The Ultimate Superheroines Forum

This one's an SH-forum exclusive! I'm going to upload it as I go on here, with smaller chapter lengths than usual, for more regular uploads. So this is just an introduction, basically. Part 2 coming soon!

She fell. She fell from a height where the midday sky was black. She fell like a wounded bird of paradise, beautiful even in the tragedy of her descent. Her eyes were closed. Her slender, feminine body was limp. Her dark-blonde hair swished about her, though the unobstructed sun made it look celestially golden. Indeed, there was an ethereal quality to her, even as she fell. For while the wind swished her hair, ruffled the dark red cape and short, burgundy skirt in which the maiden was clad, it did not move her limbs. Had her skin not been so obviously smooth and fine, she would have looked like a statue, so immovable was she by the wind's currents. The reason, of course, was that this apparently doomed woman was not human. She was Kryptonian, last of two survivors of a dead world.

And yet her otherworldly origin, her vast power, was not visible. She seemed so vulnerable as she fell, so fragile. Not only that, but if one could have seen her face, she would not have seemed alien at all. On the contrary. Her face was lovely: with almond shaped, blue-eyes, sweet, pretty features, and charmingly dimpled cheeks. Her lips were soft, pink, and slightly open, as if she were in the middle of saying 'Oh no!' but she couldn't quite find the strength. She was beautiful, but she was - well she was sweet, hardly what one would expected from an alien superwoman. At least, not until she opened her soft, blue eyes. Or rather, her glowing, burning, red eyes.

Two beams lanced out of her, with such heat that the air itself burst into flames, even though there was little oxygen this high up. She seemed to be firing into the empty air, but this power to shoot fire from her eyes was by no means the only one that this young woman possessed. She had superhumanly accurate senses, and the target, not much larger than herself, was nearly a kilometre away. Yet she hit it. She hit him.

"AUUGHHHH!!" he cried, feeling the plastisteel suit he was encased in shatter, and feeling the sting of a serious burn on his back. He'd thought this girl, this Kryptonian, was dealt with. She was more powerful than he'd expected. He looked for her, turning his eyes towards the spot where the blast had come from, but she was no longer there. "Oh, crap!" he exclaimed, running his hands through his greasy, blue-black hair. He flew back, moving at hundreds of kilometres per hour, trying to find his opponent again, but failing. "'Go to Earth, Mekkon', they all say. 'Those primitives will buy any old shit for a premium', they say. 'Easy pickings', they say. Well you know what you didn't say?" He turned his eyes heavenward, and shook his fist at where he vaguely imagined Daxam to be. "You didn't say I'd run into a motherfucking Kryptonian!!" He just managed to finish his diatribe when the 'motherfucking Kryptonian' slammed into him, fist extended, from behind, sending him almost at escape velocity away from her.

In fact it did send him at escape velocity, but he used his own powers, his own ability to fly, to keep himself within Earth's atmosphere. He'd thought he'd be invincible here. With the bright, main phase yellow sun beaming down light on him, he should have been just as strong as any Kryptonian, being a Daxamite. And he was strong: he was a huge man, rippling with muscle which trembled with power under sunlight. In fact, he'd taken his opponent off-guard with his first attack, a punch that might actually have been stronger than what the Kryptonian could muster, and he'd sent her falling, apparently defeated. But he'd only been on Earth for a week, selling a few Daxamite bits and bobs to some black market types, trying to avoid the attention of the sector's Green Lanterns. His enemy, on the other hand, had been here for years. She knew her powers, and she knew them well.

She didn't go for stealth this time. She flew straight at him, and when he swung his fist at her - faster than a speeding bullet, don'tcha know - she easily dodged. Her slender arm drew back, and one nanosecond later delivered a fierce right cross, jerking his head back with a sickening motion. But the Kryptonian's eyes did more than burn: she could see her enemy's skeleton if she wanted, and she made sure she hadn't broken his neck. She had no wish to kill this Daxamite.

But Mekkon had no such compunctions. He used the momentum of the punch and flew back, then summoned the same power his enemy had surprised him with. Unlike her, however, he had never actually used his heat-vision before. It came out, therefore, in a wild, sputtering burst. Inaccurate, yes, but potent. His beams would easily have harmed his enemy badly, had they hit her. But of course, they didn't. She was too fast, too experienced, and too skilled for this novice, however much raw power he had. And she had plenty of her own, too: she struck him in the face, with a sound like a thunderclap, knocking him a dozen kilometres away from her.

Had Mekkon been more experienced, he might have been able to retaliate, because he wasn't too badly hurt. But his enemy's strike had sent him tumbling and spinning, and though he was in no danger of hitting the ground - not that it would have hurt him much if he had - he was completely disoriented. It took him three seconds to right himself, but only two-and-a-half seconds for his enemy to close the distance, punch him in the stomach, blast him in the chest with her heat-vision, and kick him in the throat.

By now Mekkon wasn't just afraid he might be outmatched: he knew that he was. He was not a fighter, despite his impressive build: by nature he was a wheeler-dealer mercenary, and his massive bulk and Daxamite heritage were a useful, implied threat. When the Kryptonian had confronted him, asked him to stop selling his alien technology on Earth or at least approach something she'd called the 'United Nations', he'd attacked her not out of contempt or cruelty, but out of panic. For a moment, when he'd sucker-punched her and her slinky, pretty body had dropped like a stone, he'd thought his new powers had saved him. But now, as he coughed, spluttered, and shook with pain, his nigh invulnerable body impressing on him very distinctly the significance of that 'nigh' caveat, he knew full well that even if he fought as hard as he could, she could kill him if she wanted, and it probably wouldn't even be that difficult.

Luminous! The Sun shone directly behind her, lighting up her supple, womanly figure as she floated before him, giving her whole body a warm, powerful glow. Her long, red cape flapped in the wind, wind which caressed her long, slightly wavy, dirty-blonde hair. Her skirt, the same colour as her cape, fluttered as well, giving a generous helping to the eye of her shapely, silky legs. Her tantalizingly exposed thighs were covered only by thin, translucent black tights. Tight, heeled, just-above-the-knee high boots framed the rest of her legs, tight enough to know that what was unseen was just as lovely as what was seen. But one would not gawk. One would not leer. One would not dare: for emblazoned on this sensuous maiden's chest was an emblem that, to put it bluntly, you just did not fuck with. It was the emblem of the House of El: proudly and deservedly did Kara Zor-El, last-but-one scion of that noble house, wear that sigil. It was crest, and shield, and warning, and if you read it like a human, it was even the first letter of the name that those she defended gave her.

