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Hi. Sorry for the constant rewrites, by now this would be the third rewrite of the same character's story. Still, I want to be clear that this isn't a rehash of the old stories and a stupid attempt to 'bump' the story. I've been posting what are effectively unpolished drafts here. I've changed a lot of things — the character is pretty different and more fleshed-out, the plots differ and hopefully the story is better as a result.
Small disclaimer. I tend to write my stories as stories with sex rather than stories focusing on sex, so those expecting a quick fapfic may not find their interests in this story. You may wanna skip to midway of Chapter 2 or Chapter 8 instead. No judgement, I do that sometimes too :L
Here goes nothing...
~~~~~~~~~
Prologue
18TH CITRONELLA LANE, 6PM
The truck screeched to a hard stop.
Nick looked up. Took you long enough. He dropped his cigarette, snuffing it out with his foot. Cold droplets of rain greeted him as he made his first few steps out of the warehouse. Stopping beside the truck, he watched as the driver disembarked.
“How’s the haul?” Nick asked.
The driver’s brow furrowed. “Ain’t good, chief. Only five this time round. The news’ gotten everyone tensed up, my boys are scared.”
Nick scoffed. “Scared? Of the cape?”
The driver nodded. “All of us joined up after the Purge, we’ve never faced one before.” His voice lowered. “And this cape’s...freaky, boss. Heard she does things to people.”
“Bullshit. And you don’t needa worry. Ev’ryone knows she guns for the guys up top. You, me? We’re small fry. Now get your shit straightened out, y’hear?”
“Aye, chief.” He looked to his truck. “Still want today’s catch?”
“ ‘course I do. The hell do I pay you for?”
The driver hastily nodded. He led Nick to the back of the truck, motioning for his three other accomplices to open the door. Muffled moans emerged as the doors screeched open, revealing five women.
They were bound uncomfortably in tight nylon ropes, whimpering through ball gags. On looking closer, a dull pink haze settled in their eyes in the dim lighting of the truck, their bodies squirming sensually in their drugged haze.
Nick let out a low whistle. “Damn. They’d fetch a fine price, alright. Where’dya get ‘em?”
“Down the ol’ forty-two. Those rich cunts never saw it coming.”
“Forty-two? Ain’t that where…” Nick’s heart skipped a beat. “You fucking idiot.”
“What?”
“Jones hit that area last night! The cape’s probably been watching it like a damn haw—”
A sound of glass shattering came from the sole street lamp above them, plunging the street into darkness. “Fuck!” Nick grimaced, whirling around and pulling out his revolver. Around him, the three armed goons checked their own weapons as the driver threw his head around, panicked.
“Shit man, oh fuck, she’s here, ain’t she?”
“Shut it!” Nick hissed, scanning the rooftops of the buildings around him slowly.
“Shit...shit..shi—” a loud grunt came from the general direction of the driver, followed by thud. Gunshots rattled out from behind Nick, striking metal and not much else.
Nick’s heart pounded as he held his revolver up. He’d heard the stories. He—
A strangled cry came from his right. Fuck! He threw a quick look towards the warehouse, seeing the faint light peeking out beneath the warehouse’s door. I can make it. Ignoring the sound of bones cracking, he broke into a sprint.
His fingers clenched around the door handle, throwing the door open as he welcomed the warm embrace of light. The light illuminated the region, revealing three unconscious men lying on the ground. The final survivor looked over at him. Nick spotted movement.
“Behind you!” he shouted. Too late. An elbow slammed into the man’s head, sending him reeling to the ground. Nick instinctively locked his aim at the target emerging from the darkness.
“Freeze.” he said.
The female figure turned to look at him. She was dressed in a silver and black uniform, her eyes still visible under a dark silver mask. Bright red lipstick stood out from the rest of her duller costume, and her brown hair was tied up into a bun. She was heaving, her bosom rising and falling slowly.
Nick sneered. He felt his fear evaporating as he finally confronted the ghost. He had the advantage now, and he allowed himself to eye her body appreciatively. She’d make a fine slave, alright… “Now turn around slowly, let me see that cute ass…”
She glared at him through her mask.
“You deaf, bitch? Turn around, or I shoot that pretty head off.”
Still glaring, her brown eyes dropped as she turned around slowly.
Nick smiled, walking closer. Her ass was toned as hell, especially in the tight costume she wore. He’d only seen heroines before the Purge and even then never actually saw one up close, but damn was the real thing so much better. “Kneel.”
She nodded, slowly bending her knees.
Nick closed in, his muzzle pointed at the vigilante’s head. Oh, all the things I’m gonna do to your hot little body…
Just as he stepped right behind her, she twisted her head to the left in a sudden movement.
Nick fired instinctively. The shot went wide.
Nick looked down, seeing her gloved hands tightly gripping his right wrist. He wanted to react—
She brought his arm down on her shoulder, the crack of his right elbow reaching his ears before the stabbing pain shot through his arm. He screamed.
An elbow shot into his gut, sending him stumbling back before the vigilante whirled around, grabbing him by the collar. Nick grunted as he felt the hard impact of the wall behind him.
“What did you do to the women?” Her voice was soft, yet utterly serious.
Nick struggled helplessly, his fractured elbow screaming for attention. “Like—like I’d tell you anything, bitch!” he rasped through gritted teeth. She let go of his collar, letting him fall to the ground upright. She grabbed his head roughly to face hers as she leaned in close. Nick met her brown eyes, and felt a faint tingling in his mind.
“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, perp,” she whispered.
He spat at her.
The vigilante flinched, her face slowly twisting in anger as the globule of spit rolled down her freckled chin. “Alright,” she hissed. “The hard way it is.”
Her brown eyes glowed white.
---
Nick came to in a dilapidated alley. He groaned, forcing his eyes open. The vigilante. Scrambling to his feet, he turned to face her. “What mutant bullshit is this?”
She smiled. “Welcome to the inside of your head,” she said. “Also known as...enhanced interrogation.”
Nick gripped his throbbing arm as he steadied himself, circling the vigilante slowly. “If my fuckin’ arm ain’t broken…”
“Sure,” she said, snapping her finger.
Nick froze, feeling his arm. The pain was gone. He looked up at her, seeing opportunity arise. Snarling, he hurled himself at her and promptly fell flat on the ground. He turned back in shock, seeing her shimmer in place.
“You can’t hurt me here, Nick,” she gave him a small smile, before her face darkened. “But I can.”
She seized his arm, lifting him up as if he was weightless. Her grip tightened. Nick gritted his teeth, and the grip tightened even further. And further. And further.
Nick gnashed his teeth together.
“You’re pretty stubborn, Nick. Let’s see how far you’ll go.” her voice echoed through his mind, as her hands on his arm began twisting.
“No...no!” he screamed, horrid sounds emerging from his bone as yet another tortured cry was wrenched from his lips. He felt himself being slammed into the ground before being lifted by the other arm.
“NonononoNO” he managed before she crushed it casually within her grip. He fell once again to the ground, the impact of the ground against his chin numb compared to the crippling pain in his arms.
“Stop!” he gurgled. “Stop. stop. Please.”
With one foot, she casually rolled him on his back. Her eyes glowed white…
---
And Nick found himself back in front of her again, the pain in his arms nothing but a horrifying memory. He never thought how relieved he’d be to have one broken arm, but that was way better than whatever the fuck she put him through.
“So, Nick,” the vigilante’s voice was soft once again. “Ready to try again?”
Vigil 1 - Return
Chapter One
Vigil sighed as she watched his eyelids droop shut. She pressed a palm to his forehead, reaching in to feel for any excessive trauma to his mind. She went really close to the line on this one...was his anger having a residual effect on her? As a psychic, keeping an open mind let her pick up on intent, allowing her to be warned of incoming strikes before they hit her. It did, however, make her particularly vulnerable to strong emotions emanating from those around her.
Excuses, Faith, she reminded herself. Her mentor, the missing superheroine Mindtwist, would surely have disapproved. Vigil shook her head, inhaling deeply before releasing her breath in steps. I’m in control.
Securing Nick’s wrists with cuffs, she turned her attention to the other perps. As much as she could, she tried to avoid excessive damage. Her powers did give her an advantage in fights, allowing her to predict an opponent’s strikes while feeling out the exact amount of force to avoid permanent damage. Still, it was a rough gauge and she needed a more meticulous scan of their minds to check for lasting damage. Satisfied, she restrained the rest of them.
She then turned her attention to the truck. A strange, inquisitive tendril of thought snaked out from one of its occupants, and Vigil stumbled, hit with a vertigo of...lust? Her loins tingled…
---
It pressed past her folds.
“Gordon,” Faith rasped, her voice shaky as another thrust stole her breath away. She arched her back to meet her fiance’s thrusts, short gasps leaving her as she felt herself rapidly climbing to the peak. She gripped his wrists, shutting her eyes tightly. “Gordon! I—I—”
“Me too,” he growled.
“Harder,” she whispered, and she felt his cock twitching inside, as her walls began quivering, and she felt—
---
Vigil recoiled from the memory, breathing heavily as she held onto a wall for support. She wiped the droplet of sweat that had slowly trickled down her forehead, shutting her eyes to focus. Gordon is gone. She swallowed hard, suppressing the pang of anger rising within her.
Another stupid mistake. Keep your damn mind closed! This was the exact reason Mindtwist had spent so long harping on controlling her emotions, on closing her mind off from the things around her. It was also the one thing Vigil never truly mastered.
She looked back up into the truck. There were five semi-conscious women before her, tied up in various states of undress. Vigil swallowed the bile rising in her gut. Those monsters used them. She glanced at the empty syringes on the floor and the residual pink liquid in them.
Some kind of new narcotic...Vigil mused to herself. It must’ve become popular in her absence as she’d never seen or heard about it before. She’d learnt some information from Nick earlier during her, umm, ‘enhanced interrogation’.
They called it double-A, a commercially available aphrodisiac made by Calypso Pharmaceuticals. The variant Nick’s goons used, however, was a highly concentrated version that was sold on the biggest black market in Arctin City, the Bazaar.
How the hell did regular mooks like Nick manage to get it?
It didn’t matter right now. Vigil refocused her attention on the women. She could still feel the lust radiating from their minds even through her mental barriers. She could try to enter their minds. Maybe talk to them, convince them and try to pull them out of the trance, but it was far too risky. She was already having trouble fending off their arousal, who knew what could go wrong in there?
She glanced at one of the women and blanched, seeing the woman’s exposed pussy grinding lustily against her soaked crotch-rope. An errant thought crept up upon her, thinking how hot it was to be enslaved, controlled, to throw aside all her inhibitions just for a moment to be filled with nothing but mindless pleasure. To be...
Vigil gasped, swatting the thought aside, briefly horrified that her mind could even think about that as arousing. She glowered at the women, almost tempted to use her electro-baton to snap them out the painful way.
The strange pink sheen in their eyes reminded her that they weren’t in control. It wasn’t their fault, and they didn’t deserve it in the slightest. The best she could do was to knock them out.
