far as they would go, gently grazing the heroine’s chin with the silky-smooth tops of her own bosom.

‘…will…,’ she couldn’t supress an involuntary shudder as she fought to contain the sultry feelings that were being kindled in her, ‘…will play out like…’

Keeping her supple breasts held in place, Fontaine’s thumbs worked their way inwards, trailing around her sensitive areolas, circling them again and again.

Mmm… Damn it…

‘…your pa… pathetic fantasies?’ her voice was becoming more breathless, speaking quieter and lower as she went, ‘I’m not like your other victims,’ Pariah swallowed hard as Fontaine’s thumbs circled ever inward until they were teasing her nipples directly, ‘I’m not like the other girls that just…’

Her nipples began to gradually stand up under the stalker’s knowing touch, hardening and becoming more receptive as he continued to entice them. As the nubs became more erect, Fontaine began flicking over them more forcefully, sending quivers down Pariah’s spine.

‘…ugh… that just give up and…,’ she had to bite her lip to keep her voice from breaking as she felt her rock-hard nipples being coaxed to rotate in small circles by the tips of his thumbs, ‘…and surrender to you. I will make you pay for every single second of – ohhh,’ she released a quiet involuntary moan as Fontaine’s index fingers moved in and he pinched her taut nipples, taking her by surprise as he gently rolling them between his digits.

‘Jesus, your body is responsive,’ the stalker taunted into her ear, his voice huskier than it was before, revealing his growing excitement. ‘Feel how hard these have gotten, sweetheart,’ he breathed warmly into her ear as he squeezed and teased her swollen nubs, stimulating them to harden even further, ‘Your nipples got so hard so fast – are you already wet too?’

Pariah was taking shallower breaths now, struggling to control her breathing as the stalker continued to torment her. Her cheeks were burning brightly with indignant shame as the lowlife miscreant continued to boldly toy with her like he owned her, always touching her in just the right way to further arouse her. His words humiliated her, making her feel self-conscious and feeble. She felt deeply unwelcome desire unfurling in her stomach alongside her disgust, making it increasingly difficult to focus on manipulating her captor and unravelling the fiendishly intricate knot.

The stalker continued to dominate her breasts as he huddled in closer behind her, taking the opportunity to further wear down Pariah’s confidence while she was quieted. ‘Aww, don’t be shy, sweetheart,’ he whispered to her affectionately as he withdrew his hands to briefly lick his thumbs before returning them to Pariah’s breasts to rub his warm saliva over her excited nipples. ‘It’s cute to see your cheeks go so red, but there’s no need to be embarrassed by how easily turned on you are. This hot, nubile body of yours was sculpted for sex – it craves to be touched, to be played with – there’s no shame in enjoying it.’

As Pariah’s wet nipples got to their maximum level of arousal, becoming like little diamonds, Fontaine underlined his point by giving them a long hard tweak. Taken again by surprise, and in a moment of weakness, his effort tempted a low, quiet groan of pleasure from the heroine’s reluctant lips.

‘Yeah, there you go,’ he encouraged smugly, ‘You like it, sweetheart.’

Ngh… It’s just biology – I’m not excited by this, Pariah thought, clenching her teeth to swallow down another gasp as the stalker rapidly flicked her hard nubs before pinching them and tugging on them, pulling her breasts out in random directions as they went with her stretched nipples. Keep working on the knot no matter what. He’s distracting himself more than me doing this… He’s trying to make me feel weak and helpless but I’m… I’m not weak… I’m not…

Pariah gave a long, pent-up sigh as the stalker pushed her engorged breasts together and directed her stiff nipples to tease one another. The unexpected sensation of her own sensitive nubs being made to play with each other sent ripples of raw excitement through her that she couldn’t help but vocalise. It was like the stalker knew exactly what to do to excite her. Her pussy clenched as it throbbed for attention, shaming Pariah with the strength of her treacherous urges.

‘Are you done talking now, sweetheart?’ Fontaine whispered as his hands eased down to possessively massaging her swollen breasts, ‘You gonna be a good girl and listen to Daddy? Are you ready to be told who you are?’

Pariah growled, feeling a surprising surge of anger at his choice in words. ‘I’m going to hurt you so much when I’m free, you perverted coward.’ The stalker’s fingertips returned to teasing her nipples while he kneaded her tits, rubbing them into one another, but she ignored the sordid sensations as she focused on the seething anger of her wounded pride, ‘There’s nothing you can do to change the weak, worthless, failure of a man that you are, Fontaine. You used to escape it here, but now you will always remember me, understanding your insignificance even when you thought you had all the power.’

Her voice was regaining its steel as she spoke, while the stalker’s lascivious attentions were slowing. She could hear his breath deepening, making a low sound in his throat as he exhaled. He was getting frustrated. She was stinging him where it hurt, right in the midst of his fantasy, and he didn’t like it. His composure was cracking.

Good. Press him.

‘That’s what you’re scared of isn’t it?’ Pariah said more loudly, feeling the knot finally coming apart under her dexterous fingers and being rewarded with more slack in her binding. ‘Being forced to confront how much a of loser you are.’ Using the extra give, she moved her hand further to begin diligently working on the next knot along her binding. ‘Losing even the ability to deceive yourself because…’

His right hand dragged downwards from her overstimulated breast, caressing its way down the tight muscles of her abdomen to rub down toward her crotch. Pariah tried vainly to move her hips to escape his touch, but could do nothing as his fingertips pressed firmly up and down her thong, easily defining her slit.

She shuddered as she felt his touch, but continued trying to deride him and rouse his anger. ‘Ngh.. because you overreached yourself with someone that wasn’t…,’ Fontaine’s fingertips massaged her sex through the tight fabric of her thong as she spoke, while his other hand carried on possessively fondling her bosom.

‘Your panties are damp, sweetheart,’ Fontaine muttered into her ear, his tone low and provocative, as he continued to rub up and down her crotch.

Ngh… He’s trying to rattle you. Be strong, Evelyn.

‘Ughh… Someone that wasn’t weak and… ahh… and…’

With theatrical slowness, Fontaine’s fingertips stroked up the full length of her sex through her thong before sliding beneath her waist band and pressing his fingers inside.

Pariah tensed and gave a surprised moan, the sound girly and timid, as she felt the stalker’s fingertips stroke down through her closely trimmed pubes and make direct contact with her warm, moist pussy.

‘Ugh… Don’t,’ she whispered, unable to stop herself from blurting it out quietly.

The heroine could do nothing to close her legs or even angle her hips away as Fontaine’s fingers assertively toyed with the lips of her pussy. He rubbed it slowly at first, gradually building more pressure and tempo as he went, occasionally dipping a fingertip into the lips of her entrance.

Pariah shook from side to side in her harness as she struggled uselessly against the straps holding her in place, and her stony composure began to crack, ‘Ngh… Fuck you… Stop it…’

Her pussy had already been excited and needy before Fontaine’s fingers made contact with it, and it lit up with treacherous pleasure as he played with it now. He took his time as he explored her most intimate area, teasing her sex as much as stimulating it, once again using the perfect technique to drive her wild.

Halfway through loosening the second knot, Pariah’s fingers clenched and she lost focus on the task as she felt her captor’s fingers finally move up to rub her eager clit.

‘No,’ Pariah sighed through clenched teeth, despising the weakness and sheepishness in her voice, ‘Stop… Stop it.’

‘You so sure that’s what you want, sweetheart?’ Fontaine whispered to her seductively, kissing into her ear as his fingers expertly manipulated her clit to harden and swell under his touch. ‘You’re getting so wet… Your little button is getting so excited. You fucking love it, don’t you? You don’t want me to stop – not really.’

Pariah’s pussy quivered with arousal as it gratefully received the domineering service of the stalker. Liquid heat was filling her body, clouding her thoughts as she fought to contest with the forced pleasure.

She moaned again as the pleasure took her by surprise, leaving her pouting lips as a loud, submissive cry.

‘Damn it,’ Pariah mumbled as she fought against the sensations, ‘Stop it.’

‘Listen to yourself,’ Fontaine whispered as he rapidly rubbed small circles around her clit, making her gasp and writhe within her restraints as her bud continued to engorge under his attention. ‘Who’s scared now, sweetheart? Now who’s afraid of being seen for who they really are?’

His tempo was becoming faster and harder as he swirled his digits over Pariah’s sensitive bud. Fontaine’s other hand was playing more roughly with her breasts now, harshly squeezing and pulling on her enflamed nipples.

Oh… Oh God, Pariah thought, feeling deeply ashamed as she felt her body building towards an unwilling climax. What the hell is wrong with me? How can I be enjoying this?

She cried out a high-pitched moan as the sensuous pleasure washed over her, rising ever higher. Pariah bucked within the harness, plaintively trying to escape the insidious pleasure but succeeding only in rocking her hips into Fontaine’s hand.

‘You act all tough and haughty, but it’s just an act – a fantasy – isn’t it?’ Fontaine chided her, talking a paternal tone as he talked down to her. His fingers dipped into Pariah’s soaking pussy and swept up the length of it before smearing her juices over her clit and intensely rubbing it, making her whole body quake with pre-orgasmic pleasure. ‘You’re really a weak slut who wants to be controlled, to be told what to do, to be put in your place. Beneath all the show, you’re just a slave waiting for a keeper.’

He slapped her breasts now as he berated her, making her yelp and jump each time his hand came down across her tender mounds, turning them pink where he marked them. He shifted the hand down her thong, lowering two fingers from her clit and plunging them all the way into her yielding folds while his thumb continued to furiously rub her bud.

Pariah withered under the combined assault of Fontaine’s words and actions. He was precisely naming her hidden insecurities and darkest fantasies – all while seemingly bringing them into reality. She was letting more moans out than she was keeping in, each more timid than the last.

In desperation she tried to turn to her telekinesis again, but now she couldn’t even find the focus to attempt it through the haze of lust and pleasure that filled her world. Using all of her self-discipline, Pariah hastily returned her fingers to the second knot, struggling to work it out in the midst of the storm she was weathering.

‘Is that why you come after Underhaven? Huh?’ Fontaine continued, masterfully dragging Pariah towards her orgasm while attacking her pride. ‘Is that why you wear this tight suit? Why you groom yourself every day like it’s fucking date night?’ He slapped her breasts harder, mingling pleasure with pain as he began pumping his fingers in and out of her slick entrance. ‘Because, deep down, you’re hoping to be taken? Is that your fantasy, Pariah?’

Oh fuck…, Pariah thought, tensing her face with the effort of holding the pleasure back, Oh fuck, he’s going to make me come. I can’t stop it…

She writhed like a wild animal in the harness as she fought against it.

‘Awww…. Ugh! I’ll… I’ll listen!’ Pariah barely managed to cry out, ‘I’ll listen to you! Aww… Stop! I’ll… mmmmphhh,’ she was cut off by Fontaine moving his hand from slapping her breasts to covering over her lips.

‘You’re already listening, sweetheart,’ he spoke down to her like a displeased parent, ‘You’ve painted a picture of me and now I’ve painted a picture of you.’ His hand at her crotch became a flurry as he pounded his fingers into her soaking pussy and sped his thumb over her clit. ‘Now let’s see which of us is right about the other. Fucking come for me you slut.’