"Have you heard the name 'Supergirl'?" she asked, folding her arms beneath her small, pert breasts, framing her sigil. She crossed her ankles slightly, too.
Mekkon scrambled for something vaguely approaching an answer that would help him. "Uh, yeah, actually," he said, trying to figure out whether his left cheekbone was merely bruised, or actually broken. "A - a business partner of mine m-mentioned your name." This part had the benefit of being true. "Didn't realize they meant a Kryptonian." He clasped his meaty hands together, put on his most obsequious smile. "And certainly not one so lovely!"
Supergirl smiled, so winningly and so prettily that Mekkon almost thought his brief charm offensive had worked. "Sir, if I were in your position I'm not sure I'd be flirting."
"Uh...and what would you be doing?" Mekkon asked, watching very carefully the colour of her eyes. If they turned anything even remotely resembling orange, he would make a break for it - directly into space if necessary.
"I'd be saying 'Sorry ma'am for punching you when you asked me politely to speak to you'. I'd be saying 'I'm gonna leave this planet, this system, this part of the galaxy right now and I'm never going to come back.'" She sighed, put her hands on her hips. "I really never had any intention of hurting you. From what my source told me, you're just a hustler."
Mekkon wrung his hands together, sheepishly laughing. "Guilty as charged!" Then, panicked. "Uh - n-not that that constitutes a legal confession to any crimes heretofore or subsequently brought against me by any authorities Terran, galactic, or pan-galactic, and if you try to use that, I - I'll be forced to sue!" Seeing that Supergirl was not threatened, he changed tack in a hurry. "Look, I didn't sell anything dangerous! Just medical technology, some Talaxian antiperspirants, blueprints for fuel-efficient ground vehicles and - and microprocessor tech! I was gonna tell you guys about Velcro too, but it turns out some reptile from Beta Karidon beat me to it by decades!"

Supergirl folded her arms again. How this man had got anyone to trust him enough to buy things from him the hero did not understand. "I'm happy to let you go if you promise never to come back," she said. "I've faced monsters before, and you're not one of them. You're a used car salesman."
"A...?" Literally speaking, Mekkon understood, but he hadn't been on Earth long enough to understand the implication. On Daxam, sellers of used goods were stereotyped as desperate and as worthy recipients of charity, not sleazy and dishonest. Supergirl picked up his confusion.
"I mean you seem like a relatively harmless swindler. I don't know about the medical supplies, but from what my source told me your microprocessors don't work, your fuel-efficient vehicles would make this planet's climate problems even worse and your antiperspirants... well they stink."
"Humans have no taste," Mekkon grumbled. "Who was your source, anyway?"
"They didn't give their name," Supergirl said. "But I'm guessing it was a dissatisfied customer. So, if I were you, I'd just leave before you make some enemies who'll do worse than rat you out to the local superhero."

Mekkon didn't take long to consider his options. He did not want to anger a Kryptonian. And he didn't, it was true, want to make enemies of a race whose favourite weapons shot projectiles made of lead, a Daxamite's greatest weakness.
"Fine," he muttered. "I'll leave." He began to move off, in the direction of his ship, but before he could blink Supergirl had appeared in his path.
"I'm not gonna make it that easy for you," she said. "I'll need a list of every human you sold your wares to. I'll also need to see you destroy your inventory." A smile that was just too sweet to be sly appeared on her face. "With your powers on Earth, that shouldn't be too hard, should it?"
Mekkon could hardly believe such a sunny, pretty girl had handed him such a thorough pasting. Why then, did he not feel embarrassed at having been defeated? Perhaps, upon reflection, it was because even a fool like Mekkon could feel greatness from the Last Daughter of Krypton. It radiated from her as surely as light from the star that succored her. For as long as he lived, Mekkon would not forget it. He knew well now why his client, the one who'd given him the name 'Supergirl' had also called her the 'Girl of Steel'. Girl? Not so much. Not with power like hers, and a body like hers? But steel? Oh yes. She had steel alright.

So, about twenty minutes later, Mekkon had hauled the rest of his inventory out of his rusty yellow junker of a starship, that he'd hidden in Yosemite National Park with a respectably advanced cloaking device. Supergirl, after receiving his list of customers, had watched him smash it, melt it, and otherwise render it unusable. To her not particularly technically sophisticated eyes, it all looked like complete junk. She wondered if she was being harsh in forcing him to destroy it all, but given the economic turmoil that could have resulted from any advanced alien technology becoming immediately widely available, she comforted herself that she was being just.

But she couldn't bring herself to be too contemplative. There was a happy tingling feeling through her body as well, a gently descending thrill from her brief, decisive battle. She wasn't naturally an arrogant person, but she was very aware of her strength in that moment. Not that his disingenuous manner would have made it obvious, but as a Daxamite Mekkon was one of the most powerful beings on the planet. And Kara had defeated him. Not that it had been easy, exactly: she'd had to push her powers quite far, but it had been well within her abilities. She was very pleased with herself.

"Alright," Mekkon said. "That's the last of it." He sighed, shoved his hands into the pockets of the bomber jacket he'd picked up in a misguided effort to blend in with human culture. "You're putting an honest man out of business, Supergirl. I hope you're happy."
"You know," Supergirl replied, "I have a feeling you'll bounce back."
"Y'think?" Mekkon said. Her tone had been surprisingly unironic.
"I do," she said. "I also have a funny feeling that you'd be happier with honest work than scamming people."
"In my experience there's no such thing as 'honest work'," Mekkon said. "But I, uh, appreciate the advice." He felt embarrassed. He felt guilty for what he'd chosen to do with his life. Why? Because of this woman, he supposed. Her honesty. Her straightforwardness. He'd dealt with plenty of enforcers on other worlds: Green Lanterns, local police, military men, even cultures with people who behaved analogously to the Earth superhero. But not from any had he seen this earnest lack of judgement that he saw from this Kryptonian. He could see it in her eyes: he wasn't just a 'scumbag' to her, he was a person.