Climbing into the truck, she waved away the tendrils of lust that drunkenly groped for her mind. Gross. The women moaned around their ball gags upon seeing her, and Vigil’s eyes fell in pity. Let’s get this over with. Placing her palm on a woman’s head, she whispered, “Sleep.” She waited, feeling the woman’s aroused gyrations slow into a deep slumber. Doing the same for the rest, she felt her mind clearing as she climbed out of the truck.
The walkie-talkie on the ground crackled. “Nick. Nick, you there?” Vigil shot her eyes up into the warehouse in surprise, and mentally slapped herself upon feeling the three minds in there. Not checking the perimeter...yet another stupid mistake.
“Nick! You copy?” And there goes my element of surprise.
Vigil sighed as she watched his eyelids droop shut. She pressed a palm to his forehead, reaching in to feel for any excessive trauma to his mind. She went really close to the line on this one...was his anger having a residual effect on her? As a psychic, keeping an open mind let her pick up on intent, allowing her to be warned of incoming strikes before they hit her. It did, however, make her particularly vulnerable to strong emotions emanating from those around her.
Excuses, Faith, she reminded herself. Her mentor, the missing superheroine Mindtwist, would surely have disapproved. Vigil shook her head, inhaling deeply before releasing her breath in steps. I’m in control.
Securing Nick’s wrists with cuffs, she turned her attention to the other perps. As much as she could, she tried to avoid excessive damage. Her powers did give her an advantage in fights, allowing her to predict an opponent’s strikes while feeling out the exact amount of force to avoid permanent damage. Still, it was a rough gauge and she needed a more meticulous scan of their minds to check for lasting damage. Satisfied, she restrained the rest of them.
She then turned her attention to the truck. A strange, inquisitive tendril of thought snaked out from one of its occupants, and Vigil stumbled, hit with a vertigo of...lust? Her loins tingled…
---
It pressed past her folds.
“Gordon,” Faith rasped, her voice shaky as another thrust stole her breath away. She arched her back to meet her fiance’s thrusts, short gasps leaving her as she felt herself rapidly climbing to the peak. She gripped his wrists, shutting her eyes tightly. “Gordon! I—I—”
“Me too,” he growled.
“Harder,” she whispered, and she felt his cock twitching inside, as her walls began quivering, and she felt—
---
Vigil recoiled from the memory, breathing heavily as she held onto a wall for support. She wiped the droplet of sweat that had slowly trickled down her forehead, shutting her eyes to focus. Gordon is gone. She swallowed hard, suppressing the pang of anger rising within her.
Another stupid mistake. Keep your damn mind closed! This was the exact reason Mindtwist had spent so long harping on controlling her emotions, on closing her mind off from the things around her. It was also the one thing Vigil never truly mastered.
She looked back up into the truck. There were five semi-conscious women before her, tied up in various states of undress. Vigil swallowed the bile rising in her gut. Those monsters used them. She glanced at the empty syringes on the floor and the residual pink liquid in them.
Some kind of new narcotic...Vigil mused to herself. It must’ve become popular in her absence as she’d never seen or heard about it before. She’d learnt some information from Nick earlier during her, umm, ‘enhanced interrogation’.
They called it double-A, a commercially available aphrodisiac made by Calypso Pharmaceuticals. The variant Nick’s goons used, however, was a highly concentrated version that was sold on the biggest black market in Arctin City, the Bazaar.
How the hell did regular mooks like Nick manage to get it?
It didn’t matter right now. Vigil refocused her attention on the women. She could still feel the lust radiating from their minds even through her mental barriers. She could try to enter their minds. Maybe talk to them, convince them and try to pull them out of the trance, but it was far too risky. She was already having trouble fending off their arousal, who knew what could go wrong in there?
She glanced at one of the women and blanched, seeing the woman’s exposed pussy grinding lustily against her soaked crotch-rope. An errant thought crept up upon her, thinking how hot it was to be enslaved, controlled, to throw aside all her inhibitions just for a moment to be filled with nothing but mindless pleasure. To be...
Vigil gasped, swatting the thought aside, briefly horrified that her mind could even think about that as arousing. She glowered at the women, almost tempted to use her electro-baton to snap them out the painful way.
The strange pink sheen in their eyes reminded her that they weren’t in control. It wasn’t their fault, and they didn’t deserve it in the slightest. The best she could do was to knock them out.
Climbing into the truck, she waved away the tendrils of lust that drunkenly groped for her mind. Gross. The women moaned around their ball gags upon seeing her, and Vigil’s eyes fell in pity. Let’s get this over with. Placing her palm on a woman’s head, she whispered, “Sleep.” She waited, feeling the woman’s aroused gyrations slow into a deep slumber. Doing the same for the rest, she felt her mind clearing as she climbed out of the truck.
The walkie-talkie on the ground crackled. “Nick. Nick, you there?” Vigil shot her eyes up into the warehouse in surprise, and mentally slapped herself upon feeling the three minds in there. Not checking the perimeter...yet another stupid mistake.
“Nick! You copy?” And there goes my element of surprise.
Last edited by Artee 3 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
Chapter Two
Vigil burst through the door, and instantly stiffened. A man was holding a knife up to the neck of a woman. The woman looked up at her, whimpering through her bonds. Her clear iris indicated she hadn’t been drugged. Not yet, at least.
“Ah, hero!” the man grinned.
“Let her go.”
The man snorted. “No.”
She took a cautious step forward. “There’s no way out for you,” she said. There’s only one man and one hostage. Where’s the third contact?
She felt a faint prickling of emotions from behind her — Fear. Anticipation.
Vigil spun instinctively. Her foot knocked the syringe out of her attacker’s hand, and she followed the back hook up with a roundhouse kick, sending the attacker reeling to the ground. She grabbed him by the scalp, letting her eyes flash white as she forced him into sleep.
She heard the man behind her laugh as her attacker slumped to the ground, unconscious.
“Nice, hero, very nice.”
She turned to face him. “Give it up, Jack,” she grinned, enjoying the look of surprise flashing across his face. “Drop your knife and let her go.”
“Fun party trick, but you still badly misread situation.” Jack brought his knife closer to his hostage’s neck with a sneer, drawing a panicked squeal from the woman.
“Stop!” Vigil snapped, groaning internally as she assessed the situation. Sure, Jack couldn’t run, but she couldn’t do anything without risking the hostage’s life. She looked into the woman’s pleading eyes...Mary, mother of three young children, wife of—
God-dammit powers, really? Further sympathy for the hostage was something she did not need right now. It would only serve to throw her off. She snapped her eyes away from the hostage, glaring at Jack.
“Hmm. We have problem. Why not we pretend all this no happen? You go, I no kill her.”
“Or you could let this innocent lady go and surrender yourself.”
Jack smirked. “I prefer my way.” His smile dropped. “Don’t think I no see you come closer.”
Vigil froze, and cursed inwardly.
“Aha. I have idea. How about...exchange?”
“Talk.”
“This one here...meant to test latest drug. You help me test and I let her go.” He inclined his head towards a nearby crate filled with syringes of the pink narcotic.
“...test?”
“Inject yourself. Help me see if good.”
“Do I look like an idiot to you? I know what’s in the syringes.”
Jack scowled. “Fine. Put it this way. If you no test in next minute, I kill.” His knife dipped lower, drawing a cry from Mary as it lightly sliced a tiny cut on her skin.
“Stop.” Vigil said. Her eyes met the woman. Her eyes were teary, red, staring helplessly at her, begging for rescue — Crap, crap, crap, this is bad. This is really bad.
“Back off! I kill!”
“No! I’ll walk away, I’ll—”
“No walk away! You test or I kill! Ten seconds!”
“Wait!”
“Seven!”
The woman began screaming against her gag, drool dripping freely. Vigil teetered, stunned.
“Six!”
It takes time for the drug to take effect, right? I can subdue him in time, I—
“Five!”
Yes, I’ll have enough time. I have to. Wait for him to drop his guard, and—
“Three!”
“I’ll do it, I’ll do it!” Vigil yelled with barely concealed panic.
“Good,” Jack said, “do it.”
Vigil shot a glare at him as she reluctantly picked up a syringe from the crate, observing the strange, pink liquid inside. She peered at the label. Fifty percent purity. She thought back to the women in the van, lost in their own desires. If a single dose could do that...
She shivered in fear as she peeled off the protective cover, eyeing the metal tip.
“Come on hero...you hero, no tell me you scared needles?”
Vigil gave him a death stare. She briefly thought of faking the injection, but quickly realised that pink liquid dripping freely onto the ground would be particularly obvious even from a distance. Seeing no other way out, she knelt down for stability, rolling up her right sleeve to expose her elbow. Placing her needle at the injection site, she shut her eyes. Focus. Control. Ignore the feelings. Inhaling, she pressed the plunger in as she poked the needle through.
Her breathing settled, as she opened her eyes with apprehension.
“Alright, now come, hero.”
Vigil squinted at him, not knowing what to feel but anger. If he was hoping the drug would turn her into a mindless whore, it wasn’t working. Not that she wanted that, of course. She narrowed her eyes. “You said you were going to release her.”
“New deal. We have fun first.”
She glared. “You—” She doubled over, a sudden wave of vertigo washing over her. Oh, crap. She felt her eyelids droop...
“Come to me, hero.”
...and open up once more, as she found herself on the ground before the man. Ugh...she craned her neck up to look at him. A warm fog spread from the back of her neck, dipping down into her body, settling into a nice buzz threatening to steal her thoughts away. She shook her head, trying to focus on the woman. “O-okay. Y-you said...”
“Shh...we have fun first.”
She heard the sound of his zipper, and blearily raised a gloved hand. “Wait...no...I—” was all she could manage, watching in a mix of disgust and...anticipation as he withdrew his erect cock.
Vigil felt her eyes snap to it, a brief sigh escaping her lips. She gasped, a rush of sensations flooding through her body, setting her nerves aflame as she couldn’t help but stare...at least until her battered awareness came back. “Nno, wait, I...I don’t—mmfth!”
She shut her lips, clamping them tight as he grabbed her head, tugging her close to his cock. “Come on, be good girl for me.”
Good girl...Vigil shivered. God, it sounded so wrong, and yet...and yet...the primal stench of his cock filled her mind, captivating her as she imagined how it will feel slowly pressing into her itching pussy. God...her lips parted unconsciously.
Jack seized the opportunity, sliding the tip of his cock in.
It was electrifying. The first drops of pre-cum gathered in her mouth, the oily liquid inducing feelings of disgust in her, only for those feelings to be quelled by wave after wave of arousal. Arousal...from the drug. The drug...Vigil knew what was going on, what it was doing to her, and yet...
She felt his fingers in her hair, lightly encouraging her to go further...and she did, pushing her head lower as she cupped her mouth around his cock, enjoying the feeling of it tensing up in her mouth. It wasn’t the overwhelming wave of need she’d expected or prepared for, but a slow, pulsing arousal tickling at her loins, rewarding her with buzzes of pleasure every time she obeyed. It felt...good. Vigil wanted to feel good.