No, no, no, no… Ugghhh!

Pariah’s whole body tensed and convulsed as the climax broke over her. The lips of her pussy tightly hugged the stalker’s fingers as it went into orgasmic spasms, squirting her juices over his hand with each contraction. Her mouth was released in the moment she peaked, and she cried out long and loud as her orgasm devastated her.

After several drawn-out seconds of erotic euphoria, Pariah sagged completely into her bindings. She breathed heavily, giving off gentle, contented sighs with each ragged breath. Her head flopped back into the swing, her face burning hot crimson as she struggled to process both her utter humiliation and the dark satisfaction that it had brought her.

Fontaine savoured the moment, as drunk on the whole experience as she was, before extracting his sodden hand from her drenched thong and sucking the lewd fluid from his digits, one after the other.

He leaned heavily in on the frame, pressing his forehead down to Pariah’s as his hands languidly roamed up and down her glistening torso. ‘Good girl,’ he husked paternally, ‘Well done.’

Pariah was still too dazed to respond. She lay relaxed in the harness, her fingertips resting idly upon the loose remains of the second knot. The aftershock of her orgasm still rippled around her body, causing her to twitch and lurch intermittently.

For the smallest of moments, in the afterglow of her body’s surrender, Pariah felt at peace.

At length, Fontaine broke their shared moment of subjugation. ‘That was… incredible. You’re amazing, sweetheart.’ He pulled back from the heroine while she dangled in her stupor, and walked around the frame, admiring her, ‘I mean, just look at you… I can’t believe you’re real. Super in every sense of the word. You know, I think I may just be falling in love with you. Probably too late to buy you flowers, though, huh?’

The stalker chuckled at his own observation while he stepped over to Pariah’s right, sounding like he was rummaging around in a cabinet retrieving something. ‘But damn, I even love the way you jizz yourself. You’re just perfect.’

Pariah began to stir from her haze. Her fingers lazily sought out the remains of the second knot of her arm bindings and began sluggishly finishing the job. The task of finishing her escape at least gave her welcome distraction from her terrible self-loathing in that moment. She hated that she’d given Fontaine the satisfaction of controlling her so intimately, and her pride throbbed beneath the wound of having been made to play the meek victim.

Even while trying to ruin his fantasy, he had still made her give him everything he wanted. Although she’d been furious and disgusted, he had still forced her to enjoy it. Her own body had betrayed her under the stalker’s dominant manipulation.

The stalker’s insulting words were still rattling around her mind, and an insecure part of her was beginning to wonder if he had been right about her. She couldn’t deny – though she wished she could – that his domineering and demeaning words had stirred something in her. She wasn’t totally sure if she had climaxed because his stimulation had overwhelmed her, or if she had simply stopped fighting it because he commanded her to come.

Ugh… I’ll never forgive myself. I’m going to make this creep pay.

‘You bastard,’ she whispered, fearful that speaking louder would reveal more weakness in her tone. ‘Enjoy your shallow little win while it lasts, Fontaine. It hasn’t changed anything – you’re still a waste of space, you still make me sick, and I’m still going to break you. All you’ve done is given me reason to make it much worse for you.’

‘Making threats, huh? You just sound desperate, sweetheart,’ Fontaine replied lightly as he swaggered around to stand directly in front of Pariah, ‘I guess you’re trying to salvage some dignity, but I think we’re well past that now that we both know which of us is in charge of your body. You can’t seriously expect to intimidate me while you’re naked and shivering with arousal – or while the taste of your sweet honey swirls in my mouth.’

Pariah bit her lip with embarrassment at Fontaine’s words, feeling a strange, confusing mix of emotions at the way he talked to her. Concealed underneath her body the second knot of her bindings finally came undone, creating more slack for Pariah to work with.

‘Fuck you, Fontaine,’ she spat, pointedly using his name to defy him as she shifted in the harness and eased the fingers of her right hand along to a third knot, ‘You can molest my body while I can’t defend myself, and you can try to belittle me, but I see through you. I know what you’re trying to do, and I know it won’t work. I won’t be your humbled plaything, I won’t give in to you like your other victims. Every second that you don’t run from me is another horrendous mistake.’ Even with the extra slack, Pariah had to contort her hand as far as it would go just to reach around and allow her fingertips to feel around the third knot. A small smile touched her lips as she realised this third knot would be enough to free her arms from the bindings. ‘You’re so very wrong about me.’

‘You say that, kiddo, but you don’t believe it,’ Fontaine answered as he approached closer to her, coming to stand between her spread legs and immediately making her feel totally exposed to him. ‘You see, I’m pretty good at reading people, sweetheart, and I’ve been studying you a long while now.’ He reached above the hanging heroine while he spoke, his tone becoming warmer as it also grew with passion, ‘I learned all about how you aImost surrendered to the aria with Lenny and Tyrone. I was looking at you closely when you outclassed me in that locker room. I was studying you intently as you battled back and forth with my old pal Ogre. I examined you like a precious relic when you slept in my arms and I readied you for taming...’

‘Taming?’ Pariah scoffed, ‘Just how delusional are…,’ she stiffened as she felt warm, thick fluid being poured over her chest, ‘ugh… What… What are you doing?’ she couldn’t hide the uncertainty in her wavering voice as the fluid ran over her body, clinging to her skin as it trickled down her, ‘What is that?’

‘Oh nothing,’ Fontaine replied mischievously as he continued to pour the lotion over her, moving his hand down to dribble it over her belly. ‘Just a little something to help you relax, let your hair down, and be just a little more honest.’ He slowly directed the trail of lotion across each of her inner thighs before circling it back and dumping the rest of it over Pariah’s crotch, soaking it into her thong. ‘You didn’t think you were getting through tonight without being drugged, did you?’

Already Pariah felt her skin tingling where it was touched by the sappy fluid. It was warm, almost hot, seeming to absorb through her skin and send her nerves crazy with heightened sensitivity. It felt like her whole body was becoming heavier, and she felt the heat from her skin begin to throb through her body almost like the warmth of consuming hard liquor. Her thinking was slowing down under the influence of the drug as it clouded her mind with warmth and distracted her with the carnal hunger it was awaking over her body.

Ngh… It’s being absorbed into me… Making me more sensitive… Inebriating me… I need to get free quickly.

‘It’s called Incubus Oil,’ Fontaine continued as he threw the empty bottle of ointment away, ‘and it’s just a little aphrodisiac to help lower girls’ inhibitions and get them in the mood. Best applied when they’re already aroused – ideally just after a climax… So I'd say we’ve prepped and timed you perfectly, sweetheart. I think you’re going to appreciate the full effect.’

Pariah’s heart fluttered in her chest as she heard the distinct ruffling of clothing, and she knew that Fontaine was stripping out of his cloths. The warmth of the lotion was saturating her crotch where Fontaine had doused her thong, making her acutely aware of the need that was gathering there. The tingling all over her body was making her shiver with conflicted desires; desperate to resist the oil’s pleasing effects but unable to deny how much her body was longing to be touched. It was like a sensual itch was spreading all over her body, growing with intensity the longer that it went unfulfilled.

Even though she had so recently climaxed, it felt as though her body was being sent right back to the moment before release – back to where she was most receptive and excited.

I have to fight this, Pariah thought as she felt the warmth numbing her mind, draining away the last aches of pain from her fight with the Ogre, I can’t let this go on.

Though it was becoming horrendously difficult to concentrate, Pariah continued to arch her back and work on the third knot, working more franticly at it as her composure slipped. It was an even more complicated tie than the first two, and she had to grope carefully around it to even gain understanding of its shape.

Fontaine whistled as he watched her squirming in the harness, ‘You’re already feeling it, aren’t you? You’re even more susceptible to it than most – I wonder why that is?’ Freed from his clothing, the stalker reverently placed his hands upon Pariah’s thighs and began rubbing the oil into them, slowly massaging the nefarious fluid into the pliable muscles of her legs.

Pariah grimaced and released an involuntary moan as Fontaine’s experienced hands worked the oil into her. Her body sang beneath his touch, stunning the heroine with how unspeakably satisfying it was to be receiving his attention.

‘Now you’re going to show me who you really are,’ Fontaine muttered hungrily as he methodically worked over Pariah’s toned thighs, ‘You’re going to succumb to the oil and let yourself go. You put on a hell of show when you were lucid, but now…,’ his hands moved up the heroine’s inner thighs and he firmly rubbed both his thumbs against her crotch, easily defining her pussy through the soaked material of her thong, and being immediately rewarded with a soft, meek groan of pleasure from the heroine, ‘…now that you’ve got a real excuse to submit to me, you’re going to give me everything, sweetheart.’

‘No,’ Pariah mumbled as she had to try repeatedly to take in the information she needed while she continued to feel around the knot, ‘You’re wrong… I’ll never… aww….’

Fontaine effortlessly silenced her protests as he moved his hands in to intimately rub her pussy through the clingy thong. The wet noises of his molestation served to further humble and arouse her as he assertively massaged the lotion into her most intimate area. Pariah had to bite her lip just to swallow down another lusty moan of arousal, stupefied by both the raw pleasure she was receiving and her body’s primal craving for it.

‘Shh,’ Fontaine soothed her gently as he slipped a hand beneath the fabric to stimulate her quivering pussy directly, ‘You’ve been strong and defiant. You’ve fought valiantly and won my respect.’ While he massaged the lips of her sex he slid his other hand up over her body to slather the oil over Pariah’s breasts, ‘Now let yourself be weak and helpless. Let yourself go and stop fighting. Just enjoy getting fucked.’

It was becoming so hard to think. Everything felt so hot. She was so excited.

Why was she so excited?

It took every shred of self-control that Pariah had to keep her fingers working on the knot, feeling like the hardest test of focus she had ever taken. Little by little, her dexterous fingertips eased some slack into the knot.

‘Never,’ she whispered, her voice leaving her trembling lips with a higher pitch than she was used to. ‘I’ll never…,’ the stalker boldly slipped two fingers into her yielding slit, pressing as deep into her as they could go while Fontaine’s thumb began rubbing the oil around her swelling clit, ‘oooh… Gawwd… I’ll never submit to… mmmmm…,’ she groaned as the fingers from Fontaine’s other hand massaged the ointment into her hard nipples.

‘It’s okay, sweetheart,’ Fontaine cooed as he massaged her stiff nipples between his thumb and forefinger, casually pumping his fingers in and out her hot snatch, ‘You can give in to this – I know you want to.’ There was a tenderness to his voice that bordered on real affection, ‘Just be mine tonight. Beg me to fuck you, beg me to make you come, and I’ll let you go. You can go back to your war – all you have to do is let yourself lose this battle.’

Pariah mewled with pleasure as her body capitulated to the combined stimulation of the stalker and the oil he was massaging into her. Her loins burned with need, crackling with sweet bliss under each fresh touch, and her breasts were afire with pleasure and desire. Her body yearned so much for fulfilment that it made any coherent thought about anything other than her smouldering pussy or her heaving breasts like trying to catch a snowflake with a hot frying pan. Everything was melting away.

The knot was so damned complicated. What was its shape again? Hadn’t she already loosened that bit? How was this bit supposed to come undone? What way was she supposed to be pulling that bit?