"Hey, uh, before I go," he mumbled, his pose amusingly passive and sheepish for one so huge and muscular. "I - I'm sorry."
Supergirl smiled. "You don't have to pretend to have seen the error of your ways, sir. I really am going to let you go."
"No, I'm not apologizing for my line of work," Mekkon said. "I'm sorry about Krypton. I, uh, went there once as a kid. It was a hell of a place. So - I'm sorry it's gone."

The sentiment had been expressed to Supergirl many times. By her cousin, Kal-El, lamenting a world he never knew. By human confidants, who sympathized with her plight. But there was something in his tone, his manner, that Kara Zor-El had never encountered before. Whether it was simply because he was a Daxamite, a cousin to her long-dead race, or because he had been to Krypton at some point in his life, he was the first person Kara had met for whom Krypton was real. It was not just a name, or an item in Kara's past that could have been any other sequence of syllables. It was that place in particular that he was sorry about. It was her home that he, in his own casual way, was expressing a quantum of sorrow for.

Kara couldn't help herself. Before she knew what she was doing, she was embracing Mekkon, with tears beginning to form in her eyes. She knew it was silly, girlish even, but she couldn't help it. In this sleazy, panicky fool, in his memory was a piece of home, and her mighty, gentle heart latched onto it as tightly as possible. She pulled away after a few seconds, leaving him bemused and embarrassed, and wiped the almost-tears that had formed in her eyes too fast for Mekkon to see.
"Hey, uh...you'd better get going, Mister," she said.
"I guess I had," Mekkon said, ascending the ramp into his ship.

Empathy did not come naturally to him, but there was something so... open about this orphaned beauty. He felt her sorrow. He also, however, felt the bruises and hairline fractures her beating had given him, and concluded that he'd better get while she was in a hugging, rather than a punching mood. His inner sleazeball surfaced, and he couldn't help but turn back to get one last look at the supple blonde in the mini-skirt. Yet he could not ogle her. It felt wrong. It felt ugly. So he stopped, not knowing why. He was not self-aware enough to realize that it was because when she had embraced him, he had felt the truth of what they said about Daxamites and Kryptonians. They were cousins. They were family.

By the time Kara watched Mekkon's ship disappear even from her sight, her emotional reaction had subsided completely. She wasn't even really sad exactly: in a way it was nice knowing that Krypton was a happy memory for someone other than herself. Even Kal-El - even Clark, that is - didn't have that. But Kara felt the preciousness of the few connections she had left, and made a mental note to spend some time with Clark in the near future. Smiling softly, she stroked her chest, her slim fingers caressing the S-shaped symbol on the tight, blue fabric.

But this was a personal need. It was important, but it could wait. What could not wait was the list that Mekkon had given her of those to whom he'd sold. For a sleazy hustler, he'd been surprisingly meticulous about his receipts. She went through the list, recognising some of the names on it as small-time foes she'd dealt with in the past. There was one name, however, that had been highlighted: a 'Jane Archer', to whom Mekkon had sold more than the rest of the names on the list combined, of something called 'dihydrazepam'.
"Must be those medical supplies he was talking about," Kara muttered. Mekkon hadn't written an address, but he had left a series of GPS co-ordinates of where he'd made the sale. That, at least, was a good place to start. With her Kryptonian capacity for swift calculation and sense of direction, Kara worked out where those co-ordinates led to, and where she herself was such that she knew which way to fly. She didn't know off-hand exactly where she was going, but she knew she was going to somewhere in California. It happened that she was going to a small-ish city in Humboldt County.

A city called Seacouver.

Great start!

Nice! Strong emotional tug in how you portrayed the connection between the Daxamite and the Kryptonian sharing that memory of a lost world. Nice plummeting SG scene as well

Brilliant air fight. Enlightening descriptions about the superheroines, body, might and power. She's definitely one to be feared by her adversaries. A very emotional moment with Mekkon, that could build into a solid friendship. Supergirl's miniskirt and the S-emblem on her beautiful tight fitting costume, will forever make heads turn. Awesome storyline, can't wait to read more.

Wow, fantastic start. Some action, but with a real human element to it (well, with two aliens perhaps human isn't the right word, but you get my drift). That, coupled with how well you describe your characters (I have to confess I'm a bit envious of your ability there) and get the plot going, has set the hook for me.

CJS wrote: ↑

7 years ago

Wow, fantastic start. Some action, but with a real human element to it (well, with two aliens perhaps human isn't the right word, but you get my drift). That, coupled with how well you describe your characters (I have to confess I'm a bit envious of your ability there) and get the plot going, has set the hook for me.

Thank you very much, CJS!

Damselbinder is a rare gem of a writer on this site and, sadly, too often overlooked, imho. If you like his writing style, be sure to check out his Enhancegirl series. It's chock full of glorious fights, fantastic knockouts of many varieties with a slew of original heroines and villains whose personaties will draw you in to many a worthy adventure.

DrDominator9 wrote: ↑

7 years ago

Damselbinder is a rare gem of a writer on this site and, sadly, too often overlooked, imho. If you like his writing style, be sure to check out his Enhancegirl series. It's chock full of glorious fights, fantastic knockouts of many varieties with a slew of original heroines and villains whose personaties will draw you in to many a worthy adventure.

You're much too kind, friend.

It wasn't exactly Metropolis. Hell, it wasn't even Gotham. It was a kind of welt between Renning City and Sacramento, a carbuncle on an otherwise very nice stretch of California coastline. In some other time, in some other life, perhaps Seacouver would have gained some fame. Some infamy even. But in this time and place it really was just a failed factory town: Detroit, only worse. It was to the most degenerate part of Seacouver, where the police gave only a token show of cleaning things up, that Kara flew, and she shook her head in dismay. Even at its best, it hadn't been nice: the textiles factories in West Seacouver had had a history of cheapness, wage-gouging and every form of exploitation. Decades of poor city planning, a gradual erosion of Seacouver's tax base, and a scandal in the early eighties that had shut Seacouver University - the city's only standout feature once upon a time - meant that no-one who was anyone was to be found in the wretched city.