It was so much easier to follow the motion. The pain in her head settled as she succumbed, and with increasing certainty she bobbed her head up and down along his shaft, rapidly coating it in a layer of her own saliva. She felt so dirty, and as if to reward her the soft warmness in her loins sparked into a yearning fire.
She heard a muffled, distressed cry come from somewhere behind the man, but it didn’t matter. Not right now, when she had all she ever wanted. As she sank deeper into the warm pool of lust clouding her mind, what began as a reluctant, forced blowjob intensified into a needy, hungry one, as the lost vigilante unconsciously brought a hand up to run along the moist length of the man’s shaft, her mouth wrapped tightly around the tip suckling away, just as she’d do for Gordon.
For Gordon. Gordon. That name...wait...Vigil reluctantly pulled herself away from the cock, leaving a mix of spittle and pre-cum trailing between her lips and the cock. W-what am I doing..? I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t... She squinted, suddenly confused at where she was, yet the cock remained in her gaze — dominating her field of view. She inhaled deeply, the hot smell dominating her mind. Her hand unconsciously ran up and down along its length, feeling its thickness, its sheer girth...she imagined it slowly pressing into her...
Oh god... This was wrong, a heroine fellating a criminal, and yet...
Vigil barely resisted as the man’s hand led her back onto the cock.
---
Jack groaned, feeling the vigilante’s luscious lips around his cock. She took his cock-head in as she dipped lower, taking his length in deeper and deeper. “Good slut...” he whispered, inducing a pleasured moan from the falling vigilante.
Too easy. Just as the girls before her, even this mutant girl was losing herself to the pleasures of double-A. He looked into her obedient eyes, relishing the addicted look of the masked woman. The mask had a certain appeal to it, and he resisted the urge to remove it. That could always come later.
His hand reached below, groping the soft, pillowy breasts of the vigilante through her thin clothing, flicking her hard, aroused nipples and drawing a muffled mewl from her. He could get her to strip, but this felt far too good to interrupt. She was entirely focused on the blowjob, both hands jerking his shaft as her head dipped down and up repeatedly, almost as if she was desperate for his semen.
What a beautiful end to her story. The vicious, cruel huntress of the night terrorising the underworld...tamed by him. Him! A mental image of her quivering as she rode his dick with abandon slipped into his mind.
It was that very encouragement that pushed Jack over the edge. Sharply inhaling, he grabbed her head roughly and shoved it down onto his cock, forcing her to take his entire length in. He relished the shocked gag from her, enjoying the panicked, widening eyes of his victim as she desperately slammed her hands against his thighs.
His cock tensed up, before delivering a huge burst of semen down the vigilante’s throat. Her eyes bulged through her mask as he pulled his cock out. His cum shot free a second time, coating her beautiful, freckled face. And one last time over her mask.
Jack sighed, content. It was amazing, seeing the confused expression on the bitch with cum—his cum— all over her slutty face. A warning belatedly flickered in his mind, something about never doing anything to force his victim out of her trance.
Wait. Jack blinked. Oh, shit.
---
Vigil gasped for air, coughing violently as the man withdrew his cock. She spat on the ground, hastily heaving in air as the fog of arousal had been harshly interrupted by the choking. Her face was covered in...something, her mouth was filled with a salty taste, her throat was sore from friction. She felt her wits return and...oh god. What did I do?
She shot her eyes up at the man. “You,” she rasped through her burning throat. Staring into his fearful eyes, her eyes flashed white...
---
He rolled on the ground, groaning in pain. Vigil slammed her foot down on his palm, feeling a burst of excitement at the cracking sound emerging from his shattering bones, relishing the scream it drew from his lips.
“Scum. You thought you’d have some fun, didn’t you?” she snarled, grabbing his weightless body as she sent him careening into a wall that shimmered into place. She snapped her fingers, watching his bones snap into place just as painfully as they had been broken.
He screamed in a mix of desperation and utter pain. “NO, NO, NO—”
She grabbed his newly healed body by the arm, snapping the arm against her knee. His voice was hoarse by now.
“Kidnap a few women, drug them out of their minds and rape them, right?” She lifted him by the throat, tightening her grip, letting him feel his air running out long enough before crushing his brittle throat and throwing the corpse to the side.
She snapped her fingers once more, hearing his scream as his body was reformed.
“Tried to do the same to me?” she conjured a knife, letting Jack see it forming in her hands before plunging it into Jack’s gut.
“PLEASE, PLEASE!” he begged.
“You’re pathetic.” she spat, ripping out the knife and holding it up to his throat.
He shook his head vehemently. “please. please.”
“Speak quickly.”
---
She ejected herself from his mind. She gasped, shoving his unconscious body away from herself, leaping back from the growing puddle of piss from him. Eww. That violent episode was cathartic, almost enough to make her forget about...
Ah.
She didn’t need to look upon Mary’s face to be reminded of her own failure. The salty taste of Jack’s semen that clung to her tongue was more than sufficient, staining her mind with humiliation. She averted her gaze from Mary, focusing on untying her bonds and ungagging her.
Vigil was taken aback by a hug.
“You saved me,” Mary said, “you did all that to save me.”
“I...” Vigil sank her head lower.
“You knew what the drug did,” Mary said, withdrawing from the hug. “Yet you took it hoping to save me.”
Vigil was unsure of what to say.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Vigil forced a smile. “The cops are coming. I need you to hand this over to them,” she said, placing a grey envelope in Mary’s hands. “You can explain everything, right?”
Mary nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Of course. You came in here, beat the bad guys, and came out on top. That’s all that matters.”
Vigil burst through the door, and instantly stiffened. A man was holding a knife up to the neck of a woman. The woman looked up at her, whimpering through her bonds. Her clear iris indicated she hadn’t been drugged. Not yet, at least.
“Ah, hero!” the man grinned.
“Let her go.”
The man snorted. “No.”
She took a cautious step forward. “There’s no way out for you,” she said. There’s only one man and one hostage. Where’s the third contact?
She felt a faint prickling of emotions from behind her — Fear. Anticipation.
Vigil spun instinctively. Her foot knocked the syringe out of her attacker’s hand, and she followed the back hook up with a roundhouse kick, sending the attacker reeling to the ground. She grabbed him by the scalp, letting her eyes flash white as she forced him into sleep.
She heard the man behind her laugh as her attacker slumped to the ground, unconscious.
“Nice, hero, very nice.”
She turned to face him. “Give it up, Jack,” she grinned, enjoying the look of surprise flashing across his face. “Drop your knife and let her go.”
“Fun party trick, but you still badly misread situation.” Jack brought his knife closer to his hostage’s neck with a sneer, drawing a panicked squeal from the woman.
“Stop!” Vigil snapped, groaning internally as she assessed the situation. Sure, Jack couldn’t run, but she couldn’t do anything without risking the hostage’s life. She looked into the woman’s pleading eyes...Mary, mother of three young children, wife of—
God-dammit powers, really? Further sympathy for the hostage was something she did not need right now. It would only serve to throw her off. She snapped her eyes away from the hostage, glaring at Jack.
“Hmm. We have problem. Why not we pretend all this no happen? You go, I no kill her.”
“Or you could let this innocent lady go and surrender yourself.”
Jack smirked. “I prefer my way.” His smile dropped. “Don’t think I no see you come closer.”
Vigil froze, and cursed inwardly.
“Aha. I have idea. How about...exchange?”
“Talk.”
“This one here...meant to test latest drug. You help me test and I let her go.” He inclined his head towards a nearby crate filled with syringes of the pink narcotic.
“...test?”
“Inject yourself. Help me see if good.”
“Do I look like an idiot to you? I know what’s in the syringes.”
Jack scowled. “Fine. Put it this way. If you no test in next minute, I kill.” His knife dipped lower, drawing a cry from Mary as it lightly sliced a tiny cut on her skin.
“Stop.” Vigil said. Her eyes met the woman. Her eyes were teary, red, staring helplessly at her, begging for rescue — Crap, crap, crap, this is bad. This is really bad.
“Back off! I kill!”
“No! I’ll walk away, I’ll—”
“No walk away! You test or I kill! Ten seconds!”
“Wait!”
“Seven!”
The woman began screaming against her gag, drool dripping freely. Vigil teetered, stunned.
“Six!”
It takes time for the drug to take effect, right? I can subdue him in time, I—
“Five!”
Yes, I’ll have enough time. I have to. Wait for him to drop his guard, and—
“Three!”
“I’ll do it, I’ll do it!” Vigil yelled with barely concealed panic.
“Good,” Jack said, “do it.”
Vigil shot a glare at him as she reluctantly picked up a syringe from the crate, observing the strange, pink liquid inside. She peered at the label. Fifty percent purity. She thought back to the women in the van, lost in their own desires. If a single dose could do that...
She shivered in fear as she peeled off the protective cover, eyeing the metal tip.
“Come on hero...you hero, no tell me you scared needles?”
Vigil gave him a death stare. She briefly thought of faking the injection, but quickly realised that pink liquid dripping freely onto the ground would be particularly obvious even from a distance. Seeing no other way out, she knelt down for stability, rolling up her right sleeve to expose her elbow. Placing her needle at the injection site, she shut her eyes. Focus. Control. Ignore the feelings. Inhaling, she pressed the plunger in as she poked the needle through.
Her breathing settled, as she opened her eyes with apprehension.
“Alright, now come, hero.”
Vigil squinted at him, not knowing what to feel but anger. If he was hoping the drug would turn her into a mindless whore, it wasn’t working. Not that she wanted that, of course. She narrowed her eyes. “You said you were going to release her.”
“New deal. We have fun first.”
She glared. “You—” She doubled over, a sudden wave of vertigo washing over her. Oh, crap. She felt her eyelids droop...
“Come to me, hero.”
...and open up once more, as she found herself on the ground before the man. Ugh...she craned her neck up to look at him. A warm fog spread from the back of her neck, dipping down into her body, settling into a nice buzz threatening to steal her thoughts away. She shook her head, trying to focus on the woman. “O-okay. Y-you said...”
“Shh...we have fun first.”
She heard the sound of his zipper, and blearily raised a gloved hand. “Wait...no...I—” was all she could manage, watching in a mix of disgust and...anticipation as he withdrew his erect cock.
Vigil felt her eyes snap to it, a brief sigh escaping her lips. She gasped, a rush of sensations flooding through her body, setting her nerves aflame as she couldn’t help but stare...at least until her battered awareness came back. “Nno, wait, I...I don’t—mmfth!”
She shut her lips, clamping them tight as he grabbed her head, tugging her close to his cock. “Come on, be good girl for me.”
Good girl...Vigil shivered. God, it sounded so wrong, and yet...and yet...the primal stench of his cock filled her mind, captivating her as she imagined how it will feel slowly pressing into her itching pussy. God...her lips parted unconsciously.