Pariah cried out loudly with frustration and desperation, sounding like a wounded animal.

…Nearly there… Focus… Don’t give in…

‘Like hell,’ she groaned, writhing uselessly in the harness, ‘I’ll never beg…,’ she squealed like a school girl as Fontaine curled his fingers inside of her and pressed upon her G-spot while his other hand flicked her hard, oily nubs.

‘It’s a real offer,’ Fontaine pressed as he sped his hand up under her thong, ‘Just give in to me, and I’ll free you.’ His other hand kneaded her slick breasts more firmly while his thumb continued to work the oil into her areolas. ‘Otherwise, maybe you win some small morsel of pride fighting me, but I’ll hand you in to the red mistress and – while I admire your spirit – you won’t stand a chance from there.’ His possessively pulled on her nipples as he continued, his voice low and seductive, ‘She’ll finish you like this and that will be the end of your fight. Surrender to me, right now, and I’ll give you another shot. You get to fight on.’

Pariah was beginning to moan freely now as the intense stimulation began to overwhelm her self-control. Her drugged body was betraying her utterly in its pursuit of gratification, drowning her in a steamy tide of sordid, irresistible pleasure. The heat of the oil suffused her entire being, intoxicating her mind and turning her resolve to mush. Already she felt her wanton body building up towards another orgasm, even more powerful and intense than the first.

The stalker’s touch was so domineering, so forward, so perfect. It was like he knew exactly what turned her on or drove her wild – things that she didn’t even know about herself. He played her like an instrument he had long mastered, and she felt powerless to resist his tune. She was an open book to him, and she didn’t know how to shut him out.

Stop fighting… Get set free…

‘Grrrr…,’ Pariah growled as she bit her bottom lip and tried to hold in her own lusty moans, ‘You’re… lying…’ Her fingers clawed feverishly at the third knot, very slowly managing to unravel it further. ‘How stupid… ugh… do you think… ngh… I am?’

‘I think you’ve been raised to fight until the bitter end,’ Fontaine replied huskily as he worked the heroine’s pussy over faster and harder, making her moan like a willing lover, ‘I think you’ve been taught to take every chance you get until the chances stop coming – and I’m giving you one right now. Sure, I lack credibility, but I’m giving you the only chance you got, sweetheart. If you’ve worked me out at all, you know there’s a possibility I would throw everything away just to make you submit. You know I’m so damned besotted with you that maybe I don’t want to give you away.’ With masterful skill, the stalker finger-fucked Pariah right back to the cusp of sweet release, ‘What can you lose? Take my offer. Beg me to make you come.’

Ohhh shit… I’m so close… I’m going crazy…

‘Nngh… No…,’ Pariah groaned in anguish, feeling her body begin to convulse as she neared the peak of her thunderous second orgasm, ‘I’ll… mmmm… ugh… oh God, oh God… I’ll never…’

Pariah gritted her teeth and undulated her hips against the stalker’s hand as the earth-shattering, glorious release…

Fontaine stopped. The pleasure stopped.

Right before being pushed over the edge the stimulation had come to an end, leaving the heroine on the brink of climax but not taking her over the threshold.

His hand withdrew from her dripping thong, leaving her burning loins screaming for attention, and slid idly up to join his other hand in massaging the oil into her breasts.

Pariah shuddered with pre-orgasmic quakes, unconsciously bucking her hips in the air, before relaxing into her harness with a frustrated sigh that she couldn’t hold in. The unfulfilled orgasm tore at her focus as her whole body ached for release, consuming her every thought. It was an effort of will to try and regain control of her breathing, and she almost sounded like she was having a panic attack as she released long, loud breaths through her tight lips.

‘Uh-uh,’ Fontaine chided while using both hands to knead her slick bosom, ‘You don’t get to come again until you beg for it, Pariah. You don’t get to win until you lose. If you won’t accept that you want it then I won’t let you have it.’

It was becoming so very hard for Pariah to think about anything beyond the sinful, voracious demands of her body. The oil blighted her every feeling, her every conscious thought, making the denial of her orgasm seem like being deprived of a loved one. She squirmed in erotic torment as she tried vainly to process her body’s profound disappointment.

Pariah’s cheeks were burning again as she felt crushed beneath the mountain of shame she felt at having such little power over her needs. The humiliation was unbearable.

Yet it was also exhilarating.

‘You… You piece of shit…,’ Pariah slurred, struggling to think with any kind of clarity. ‘You think I’m that easily controlled? You think I’m…mmmmm…,’ Fontaine cupped her glistening breasts in each hand and slowly teased her nipples with his thumbs, circling them and rubbing them as he made sure the ointment permeated them. Under his influence they quickly returned to their maximum hardness, seeming to engorge and elongate even more under the effects of the oil.

‘You think I’m that shallow?’ Pariah persisted as she quivered with desire, ‘Do you think I’m that pathetic?’

Fontaine rolled her stiff nipples between his fingers, making Pariah moan submissively against her will.

‘Yes,’ he answered as he milked more shame-filled moans from the heroine, ‘I think you are exactly that pathetic.’

His hands left her body suddenly, and Pariah couldn’t help but sigh with disappointment. Her own sigh made her cheeks burn brighter with shame.

Get a hold of yourself, Evelyn! Get a grip!

‘Like I said earlier, I know you,’ Fontaine said as he gripped hold of her thong and lifted the soaked fabric away from between her legs, ‘I’ve studied you.’ With care, the stalker slipped the tip of a flick-knife through the material in his hand, slowly cutting a line though it until he had effectively rendered the garment crotchless.

Liberated from her underwear, the thick scent of the heroine’s aroused snatch quickly enveloped them both. Dark anticipation surged through Pariah as she burned with equal parts arousal and indignity at finally being fully exposed to her captor.

Fontaine stepped closer to her, gripping Pariah’s hips and steadying her in the air. ‘I know you want this. I know you’ve lived a lot of pain and hardship. I know, deep, deep down, you want to escape from it.’

Pariah shivered with conflict as she felt the stalker’s body-heat between her thighs. Her pussy throbbed with anticipation, clenching and relaxing as it eagerly awaited the stimulation to come. Her fingers relaxed around the third knot, forgotten as Pariah’s attention entirely shifted to what was about to happen.

He’s… He’s going to fuck me…

‘Don’t,’ she mumbled.

‘Shh, it’s okay,’ Fontaine cooed as he pressed forwards, taking his right hand off her hips to hold his cock and guide it to her netherlips. Pariah’s whole body shuddered as he rubbed the fat head of his cock up and down the length of her slit, letting the tip of it dip between her labia. ‘I know you want to get away from all the pain, but you need someone else to take control, to make the choice for you. Well don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m making the choice for you right now.’

Slowly, Fontaine penetrated her inviting pussy, making them both gasp loudly with satisfaction. Though the heroine was a tight fit there was so much lubrication from the oil and her own juices that there was no resistance as the stalker pressed his hard shaft deeper into her, inch by delicious inch. Pariah’s snatch hungrily engulfed him, warmly embracing his cock like an old friend as Fontaine sank his full eight-inch length into her.

Fuck,’ Fontaine hissed with pleasure, barely audible above Pariah’s own incoherent moan, ‘You’re so tight, sweetheart - you feel amazing.’

Pariah felt her strength gushing out of her as she focused on the thick cock that filled her. It dominated her whole world, transfixing her to the moment with the hideous pleasure it brought her.

It feels so good…, the thought came to her unbidden and shattered her self-respect. Am I really this much of a slut? Is he right about me? Is this all I’ve wanted?

She was brought out of her sinister reverie as Fontaine began to pull himself back, letting her feel every inch of him retracting from her, before slowly pushing all the way back into her.

‘Ohhh… noooo,’ Pariah mewled in torturous ecstasy, ‘Don’t… aww… no…’

‘Oh yeah,’ Fontaine said through gritted teeth as he began to pump himself in and out the heroine, working his thick cock towards one angle after another as he made sure to explore every inch of Pariah’s smouldering depths, ‘Don’t pretend you don’t want it. Don’t pretend you don’t need it.’

As his tempo continued to increase, Fontaine let his hands wander over Pariah’s body once more. His hands stroked back up to her chest to tease and knead her sensitive breasts once more. Without even thinking, Pariah arched her back and pressed her luscious breasts up into the air to give the stalker’s hands greater access to play with her.

She was starting to live on instinct more than thought, caving in to the incessant demands of her body as her mind struggled to work. Her orgasm was rising back up once more, promising to engulf her with its transcendent radiance, and the desire for it began to fill her lust-drunk mind.

Her cries began to come forth uninhibited as Pariah let her arousal take over her. Her moans peeled out around the room, loudly filling the space with her submissive cries of pleasure.

Fontaine heard the change in the heroine’s moans and felt her capitulation as her pussy squeezed his cock ever tighter. ‘That’s it, sweetheart,’ he whispered to her as he moved his hands up to massage Pariah’s neck and grip her there, starting to fuck her harder and faster, ‘Let yourself go. Be mine.’

‘Ugh…Ugh… Aww… Yeah…,’ Pariah moaned, feeling herself washing away beneath the tide of pleasure. The unravelled third knot lay forgotten and distant from her hands. All there was in the world was humiliating euphoria, and humiliating surrender for greater euphoria to come. Her impending orgasm was all her addled mind could focus on as it swelled around her.

The stalker was thrusting so hard now that Pariah’s harness was rocking with the rhythm. ‘Tell me you want to come,’ Fontaine commanded. ‘Say it.’

Just as she neared her climax, the stalker slowed his tempo, expertly keeping the helpless heroine right on the edge of release.

Pariah gave another animal growl as her sexual frustration washed over her. She felt so utterly powerless, so completely within Fontaine’s control – and, on a primal level, she loved it.

‘Ughh… Enough…,’ she said weakly as Fontaine continued to fuck her at the precipice, ‘Just finish me… Finish this.’

‘Tell me you want it, slut,’ Fontaine said sternly as he slowed his pumping even more, letting one of his hands stray down to possessively squeeze her breast and tweak her nipple.

Pariah moaned in erotic anguish, ‘Argh.. Okay… I want it…’

He slapped her breast, making the heroine jump with surprise as he began to fuck her faster again, ‘What do you want? Say it.’

She was crumbling. She felt completely dominated within Fontaine’s power – his every touch another hammer blow to her sense of worth.

‘Uh-uhhhh… I… I want to come…,’ she sighed, her pride bleeding from her with each word, ‘I want you to make me come…’

Fontaine hardened more within her as he heard her speak the words, suddenly close to his own release, but he wasn’t finished. He continued to guide Pariah down the road to her ruin.

‘Now beg for it,’ he commanded, slapping her breast again and leaving a pink hand mark on her pristine white skin.

Pariah groaned in turmoil, ‘Nggh… Damn you… I’ll never beg. Never…’

Fontaine withdrew his cock entirely from her, making her gasp loudly with surprise and disappointment. She convulsed within her restraints as her body mourned the loss, and as she slid back down from the sweet release she craved.

The stalker moved the hand up from her neck to her face, reaching around her head and deliberately unbuckling her blindfold. With a flourish, he pulled the blindfold from her face and threw it aside, finally allowing Pariah to see once again.