But then there were plenty of people who weren't anyone. At least they didn't want to be. Plenty of organised crime had settled in and around Seacouver. Kara had heard that Green Arrow had busted up a human trafficking ring run by a woman named simply 'Black', and Commander Video had once used Seacouver as a base of operations before being assassinated by Deathstroke the Terminator, but beyond that none of the lice infesting Seacouver had been remotely worthy of note. The famous, mighty and beautiful Supergirl was thoroughly out of the element in this dump.

But she had direction, at least. She flew to the place that Mekkon had given her in his co-ordinates. Surprise of surprises, it was a warehouse. Supergirl frowned: like as not it was going to be in disuse, and had just been a convenient meeting place for Mekkon and this Jane Archer person. Just to make sure, she used her x-ray vision to look inside, and was astonished to find that there were people there. A truck was being unloaded, boxes of what looked like cheap furniture being carted in, stacked and organised by six men. It was an operating warehouse, alright. She hovered just above its roof, and scanned it with her powerful senses. She didn't see anything out of the ordinary: certainly nothing like alien medicine, and no conspicuous spots either. With little idea of what to do but the obvious, Kara flew down to the front door, and decided to introduce herself.

"I - uh...wh - alright then..." Was the sputtering response of the short, stocky man with appalling acne who answered the door. "You..." He stopped. He looked Kara up and down, not in a lascivious fashion, but genuinely to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. "You're not taking the piss," was his eventual conclusion.
Realising that this was the man's way of telling her that he knew who she was, Supergirl smiled at him. "Excuse me sir, I... well, I know this is a bit strange. I'm not a cop or anything, but I was wondering if I could speak to a Jane Archer?"
Starstruck to the point where he hadn't quite heard her, the acne encrusted workman shouted for his foreman, and mumbled something about being new. When the foreman - a square, stolid man with a short, but thick, black beard - appeared, acne-man slunk away in something close to terror. The appearance of a superhero - of Supergirl, no less - made him feel as if he must have done something wrong.

The foreman, however, did not seem intimidated, or even particularly surprised to see an godlike, indestructible and abundantly attractive superhero standing in the entrance of a small, Seacouver warehouse. He just crossed his arms and stared at her, as if to say 'Yeah? So what?'. Indeed, Kara might have concluded that it was suspicious that he was unsurprised by her appearance, but for the fact that she had to deal with this attitude surprisingly often. People always wanted to show how unimpressed they were by her being a famous superhero, to show that they were too cool and down-to-earth to care about such things. Such people generally mistook pompous arrogance for indifference, and Kara could detect something at least similar to that in this man.

"Hello," she said, as politely as she could without sounding deferential. "I'm looking for a woman named Jane Archer."
No response. The foreman just curled his lip slightly.
"Is she here?"
"You're an alien, right?" the foreman said, clearly looking at Supergirl's nylon-covered thighs as he spoke.
Slightly taken off guard, Kara replied: "That's right, sir. I'm not human."
"But you're goin' around fighting crime, huh? Bet you good money that ain't legal." Before Kara could defend herself, he went on: "You know most of us don't want you here, right? Just because you look like a hot white woman doesn't mean real Americans will tolerate you."
Kara got a fair bit of this sort of thing too. Not that she ever understood why people whose ancestors had acquired their land through pillage, rape and war could be so entitled - but then bigotry was hardly a uniquely human trait. As much as she remembered her home and her people fondly, in many ways they'd been worse than humans in this respect. So, again with utmost politeness, she asked for Jane Archer.
"... She's not here," the foreman eventually said.
"Could you tell me where she is?" She locked eyes with him, and did not look away. "I need to know where she is. Please."
Now the foreman was taken off guard. The steel in her eyes and her voice was unmistakable. That kind of power you did not need to be a superhuman to sense. He'd intended to put up more of a fuss, but found himself unable. "She'll be at her office in the North part of town. 48 Mulcahy Avenue."
"You're so kind," Kara said. "Aliens like me really do depend on the kindness of strangers, you know?" She was tempted to curtsy, but thought that would be overdoing it. So she just backed off a few steps, raised her fist, and took off into the sky.

The foreman watched her leave, though she only remained visible for a few seconds. He felt uncomfortable about the whole exchange. His instructions had been to make sure Supergirl went to where she was supposed to go, but to make it seem as if the information had been given unwillingly. But he hadn't expected her to turn up so soon, and so he'd had to make up a convincing act on the spot. So he'd put on a bigoted disposition, then acted frightened when Supergirl had got tough. It made him feel dirty, talking to a polite young woman the way he had. Still, when he received a specific instruction from his boss, he followed it, and he didn't ask questions. You did not betray that woman in even the slightest degree.

Indeed, his role wasn't quite finished. Taking out his phone, he sent a simple message to 'Jane Archer':
"Blonde arriving soon. Everything went fine." He sent it, and a few seconds later got a reply:
"ur a star. big bonus incoming. xxx."'
The foreman was glad of the promise of extra money. So much so that the guilt he felt at his feigned bigotry subsided to nothing. Such a salve was the promise of wealth that he was able completely to ignore what he knew to be true: whatever his employer wanted from Supergirl, it was assuredly evil.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It took Supergirl only a minute to reach the North part of Seacouver, and then only because after her battle with Mekkon she was making a point of saving her strength, and deliberately spending time in the waning daylight to ensure her body's cells were fully charged with power. It was certainly a much nicer part of town than she'd been in before. Yet something... something gave her the willies about it. Mostly it was residential, with a couple of decent high streets even, but it was...empty. She couldn't shake the feeling that, even here, something was missing from Seacouver. So when she arrived at the address that the foreman had given her, and found that it was an office building with nobody in it, she was not surprised. Emptiness was endemic here.

She floated downwards with the grace of a dragonfly, opened one of the square, grey building's tall, thin windows. She opened it the wrong way without realizing, snapping the hinge altogether. But the window slid open gently enough, and she passed inside.
"Creepy," Kara murmured to herself. Everything was brightly lit. There was row, after row, after row of desks, with a computer that was at least ten years out of date on each. All the chairs were facing exactly straight. There were three full water-coolers. The effect of the long, harsh shadows cast by the dimming sun on this showroom-office was eerie. Kara had not batted an eyelid when she was fighting a man twice her size with enough power to bench-press a continent. But though it was a mere tingle in the very back of her conscious emotion, she was aware of it. She wasn't frightened, but she was... unsettled.