Jack seized the opportunity, sliding the tip of his cock in.
It was electrifying. The first drops of pre-cum gathered in her mouth, the oily liquid inducing feelings of disgust in her, only for those feelings to be quelled by wave after wave of arousal. Arousal...from the drug. The drug...Vigil knew what was going on, what it was doing to her, and yet...
She felt his fingers in her hair, lightly encouraging her to go further...and she did, pushing her head lower as she cupped her mouth around his cock, enjoying the feeling of it tensing up in her mouth. It wasn’t the overwhelming wave of need she’d expected or prepared for, but a slow, pulsing arousal tickling at her loins, rewarding her with buzzes of pleasure every time she obeyed. It felt...good. Vigil wanted to feel good.
It was so much easier to follow the motion. The pain in her head settled as she succumbed, and with increasing certainty she bobbed her head up and down along his shaft, rapidly coating it in a layer of her own saliva. She felt so dirty, and as if to reward her the soft warmness in her loins sparked into a yearning fire.
She heard a muffled, distressed cry come from somewhere behind the man, but it didn’t matter. Not right now, when she had all she ever wanted. As she sank deeper into the warm pool of lust clouding her mind, what began as a reluctant, forced blowjob intensified into a needy, hungry one, as the lost vigilante unconsciously brought a hand up to run along the moist length of the man’s shaft, her mouth wrapped tightly around the tip suckling away, just as she’d do for Gordon.
For Gordon. Gordon. That name...wait...Vigil reluctantly pulled herself away from the cock, leaving a mix of spittle and pre-cum trailing between her lips and the cock. W-what am I doing..? I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t... She squinted, suddenly confused at where she was, yet the cock remained in her gaze — dominating her field of view. She inhaled deeply, the hot smell dominating her mind. Her hand unconsciously ran up and down along its length, feeling its thickness, its sheer girth...she imagined it slowly pressing into her...
Oh god... This was wrong, a heroine fellating a criminal, and yet...
Vigil barely resisted as the man’s hand led her back onto the cock.
---
Jack groaned, feeling the vigilante’s luscious lips around his cock. She took his cock-head in as she dipped lower, taking his length in deeper and deeper. “Good slut...” he whispered, inducing a pleasured moan from the falling vigilante.
Too easy. Just as the girls before her, even this mutant girl was losing herself to the pleasures of double-A. He looked into her obedient eyes, relishing the addicted look of the masked woman. The mask had a certain appeal to it, and he resisted the urge to remove it. That could always come later.
His hand reached below, groping the soft, pillowy breasts of the vigilante through her thin clothing, flicking her hard, aroused nipples and drawing a muffled mewl from her. He could get her to strip, but this felt far too good to interrupt. She was entirely focused on the blowjob, both hands jerking his shaft as her head dipped down and up repeatedly, almost as if she was desperate for his semen.
What a beautiful end to her story. The vicious, cruel huntress of the night terrorising the underworld...tamed by him. Him! A mental image of her quivering as she rode his dick with abandon slipped into his mind.
It was that very encouragement that pushed Jack over the edge. Sharply inhaling, he grabbed her head roughly and shoved it down onto his cock, forcing her to take his entire length in. He relished the shocked gag from her, enjoying the panicked, widening eyes of his victim as she desperately slammed her hands against his thighs.
His cock tensed up, before delivering a huge burst of semen down the vigilante’s throat. Her eyes bulged through her mask as he pulled his cock out. His cum shot free a second time, coating her beautiful, freckled face. And one last time over her mask.
Jack sighed, content. It was amazing, seeing the confused expression on the bitch with cum—his cum— all over her slutty face. A warning belatedly flickered in his mind, something about never doing anything to force his victim out of her trance.
Wait. Jack blinked. Oh, shit.
---
Vigil gasped for air, coughing violently as the man withdrew his cock. She spat on the ground, hastily heaving in air as the fog of arousal had been harshly interrupted by the choking. Her face was covered in...something, her mouth was filled with a salty taste, her throat was sore from friction. She felt her wits return and...oh god. What did I do?
She shot her eyes up at the man. “You,” she rasped through her burning throat. Staring into his fearful eyes, her eyes flashed white...
---
He rolled on the ground, groaning in pain. Vigil slammed her foot down on his palm, feeling a burst of excitement at the cracking sound emerging from his shattering bones, relishing the scream it drew from his lips.
“Scum. You thought you’d have some fun, didn’t you?” she snarled, grabbing his weightless body as she sent him careening into a wall that shimmered into place. She snapped her fingers, watching his bones snap into place just as painfully as they had been broken.
He screamed in a mix of desperation and utter pain. “NO, NO, NO—”
She grabbed his newly healed body by the arm, snapping the arm against her knee. His voice was hoarse by now.
“Kidnap a few women, drug them out of their minds and rape them, right?” She lifted him by the throat, tightening her grip, letting him feel his air running out long enough before crushing his brittle throat and throwing the corpse to the side.
She snapped her fingers once more, hearing his scream as his body was reformed.
“Tried to do the same to me?” she conjured a knife, letting Jack see it forming in her hands before plunging it into Jack’s gut.
“PLEASE, PLEASE!” he begged.
“You’re pathetic.” she spat, ripping out the knife and holding it up to his throat.
He shook his head vehemently. “please. please.”
“Speak quickly.”
---
She ejected herself from his mind. She gasped, shoving his unconscious body away from herself, leaping back from the growing puddle of piss from him. Eww. That violent episode was cathartic, almost enough to make her forget about...
Ah.
She didn’t need to look upon Mary’s face to be reminded of her own failure. The salty taste of Jack’s semen that clung to her tongue was more than sufficient, staining her mind with humiliation. She averted her gaze from Mary, focusing on untying her bonds and ungagging her.
Vigil was taken aback by a hug.
“You saved me,” Mary said, “you did all that to save me.”
“I...” Vigil sank her head lower.
“You knew what the drug did,” Mary said, withdrawing from the hug. “Yet you took it hoping to save me.”
Vigil was unsure of what to say.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Vigil forced a smile. “The cops are coming. I need you to hand this over to them,” she said, placing a grey envelope in Mary’s hands. “You can explain everything, right?”
Mary nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Of course. You came in here, beat the bad guys, and came out on top. That’s all that matters.”
Last edited by Artee 3 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
Chapter Three
HOURS LATER...
Detective Lynn Williams grumbled as she heard the heavily armoured van rumble to a halt. It bore the familiar insignia of the premier anti-mutant security force in the city, NovaSec.
“Armed robbers in the bank, gang fights in the docks, kidnappers in District Forty-Two, not one single shark shows up,” she murmured to a nearby patrol officer. “But one vigilante pops on the radar...”
As if to prove her point, eight armoured men trooped out of the van. NovaSec troopers. They were clad in their signature greyish-white armour and faceless helmets, all with the distinctive ‘fin’ on the top of their heads. Their armour was grey, and had silly-looking fins at the top — sharks. That’s what they did best, anyway, circling around her cases hungrily as if they had nothing better to do.
The officer laughed. “Welp, dealing with them ain’t my job. Have fun, detective,” he said, leaving her as he waved dramatically.
Lynn rolled her eyes, giving him the finger. As if a vigilante rampaging through her crime scene wasn’t bad enough, eight commando wannabes were about to trample about in their ridiculous aquatic cosplay.
At least the vigilante would leave a nice, neat envelope at the scene containing pages after pages of detailed notes, pictures, sometimes even USB sticks containing video footage that would easily incriminate any of the suspects that she’d carefully restrained. NovaSec troopers, however, would turn the entire crime scene upside down.
Lynn looked to the trooper that came up to her. “She’s gone, shark.”
“What’s that?” The armoured man pointed at the grey envelope in her hands. Ah, nuts.
“It’s...evidence. Y’know, the stuff I need so I can do my job?”
“The cape left it here, didn’t she? Hand it over.”
Lynn aimed a scowl at him. “Now wait a bloody minute. This is my crime scene, my case. You guys don’t hand over pieces of evidence just because some random dude on the street asks for it, do you?” She tapped her foot impatiently. “What, no response? Do I need to explain it using conch shells?”
“Give it to him, Lynn.” came a tired voice from behind her, and Lynn grimaced.
“Et tu, sarge?” she said dramatically, turning to face her sergeant.
Sergeant Kane Barnes shrugged. “It’s the law, Lynn. NovaSec has jurisdiction over any crime scene involving domestic terrorism.”
She scoffed. “Oh, domestic terrorism, sure! The KCA Bank robbers weren’t terrorists? The AK-armed dummies at the docks weren’t terrorists? But oh no, a girl who takes down a group of kidnapping rapists and leaves us with more than enough evidence to pin them down is suddenly this—”
The sergeant interrupted her with a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “...hand it over to him, detective, please?”
Lynn rolled her eyes, reluctantly passing the envelope over to the trooper. “She doesn’t leave any fingerprints on these, so this is just a huge waste of our time.”
“We’ll see for ourselves,” the trooper replied, and Lynn swore she could see his stuck-up little face grinning through the faceless helmet.
Lynn watched helplessly as the troopers filed into the warehouse. She gave her sergeant a look.
“Don’t look at me like that. You know the law.”
Lynn sighed, sitting down by the pavement, throwing her hands up. “What now, since they’re not gonna let me do my job?”
“What have you gathered so far?”
Lynn frowned as she thought. “These people were running a kidnapping scheme. They seized women from District 42, drugging them with black market double-A.”
“Fifty percent purity, according to the labels.”
“Yeah.” Lynn shuddered. The commercial variant ranged from five to ten percent purity. She’d tried one as part of a dare once, and ended up masturbating in the station’s restroom for ten minutes straight. To be forced to take something five times stronger...she shook her head. “I spoke to Mary. She saw the previous group of captives being led away earlier today.”
“That lines up with my inspection of the warehouse,” the sergeant scratched his chin. “We found heavy-duty locks on many of the bedrooms. It’s pretty clear this was a housing area for their captives before they were...sold.”
“Jesus,” murmured Lynn. “The Bazaar?”
“Likely,” said the sergeant grimly. As if waking himself from a stir, he stood up suddenly. “Get some rest tonight, Lynn. We’ll need it tomorrow.”
HOURS LATER...
Detective Lynn Williams grumbled as she heard the heavily armoured van rumble to a halt. It bore the familiar insignia of the premier anti-mutant security force in the city, NovaSec.
“Armed robbers in the bank, gang fights in the docks, kidnappers in District Forty-Two, not one single shark shows up,” she murmured to a nearby patrol officer. “But one vigilante pops on the radar...”
As if to prove her point, eight armoured men trooped out of the van. NovaSec troopers. They were clad in their signature greyish-white armour and faceless helmets, all with the distinctive ‘fin’ on the top of their heads. Their armour was grey, and had silly-looking fins at the top — sharks. That’s what they did best, anyway, circling around her cases hungrily as if they had nothing better to do.