Her glazed blue eyes fluttered in their sockets as they took in the sights around her. Where before her eyes had been fierce and powerful, now they were weak and confused, openly communicating her wavering resolve as they stared out in bewilderment at the state she found herself in.

Even as she began to process what she was seeing, Fontaine penetrated her once again and resumed fucking her.

The sight was unbearably erotic.

She now saw her glistening naked body within the harness and restraints that held her up, gleaming with the ointment that covered her. Her breasts were swollen and distended by both her arousal and the perverse effects of the oil, painfully engorged to the point that she didn’t recognise them as her own. She saw the bearded stalker now stripped naked, seeing the bunched, rippling muscles of his bare abdomen, and seeing his huge shaft of muscle as he drove it in and out of her.

Aww… Yess… Mmmm….

Taking advantage of holding her attention, Fontaine slid the hand that threw away the blindfold down her body, letting it rest atop her closely-trimmed pubes and pushing his thumb down to rub her clit while he fucked her. His other hand once more went to work on kneading her breasts and pinching her enflamed nipples, sending the heroine crazy with the barrage of sensations.

My body is so… slutty… Is this really me?

There wasn’t even a thought about her powers now. On some level, she already knew that she wouldn’t be able to find the focus like this, and that her captor was also somehow aware of that. But she wasn’t even thinking about resisting now.

She watched it all, hypnotised, eyebrows upturned with girlish weakness, as she moaned like a passionate lover. Now able to see it all, to watch it all happen while she felt it, the last of her resistance was being worn down. She was becoming like a hopeless addict, and the stalker had that one thing that she needed above anything else.

Fontaine rubbed her clit harder as he once again built her back up towards her orgasm. He was having to work hard to always just keep it out of her reach. Masterfully, he worked the ensnared heroine back up to her peak and held her there.

‘Beg me to make you come,’ he commanded her again. ‘Look at yourself. This is all you want – so beg for it. Give in to me and I will set you free.’

Pariah cried out as she was held on the edge, denied the climax that consumed her. The flower of temptation had become too much for her to bear. Her dazed blue eyes locked with Fontaine’s, intimately holding his gaze as she began to lose herself.

Why am I even fighting?

‘Argh… Oh God, please…,’ she sobbed, her voice cracking as she lost her mind with need, ‘Please make me come. Please, please!’

Fontaine seized on her weakness, fucking her harder and rubbing her faster, but still keeping her back from the release that he had conquered her with.

‘Good girl,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘That’s a good girl. Who’s your Daddy?’

Pariah contorted her face in anguish and confusion as she languished on the limit of her denied orgasm. Her lips trembled as she held Fontaine’s powerful gaze and moaned like a wanton whore.

She was hopelessly lost in the moment. She needed the release. She would do anything for it.

‘Ohhh… You… You are…,’ Pariah sighed, no longer even recognising her own voice, ‘You’re my Daddy. Please…’

The stalker had her completely enthralled now. Pariah was beholden to him like a beggar to a prince, looking to him with pleading, subservient eyes. Fontaine basked in it, delighting in the moment every bit as much as she did, and gazed back at her like he would the love of his life.

In the darkest, most depraved way, they were devoted to each other in that moment.

His masterpiece almost complete, Fontaine applied the finishing strokes to Pariah’s destruction. He leaned over her as he continued to thrust into her and brought his hands up her body. He tenderly caressed her cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the leathery surface of her mask as he held her imploring gaze.

‘That’s it, sweetheart. You’re almost done. I just need one more thing, and you’ll be free.’

Pariah was doing her best to buck her hips back against the stalker as she cried out with need, ‘Arrghh… Anything… Mmmm… Tell me…’

‘Tell me your name,’ Fontaine commanded, pounding her pussy with just the right force and tempo to desecrate her. ‘Tell me your name, and it will all be over.’

Pariah scowled back at him, taking on the aspect of a lost child as she tried to understand what he was asking of her. She bashfully bit her lip.

‘Uhh-uhhh… Pariah… My name is Pariah… Please, finish me…’

‘No,’ Fontaine pressed, expertly holding the heroine in agonising limbo, ‘That’s not your name. Tell me your real name – tell me who you are.’

Pariah cried out loudly as the last vestiges of her pride fought against the demand. She knew that to surrender her name would be to completely abandon her strength. Pariah was a mantle that shielded her, made her more than human, and empowered her to overcome every challenge. To willingly abandon it now, in exchange for hedonistic indulgence at the hands of such a wretched man, was too much for her to bear. It was unthinkable.

‘No… I can’t… Ughh… Please, I can’t…’

‘Shh, I know it’s hard. You just have to let go of your pride,’ Fontaine soothed her as he slowed his pace down and forced Pariah’s building climax to start to recede once more. As the heroine howled with regret, Fontaine cupped one of her distended breasts with his right hand, idly teasing her hard nipple to stand fully erect with his thumb, and pushed it as far as up her body as he could. His other hand circled around the heroine’s head, gripping her tightly and forcing her head to come forwards. Though it was a stretch, the heroine’s bosom was swollen enough that he could bend her limber neck far enough to present her own nipple to her pouting lips.

Pariah broke her gaze from Fontaine’s to look down upon her proffered breast, her glazed eyes focusing on it with morbid fascination. She shook her head slightly as she realised what the stalker was about to demand, but even as she made the gesture she was licking her lips.

‘Here, suckle yourself, sweetheart,’ he instructed her in a warm whisper as he pressed her soft lips to her oily teat. ‘Let go and enjoy your body.’

Pariah didn’t resist as she was manipulated, and after a moment’s hesitation, she tentatively obeyed the stalker’s demand, slipping her tongue out her mouth and lapping around her proffered nipple. She groaned low in her throat as she pleasured herself, the shameful illicitness of the act serving to further heighten the sensual delight it brought her. The oil coated her tongue as she licked herself, filling her mouth with its warm, sweet flavour as she flicked her tongue over her sensitive nipple. The sensation was incredibly erotic, feeling her erect nub against her tongue as well as feeling her wet tongue swirling around her excited nipple, and Pariah groaned louder as she savoured the strangeness of it. She closed her eyes as she bobbed her head as far forward as she could and latched her lips around herself to suck, taking on more of the oil and greedily swallowing it.

Mmm… Let go…

Fontaine grunted with approval as he struggled to rein in his own overexcitement. ‘Yeah… Do as you’re told, slut,’ he tormented her as he rewarded her compliance with faster, harder fucking. The humbled heroine groaned gratefully while she was servicing herself as her orgasm once more grew tantalisingly close. ‘You don’t want to fight anymore, sweetheart,’ Fontaine hushed as he directed Pariah to give the same treatment to her other nipple, which she did dutifully and without hesitation, ‘You just want to give in, don’t you?’

Pariah moaned as she batted her tongue over her other nipple, playing with it a moment before taking it into her mouth and sucking on it, swallowing more of the narcotic oil.

‘Oh yes… Mmmm… Yes…’

‘You’re not a superhero,’ Fontaine spoke with loving cruelty as he released his hold of the heroine, causing her teat to pop out of her mouth and fall away from her, ‘You’re not strong, not powerful.’ His hands moved up to her face and he slowly teased his fingertips along the rims of the mask plastered across her face. ‘You aren’t Pariah.’

Pariah’s heart froze in her chest. She looked up fearfully to meet Fontaine’s gaze, seeing sadistic glee burning brightly in his dark eyes. She felt his fingers curl inwards and grip the sides of her mask, beckoning it to unseal from her pale skin.

‘No, wait…’

‘You’re just a wet, weak, whore,’ Fontaine spoke over her as he broke the adhesive seal of the mask, freeing the edges of it from her face. ‘It’s time to accept it and stop kidding yourself.’

Pariah squirmed weakly in her restraints as Fontaine slowly peeled the mask from her face, stripping away the remains of her will to resist with it. She looked back at her captor in orgasmic horror as he gradually exposed her face to him, feeling like he was taking her soul from her.

Her mask, the symbol that made her feel untouchable and powerful, came away from her face effortlessly as the stalker finished in a flourish. More so than having her body bared, she now felt truly, profoundly exposed to her captor, and she shook her locks of blonde hair over her face to try and hide her shame.

Still holding her mask in his hand, Fontaine tenderly brushed her angelic hair away from her face to fully reveal her features. ‘Hello, beautiful,’ he said warmly, his tone rich with his appreciation as he moved his other hand back down to forcefully rub her clit again. He began to fuck her more intensely, ‘Tell me your name, and be free.’

There was nothing left. She had no more will or strength to resist him. There was no more pride or self-worth to lose.

There was no more Pariah.

There was just excruciating pleasure.

‘Ugghh… Awww… Ev… Evelyn,’ she whispered, her voice hoarse and tight as tears welled in her desperate eyes, ‘My name…is Evelyn.’

Fontaine beamed at her triumphantly as he continued to pound her exhausted body towards the release she had surrendered everything for. ‘Evelyn. What a pretty name,’ he whispered lovingly, ‘Good girl, well done. Now beg your Daddy to make you come, Eve.’

The stalker wielded her name like it had power over her – and in so many ways it did. His immediate abbreviation of her name was the exact same pet name that Kamura had once used for her, and her father before him.

Evelyn howled with pleasure as her impending orgasm enveloped her world in a storm of hot bliss. She gazed up at her master with sheepish, amorous obedience as she focused all that she was on the release he was about to allow her.

‘Please Daddy, make me come!’ she sighed, ‘Please make me come, Daddy, please.’ She practically screamed as her master rewarded her by finally letting her body pass the point of no return, fucking her even faster as she reached her peak. ‘Awww! Oh Daddy! Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck me! Ohh! Uggghhhh!’

There was a white-hot explosion of pleasure that obliterated the world beyond her and filled her entirely. The wave of unstoppable euphoria ravaged her body, seeming to last forever as it sent her body into violent convulsions. Her pussy squirted multiple times, splashing off her master’s heavy scrotum and splattering onto the floor.

She felt his release as well. Pushed over the edge by her dirty, shameless plea, the stalker swore loudly and shook on the spot as he pressed himself as deep as possible into her hungry snatch. He fired seven long jets of hot semen into her depths, each with enough pressure for her to feel them.

Once again, for a sweet, heavenly moment, Evelyn felt like she knew true peace.

Pure satisfaction.

Evelyn thrashed about in the throes of her powerful orgasm for several long, unending seconds, before finally collapsing into the harness. Each breath she took was a loud and dramatic sigh as she basked in the divine afterglow of her body’s greatest moment.

There were no thoughts in Evelyn’s head now. All there was left was her lusty contentment.

Fontaine sagged forwards and buried his face into her breasts as he struggled to gasp for air. His hands sluggishly moved around her harness and he hugged her affectionately while he savoured the moment as much as she did. He was still hard inside of her, and he slowly gyrated his hips as he continued to work his cock in and out of her.

‘This is who you are, Eve,’ he said softly as he began to recover from his own climax. ‘This is what you want. Thank you for showing me.’

Evelyn sighed as she felt her body already rousing again.

‘Do you want more, Eve?’ Fontaine whispered as he eased himself back from her, reluctantly withdrawing his cock from her. ‘Are you going to be good for me? Will you be mine tonight?’