Already concerned, she had been paying careful attention to the ambient sounds in this part of the city. Hundreds of people, hundreds of conversations, nothing specific that she could pick out. She listened to the traffic too, though it wasn't very heavy in this part of town. This made it all the easier to tell when a car pulled up right outside. Kara was no longer alone, and turned her superhuman senses onto the new arrival.
"Jane Archer, I'm guessing." It was a woman, at least. Anywhere between 29 and 38, with short hair, a couple of shades lighter than Kara's. She was wearing a pantsuit - quite an expensive one, actually. She had a trim, athletic figure, quite well developed biceps, and greyish eyes. Her lips were very, very red. It was lipstick, but not the usual scarlet. It was a kind of harsh maroon, beginning to edge towards brown. She had a handbag, and tall heels, and looked like a very wealthy, accomplished woman. What connection she could have had to this place, or to that tiny, grimy warehouse Kara had visited before, the Kryptonian could not even begin to guess.

But her presence was no coincidence. She let herself into the cold, quiet building with a key. She crossed an empty lobby, and entered an elevator. Another key gave her access to its controls, and she pressed one of the buttons - Kara couldn't quite see which. But as the lift slowed, it became immediately obvious that she'd brought herself right to Kara. The doors opened, and Jane stepped out. She saw Kara, and smiled. She exposed almost all of her teeth.
"Hello!" she called out, waving to Kara. "You're Supergirl, aren't you?"
In theory, there shouldn't have been anything too worrying about the fact that Jane had obviously expected her. Clearly she owned that warehouse, or ran it or something, and obviously the foreman had called ahead. But then, Supergirl had only taken a minute to get there, and Jane had only arrived a couple of minutes after her. Kara was wary. Very wary.

'Off-kilter'. That was how one would describe Jane Archer. Her facial expressions were unpleasantly unnatural. The way she held herself was - there was something deceptive about it. She was slim, but very strong for a baseline human woman: Supergirl could tell that immediately. She was, in a way, like the exact opposite of Mekkon. Mekkon was huge and physically powerful, but too sleazy and obsequious to be truly threatening. Jane Archer was slim and obviously no physical match for Supergirl, but there was something threatening about her. Something very, very dangerous.

"I'm sorry for giving you the run-around, Supergirl." She spoke with an odd, Emo-Phillips-esque lilt. She might have been drunk, almost, but Supergirl could see how carefully she held herself. "I must confess, I knew you'd be coming."
"Are you Jane Archer?" Supergirl said, feeling that the situation really was getting very odd. There were twenty metres between the two of them. If it weren't for the fact that Kara had superhuman hearing, and that she was nearly shouting when she spoke, neither of them would have been able to hear each other.
"What?" the other replied. "Oh! Jane Archer, yes. That's me, alright." She winked. "You weren't too harsh with Mekkon, were you?"
Now Kara took a fully defensive stance. "What? How do you know that I fought with him?"
"Oh, Supergirl, didn't I say?" She laughed. It wasn't an ugly sound, but it certainly wasn't pretty. "I was the one who sent you that anonymous tip about the naughty Daxamite."

"Okay, that's it." Kara zipped forward with her incredible speed, until she was but a foot or two from Jane. "Ma'am, you need to explain yourself more clearly. You're saying you're the one that put me onto - Mekkon, you called him?"
"That's right." Jane folded her arms. Kara was watching her movements very carefully, but she didn't appear to do anything suspicious.
"Why?"
"Because he was a criminal, and a powerful alien. Puts him snugly into the middle of the Supergirl Venn diagram, no?"
"But you were on his list of customers. He sold you this... dihydrazepam stuff. A lot of it. Thousands of dollars' worth. Did you give him up to me because the dihydrazepam doesn't work?"
"I have no idea if it works or not," Jane said. "I haven't tried using it." She toyed with her curly fringe. "I thought he was an honest tradesman, you know, when I was in contact with him. But when I actually met him, I realized he was dangerous. Then I called you. I knew you'd be coming after all his clients, so I knew you'd follow my trail of breadcrumbs to this place."

It was the kind of speech that preceded the springing of a trap, but not trap was sprung. Jane didn't do anything. She just stood there, smiling her off-putting smile. Kara had half a mind to suspect that there was a chunk of Kryptonite in Jane's handbag or something, but it did on closer examination appear harmless. Absent that, Kara couldn't think of how Jane could hurt her. She was, after all, a Kryptonian. She'd just beaten the tar out of a Daxamite twice her size. This... businesswoman was no real threat to her.
"Well, whatever," Kara said. Getting herself to relax slightly, she matched Jane's pose, folding her arms beneath her chest. "I can't let you keep the dihydrazepam," she said. "I don't think Mekkon was trying to hurt anyone, but he didn't seem like the most careful guy around. It could easily be dangerous."
Jane shrugged. "If you insist. It's two floors above us." She stepped back into the lift. "Care to join me?" She was being a bit more subtle than the foreman had been, but Kara got a distinct impression that Jane was checking her out.
"I'll, uh, get the next one," Kara said, getting another shrug out of her host.
"As you wish." She turned her key again, pressed a button, and the doors shut. Kara didn't take her eyes off Jane for a second as the lift ascended, and she too began to ascend, flying back out the window, and up two floors. Still she maintained her gaze on this almost blindingly suspicious woman. She opened another window, breaking another hinge, and hovered inside. Her dark-red boots trod lightly against the floor, in another eerily abandoned office, full of desks that, while dusty, appeared never to have been used. It wasn't quite the same: there were odd looking crates - crates of the same sort she'd seen on Mekkon's ship. But before she could inspect them, she heard the lift door opening again. Twenty metres away, Jane stood waiting for her.

"I sometimes can't believe that you're real," Jane said. "I've seen you on television so many times, and I swear if it weren't for the fact that Superman had been around for a few years before you showed up - I wouldn't have believed you!" She took a step forward. Kara did the same, again keeping her eyes locked on this strange woman, but unlike the foreman, Jane didn't appear remotely disconcerted. She seemed excited, even, by Supergirl's fierce gaze. "I mean it," Jane went on. "Look at you: as much power as the rest of the planet put together, stuffed into just the most gorgeous package. And you wear a skintight top and a mini-skirt, too? Oh, Supergirl, you are a dream. I pinch myself whenever I think about you."
"What are you talking about?" Supergirl said, taking a step towards Jane. "Ma'am, if you think you're being flattering - well, I'm sorry but it's just coming across as creepy. Now, the dihydrazepam - where is it?"
"It's not that I'm trying to be flattering," Jane said, stroking her chin. "I mean everything I say, but my real purpose, Supergirl, is to get you here. To get you suspicious and guarded. Then to be as weird as possible, and keep those pretty eyes locked on me. All so you don't see where I'm keeping the dihydrazepam."
"And where's that?" Supergirl said, taking another step forward.
"Right under your feet."