The officer laughed. “Welp, dealing with them ain’t my job. Have fun, detective,” he said, leaving her as he waved dramatically.
Lynn rolled her eyes, giving him the finger. As if a vigilante rampaging through her crime scene wasn’t bad enough, eight commando wannabes were about to trample about in their ridiculous aquatic cosplay.
At least the vigilante would leave a nice, neat envelope at the scene containing pages after pages of detailed notes, pictures, sometimes even USB sticks containing video footage that would easily incriminate any of the suspects that she’d carefully restrained. NovaSec troopers, however, would turn the entire crime scene upside down.
Lynn looked to the trooper that came up to her. “She’s gone, shark.”
“What’s that?” The armoured man pointed at the grey envelope in her hands. Ah, nuts.
“It’s...evidence. Y’know, the stuff I need so I can do my job?”
“The cape left it here, didn’t she? Hand it over.”
Lynn aimed a scowl at him. “Now wait a bloody minute. This is my crime scene, my case. You guys don’t hand over pieces of evidence just because some random dude on the street asks for it, do you?” She tapped her foot impatiently. “What, no response? Do I need to explain it using conch shells?”
“Give it to him, Lynn.” came a tired voice from behind her, and Lynn grimaced.
“Et tu, sarge?” she said dramatically, turning to face her sergeant.
Sergeant Kane Barnes shrugged. “It’s the law, Lynn. NovaSec has jurisdiction over any crime scene involving domestic terrorism.”
She scoffed. “Oh, domestic terrorism, sure! The KCA Bank robbers weren’t terrorists? The AK-armed dummies at the docks weren’t terrorists? But oh no, a girl who takes down a group of kidnapping rapists and leaves us with more than enough evidence to pin them down is suddenly this—”
The sergeant interrupted her with a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “...hand it over to him, detective, please?”
Lynn rolled her eyes, reluctantly passing the envelope over to the trooper. “She doesn’t leave any fingerprints on these, so this is just a huge waste of our time.”
“We’ll see for ourselves,” the trooper replied, and Lynn swore she could see his stuck-up little face grinning through the faceless helmet.
Lynn watched helplessly as the troopers filed into the warehouse. She gave her sergeant a look.
“Don’t look at me like that. You know the law.”
Lynn sighed, sitting down by the pavement, throwing her hands up. “What now, since they’re not gonna let me do my job?”
“What have you gathered so far?”
Lynn frowned as she thought. “These people were running a kidnapping scheme. They seized women from District 42, drugging them with black market double-A.”
“Fifty percent purity, according to the labels.”
“Yeah.” Lynn shuddered. The commercial variant ranged from five to ten percent purity. She’d tried one as part of a dare once, and ended up masturbating in the station’s restroom for ten minutes straight. To be forced to take something five times stronger...she shook her head. “I spoke to Mary. She saw the previous group of captives being led away earlier today.”
“That lines up with my inspection of the warehouse,” the sergeant scratched his chin. “We found heavy-duty locks on many of the bedrooms. It’s pretty clear this was a housing area for their captives before they were...sold.”
“Jesus,” murmured Lynn. “The Bazaar?”
“Likely,” said the sergeant grimly. As if waking himself from a stir, he stood up suddenly. “Get some rest tonight, Lynn. We’ll need it tomorrow.”
Chapter Four
The adrenaline in Faith was already wearing off as she climbed in through her apartment window. Tearing off her Vigil mask, she dashed to the washroom, rinsing her mouth of that horrid taste. It wasn’t just the taste of semen, but a constant sticky reminder of her utter humiliation at the hands of yet another villain. Another defeat, just like the one she suffered barely four months ago.
Weak. She glared at the mirror. Why am I so fucking weak? A memory flashed through her mind, her eidetic recollection helping her remember every groove, every vein of the Mentalist’s hard cock as she had ridden it, helping her remember every shameless moan, every plea for more that had left her lips.
“Stop!” she yelled, sweeping the toiletries on the floor, the plastic containers clattering noisily against the tiled floor. This is why I was suspended. This is why Angie, Gordon, Mimosa were all pushing for me to ‘take a break’.
Angie. Her sister. When the Purge had come, it was Angie who had defended the headquarters while Faith lay helplessly on the floor, bleeding out from a piece of rebar in her thigh, a so-called ‘hero’ who had to be rescued like a damsel in distress. And instead of rising up and helping her sister defend the very League she’d started, Faith had allowed herself to be carted away to the hospital under her alter-ego — just as her mentor had mentally compelled her to.
Faith still remembered her will sucking away as she stared into Mindtwist’s purple eyes, dreading every word leaving her mentor’s lips yet knowing she would be helpless to resist. And like the weak-willed idiot she was, she obeyed the order to ‘stay away from Arctin City and never return’.
Why do that, Mindtwist? Why force me away? I...I just wanted to help.
Faith sank her face into her palms. I should’ve been stronger. If I had been there, if I’d fought alongside them, maybe...
She groaned. Of all the heroes to survive the Purge, why her? Why the weak, useless heroine who’d been idling in therapy since the Mentalist broke her mind? What the hell was she supposed to do if he reappeared?
A part of Faith wished she’d surrendered during the Purge. Maybe then, a stronger, better hero would be here and better-equipped to fight this chaos. She...
“No.”
Faith heard a voice behind her. No, not physically behind her, rather it was...another memory of some sort, of Mindtwist before the Purge.
“Don’t give me that bullshit.”
Faith sighed, turned to face the figment of her imagination. She had no idea where the real Mindtwist was, but she could remember her lectures as clearly as it was yesterday.
The imaginary mentor grabbed her by her shoulders. “Remember. Emotions, feelings, empathy are our weaknesses,” she had said, “As psychics, we do not let them in, we do not give in to them, we do not let them influence us. We remain emotionless. Calm.”
Faith rubbed the bridge of her nose, letting her breath out slowly. Calm. Emotionless. She shut her eyes, breathing deeply before letting her breath out. Fuck, I’m going insane, aren’t I? Taking advice from a ghost...
“You’re all we’ve got now, Faith...don’t you give up on me.”
Faith opened her eyes, and her mentor was gone. She felt better. Well, not that much better, but better enough to bend down and pick up the things she’d cast to the ground earlier.
---
Sitting at her laptop, Faith reached for the notebook in her mental library, letting the words in her mind pour out onto the keyboard. She sighed. Of all the things she could’ve mastered, she mastered her short-term memory. Instead of becoming better at, say, resisting mental attacks, at controlling minds, at emotional control, Faith had become better at remembering things better.
How bloody useful.
The screen flickered on to her wallpaper on her desktop, which was an image of her and her sister. Angie... Faith clenched her fist. She hoped Angie was alive. No, she knew she was alive. She couldn’t be dead. She just couldn’t. Please, don’t let—
“Emotions, feelings, empathy...” reminded the mental image of Mindtwist in her mind.
“I know, I know...weakness,” Faith said aloud as she resumed her typing. It had been a week since she’d managed to throw off her mentor’s mental compulsion to ‘stay away from Arctin City and never return’, but in the single week of vigilantism she’d discovered far more rot in the city than ever before. Gang leaders, drug traffickers and supervillains had banded together in the unholy alliance that called themselves the Pact.
Two months ago, the Pact had won, systemically silencing and taking down every hero and heroine of the League of Protectors in a matter of days. Faith shuddered. That was the Purge. Since then, the Pact had seized control of much of the underworld. The new governor of the city had managed to retain control, calling in a powerful regional security force, NovaSec, for assistance. Meanwhile, strict anti-vigilante and anti-mutant laws were signed, which put Faith in a really awkward spot.
The rich now lived in relative comfort in the Districts, safe from the Pact’s influence; while the poor lived scattered among the rest of the battered city, poorly defended by the overburdened cops and NovaSec’s auxiliary policing program. The Pact was far from dead. It was thriving, having dug in and establishing the Bazaar, an underground black market with their prime good — brainwashed sex slaves.
Their method? While conventional techniques using psychic powers from mutants were still used, many slavers found a much cheaper method. Aphrodite’s Ambrosia, or double-A. A desire-enhancing aphrodisiac that in its pure, undiluted concentrate was incredibly addictive, and incredibly arousing. Faith bit her lip, recalling the consuming fog of hunger she herself fell under when she stupidly drugged herself.
Focus. Someone in Calypso Pharma was siphoning the concentrated double-A, selling it to the Bazaar. I need to find out who that is. Cut off the supply, and the whole damn operation comes crashing down.
The adrenaline in Faith was already wearing off as she climbed in through her apartment window. Tearing off her Vigil mask, she dashed to the washroom, rinsing her mouth of that horrid taste. It wasn’t just the taste of semen, but a constant sticky reminder of her utter humiliation at the hands of yet another villain. Another defeat, just like the one she suffered barely four months ago.
Weak. She glared at the mirror. Why am I so fucking weak? A memory flashed through her mind, her eidetic recollection helping her remember every groove, every vein of the Mentalist’s hard cock as she had ridden it, helping her remember every shameless moan, every plea for more that had left her lips.
“Stop!” she yelled, sweeping the toiletries on the floor, the plastic containers clattering noisily against the tiled floor. This is why I was suspended. This is why Angie, Gordon, Mimosa were all pushing for me to ‘take a break’.
Angie. Her sister. When the Purge had come, it was Angie who had defended the headquarters while Faith lay helplessly on the floor, bleeding out from a piece of rebar in her thigh, a so-called ‘hero’ who had to be rescued like a damsel in distress. And instead of rising up and helping her sister defend the very League she’d started, Faith had allowed herself to be carted away to the hospital under her alter-ego — just as her mentor had mentally compelled her to.
Faith still remembered her will sucking away as she stared into Mindtwist’s purple eyes, dreading every word leaving her mentor’s lips yet knowing she would be helpless to resist. And like the weak-willed idiot she was, she obeyed the order to ‘stay away from Arctin City and never return’.
Why do that, Mindtwist? Why force me away? I...I just wanted to help.
Faith sank her face into her palms. I should’ve been stronger. If I had been there, if I’d fought alongside them, maybe...
She groaned. Of all the heroes to survive the Purge, why her? Why the weak, useless heroine who’d been idling in therapy since the Mentalist broke her mind? What the hell was she supposed to do if he reappeared?
A part of Faith wished she’d surrendered during the Purge. Maybe then, a stronger, better hero would be here and better-equipped to fight this chaos. She...
“No.”
Faith heard a voice behind her. No, not physically behind her, rather it was...another memory of some sort, of Mindtwist before the Purge.
“Don’t give me that bullshit.”
Faith sighed, turned to face the figment of her imagination. She had no idea where the real Mindtwist was, but she could remember her lectures as clearly as it was yesterday.
The imaginary mentor grabbed her by her shoulders. “Remember. Emotions, feelings, empathy are our weaknesses,” she had said, “As psychics, we do not let them in, we do not give in to them, we do not let them influence us. We remain emotionless. Calm.”