Evelyn looked back at him through lidded eyes, ‘Mmmm… I’ll be good…,’ she replied drowsily as she undulated her body enticingly within her restraints, ‘I’ll be yours.’

The stalker walked around to one of the racks along the side of the wall and placed her mask upon it in the reverent manner of a prized trophy, before returning back to Evelyn’s side. After considering her for a long moment, his hands went to her harness and he unbuckled the belt that held her to the swing. With the belt released he went to work on undoing the straps around her legs, first releasing her feet so that she could straighten her legs and then releasing her thighs so that she could lower her shaky legs down to the ground.

Evelyn waited patiently as he released her, demurely biting her lip as she watched him work. She understood, if distantly, that she had the ability to use her powerful legs to pulverise him. She knew, even in her weakened state, she would still be able to beat the stalker down. A small, muted part of her considered doing it.

But a much larger part of her wanted to suck her master’s cock – to be good to him and not rouse his disappointment.

She remained sat in the swing as she was released from the harness, looking up at Fontaine attentively as she awaited his instruction.

The stalker retrieved a metal leash, comprised of many small links of faded metal, and clipped it to her collar. Backing away from the swing he tugged on the leash, urging Evelyn to stand from the swing and follow him.

With careful effort, she eased herself out of the swing, requiring balance and strength with her legs while her arms remained bound together behind her back. She stepped onto the cool leather of the padded floor and walked forwards naked at the behest of her leash, dragging her black and jade bodysuit along behind her from her bound elbows.

Upon being led closer to the back of the hold, right before a standing tripod, Fontaine halted his captive and approached her. Evelyn rubbed her thighs together in anticipation as she watched him approach, appreciatively taking in his nakedness and the sight of his large shaft shifting from side to side.

She cooed softly as Fontaine caressed up her arms and rubbed her shoulders.

‘Get on your knees, Eve,’ he said huskily as he planted bristly kisses into her neck.

Evelyn obliged him, keeping eye contact with him as she slunk down to her knees. Her gaze fell to the hard cock in front of her face, still glistening with her own juices, and she stared longingly at it as she eagerly awaited the inevitable command.

‘Do you want to suck my cock, Eve?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered hoarsely, licking her lips.

‘Ask for it.’

She felt herself getting wet and excited again just from how she was being spoken to. The warmth of the Incubus Oil still beguiled her body to her darkest desires and her most debased needs.

‘May I suck your cock?’ she asked quietly as she looked back up into her master’s eyes.

Fontaine smiled down at her, pleased with her humility, as he stroked her hair, ‘Yes, sweetheart, you may.’

With his other hand he tugged at her leash to urge her head close to his crotch, but Evelyn had already been moving before getting the physical prompt. Her lusty gaze returned to his shaft as she leaned forwards and licked up the length of it before capturing the tip of it in her mouth and sucking on it.

Fontaine groaned with approval as Evelyn got to work on servicing him, ‘Aw shit… Good girl, Eve… Clean yourself off my dick.’

Evelyn moaned with pleasure as she ravenously fellated her master, bobbing her head up and down as she gulped his shaft to the back of her throat. She tasted her own juices and swallowed them instinctively as she continued to devour the cock that had tamed her. She slurped up and down it, working her jaw as she laboured to create as much suction as possible, before slowing to pay special attention to the head of his cock. She swirled her tongue over it again and again, before giving it a long hard suck.

‘Jesus, you’re good…,’ Fontaine breathed through gritted teeth as he struggled to hold in a rapidly building second orgasm. ‘You’re a little minx, aren’t you? You’re no good girl, Eve. You’re a dirty slut, aren’t you?’

Evelyn blushed, but now it wasn’t the deriding insults that embarrassed her – it was the flattering compliment of her skill. She batted her eyes up at Fontaine as she keenly sucked him, trying to tempt him into blowing his load.

‘Ahh yeah… I... I love you,’ Fontaine muttered as he held her alluring gaze.

He pulled his cock from her hot mouth and kneeled down next to her as he assertively turned Evelyn and pushed her over. As her face and chest fell against the padded floor he reached around her hips and urged her to raise her firm ass up into the air.

Unable to use her arms to steady herself, Evelyn lay face-down on the floor and obediently offered herself up to her captor, parting her knees and holding her shapely rear up high for her captor to access. She whimpered with arousal as she felt Fontaine’s fingers run along her entrance and briefly rub her clit, before he moved his hands to gripping her hips and he slowly penetrated her once more.

‘Mmm,’ she moaned gratefully as she took his full length once more, this time feeling like something was being returned to her that was missing – like she was being completed.

‘Aww Eve,’ Fontaine groaned as he savoured the feel of her, ‘My perfect Eve. You love getting fucked, don’t you?’

Evelyn moaned freely into the padded leather against her cheek as she was ravaged from behind, feeling another, smaller, orgasmic release churning closer with each possessive thrust. Mindlessly, she pumped herself in rhythm with her master, pushing herself back against his cock.

Fontaine slapped her ass painfully while he rode her, ‘Say it.’

‘Oh! Yes… I love getting fucked,’ she panted.

He slapped her ass again, leaving a burning hand-print upon her pale cheeks, as his tempo increased, ‘Who do you love getting fucked by?’

‘Uhhh…uhhh… I love getting fucked by my Daddy,’ she cried back to him, pushing herself harder against him, squeezing his cock with all the force her hungry snatch could muster.

His hand came down again to delicately caress her ass where he had struck it, before tracing his thumb around the ring of her anus and slowly pushing into it, ‘Tell me you’re mine, Eve. Tell me who you belong to.’

Evelyn’s moans came even louder with the new, surprising violation, ‘Awww, I’m yours! I belong to you!’

Fontaine stopped thrusting into her and instead let her do all of the work, keeping his thumb pressed deeply into her ass, ‘That’s my girl. You have all the power now, Eve. Take your pleasure. Take your release. Fuck my cock and take all my come. Take it all.’

‘Oh yes!’ Evelyn mewled as she pumped herself against her master’s cock faster and harder, putting on a sordid display for Fontaine.

I have power, she thought numbly as she dutifully used her body to pleasure Fontaine’s hardening cock. I’ll take it all.

Her tight pussy devoured his cock again and again and again and…

‘Argh!’ Fontaine cried out as he creamed her a second time, once more firing his load deep inside of her as Evelyn continued to rock herself against him, milking him for every drop of his seed.

Elated that she had pleased him, she climaxed a second later. While a tiny shadow of what she’d experienced earlier, it was still a glorious tempest of satisfaction that she wrung for all that it was worth.

Evelyn collapsed forwards with exhaustion, feeling some of Fontaine’s warm semen dribbling out of her as she lay there. Content and delirious, she panted on the floor like a tired dog.

Silence descended for a few moments as both lovers recovered themselves.

Fontaine almost stumbled as he dragged himself back to his feet, ‘You’re… You’re something else, Eve,’ he said at last, his tone strangely emotional.

He approached her and, pulling on her leash, encouraged her to rise back up to her knees.

Fontaine gasped as he finally noticed the loose bindings at her arms, where three of the knots he had secured now lay open.

‘Jesus, you were freeing yourself,’ he spoke with alarm as he examined the knots, ‘You… You could have pulled your arms out…,’ he looked up from the knots to meet Evelyn’s tired eyes, ‘But you didn’t.’

Evelyn furrowed her brow in confusion at his words, ‘I… I’m sorry…,’ she whispered, her voice small and frail like a worried infant, ‘I didn’t know what to do – and you promised to let me go if I…’

Fontaine circled an arm around her and he held her close as Evelyn struggled to make sense of her own thoughts, ‘It’s okay, Eve, I get it,’ he soothed her gently. ‘You’re incredible, do you know that?’

Evelyn looked up to meet his eyes, searching his expression meekly, ‘I am?’

Fontaine nodded, bringing his other hand in to lazily grope her naked body, distracting her from her painful thoughts. ‘You really are, sweetheart. Now, I need you to make a choice for me. It’s important, so pay attention.’ His hand slipped down her body to massage the lips of her sex, making her shiver in his arms, ‘Are you ready?’

Evelyn moaned sweetly as she was pleasured, kneeling in total supplication to his whims, ‘Yes… I’m ready.’

Fontaine took a breath, ‘You saved my life earlier today, do you remember that?’

Evelyn nodded slowly.

‘Do you regret that?’

‘No,’ she whispered, ‘...Not yet.’

Fontaine grinned, ‘Well, I made that offer earlier, to set you free if you gave me what I wanted – and you gave me everything I wanted, sweetheart – so here’s the choice I need you to make, Eve.’

He raked his hands around her body, stoking her lust.

‘I can let you go, like I promised, or, if you want, I can keep you here instead.’

Evelyn sighed as her body responded to Fontaine’s touch once more. She looked deep into his eyes as he made his offer, occasionally fluttering her own as her pleasure rose.

‘I can keep you, Eve,’ Fontaine whispered tenderly, ‘I can put you back up on that harness, and you’ll never have to fight or hurt again. You can just be my pet, pampered and pleasured every day, knowing only joy. You can stay with this feeling, free of the past or the future. I can train you. We can do this dance all the time.’

Evelyn looked up longingly at the training harness as she listened to Fontaine speak.

‘I’m giving you the choice, Eve, because you’ve earned that much. Now, tell me – what do you want?’

Evelyn looked back around at Fontaine with tears in her eyes, ‘I… I want this…’

Fontaine beamed at her, the proud smile of a…

‘But I can’t stay,’ she croaked, her voice threatening to break, ‘I have to fight. I have to. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…’

The smile fell from Fontaine’s face, being replaced with a look of shock and sorrow. He withdrew from her and left her on the ground, dropping the leash in his hand as he walked over to one of the racks.

‘You didn’t break,’ he muttered incredulously, ‘Even now, drugged up to your eyeballs, humiliated out of your mind, pleasured to heaven and back, surrendering everything you are to me… And you still want to fight. You still hold on to your pain.’

He shook his head ruefully as he turned to look back upon her, his expression pained.

‘You didn’t break,’ he repeated. ‘You’re unbelievable. The red mistress doesn’t stand a chance, does she?’

Evelyn frowned as her inebriated mind tried to understand what Fontaine was saying to her, ‘I… I don’t know what you mean.’ Her bottom lip quivered as she kneeled with perfect poise, ‘Are you mad at me?’

Fontaine approached her, holding a syringe behind his back, ‘I’m a little mad, yeah, but mostly I’m impressed, sweetheart.’ With bitter regret etched over his features, he plunged the syringe into the muscle of her bicep and depressed the lever.

Evelyn’s eyes widened with alarm for a moment, before she felt suddenly very weary. She began to fall backwards but was caught and carefully lowered down by Fontaine. ‘What… What did you do?’ she asked weakly as irresistible darkness began to claim her.

‘I’m setting you free, Eve,' he soothed her gently as he cradled her to his chest and stroked her hair, 'Thanks for tonight. Thanks for saving my life. Thanks for being mine.’

Evelyn felt the world start to go dark and she nestled into Fontaine’s arms, briefly being reminded of the sense of loving protection that she once enjoyed from others in her life.

‘And Eve? Something you should know.’

‘…Yes?’