Had she looked down, she would have seen it well within time to react. Had she not been put so off balance by the emptiness and desolate sorrow of this city, and perturbed by the deathly tableau of this abandoned office, and alarmed by Jane's bizarre manner, Kara would have noticed the tiny silver devices embedded into the floor, no larger than two-pence pieces. Certainly she would have noticed the one she'd stepped on before it sprayed a thick, green gas directly into her face.
"Wh...what?!" Kara gasped, only inhaling more of the gas as she took in a deep, shocked breath. But despite the tiny size of the device, it poured gas out, completely subsuming the slinky blonde in a thick, green fog.
"Dihydrazepam," Jane said, "is a Daxamite anaesthetic. They developed it out of necessity so they could perform surgeries even under a yellow sun. It works by causing the cells to vent their solar energy, as well as dampening nerve activity like a normal anaesthetic." She laughed, but not in the same off-kilter fashion as before. Now there was a viciousness to it. "I didn't just put you onto Mekkon, Supergirl. I'm the whole reason he was on Earth to begin with, sweetie. I've been sending invitations to Daxamite traders for months. He's not even the first Daxamite who's turned up here - just the first one with the stuff I need. See, I figure, if this stuff can put a Daxamite out...it'll work just fine on a Kryptonian too." She spread her hands out in a wide gesture. "All of this is for you, Supergirl. I had to capture you. I had to have you. You're just irresistible! All of - huh?"

Pity the evil mastermind who plots and plans for weeks on end, who puts all the tin soldiers in their perfect rows, and then at the last minute is deflated utterly when their heroic adversary foils them in the dullest manner possible: by just being too damned powerful. Supergirl walked out of the cloud of green gas completely unaffected, with not even a hair out of place.
"Was that it?" Kara shook her head in a mixture of astonishment and disgust. "Did you really arrange all this just to try to capture me?"
"Well," Jane said, backing away slightly, "people have done far more for far less." She shrugged. "Ideally I'd have set up something even more elaborate, but Mekkon said he was leaving the planet in a couple of days, so I had to... well, I had to improvise." Her body language suggested that she was afraid of Supergirl's retribution, but her tone was almost devoid of affect.
"Something is wrong with you," Kara said. "Probably more than one thing. But obviously Mekkon managed to scam you too, because that gas doesn't work on me." She stepped forward, crushed another capsule. The gas sprayed her with as thick a plume as before, but she moved through the green mist completely unharmed. "Mekkon could have been killed. I could have been killed." She crushed another. "Civilians could have been killed from fallout from our battle." She crushed another. "Why would you risk that? What would you want from me that would be worth that?"
Jane seemed genuinely surprised by Kara's question. "Supergirl... look at yourself in the mirror if you want an answer to that question. I just had to get my hands on... that."

Disgust turned to genuine rage within Kara's mind. She crushed another capsule, and another, and another, and another. The room was filled with the gas. If it had any anaesthetic properties at all, they didn't seem to be bothering either Supergirl or Jane. With her superhuman speed, Kara rushed at Jane, seized her by the collar, and lifted her off her feet with an infinitesimal fraction of the power in her possession. Seeing her held aloft like this, one wondered where Jane could possibly have found enough chutzpah to dare to challenge this... goddess.

"You're lucky," Supergirl said. "You're lucky that this attempt to - to capture me failed. You're lucky that you're not a Kryptonian, or a Martian, or a Tamagarian, or - " She shook her head in dismay. "Or a Daxamite. You're a human, so I don't need to hurt you to take you in." She looked again into Jane's eyes, found that she still seemed unafraid. "I don't get this. And, I don't mean to sound arrogant, but what were you thinking? You obviously know how powerful I am. You must have known that even if the dihydrazepam had affected me you'd probably still fail."
"Probably," Jane said. "But I just couldn't resist trying. If I failed, then I'd fail beautifully."
"There really is something wrong with you," Supergirl said. She did not spit this as an insult, but said it rather as a genuine, almost sad realization. Too many of those she fought were mentally ill, and while she didn't think Jane was certifiably insane from what little she'd seen so far, she obviously wasn't neurotypical, to use a modern euphemism. Too much of the time Kara spent 'fighting evil' was actually spent on stopping mentally damaged people from harming themselves and others. But Jane was sane enough to be angry with. And with that anger, Kara stamped down on the last of the capsules, that lay only a step in front of where Jane had been standing, awaiting another cloud of billowing, green gas. Except, this time, the gas wasn't green. It was a thick, sweet, candy-floss pink. And as it swept up around her, Kara happened to see Jane's eyes. They were the eyes of a predator.

Those who suffer from chronic headaches, or migraines, will understand the sensation that Kara went through as she first breathed in the gas. When those headaches hit, there can a sort of pulse - a wave of heat, a kind of physiological dread of pain that is about to hit. Kara felt that as the gas enveloped her, only it was not an omen of pain. It was an omen of weakness.
"Wh...what?" Kara let go of Jane's collar. She stumbled backwards two steps, by that point feeling only the beginning of disorientation. Something was wrong, she knew that. Her extremities were tingling. Her heartbeat was increased, her breathing heavy and deep. "That gas was different... it's... it's affecting me!" By now Kara had stepped out of the gas, but Jane hadn't. She still stood directly in its cloud, until she quite casually walked out.
"I'm no Kryptonian," Jane said, stepping closer, strutting like a catwalk model, almost. "But I'm not quite a normal human either."
"Stay back!" Kara demanded. She stood tall, raising her fists in a kickboxing stance that her friend Alex had taught her. But Jane wasn't frightened.
"Most of the time you'd never even know that I was a metahuman," Jane said. "But I am. I have a..." She rolled her wrist, as if searching for the right term. "I think the doctor called it a 'reinforced nervous system'. It makes me immune to certain chemicals and toxins. For me, dihydrazepam is no more harmful than Chanel No. 5. No more harmful than that green smoke I had stored in the other capsules."
"Oh no..." It had been another trap. The whole point of the other capsules had been to get Kara to drop her guard. To make sure she got a big, full gulp of the real drug. To make sure she got a full dose.
"But to you, Supergirl?" Jane continued. Her tongue stroked the inside of her lower lip. "To you, dihydrazepam is a good-old-fashioned sleeping gas."