Faith rubbed the bridge of her nose, letting her breath out slowly. Calm. Emotionless. She shut her eyes, breathing deeply before letting her breath out. Fuck, I’m going insane, aren’t I? Taking advice from a ghost...
“You’re all we’ve got now, Faith...don’t you give up on me.”
Faith opened her eyes, and her mentor was gone. She felt better. Well, not that much better, but better enough to bend down and pick up the things she’d cast to the ground earlier.
---
Sitting at her laptop, Faith reached for the notebook in her mental library, letting the words in her mind pour out onto the keyboard. She sighed. Of all the things she could’ve mastered, she mastered her short-term memory. Instead of becoming better at, say, resisting mental attacks, at controlling minds, at emotional control, Faith had become better at remembering things better.
How bloody useful.
The screen flickered on to her wallpaper on her desktop, which was an image of her and her sister. Angie... Faith clenched her fist. She hoped Angie was alive. No, she knew she was alive. She couldn’t be dead. She just couldn’t. Please, don’t let—
“Emotions, feelings, empathy...” reminded the mental image of Mindtwist in her mind.
“I know, I know...weakness,” Faith said aloud as she resumed her typing. It had been a week since she’d managed to throw off her mentor’s mental compulsion to ‘stay away from Arctin City and never return’, but in the single week of vigilantism she’d discovered far more rot in the city than ever before. Gang leaders, drug traffickers and supervillains had banded together in the unholy alliance that called themselves the Pact.
Two months ago, the Pact had won, systemically silencing and taking down every hero and heroine of the League of Protectors in a matter of days. Faith shuddered. That was the Purge. Since then, the Pact had seized control of much of the underworld. The new governor of the city had managed to retain control, calling in a powerful regional security force, NovaSec, for assistance. Meanwhile, strict anti-vigilante and anti-mutant laws were signed, which put Faith in a really awkward spot.
The rich now lived in relative comfort in the Districts, safe from the Pact’s influence; while the poor lived scattered among the rest of the battered city, poorly defended by the overburdened cops and NovaSec’s auxiliary policing program. The Pact was far from dead. It was thriving, having dug in and establishing the Bazaar, an underground black market with their prime good — brainwashed sex slaves.
Their method? While conventional techniques using psychic powers from mutants were still used, many slavers found a much cheaper method. Aphrodite’s Ambrosia, or double-A. A desire-enhancing aphrodisiac that in its pure, undiluted concentrate was incredibly addictive, and incredibly arousing. Faith bit her lip, recalling the consuming fog of hunger she herself fell under when she stupidly drugged herself.
Focus. Someone in Calypso Pharma was siphoning the concentrated double-A, selling it to the Bazaar. I need to find out who that is. Cut off the supply, and the whole damn operation comes crashing down.
Chapter Five
ELSEWHERE...
Julius Lars, the second-most powerful man in the Pact, maintained a cool, vigilant composure as he scanned the thirty-odd men and women seated around the private room. Satisfied, he nodded at the hostesses, who streamed out of the room gracefully.
Good. Everyone’s here. He cleared his throat. “Evening, ladies and gents. I’ll skip to the point. The Boss—”
“Hold up. Why ain’t he here?”
Julius looked to the side, seeing a bare-chested, heavily tattooed man splayed on the couch. Ah, one of the ruffian leaders, Julius observed. They weren’t the most intelligent contributors to any discussion, but the Pact always had uses for their manpower. Julius resisted a scowl. Agitating them was not worth it.
“The Boss prefers not to be in a location where the leadership of the Pact can be taken out in one fell swoop,” he replied smoothly.
“Ugh,” the ruffian leader scoffed. “And we’re okay with that? Your boss doesn’t even trust his own nightclub’s security!”
Several other gang leaders echoed a similar sentiment, and Julius clenched his fist tightly. This was...aggravating. He lifted a remote, and pushed down on a button. The doors swung open and the hostesses streamed back in, each one holding a series of weapons ranging from silenced pistols to assault rifles. The hostesses glowered at the gang leader, who gulped.
Julius lowered the remote, nodding at the hostesses to leave. “I assure all of you that our club security is more than adequate at resisting an attack. Besides, my friends, we are at the top of the city’s hierarchy. No one, not rival gangs, not politicians, not police, not even NovaSec can touch us.”
He allowed himself a little grin, as this minor dally let him segue smoothly into the topic at hand. “No one but her.” He pressed a different button, and the large screen before the crowd clicked on, displaying an old image of the vigilante.
“This is Vigil, former member of the defunct vigilante group, the League of Protectors.”
A random Pact member spoke up. “The League? Weren’t they all killed or captured?”
“Not this one,” Julius said. “She evaded everyone, flew under the radar and now she has returned. In this single week we’ve lost three warehouses and significant stock of double-A. More critically, she raided Jack’s warehouse yesterday and may have obtained data that could...compromise our operations.”
A flurry of fearful whispers spread across the room, and Julius cleared his throat to gather their attention. “Worry not, my friends, for this is the very reason we are gathered here today. Mindshaper?”
A woman dressed in a purple overcoat looked up, the purple glow of her eyes masked behind thick, black shades.
“You still possess several unbroken mutants of the League, am I correct?”
“Just one, actually,” she replied.
“Scour her mind for information. Don’t break her like the others, I want information, not another mind-wiped slave.”
The woman scowled. “Those were accidents, Julius. Failed experiments.”
Julius rolled his eyes. Mindshaper was insane. No one had ever changed a person’s allegiance without breaking them before, there was simply no way to keep a person’s personalities and abilities without a complete mental reset. How many more test subjects would she need to shatter before she decided the Boss was right?
Still, mindwiped ex-heroines proved to be an amazing profit generator at the Bazaar’s brothels, and given enough time and training could possibly begin to harness their forgotten powers. Perhaps eventually, they could become enforcers for the Pact.
“Well, cease your experiments for a while, and focus on getting information,” he said. “I have a feeling this war will last for quite a while.”
ELSEWHERE...
Julius Lars, the second-most powerful man in the Pact, maintained a cool, vigilant composure as he scanned the thirty-odd men and women seated around the private room. Satisfied, he nodded at the hostesses, who streamed out of the room gracefully.
Good. Everyone’s here. He cleared his throat. “Evening, ladies and gents. I’ll skip to the point. The Boss—”
“Hold up. Why ain’t he here?”
Julius looked to the side, seeing a bare-chested, heavily tattooed man splayed on the couch. Ah, one of the ruffian leaders, Julius observed. They weren’t the most intelligent contributors to any discussion, but the Pact always had uses for their manpower. Julius resisted a scowl. Agitating them was not worth it.
“The Boss prefers not to be in a location where the leadership of the Pact can be taken out in one fell swoop,” he replied smoothly.
“Ugh,” the ruffian leader scoffed. “And we’re okay with that? Your boss doesn’t even trust his own nightclub’s security!”
Several other gang leaders echoed a similar sentiment, and Julius clenched his fist tightly. This was...aggravating. He lifted a remote, and pushed down on a button. The doors swung open and the hostesses streamed back in, each one holding a series of weapons ranging from silenced pistols to assault rifles. The hostesses glowered at the gang leader, who gulped.
Julius lowered the remote, nodding at the hostesses to leave. “I assure all of you that our club security is more than adequate at resisting an attack. Besides, my friends, we are at the top of the city’s hierarchy. No one, not rival gangs, not politicians, not police, not even NovaSec can touch us.”
He allowed himself a little grin, as this minor dally let him segue smoothly into the topic at hand. “No one but her.” He pressed a different button, and the large screen before the crowd clicked on, displaying an old image of the vigilante.
“This is Vigil, former member of the defunct vigilante group, the League of Protectors.”
A random Pact member spoke up. “The League? Weren’t they all killed or captured?”
“Not this one,” Julius said. “She evaded everyone, flew under the radar and now she has returned. In this single week we’ve lost three warehouses and significant stock of double-A. More critically, she raided Jack’s warehouse yesterday and may have obtained data that could...compromise our operations.”
A flurry of fearful whispers spread across the room, and Julius cleared his throat to gather their attention. “Worry not, my friends, for this is the very reason we are gathered here today. Mindshaper?”
A woman dressed in a purple overcoat looked up, the purple glow of her eyes masked behind thick, black shades.
“You still possess several unbroken mutants of the League, am I correct?”
“Just one, actually,” she replied.
“Scour her mind for information. Don’t break her like the others, I want information, not another mind-wiped slave.”
The woman scowled. “Those were accidents, Julius. Failed experiments.”
Julius rolled his eyes. Mindshaper was insane. No one had ever changed a person’s allegiance without breaking them before, there was simply no way to keep a person’s personalities and abilities without a complete mental reset. How many more test subjects would she need to shatter before she decided the Boss was right?
Still, mindwiped ex-heroines proved to be an amazing profit generator at the Bazaar’s brothels, and given enough time and training could possibly begin to harness their forgotten powers. Perhaps eventually, they could become enforcers for the Pact.
“Well, cease your experiments for a while, and focus on getting information,” he said. “I have a feeling this war will last for quite a while.”
Chapter Six
“Nno...not you...not with you...” Faith mumbled, feeling herself crumbling as his fingers rubbed her burning pussy. She made another half-hearted thrash against her bonds, groaning as the machine pulsed again, another powerful attack slamming against her failing mental barriers.
The Mentalist’s rubbing became more focused, his fingers bending into a fist as he pressed his knuckles against her pussy.
She let out a breathy moan as his ministrations quickened, and Faith watched, utterly absorbed by the pleasure as she brought her closer and closer to the brink of orgasm.
The machine pulsed once more, attacking her mind as her body was attacked by the villain. She was exhausted. She didn’t want to fight any more. Brought so close to climax, Faith was no longer forcing his hand away, instead grinding herself up against his hand, shamefully hoping for more as she let the machine whisper its toxic words in her mind.
She felt him gently lift her by the chin to look into his eyes.
“Master,” she whispered with sheer reverence.
--
Faith shot up from her bed, snapping her vision around. I’m at home, I’m at home. She looked at her hand, focusing on closing it into a fist, before slowly reopening it finger by finger. I’m in control. I’m in control. She looked down, a moment of shame descending on her as she felt the warm, wet reminder of her own arousal in between her legs.
She shut her eyes, inhaling deeply. I’m okay. Nightmares of Mentalist had been a frequent occurrence since her rescue from his clutches months ago, but she’d never had any of a sexual nature...until now.
Double-A. Faith had expected the effects of the narcotic to have run its course, but evidently it hadn’t. She sighed in exasperation, letting herself fall back on her soft bed. If weeks of therapy and mind-healing from Mindtwist couldn’t even stop him from dominating her dreams, what chance did she have of beating the real Mentalist in the future? Faith knew it was a matter of time.
She shuddered at that thought, before shaking her head and scowling at herself. I was careless and stupid. I won’t make the same mistake. She forced herself off the bed. She could worry about the Mentalist later. There was still more investigative work to do.