‘I was wrong about you. You are strong. You're as strong as they come. You are most definitely Pariah, and that's the only truth you need.’

A small smile touched her lips, and then Pariah slipped into a dreamless sleep.


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And you thought Rapture was a drawn out chapter of debauchery! I hope you guys liked it, and it wasn't too vulgar, pornish or layered. I also hope the transitions for the characters aren't too jarring. I'll also admit I used an awful lot of hammer here - the chapter may be crying out for just a little more finesse.

Let me know what you think. Seriously. I'm a feedback vampire - I need appraisal to survive.

Next up, the closing chapter. Stay tuned for part ten: Lost Shepherd. Ten chapters! No way is episode four going to be this long.
Last edited by Void 6 years ago, edited 3 times in total.
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You need it, hey ... Okay, I'll give you what you want, but will you reciprocate? ;)

Void, I've really enjoyed these last two chapters. In fact, this last chapter, well, it took me two reads to get through it, if you know what I mean. <blush>

The one aspect of it I really liked was that she had almost worked her hands free, but, as Fontaine later observed, she had become so enthralled that even though she could have freed her hands at any time, she didn't. That she had become so submissive as to truly become his at that moment ... fantastically arousing to me!

My criticism? Understand that this is likely just a matter of personal preference, but the whole "who's you daddy" thing, big time buzz kill for me. Like I said, maybe it's just my own bias and maybe for you guys you like that sort of thing, but for me, bringing the whole "daddy" thing into it, I just kind of find it to be totally yucky, icky, creepy. I would much rather it have been him asking her "Who's your 'master'?", with the desired response being for her to say his name. Evelyn finally admitting to him, "Fontaine, you are ... you're my master."

Like I said, it's just preference. I know there's a niche out there that are into the incestuous implication of 'who's your daddy?', but ewwww, nipples go soft, wetness dry up! lol I hypothesize that the audience out there into the who's your daddy thing is much smaller than the audience that would prefer the domination, master / slave dynamic, without the incestuous implication, even if it's simply meant to be symbolic.

Anyway, you asked, I told. :)

Otherwise, I've really enjoyed and continue to enjoy this story. I can't wait to read the next chapter! (Although, as you know, there's this one other thing from you that I am even more excited to read, before you get to the next bit here. Time to do a girl a solid?)
xoxo
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Hurm. Yeah... One of my biggest concerns about the chapter was just how much the knife was twisted on that one - a partial consequence of letting the characters take the lead. I strongly considered dialling it back, and I guess I still am (especially the third time she says it), but I'm pretty conflicted.

The chapter is a kinky fetish chapter, yes, but it is also meant to be gross and uncomfortable. It's also focused on the power struggle between them, and the choice in words is much less to do with assuming incestuous roles and much more to do with saying the most disempowering, humiliating thing - and to regress Pariah to a time before she was strong. One of the points of flashing back to her ordeal in Everwood was to see Evelyn/Pariah in her weakest moment, and some of the 'daddy' stuff here was to resonate with that while she hits a new period of vulnerability. There's also some stuff to do with the inversion taking place between this chapter and Remorse, with Fontaine noticing how angry Pariah gets about his passing use of the word, and he then deliberately tries to make her play along to exert his mastery of her.

All that being said - I do wonder if I pushed too far. I never set out to push that dynamic as much as it ended up getting pushed. I might dial the final one back from 'Daddy' to 'Master'. I'd welcome thoughts from others. Too much 'Daddy?' Too weird? Too jarring?

You're quite right, I think it's time to deliver elsewhere... I won't progress any other projects until Aurelia is... finished. It's like the season of filth for me. The only thing more of a depraved sexfest than 'Alpha' is Aurelia's finale! Sleazy Void is in full effect.
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Finally, the last chapter. Feels good to get this one out the way... even if this particular arc won't feel finished until the end of the 4th episode - but more on that later.


Part Ten: Lost Shepherd


It had become another quiet night in Gallowgate.

The commotion kicked up by the events at Finnie’s garage had percolated through the Gate for a while, spawning several impromptu gatherings in the street to celebrate the latest victory of Gallowgate’s avenging angel.

The Pariah’s successive actions, along with the unprecedented police involvement that dragged along behind her, had kindled a sense of hope in the long-suffering community. Where before they had been abandoned to predators too terrible to name, now, day after day, fresh stories were arising of the hooded woman striking back against the dark forces that blighted the district. With each fresh tale, with each fresh police cordon, and with each rescued witness the effect of the Pariah became undeniable.

The public maiming of the Ogre – a creature revered like the bogeyman in the Gate – had been the final spark needed to ignite the fire of optimism in the hearts of the locals. The growing sense of change had finally bubbled over into public outbursts.

No longer was it foolish to speak of safety or retribution. If the Ogre could be punished, then they all could be. There could yet be justice in the Gate.

And so Gallowgate buzzed under the influence of a positive force for the first time in a generation.

But, as night set in over Gallowgate, the usual silence had descended once more. The revellers melted away and hurried home. The Gate assumed its more familiar aspect.

Now, as Fontaine drove through the empty streets, he could almost kid himself into thinking that nothing had changed. He could almost believe that Vincent Malone’s empire in the Gate would endure, that it would continue to dominate Azure’s most forlorn district, and that it would recover from the Pariah’s campaign against it.

He could almost believe it, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was in the middle of betraying them all.

He had radioed ahead to his destination as he drove back into the Gate, advising them of his approach. They had been desperate for information and anxious about whether there was a chance he was being followed.

They had been rattled. Burned out. Scared.

Very scared.

He could understand their discomfort to a point. Malone’s empire was crumbing, and where before members of Underhaven were impervious to outside danger, now they were singularly imperilled by the phantom that stalked them. They had watched their various bases of operations go dark, one by one, with every man on site beaten and apprehended. Even the deadly enforcers sent by the red mistress were being taken out.

The Pariah was coming for them - and nothing was stopping her.

Even so, Fontaine detected an extra level of strain in the voices of the men he spoke with. They were not just shaken by general events; they were languishing beneath a more immediate, direct horror.

Something was already in there with them.

Fontaine was fairly confident he knew what it was, and even the possibility of it had almost been enough to break his nerve. After severing the radio link from the frightened, drained overseer, Fontaine had slowed to a crawl and seriously considered a change in plan.

On a different night, under different circumstances, he would have abandoned this insane plan – but tonight… Tonight, this just made his plan even better. The dangerous craziness of it all just made it that much more perfect.

So he pressed on.

It was nearly three in the morning when he arrived at the parking lot of the Addleton apartment complex. The nine-story building was the largest apartment block in Gallowgate, and was something of a geographical feature in the district due to its bloated size compared to the more modest buildings, but it bore the same dishevelled, run-down aesthetic as the rest of the Gate.

He parked his truck up at the freight entrance at the back of the building, where the doors were already open and four men stood waiting for him.

Fontaine recognised the leader of the group as Underhaven’s on-site overseer, Apollo Dawkins, the last remaining of Malone’s inner circle. The dark-skinned, powerfully built man was a cool head and an effective leader, easily earning his position in charge of the Addelton site. However, where usually Dawkins was a vital and imposing figure, tonight he looked sickly and withdrawn.

She’s definitely here…

Fontaine grinned at Dawkins as he stepped out of the driver’s cabin, hefting his tightly-packed duffle bag out with him. ‘Hey chief. A fine night, ain’t it?’

Dawkins folded his arms across his broad chest, ‘I wouldn’t say that. Where have you been? What happened at the garage?’ His dark eyes nervously darted around the cityscape beyond the parking lot, ‘We heard it was hit. We heard no one got out – not even the Ogre.’

Fontaine made a show of nodding along grimly, ‘Yeah, well, you heard right. Almost right, at least. I got out, but it was a damned close thing. I got a few lucky breaks, and I don’t mind admitting that I ran away while the Ogre was getting his ass handed to him.’

Dawkins’ men cursed and exchanged disbelieving looks. The news that their most feared enforcer had lost to the Pariah was unsettling on a number of levels, not least of which being that it diminished their hope of never having to face the vigilante.

Unlike his people, Dawkins kept his composure, ‘So it’s true, then? The Pariah took everything out?’

Fontaine slung the full duffle bag over his shoulder, ‘Yeah. The garage is toast, and everyone else that was there is in custody. I got a shot at her but,’ Fontaine gave a pained expression as he touched his bruised ribs, ‘in the end, I think I just pissed her off.’

Dawkins sighed, ‘Well shit… Why’d you take so long to get in touch? Why’d you even come here?’

‘I had to be sure I wasn’t being followed,’ Fontaine replied casually, not even entirely lying, ‘I had to make sure I lost any tail. As for why I’m here…,’ Fontaine grinned at the overseer, ‘I’m still on the hunt I was tasked with, and I think we both know the Pariah will be coming here next. I want a round two, you get me?’

Dawkins arched his brow at the stalker before a smile slowly changed his expression, ‘I won’t say no to more firepower. You think you can take her after what you saw tonight?’ He shifted his weight from side to side, ‘I mean, do you think we can take her?’

Fontaine flashed his most charming smile back at the overseer, ‘Hey, there’s a chance we don’t even have to worry about it.’

The other man frowned, ‘What do you mean?’

It was time to lie in earnest.

‘Well, from what I saw,’ Fontaine said carefully, ‘I think the Ogre may have wounded her before he got taken out. She looked in a bad way when I lost sight of her – a really bad way.’

Dawkins leaned closer, ‘How bad? Like, fatal?’

Fontaine sniffed, ‘Possibly. It’s hard to say. All I’m saying is that there’s a decent chance the Pariah died tonight.’ Fontaine let that sink in before adding, ‘But, uh, if she didn’t die? Then I have a feeling she’s going to be coming here real soon, chief, and I think she will be fucking furious.’

A dramatic silence followed his words as Dawkins considered them. The gathered thugs exchanged more nervous glances. The overseer scanned their surroundings once again before speaking up, ‘Come inside. I’ve had your room prepared. You’ll have to give us the full story when we get up there – I hope that’s cool.’

‘Sure thing, chief,’ Fontaine replied warmly as he sauntered around his truck to the back door. ‘But there’s one more thing,’ he said mischievously as he unlocked the door and rolled it open, ‘I’ve also brought another guest.’

He reached inside and lifted out his beautiful prize. She was completely naked save for a black bag cinched over her head, and she hung totally limp in his arms, still in the grip of a deep slumber.

‘Whoa, who’s the athlete?’ Dawkins asked as his eyes crawled over the curves of the woman’s bare body.

Fontaine held her close as he pulled a white blanket from the truck and wrapped it around her to conceal her modesty. He could have done as much long before now, but he wanted Dawkins and his men to be disarmed by her enticing body to make them that much more likely to buy his lie. They all inched closer to get a better look as he secured the blanket tightly around her, clearly wishing they’d been ready to appreciate her before she was covered.

‘She was Grail’s pet project on the side,’ Fontaine said nonchalantly, ‘I think he picked her up on his own and was keeping her as his personal lapdog. Seemed a shame to leave her behind, so I grabbed her when I escaped.’

Dawkins eyed Fontaine suspiciously, ‘We’re not supposed to keep anyone off the books like that… I never heard of a girl being kept by Grail.’