Kara didn't waste another second listening. She rushed at Jane, but her movements were - by her standards - astonishingly sluggish. Her punch had enough force to crack Jane's jaw, but she missed. Or rather, Jane dodged out of the way. Kara tried again, but Jane dodged again, Kara stumbling clumsily forward, almost tripping. Kara's vision was starting to get blurry, and her next attack Jane did not even have to dodge.
"Nhh...rrghh!" Supergirl groaned. She shook her head, blinked her almond-shaped eyes, trying to restore herself to full wakefulness. But it wasn't working. "I'm getting... weaker," she thought. "I need to take her down, fast!"
"I'm impressed!" Jane said, pacing around Kara in her tall, black heels. "You're holding onto a lot of your strength. I'd calculated that a Kryptonian of your build would be out in a few seconds. And I've studied your build very closely."
Kara didn't have the strength for a comeback. She actually tried a feint, stopping suddenly just as it seemed she was about to punch Jane, and then snapping out with a kick to the ribs. But everything about the sequence of movements she used was far, far slower than it ought to have been. When the kick came, Jane not only was able to avoid it, she didn't even need to avoid it. She caught it. She, a perfectly ordinary woman in almost every respect, had blocked the attack of the Last Daughter of Krypton. It was absurd. It was insulting. But it was happening.

"L-let go!" Kara spluttered, unable to pull her ankle out of Jane's grip. The sapping of her strength was proceeding with terrifying speed: soon she wouldn't even be able to stand, much less fight.
"Mmm..." Jane hummed, placing her free hand just above Kara's ankle. "I've seen your legs photographed from a dozen different angles, but they are even lovelier in person." She ran her hands along the dark-red leather, over the contours of Supergirl's slender calves. Her fingers traced lightly, easily, as if wholly familiar with the shape of the maiden's body. "And - oh my, I think they're trembling." She released her grip, allowing Kara to stand. But this only allowed her to discover the truth of Jane's taunt. Her legs were trembling.
"Unhhh..." she moaned, her eyelids fluttering. Now she could barely keep her arms up either. She met Jane's stare, still finding that predatory look in her eye. But now, for the first time, Supergirl looked back at her - with her sleepy, shocked expression - like prey.

Jane moved towards Kara, and without thinking Kara moved backwards. For an instant she thought this to be shameful, but though she was drowsy, she was not yet a fool.
"Don't... be proud," Kara thought. "I can't fight like this... I should retreat... need to... to get out..." 'Fight or flight' was what humans often called the instinctual response to extreme danger. Well 'flight' was right. Jane was between her and the nearest window, but all she needed to do was just barge her out of the way. "Focus... " Kara remembered what it had been like when she first learned to fly. Remembered what Kal had taught her about surrounding herself with energy, wrapping herself in it, and then moving that energy, and herself along with it. She concentrated. She rose.
"What?" For the first time, Jane seemed genuinely taken off guard. If Supergirl could still fly, then there were all sorts of things she might do to her would-be captor. Seeing that Supergirl was going for the window, Jane dived out of the way, not wanting to be on the receiving end of a mighty blow.

But there was no mighty blow. Oh Kara started flying, alright, but at a snail's pace. As she drew upon the rapidly dwindling solar energy in her cells, she sent a thick, stultifying wave of draining weakness through her whole body. She took off, upwards, not even able to turn herself. She realised, too late, her error: if she'd just made a run for it she'd have been able to dive out of the window and to the relative safety of the street outside. But she didn't. She rose about five metres into the air, and then ran out of power completely. For a moment, she hung in the air, her eyes wide, her mouth open as she gasped a quiet 'No...!', frozen as the Daxamite anaesthetic sapped the last of her great power. And then, once more, the Last Daughter of Krypton fell, and as she fell, she knew.

She had lost.

She did not have far to fall this time. Nor, indeed, did she hit the ground at all. A pair of toned, well-muscled arms were waiting for her. Kara fell straight into them: one supported her back, Jane's hand gripping one of Kara's slim shoulders. Another slipped beneath Kara's long, supple legs, gripping them hungrily and tightly, feeling the yielding warmth of her flesh. Her calves dangled in the air, her short skirt slipping back to reveal even more of her smooth, nylon-covered thighs.

"Ohhhhhnnnn..." Kara moaned, feeling herself go limp in Jane's grasp. Her back was arched, her neck tipped back to expose her delicate-looking throat, her blonde hair cascading downwards in an ochre waterfall. No, it wasn't just delicate looking: weakened and drowsy, every part of Kara seemed delicate. Vulnerable. "I... I can barely move..." the maiden thought. "Barely... keep my eyes open..."
"Oh yes," Jane said, her voice trembling with excitement. "Oh yes, yes, yes, this is it exactly. This is exactly what I thought it would be. It's just like I imagined. Supergirl, defeated and whimpering in my arms, young and soft and innocent and so sexy that it ought to be a sin!" She gripped her victim tighter, wanting to feel every sensation she was having a hundred, a thousand times more intensely. "In fact," Jane said, reflecting, "I think it probably is a sin."

Jane began carrying Supergirl's defenceless body across the room. Her pretty calves bounced with every hard, high-heeled step Jane took, and her arms swung back and forth.
"Limp... " Kara was barely awake enough now to form complete sentences, even in her own mind. "My body's gone... limp... she took my strength... my power..." She didn't understand. She knew about the drug, understood why a Daxamite invention would affect her, but the drowsiness prevented her thoughts from meeting, so to speak. She remembered herself battling with Mekkon, strong enough to shatter moons and level cities with one focused beam of power from her eyes - how could she be the same person as the sighing, helpless blonde being carried like a princess by a human woman?