---
ACPD STATION
Police Chief Perry stood at his spot near the podium, leaving the sarge to do all the talking...as usual. Lynn rolled her eyes as she took a seat.
“Alright, folks,” Sergeant Kane said, “Last night our vigilante struck again, this time at a gang warehouse south of District Forty-Two. The gang was responsible for abducting women, drugging them with black market narcotics and selling them off to the Bazaar.”
Lynn tried to recall the pages she’d managed to read from the envelope. The vigilante had come to a similar conclusion, with many of the gang members of this group linked to a larger, deeper criminal organisation of kidnappers. Many of the missing women later appeared in several brothels.
“We managed to find several crates of double-A in the warehouse, and with the help of the women we recovered we may be able to track down the previous group of kidnapped women they sold,” the sergeant continued.
Lynn grimaced. Judging by the amount of drugs they were pumping the girls with and the prolonged period of time they’d spent kidnapped, rehabilitating them was going to be particularly difficult. Assuming they could be found in the first place.
“Now, the biggest question is...where did this small crew get the money to afford such a huge shipment? The good news is that chief here’s gotten us clearance to the crime scene from the sharks, so I want Linus and Bill there to search for more leads. Look for any stored money, transaction sheets, receipts, whatever.” The sergeant turned to Lynn. “Scott and Lynn, you two talk to the perps. See what you can flush out from them.”
“Got it, sarge.”
---
Faith growled, forcing her eyelids open against the numbing light of her laptop screen. Rooting out a drug trafficker from the thousands of employees Calypso employed was far, far harder than she’d anticipated. Every single employee was a potential suspect, and she’d needed to dredge up their histories, search up their social media feeds for suspicious activities, each action stealing precious time.
As she felt her eyes glazing over, Faith’s mind idly went to calculate the amount of sleep she’d gotten last night. Three...three freaking hours. She shook herself out of the trance, forcing herself to return to the screen.
This...is...so...draining. She swore the unending words on her screen were beginning to meld together as her eyelids grew heavier. She let herself fall onto her backrest, crunching her fingers around her brown hair. She glanced at the scroll bar to the right of the screen. Ten percent? I’m only ten percent through?
There must be a better way. There were so many facilities owned by Calypso throughout the city, how on earth was she expected to find the source of the smuggled goods?
She snapped her fingers. Of course. Such an operation would either require the cooperation of hundreds of staff, or would require theft. There were two possible methods of theft. Either the double-A was seized directly from a heavily guarded, well-defended facility, or the trucks containing said double-A were stolen when they were least protected. Logically speaking, the Pact couldn’t raid any facility without significant manpower and without making major headline news, so the latter was the likelier option. The trafficker would hence require access to the cargo manifests. Smiling, she keyed in the filter.
Four hundred results. Not good enough.
Given the confidential nature of the trucks’ contents, it was unlikely for the drivers to know what the contents were. Whoever arranged for their carjackings would need a high clearance level.
One hundred results. I can do better. Did the stolen shipments all have the same destination?
She typed in the search query, frowning when she couldn’t find any reports on that. It made sense. Stolen shipments probably weren’t a very important thing to report about. She had an alternative plan. Shutting her eyes, she called forth a very specific memory.
---
“Three!” Jack warned, his knife held tightly to Mary’s neck.
“I’ll do it, I’ll do it!” she said, her voice betraying her panic.
“Good...do it.”
She shot a glare at Jack, walking over to the wooden crate. She reached for a syringe...
---
And pause. In her mind’s eye, Faith recalled the label on the crate. She wasn’t focused on that at the time, but her enhanced memory allowed her to recall the label clearly. The crate was bound for a certain ‘Research Facility A2’.
Hah, bet you can’t do that, Mindtwist, Faith smirked. Alright. Filter by people with access to that facility, and...bingo. One result.
Doctor Anderson Ghash. One of the researchers who specialised in the psychological effects of narcotics and was part of the double-A research team. She scanned his profile. Judging from the many scandals of him being seen at several brothels and a rumoured association with the Pact, there was little doubt he was the trafficker.
It was time to pay him a visit.
~~~~~~~~~
And that's it for now. Still need to edit the rest, but hopefully this is a much better transition between 'action scenes' compared to the previous 'draft'. I'm still not sure about the internal feelings 'discussion' in Chapter 4: do you think it was done well? Or not? How do you portray someone's character through her thoughts, or do you do that at all?
“Nno...not you...not with you...” Faith mumbled, feeling herself crumbling as his fingers rubbed her burning pussy. She made another half-hearted thrash against her bonds, groaning as the machine pulsed again, another powerful attack slamming against her failing mental barriers.
The Mentalist’s rubbing became more focused, his fingers bending into a fist as he pressed his knuckles against her pussy.
She let out a breathy moan as his ministrations quickened, and Faith watched, utterly absorbed by the pleasure as she brought her closer and closer to the brink of orgasm.
The machine pulsed once more, attacking her mind as her body was attacked by the villain. She was exhausted. She didn’t want to fight any more. Brought so close to climax, Faith was no longer forcing his hand away, instead grinding herself up against his hand, shamefully hoping for more as she let the machine whisper its toxic words in her mind.
She felt him gently lift her by the chin to look into his eyes.
“Master,” she whispered with sheer reverence.
--
Faith shot up from her bed, snapping her vision around. I’m at home, I’m at home. She looked at her hand, focusing on closing it into a fist, before slowly reopening it finger by finger. I’m in control. I’m in control. She looked down, a moment of shame descending on her as she felt the warm, wet reminder of her own arousal in between her legs.
She shut her eyes, inhaling deeply. I’m okay. Nightmares of Mentalist had been a frequent occurrence since her rescue from his clutches months ago, but she’d never had any of a sexual nature...until now.
Double-A. Faith had expected the effects of the narcotic to have run its course, but evidently it hadn’t. She sighed in exasperation, letting herself fall back on her soft bed. If weeks of therapy and mind-healing from Mindtwist couldn’t even stop him from dominating her dreams, what chance did she have of beating the real Mentalist in the future? Faith knew it was a matter of time.
She shuddered at that thought, before shaking her head and scowling at herself. I was careless and stupid. I won’t make the same mistake. She forced herself off the bed. She could worry about the Mentalist later. There was still more investigative work to do.
---
ACPD STATION
Police Chief Perry stood at his spot near the podium, leaving the sarge to do all the talking...as usual. Lynn rolled her eyes as she took a seat.
“Alright, folks,” Sergeant Kane said, “Last night our vigilante struck again, this time at a gang warehouse south of District Forty-Two. The gang was responsible for abducting women, drugging them with black market narcotics and selling them off to the Bazaar.”
Lynn tried to recall the pages she’d managed to read from the envelope. The vigilante had come to a similar conclusion, with many of the gang members of this group linked to a larger, deeper criminal organisation of kidnappers. Many of the missing women later appeared in several brothels.
“We managed to find several crates of double-A in the warehouse, and with the help of the women we recovered we may be able to track down the previous group of kidnapped women they sold,” the sergeant continued.
Lynn grimaced. Judging by the amount of drugs they were pumping the girls with and the prolonged period of time they’d spent kidnapped, rehabilitating them was going to be particularly difficult. Assuming they could be found in the first place.
“Now, the biggest question is...where did this small crew get the money to afford such a huge shipment? The good news is that chief here’s gotten us clearance to the crime scene from the sharks, so I want Linus and Bill there to search for more leads. Look for any stored money, transaction sheets, receipts, whatever.” The sergeant turned to Lynn. “Scott and Lynn, you two talk to the perps. See what you can flush out from them.”
“Got it, sarge.”
---
Faith growled, forcing her eyelids open against the numbing light of her laptop screen. Rooting out a drug trafficker from the thousands of employees Calypso employed was far, far harder than she’d anticipated. Every single employee was a potential suspect, and she’d needed to dredge up their histories, search up their social media feeds for suspicious activities, each action stealing precious time.
As she felt her eyes glazing over, Faith’s mind idly went to calculate the amount of sleep she’d gotten last night. Three...three freaking hours. She shook herself out of the trance, forcing herself to return to the screen.
This...is...so...draining. She swore the unending words on her screen were beginning to meld together as her eyelids grew heavier. She let herself fall onto her backrest, crunching her fingers around her brown hair. She glanced at the scroll bar to the right of the screen. Ten percent? I’m only ten percent through?
There must be a better way. There were so many facilities owned by Calypso throughout the city, how on earth was she expected to find the source of the smuggled goods?
She snapped her fingers. Of course. Such an operation would either require the cooperation of hundreds of staff, or would require theft. There were two possible methods of theft. Either the double-A was seized directly from a heavily guarded, well-defended facility, or the trucks containing said double-A were stolen when they were least protected. Logically speaking, the Pact couldn’t raid any facility without significant manpower and without making major headline news, so the latter was the likelier option. The trafficker would hence require access to the cargo manifests. Smiling, she keyed in the filter.
Four hundred results. Not good enough.
Given the confidential nature of the trucks’ contents, it was unlikely for the drivers to know what the contents were. Whoever arranged for their carjackings would need a high clearance level.
One hundred results. I can do better. Did the stolen shipments all have the same destination?
She typed in the search query, frowning when she couldn’t find any reports on that. It made sense. Stolen shipments probably weren’t a very important thing to report about. She had an alternative plan. Shutting her eyes, she called forth a very specific memory.
---
“Three!” Jack warned, his knife held tightly to Mary’s neck.
“I’ll do it, I’ll do it!” she said, her voice betraying her panic.
“Good...do it.”
She shot a glare at Jack, walking over to the wooden crate. She reached for a syringe...
---
And pause. In her mind’s eye, Faith recalled the label on the crate. She wasn’t focused on that at the time, but her enhanced memory allowed her to recall the label clearly. The crate was bound for a certain ‘Research Facility A2’.
Hah, bet you can’t do that, Mindtwist, Faith smirked. Alright. Filter by people with access to that facility, and...bingo. One result.
Doctor Anderson Ghash. One of the researchers who specialised in the psychological effects of narcotics and was part of the double-A research team. She scanned his profile. Judging from the many scandals of him being seen at several brothels and a rumoured association with the Pact, there was little doubt he was the trafficker.
It was time to pay him a visit.
~~~~~~~~~
And that's it for now. Still need to edit the rest, but hopefully this is a much better transition between 'action scenes' compared to the previous 'draft'. I'm still not sure about the internal feelings 'discussion' in Chapter 4: do you think it was done well? Or not? How do you portray someone's character through her thoughts, or do you do that at all?
-
bare_thighz
- Henchman
- Posts: 56
- Joined: 10 years ago
Vigil's humiliation in Chapter Two was mind-blowing. Keep up the good work.