Fontaine held his dubious stare, ‘You know what? You’re right, I’m lying.’ He hefted the woman in his arms, causing her covered head to loll about, ‘This is actually the Pariah. I caught her earlier tonight, fucked her, and then thought I’d bring her here rather than to Malone or the red mistress because I wanted to give her a chance at escaping – because I wanted to test her resolve and see what entertaining shit would go down here. I want to see what the vigilante is made of, and I don’t care what it means for the rest of you. You got me.’

Dawkins broke into a grin as he raised his hands in a placating gesture, ‘Alright, alright, no need to give me shit, man. I just didn’t think Grail had the balls to do something like that – or that he had such damned fine taste with his women.’ He looked down on the unconscious woman, intently gazing at where the sheet clung to her lithe figure, ‘So you want to check her in? She’s joining the harem?’

Dumb schmuck.

‘Yeah,’ Fontaine matched the grin, ‘I figure she’d fit right in. Train her up real nice and she could be a sweet little present for the Dungeon in a few days’ time. What ya reckon?’

Dawkins nodded appreciatively as he stroked his chiselled chin, ‘Sure. She’s clean, right? Nobody looking for her?’

‘Of course.’

‘She got a name?’

Fontaine’s smile grew, ‘I don’t know if I caught it. I think it was Ann… or was it Sophie?’

‘I guess it don’t matter,’ Dawkins allowed, ‘Is she broke already? Did Grail tame her?’

Fontaine’s smile fell away, ‘No… She’s a wild one.’

‘Good. I’ll send her up to one of the maiden suites. Might just pay her a visit myself to get her conditioning started,’ Dawkins said hungrily as he leered at Fontaine’s prize. ‘C’mon, let’s get inside.’

Fontaine followed them into the building, through the maintenance corridors to the freight elevator. They walked in silence for a few seconds before the stalker had to ask.

‘Is there something I should know, chief? You guys seem edgy, even considering current events.’

Dawkins opened the shutter to the elevator and gestured everyone inside, ‘Heh, yeah man, we’ve had our own difficulties. This place ain’t the luxury resort that it was a few days ago.’ He entered the elevator behind them and slammed the shutter closed before hitting the button for the seventh floor.

‘Oh yeah? Why’s that?’ Fontaine asked, though now, as the rich, sickly sweet smell of flowers became detectable to him from the other men’s clothing in the confined space, he already knew the answer.

‘We have another guest,’ Dawkins answered, lowering his voice as they were carried up by the elevator and as the scent of flowers grew stronger, ‘The Dryad is here… And I think she’s toying with us all.’


******Elsewhere…******


The realization had struck him like a blow across the head, making him feel sick to his stomach.

After two hours of checking the apartment building adjacent to the garage, finding only nervous squatters, Blake had examined every possible exit route to escape the police cordon. The obvious answer had been the alley on the far side of the building, where a vehicle could have been concealed and then used to escape with their prisoner.

It had been while Blake stood at the junction where the alley met the road that he realised it.

He had driven past the same alley on his approach to the garage, and there had been a truck pulling out of it. Blake had even eyeballed the driver, meeting gazes with the nervous, bearded trucker as he drove past. The timing perfectly matched when Blake calculated the escape to be taking place, and the truck was more than enough to spirit away the vigilante.

It had been the only viable way out, and Blake had missed it. Too caught up on getting to the garage and on studying the stream of data from his radio, he had thought nothing of the random cargo hauler pulling out the alley. It was an oversight that he hated himself for – blaming himself for any consequences that befell the Pariah as a result of his poor judgement.

Locke had cautioned that it was still a longshot, dependant on Blake correctly deducing the timeline and on him bring right that it was the only workable way out of the cordon. However, for Blake it was already stone fact.

There was only one way it could have happened, and this was it.

The moment he made the connection Blake had raced back to his car to review his dashcam footage, and he ran the license plates on the hauler as soon as he saw it on the footage. He had contacted dispatch immediately and told them to seek out the make, model and plates of the vehicle. He had impressed upon them that it was time sensitive and crucial to the Underhaven investigation.

That was nearly seven hours ago. Nothing was found.

Even the plates bounced back as a nonsense account, belonging to a Mr. Frederick Ache, with fictitious personal details to match the mockery of the name. Blake had questioned the frozen food company that was advertised on the hauler’s side, but they had no vehicles missing or that matched the description of Blake’s target.

Whoever Blake had driven past, they were good at covering their tracks. Even the route they took through the city after Blake past them was one that involved no surveillance cameras, or functioning surveillance cameras. They simply vanished, and even with footage of their truck there was still nothing that could be traced. Blake figured the slippery bastard had probably changed registration plates by now, possibly even rebranding the logos on the side of the hauler.

Despite all Blake’s zeal and his on-point deductions, he had still come up hopelessly empty handed.

He had busied himself with questioning the suspects they brought in from the garage, desperate for them to roll on Underhaven and give him more information to work with, but they were all as tight-lipped as the other suspects they held in custody.

The hour had drawn later and later, until even Locke went home to get some sleep – at least satisfied that the mountain of paperwork had been cleared – but still Blake could not rest.

He couldn’t go home and sleep knowing that the Pariah was being held. He just couldn’t.

So, starved of options, Blake had loaded up on coffee and was aimlessly driving around Gallowgate looking for the hauler. It was a hopelessly long shot, but it was all Blake had left to try and catch up to his man.

After several hours of cruising the streets, just as Blake’s eyes were threatening to clamp shut with exhaustion, he earned his miracle.

He had spotted it just out the corner of his eye as he drove past, and it had taken him several seconds to process that he’d even seen it, but when it hit him it woke him up completely. He slammed on the breaks, shifted into reverse, and crawled backwards until he was alongside the entrance into the parking lot for a tall residential apartment block.

There, parked by the rear entrance, was a plain cargo hauler. The exact make, the exact model. Sure enough, the plates were different and the logos advertised on the sides were different, but it was his hauler – Blake felt it in his bones.

No one would believe him. He had only the most circumstantial of theories to suggest it was anything other than a random cargo hauler, but still Blake was certain.

His gaze moved from the truck up to the apartment complex looming above it, keenly taking in its details. There were lights on up at the seventh floor of the building.

Blake took a long, slow breath as he tried to work through his options.

‘I found you, you son of a bitch.’

He didn’t yet know how he would do it, but, one way or another, Blake was going to enter that building and he was going to drag the bearded bastard out in cuffs.

But most importantly, Blake was going to save the Pariah.


******Elsewhere…******


To my surprise, I’m still not dead.

I am numb. Everything is dark. I hear the world passing by beyond me, but it sounds distant and slow.

There are voices talking to one another, but I cannot understand what they are saying.

I don’t care to.

As I ease in and out of consciousness, I keep becoming stuck against my terrible disgust with myself, and I willingly retreat back to unconsciousness to escape it. I don’t want to be awake – I don’t want to face my failure. I don’t want to feel my traitorous body. It still throbs with the diminished effects of the narcotic oil that was slathered into me, and I can still feel the unpleasant after-sensations of the rigorous sex that took place.

While my body is still recovering from the drug, it seems my mind is becoming less fogged and working with greater alacrity. I wish it wasn’t. Every conscious thought I have is of shame and hate and sorrow.

I’m so tired. I just want to sleep.

I have hated myself before, for many things, but this time is different. I remember what I did, what I said, what I thought. It is like a dream, to be sure, but I know it is not – I know I really behaved that way, and I will never forgive myself for it. Most of all I will never forgive how much I enjoyed it. I attempt to reason with myself that it was the drug that made it all happen, that I wasn’t myself, but I haven’t the will to believe it yet. I’m not sure I ever will.

All I know for certain is that I am defeated. Fontaine beat me in every way I can imagine losing. I know I had reached a stage where I could have made a choice to overcome him, but instead I chose to surrender to him.

I… I don’t know why I did that. Why did I do that?

The only crumb of comfort I have is that I chose freedom over servitude when I was given the choice explicitly a second time. But even at that, it wasn’t the choice I had wanted to make – it was just the choice I felt I had to make.

Like always.

As I awaken further I am becoming dimly aware that I’m naked. Even my bodysuit is gone now, fully stripping me of every piece of Pariah’s image. Someone is carrying me in their arms, handling me like damsels are carried by their handsome knights. I imagine now I just look like a helpless victim – like the dozens and dozens of girls I have saved.

Let me sleep. Just let me sleep.

But my training is kicking in now, and it overpowers my sullen desire to bury my head in the sand. Once again, I am making the choice I have to make, studying my environment and preparing for the fight to come.

I can smell roses. The warm fragrance stirs me, drawing my attention to the sweet, pervasive aroma that I am being carried through. I try to consider this oddity, but my attention shifts again as I hear a door being opened and I am carried into a warmer space.

I am lowered down and I feel the soft sheets of a luxurious bed embrace me. I groan slightly as I continue to surface from my drug-induced slumber, but still I cannot direct my body to do anything. My limp hands are stretched above my head and silken cuffs seal them tightly to the headboard. Hands trail down my body, caressing me through the thin sheet that I am wrapped in, until they reach down my legs to my ankles. I groan again with impotent dissent as I feel my ankles guided into soft bindings that hold my legs apart.

As I mewl uselessly in my new restraints, the hands move back up my body to pull the cowl off of my head, allowing me to see once more. I flutter my eyes as I try to resolve the room around me, seeing a small, finely decorated bedroom lit with warm ambience.

Standing over the bed I see Fontaine smiling down at me.

‘I’m glad you’re awake, Eve,’ he whispers to me as he sits on the side of the bed, ‘I was hoping we’d get the chance to chat before I left you.’ He leans forward and strokes my blonde hair, delicately brushing it away from my face, ‘It looks like you’re starting to shake off the Incubus Oil. Don’t think I’ve seen anyone sober up so fast from it before – but you aren’t like other people, are you?’

I can’t meet his eyes. I’m not ready yet – I’m not strong enough yet. I bite my lip and look instead at his hands.

‘You lied,’ I say quietly.

Fontaine moves a hand to tenderly grip my chin and direct me to look at him, which I hesitantly oblige, ‘Are you disappointed or relieved?’

Both.

‘Neither.’

Fontaine chuckles warmly as he releases my chin and teases his hand down to massage my neck, ‘Well, sweetheart, this was the best I could do for you. I could have handed you in to the mistress, but I’ve not – I’m honouring that promise.’ His hand lowers gradually to push the sheet down my body so he can massage my upper chest, causing my breathing to deepen with conflicted desires, ‘But I couldn’t just let you go, Eve. I just couldn’t. So, I’ve walked a middle ground that honours my promises to both you and the red mistress. You’re inside the Addleton building, where girls are kept and trained to be sold. I’m sure you know of it – I’m sure you were hitting here next anyways, right?’

I shudder as my captor pushes his hands lower, pushing the sheet over my breasts so that he can lazily massage them, ‘So here you are, already at your next target,’ he continues, ‘And they don’t know who you are – they have no idea what they’re keeping up here – they think you’re just the latest catch of the day.’ He moves his hands inwards to tease his fingertips around my areolas, touching me like he would a hard-earned trophy on his mantelpiece, ‘So you could spring a real trap, sweetheart. You could continue your fight, like I promised.’