Jane was thinking much the same thing, only with a great deal more pleasure. Supergirl's breathing was deep and slow as a result of the drug, but Jane's was rapid, rabid even. She felt the warmth of the beautiful damsel in her grasp, the satisfying weight of her womanly body as Supergirl writhed with achingly sensuous weakness, rubbing her slinky body against her captor, only impressing into her just how good an idea this had been.

Jane walked slowly. She enjoyed carrying her sweet damsel, and she decided to take her time with it. Slowly, then, she took her supple prize to the nearest chair. She pulled the chair out with her foot, and carefully sat down, putting Supergirl in her lap. Jane found her rapid breathing slowing; though she still trembled with anticipation, the danger was past. Supergirl was overpowered. The fight was over. The trap had worked. The maiden was hers now, and there was nothing whatever that she could do about it.

"Unnhh..." Kara mewed, as Jane lifted her into a sitting position, the drugged beauty falling against June's chest, her nose brushing against Jane's neck. "No... nooo..." Kara moaned, shifting sleepily in June's grasp.
"Shhhhhhh," June whispered. "Shhhhh, Supergirl. Just let yourself sink down..." She began stroking Kara's long, soft tresses, teasing her hair between her fingers. She could still hardly believe what was happening. She could hardly believe that it had worked.

"D...don't..." Kara whimpered, feeling shivers down the back of her neck. She couldn't believe it, but it was actually... pleasant being stroked like that. "G...get off me..." she muttered, barely able to enunciate. "Aahh...!" The soft cry had been reaction to June stroking her again, but not on her head. The fingers of her left hand were tracing Kara's exposed thighs, teasing her thinly covered skin. The somnolent effect of the drug made Kara sensitive, and she found her cheeks crimsoning. "Wh...what are you doing...? Don't... touch me..."
"I know, sweetie, I know," June cooed. "It's so humiliating, isn't it? I'm so sorry to make you feel like this." She inched her fingers a little further up Kara's thighs, and - biting her bottom lip - began to massage rather than stroke, fanning her fingers in a wide pattern, slipping a little way under her short, red skirt, then contracting to squeeze Kara's soft, shapely thighs. "I'm sorry that I tricked you," June cooed. "I'm sorry that I captured you... I'm sorry that I sapped your strength and made you all weak and limp... oh, poor girl... oh, you must be so embarrassed, Supergirl... I'm so sorry I made your pretty cheeks blush so brightly..."

June shifted position, taking Kara by the chin, pushing her away slightly so that she could start whispering directly into her ear. "I'm so sorry that I made you so helpless..." she whispered, kissing Kara on the cheek. "I'm sorry that I'm touching you all over your gorgeous... soft... sexy body..." she crowed, every adjective accompanied by another kiss.
"Mmhhh..." Kara could no longer form words. She was effectively paralyzed now. All she could do was sit there as Jane fondled her. "I can't... believe I let her..." she thought, her vision darkening, her eyelids so very, very heavy. "Was this really all she... wanted? Just to have me? Just to - to touch me... ?"
"I know, sweetie. You're so embarrassed that I spritzed away all your power with a little puff of gas... . I know I'd be dying of shame if someone turned me into a meek...helpless damsel like you are now. In fact..."

Jane moved Kara a little further away from her. She lifted the girl's chin so that they were looking each other in the eye, Jane's wide and hungry; Kara's somnolent, dazed, barely open at all.
"I'm so sorry for all this," Jane said, with perhaps as little sincerity as humanly possible. "So let me make it up to you."
Kara didn't even have time to whimper in protest before Jane's lips were locked with hers. "Mmmhhhpphhh...!" she moaned, feeling as Jane's tongue slowly slipped into her mouth, stroking it, stealing a deep, passionate kiss from her. "No... no you... you can't... can't make me this... unnhh... this weak..." But she could, and more. She moved her hand slowly up, Kara's thighs, over her hips, her flat midriff, until she reached Kara's chest. "Mhh... !" the captive blonde mewed, as she felt Jane began to trace the sigil on her chest with her fingertip. The symbol of her identity, the sign of her strength and the beacon of her past being used to... to taunt her by this lascivious, wretched villain - it was more humiliation than Kara could take. Jane felt the last of the damsel's strength fade, felt her body go from being almost limp to absolutely limp, and realized that she was on the cusp of passing out.

At the last moment, Jane pulled away, and spoke to Kara again. "I owe you another apology, Supergirl," she said. "I never even told you my name! It's certainly not 'Jane Archer'."
But Kara didn't hear it. She'd lost consciousness before 'Jane' had even got to the word 'certainly'. She lost consciousness before 'Jane' told her that she didn't want there to be any more deception between the two of them.

And she passed out long before her captor pronounced the name 'Nyx.'

Woah, that was hot. That story is Exhibit A in how a story can be sexy, without explicit and violent sex. You also did a very nice job setting the scene. I love how you described the city, and even the office. It made it very easy to picture it in my mind. And of course your descriptions of the characters were again awesome. The only part that threw me off was that I had to google "Emo-Phillips-esque," and since I wasn't somewhere I could view the video results that came up, I didn't get my brain around how she was speaking.

Spoiler

It was also a great setup for the trap, and I loved how it didn't go as I thought it would, with a couple of twists and turns. Supergirl's dawning realization was great.

I'm eager to see what the villain has planned, for when the effects of the drug wear off. Or maybe she's got a stockpile?

CJS wrote: ↑

7 years ago

Woah, that was hot. That story is Exhibit A in how a story can be sexy, without explicit and violent sex. You also did a very nice job setting the scene. I love how you described the city, and even the office. It made it very easy to picture it in my mind. And of course your descriptions of the characters were again awesome. The only part that threw me off was that I had to google "Emo-Phillips-esque," and since I wasn't somewhere I could view the video results that came up, I didn't get my brain around how she was speaking.

Spoiler

It was also a great setup for the trap, and I loved how it didn't go as I thought it would, with a couple of twists and turns. Supergirl's dawning realization was great.

I'm eager to see what the villain has planned, for when the effects of the drug wear off. Or maybe she's got a stockpile?

Thanks very much! I'm glad you enjoyed.

As for your stockpile question, not that I mentioned she bought 'thousands of dollars' worth' of the relevant chemical.

Classic damselbinder knockout scene as applied to my favorite superheroine? I'm hooked!!