My nipples obediently harden for him even before he gets to them, and he rewards them now by pinching them gently, making me gasp submissively, ‘But, on the other hand, you are still caught, and the guys here will make a pleasure slave of you if you can’t – or won’t – stop them.’ He squeezes harder, hurting me and making me moan pathetically, ‘You wouldn’t be mine, but you may yet be everyone’s.’

He releases my stiff nipples and returns his hands up to caress my flushed cheeks, ‘It’s my offer to you, Eve. Maybe Pariah died tonight, maybe she didn’t - it’s up to you. If you like you can just relax and let yourself be dragged into a life of pleasure and service, free of choice and pain, and no one needs to know the mighty Pariah gave in. You can just be a weak girl, like all the others. I know you’d like that, Eve.’

Every time he uses my name it’s like a knife in my heart. I avert my gaze from him as I try to hide how much of a wreck I am, and how much his offer tempts me. There is a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. I know I can’t hide my emotion from him, but I at least do what I can to hold myself together to keep it from spilling out of me.

His fingers carefully wipe away my tears as they fall silently down my cheeks, ‘It’s okay, Eve. You don’t have to be brave anymore if you don’t want to be. The choice is yours.’

He stands from the bed and licks my tears from his fingertips, seeming to relish the taste, before lifting a duffle bag so that I can see it. ‘If Pariah is still alive and if you want to remain wild, then you should know I’ve put all your gear in here. You’re cloak, belt, outfit – it’s all here.’ He walks over to a closet and bundles the bag inside, hiding it under fresh linin, ‘You can take it all back if you can get out that bed.’

After closing the closet, he walks back over to my bedside, pulling Pariah’s mask out of his right pocket to show me, ‘But I’m keeping your mask, Eve. Whatever happens from here, the mask is mine.’ His hand slides up my left leg possessively, ‘I’m giving you twelve hours to resurrect the Pariah. If you haven’t done it by then, I’m gonna come back up here and take that bag back for good – and I’ll also fuck your slutty brains out before I leave, since you’ll probably be well broken by then. Sound good, Eve?’

I turn my head away from him, still trying to rein in my emotions and master my scattered thoughts. For a devastating second I have to fight the submissive impulse to thank him.

Fontaine lingers beside me, clearly hoping to get a reaction of some kind from me, but after a few muted seconds he turns to leave. ‘I will have you again, Eve. That’s the only thing that matters,’ he calls over his shoulder as he reaches the door and pockets Pariah’s mask.

‘You should have killed me.’

He freezes in place and then turns to look at me, ‘What was that?’

I take a long breath before I speak again, ‘You should have killed me.’

He grins at me and opens his mouth to retort, but I speak over him, my voice quiet but firm.

‘You and I aren’t done. Not even close.’

Fontaine’s wolfish smile grows wider as he begins to approach my bed, ‘Oh, I’m counting on it, Eve. I don’t ever want us to be done.’

I swallow hard as Fontaine returns to the side of my bed and begins to drag the thin sheet away from my body. ‘I’m so glad there’s still a fire burning in you,’ he mutters as his hand makes its way between my thighs, making me squirm in my restraints as his fingers brush against the lips of my sex. ‘You’re all I think about now,’ he whispers as his fingers move in to massage my dampening pussy, ‘And I want to be all you think about, Eve. We’re going to have so much fun, you and I.’

I can’t keep a shame-filled sigh from escaping my lips as my body responds to his masterful touch. I grind my teeth and glower up at him, ‘Ugh… I’ll… end you…’

‘What’s that, sweetheart?’ he asks as his caress becomes more forceful and his thumb finds my throbbing clit, ‘You want to suck my cock before I leave? I think I’ve got the time.’

I moan as my pleasure rises, but I still look back at him defiantly. I already know that I am going to give in to him – that he will make me do exactly as he suggests before he leaves – but I won’t make it easy for him. My breathing quickens as my body begins to…

‘Wesley?’

Fontaine freezes, his eyes locked with mine, as we are both surprised by the sultry voice from the doorway.

I narrow my eyes back at him as a predatory smile touches my lips.

A flicker of discomfort mires his features for a second, before he breaks my stare to glance over his shoulder to the doorway.

Following his gaze, I see the silhouette of a voluptuous woman leaning against the doorframe. Black silks barely conceal her generous curves, and in my drugged state it almost looks as if her immaculate tanned skin is releasing wispy trails of purple mist that wreathes the air around her sensual figure. Her yellow eyes sparkle with playful amusement as she surveys Fontaine.

‘You always work so hard. It’s not good for your health.’

I can see the subtle unease on Fontaine’s face as he turns to address the newcomer. He is scared of her.

‘Hey, pixie,’ he responds with forced confidence, ‘I was just about to come talk to you. You look… well.’

The newcomer chuckles demurely, the sound dark and enticing, ‘How fortunate that I found you then, Wesley. We can speak now.’ She lifts her hand and beckons him with one of her slender fingers, ‘Come, there is much you must tell me.’ Her piercing gaze briefly falls upon my body and moves up to meet my eyes, ‘Indulgence can wait, for now.’

Fontaine hesitates for a moment before nodding, ‘Sure thing, pixie. Let’s go have a catch up.’ He gestures towards the doorway, ‘I’ll follow your lead.’

The exotic woman swirls around, her long dark hair flowing flatteringly around her as she moves, and her hips sway from side to side as she saunters away. ‘Then follow,’ she calls back to him seductively.

Fontaine looks back at me, his frustration apparent in his face, before he forces himself to move towards the doorway. ‘I’ll see you soon, Eve. Enjoy your stay,’ he whispers back to me.

‘Yeah, I’ll see you soon, Wesley,’ I reply tersely.

He stops at the doorway to glare back at me. His hand moves up to a switch on the wall, ‘Let the games begin, Evelyn.’

He flicks the switch, causing lights and speakers around my room to come to life and bathe the room with their insidious effects. Throbbing, flashing lights fill the room with their multitude of hues, and a warbling, hideously beautiful choir accompanies the lights.

The aria has been started.

‘Let’s see what you’re made of.’

I don’t even hear him slam the door closed. I hold my eyes shut and do my best to ignore the subliminal manipulations of the aria as it envelopes me in its influence. I groan with distress as I already feel the familiar, hypnotic effects of Underhaven’s devious weapon.

I rest my head back in my pillow as I try to order my thoughts and prepare myself to meet this insurmountable challenge. I will punish myself later. Rumination will come later. I will be despondent and broken later. I will be a shattered, miserable woman later.

Evelyn will pick up the pieces later.

Now, there is only the fight. Now, there is only revenge. Now, I am a weapon.

Pariah will punish them all.

He should have killed me; I will hear his cries of remorse for that soon enough. When that time comes there will be no mercy - I will take back my pride and my strength through harsh violence. They’re all completely screwed.

I’m going to play Fontaine’s insane game, and I’m going to win.

Let the games begin, asshole.


******END******


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So... that took awhile! Episode 1 and 2 got written over the course of 3 months, and then this episode took well over two years. That's a massive downturn in productivity, even if this episode is considerably longer. That's the unfortunate consequence of my life becoming much more cluttered as time has worn on, and it has become a serious effort/sacrifice to make the time to come back to this. If not for the occasional prods I got over the years asking when I would finish the story then I think this series would be abandoned. Big thanks to everyone who got in touch and who stuck with the story. Of course, big apologies for how long this dragged on - and if anyone is disappointed by the open-ended way we finished the tale.

Most of all, I hope you enjoyed the story! We've gone a very different route here, breaking from the formula of Pariah heading home to start the adventure again from scratch the next day. Instead we have a bit of a cliffhanger, with the next episode beginning right in the deep end of peril and action. The good news is I'm nearly three chapters into the next episode, but the dangers of this dragging out again are still very real, so I'm going to wait until I have a little more in the tank before I start posting it up. My intention is to try and have the 4th fully written and posted up before the end of September. But... I've thrown out deadlines before on this story, and I'm pretty sure I've always missed them, so... I guess we'll see if I can break the streak!

Stay tuned for Pariah #4: Power Games (I'm not totally sure on the title, but that one keeps coming up as the most fitting.)

Feedback, of any kind, will be gratefully received. Hearing from you guys about the story is the ultimate payoff for me in writing it, so it is the best way to motivate me to hurry along and get more written - although money also has that affect on me, so if you fancy purchasing the series on amazon or smashwords, you'll also be keeping my SHIP fiction engine from stalling. All that being said, I'm just happy if you read the story and enjoyed it - I appreciate the time it takes to read something as prolonged as this!

On a final note... Is there any appetite for other stories from Azure? I'm ultra tempted to write either a whole series about another heroine in Azure, or to write a smaller stand-alone book about the downfalls of multiple heroines. I can do one or neither, but probably not both. What do you guys reckon? Any kind of heroine you'd like to see in Azure?

Thanks again for your time!
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flirty_but_nice
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Because I know there are few substitutes for the satisfaction of publicly posted feedback ...

I just read the final chapter you wrote. Wow! I just LOVE how Eve actually DOES seem broken to Fontaine's will. It is cool that she still seems to have fight in her, but I am hoping to read of her succumbing to some of the training, being used and abused before the maskless Pariah re-emerges!

What I am really hoping for, though, is that amidst her re-emergence, Fontaine ends up being some sort of Kryptonite. Despite her desire for revenge upon him, instead she finds herself inexplicably submissive to his whims. She wants to avenge his breaking her, but the part of her that just wants to give in and surrender to him keeps winning her internal struggle. This of course makes things far more difficult for Pariah in her other superheroine pursuits, outside of Fontaine.

As for this question, "On a final note... Is there any appetite for other stories from Azure? I'm ultra tempted to write either a whole series about another heroine in Azure, or to write a smaller stand-alone book about the downfalls of multiple heroines. I can do one or neither, but probably not both. What do you guys reckon? Any kind of heroine you'd like to see in Azure?" ...

Wouldn't it be neato if it turns out that Underhaven is actually run by or being invaded by a certain wee little sect of Taints wanting to take things over? A sect of Taints that just happen to have a 'turned', saucy, sexy, supremely powerful assassin vixen enslaved to do their bidding? <wink>
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It took a while but it really was good, cool that you already have ideas for the continuation in the case of chapter 4, I particularly want to see her suffering, but in the end getting up and overcoming the enemies, cool the appearance of another villain, who was one of My ideas if I'm not mistaken
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Thanks Valugi - sorry again that it took such an age to complete. I'm on course to start posting up chapters for the next episode this month, but I want to complete Aurelia before I do. Dryad did indeed begin life from the seed you planted - and my how she's grown! Funnily enough, when I first wrote up the collection of hunters at the start of the second episode, it was Dryad that I was most looking forward to. I've very much enjoyed writing her in the 4th episode so far.

Anyways, I'm just going to bookend this whole story by posting the cover image for the book on amazon and smashwords - feels bad to exclude it when the covers from the first two episodes are hanging out here. It worked out pretty well, although Ogre's appearance is a little less bestial and monstrous as I might have hoped (he turns grey in the story) but given how many things I was asking of the artist I think it came out pretty well. Hope you guys like it!
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As always, the cape is very good. Congratulations.
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