Chapter Seven
CALYPSO PHARMA RESEARCH FACILITY A2, 11PM
Vigil pulled herself up the ledge, vaulting over to the roof of the building. She frowned at the cold droplets of rain falling from the heavens. Why is it always raining? From her position, she had a perfect view of the facility, a six storey building with quite possibly a large underground section. Fortunately, Doctor Ghash’s office was on the fourth storey. From spying on the communications within the company’s intranet, she’d learnt Ghash stayed at work until around midnight every day.
The barbed wire and sole watchtower guarding the main road made the facility stand out from its surrounding buildings. Dropping her stakeout bag on the floor, she took out her binoculars. Zooming in to the watchtower, Vigil smiled as she recognised the weapon.
---
“That’s a variant of the FN-MAG,” Angie said, “Stands for...Fabreek Na...nation-ell...” She frowned through her mask, fishing her notebook from the haversack they’d brought. Angie was in her vigilante uniform, donning the bright colours of Lightraye.
“Is this really necessary?” Vigil whispered.
“No, not at the moment,” her older sister responded with a cheeky grin. She skimmed through her notebook, illuminating it with a dim light emitted from her palm. “Aha! Fahbreek...nation-ell...mit-rel-loose dappuu...general..?” she managed, utterly mangling the pronunciation.
“And...what good did that serve?”
“It stands for general support machine gun, we use something similar on our ships, it fires at a rate of six hundred and fifty to a thousand rounds per minute, and—”
“So it shoots fast,” Vigil snapped, “Can we please get on with this?”
“Fine, fine!” Lightraye said, rolling her eyes. She closed her hand into a fist, the light from her palm extinguishing as she snapped the book close. “Let’s do this.”
---
Vigil’s smile faded, reminded once again that Angie was missing. I’ll find you, sis.
Her eyes shifted to the guard. He was dozing openly, his head slumped over the black stock of the gun. Vigil’s smile returned. “For now,” she said under her breath, “let’s do this.”
---
She saw the man through the window. The doctor was at his desk, his attention absorbed by a book he was reading. Shutting her eyes, she felt for the mental presences of people in the building. Good. There was only one other person on this floor, and he was about five rooms away.
She slid through the window. “Hello, doctor,” she said confidently, walking forward to lock the door.
The doctor looked up from his book. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Ah, the brave vigilante of our city. Honoured to meet you.”
“Cut the act,” Vigil resisted the urge to cough. Whatever his office used as an air freshener was awfully sweet. “I know you’re responsible for selling double-A to the Bazaar.”
“Why, Ms. Vigil, I have no idea what you’re talking—”
She felt a faint prickling of anticipation in him. “Hands up, doc.” If all else failed, she could always knock him out and kidnap him. For obvious reasons it remained a last resort.
“Hmm. Truly remarkable, the mind of a psychic is,” the doctor murmured as he slowly placed his open palms on the desk.
He was hiding something. Vigil could feel it. But what? Better to be cautious, she said to herself, watching him intently as she crept forward step by step. It became increasingly apparent the scent of the air was an acquired taste, as Vigil found it surprisingly...nice. She took a hesitant breath, and sighed. It was...relaxing.
“Some might say having such powers makes one...arrogant.”
Vigil didn’t respond, taking another deep breath in. So sweet.
“I saw activity from long-inactive company accounts on the network earlier. That was you?”
“You knew I was coming. Why not run?” she asked, rousing herself from the strange sense of relaxation she found herself in.
Ghash shrugged. “Testing a theory of mine. You could’ve passed the evidence along to the police, but you chose to risk injury and death coming here personally.”
She was at his desk, staring off against the seated doctor. “And you think it has to do with arrogance?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I think you’re trying to prove something.”
Vigil scoffed. What a stuck-up dolt. She opened her mouth to reply, but found it much better, much more relaxing to take yet another deep breath.
“No...you want to prove something. To who, exactly? The police? The public? ...yourself?”
Vigil shook her head. Not to disagree — she’d lost track of what he was saying several words ago — but from lethargy. Probably another consequence of sleeping for three hours, she decided. Focus.
“Trying to prove yourself because of a previous failure of yours?”
Vigil growled. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“Perhaps a certain event four months ago, where you lost to the Ment—”
“Shut up!” she slammed a gloved fist on the desk, the sound echoing through the quiet night. Her eyes widened at her mistake.
“Uhh, doctor Ghash? You alright in there?” a voice called from the door. Vigil glared at him.
“Yes, Matthew, everything’s under control,” he called back, his eyes meeting hers cautiously.
A silence ensued. Why am I letting him dictate the conversation? Vigil found her mind increasingly muddy, finding it increasingly hard to think.
“I assume you’re going to invade my mind now, find out the Bazaar’s secrets, maybe influence me to stop assisting the Pact.”
“Yes,” she glared. And find out how the hell you knew about that. “You’re not gonna try and stop me, are you?”
“On the contrary,” the doctor said, leaning his head forward for better access. “I’m interested to see where this goes.”
“Me too,” she said, bringing a gloved hand to his unresisting head. Her eyes flashed white, and...
She gasped, feeling sharp pain in her head.
“Yes, I find that double-A tends to inhibit mutant powers as a side effect.”
“N-no. That’s...impossible. You didn’t—” Vigil slurred.
“Arrogance as I anticipated, Ms. Vigil. All this while you’ve been breathing in a recent concoction of mine, an aerosol form of double-A.” He smiled.
She felt light-headed. Ugh...need to get out of here. She stumbled, falling clumsily on the ground. Get up. Get up!
“It’s not perfect, of course, which is why direct application is always more effective.”
Through blurry eyes she saw him cross over from his end, holding a familiar-looking syringe. “No!” She swept his leg, sending him falling to the ground.
Scrambling to her feet, Vigil grabbed onto a bookshelf for support as she limped for the window. She heard an undignified snarl behind her, and a hand grasp her ankle. She lost her balance, her face slamming painfully into the ground.
She groaned, momentarily stunned as spots began dancing in her vision. Before she could recover she felt a foot plunge into her stomach. She cried out as the sharp, throbbing pain cut into her gut.
Through starry vision she saw the man towering above her. Fight. Gritting her teeth, she threw a kick upwards which he dodged and went low, letting his body collapse onto hers and knocking the wind out of her lungs.
She struggled against his weight, thrashing against his body until she felt a sharp, prickling pain of a needle against her neck. Vigil stiffened.
CALYPSO PHARMA RESEARCH FACILITY A2, 11PM
Vigil pulled herself up the ledge, vaulting over to the roof of the building. She frowned at the cold droplets of rain falling from the heavens. Why is it always raining? From her position, she had a perfect view of the facility, a six storey building with quite possibly a large underground section. Fortunately, Doctor Ghash’s office was on the fourth storey. From spying on the communications within the company’s intranet, she’d learnt Ghash stayed at work until around midnight every day.
The barbed wire and sole watchtower guarding the main road made the facility stand out from its surrounding buildings. Dropping her stakeout bag on the floor, she took out her binoculars. Zooming in to the watchtower, Vigil smiled as she recognised the weapon.
---
“That’s a variant of the FN-MAG,” Angie said, “Stands for...Fabreek Na...nation-ell...” She frowned through her mask, fishing her notebook from the haversack they’d brought. Angie was in her vigilante uniform, donning the bright colours of Lightraye.
“Is this really necessary?” Vigil whispered.
“No, not at the moment,” her older sister responded with a cheeky grin. She skimmed through her notebook, illuminating it with a dim light emitted from her palm. “Aha! Fahbreek...nation-ell...mit-rel-loose dappuu...general..?” she managed, utterly mangling the pronunciation.
“And...what good did that serve?”
“It stands for general support machine gun, we use something similar on our ships, it fires at a rate of six hundred and fifty to a thousand rounds per minute, and—”
“So it shoots fast,” Vigil snapped, “Can we please get on with this?”
“Fine, fine!” Lightraye said, rolling her eyes. She closed her hand into a fist, the light from her palm extinguishing as she snapped the book close. “Let’s do this.”
---
Vigil’s smile faded, reminded once again that Angie was missing. I’ll find you, sis.
Her eyes shifted to the guard. He was dozing openly, his head slumped over the black stock of the gun. Vigil’s smile returned. “For now,” she said under her breath, “let’s do this.”
---
She saw the man through the window. The doctor was at his desk, his attention absorbed by a book he was reading. Shutting her eyes, she felt for the mental presences of people in the building. Good. There was only one other person on this floor, and he was about five rooms away.
She slid through the window. “Hello, doctor,” she said confidently, walking forward to lock the door.
The doctor looked up from his book. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Ah, the brave vigilante of our city. Honoured to meet you.”
“Cut the act,” Vigil resisted the urge to cough. Whatever his office used as an air freshener was awfully sweet. “I know you’re responsible for selling double-A to the Bazaar.”
“Why, Ms. Vigil, I have no idea what you’re talking—”
She felt a faint prickling of anticipation in him. “Hands up, doc.” If all else failed, she could always knock him out and kidnap him. For obvious reasons it remained a last resort.
“Hmm. Truly remarkable, the mind of a psychic is,” the doctor murmured as he slowly placed his open palms on the desk.
He was hiding something. Vigil could feel it. But what? Better to be cautious, she said to herself, watching him intently as she crept forward step by step. It became increasingly apparent the scent of the air was an acquired taste, as Vigil found it surprisingly...nice. She took a hesitant breath, and sighed. It was...relaxing.
“Some might say having such powers makes one...arrogant.”
Vigil didn’t respond, taking another deep breath in. So sweet.
“I saw activity from long-inactive company accounts on the network earlier. That was you?”
“You knew I was coming. Why not run?” she asked, rousing herself from the strange sense of relaxation she found herself in.
Ghash shrugged. “Testing a theory of mine. You could’ve passed the evidence along to the police, but you chose to risk injury and death coming here personally.”
She was at his desk, staring off against the seated doctor. “And you think it has to do with arrogance?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I think you’re trying to prove something.”
Vigil scoffed. What a stuck-up dolt. She opened her mouth to reply, but found it much better, much more relaxing to take yet another deep breath.
“No...you want to prove something. To who, exactly? The police? The public? ...yourself?”
Vigil shook her head. Not to disagree — she’d lost track of what he was saying several words ago — but from lethargy. Probably another consequence of sleeping for three hours, she decided. Focus.
“Trying to prove yourself because of a previous failure of yours?”
Vigil growled. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“Perhaps a certain event four months ago, where you lost to the Ment—”
“Shut up!” she slammed a gloved fist on the desk, the sound echoing through the quiet night. Her eyes widened at her mistake.
“Uhh, doctor Ghash? You alright in there?” a voice called from the door. Vigil glared at him.
“Yes, Matthew, everything’s under control,” he called back, his eyes meeting hers cautiously.
A silence ensued. Why am I letting him dictate the conversation? Vigil found her mind increasingly muddy, finding it increasingly hard to think.
“I assume you’re going to invade my mind now, find out the Bazaar’s secrets, maybe influence me to stop assisting the Pact.”
“Yes,” she glared. And find out how the hell you knew about that. “You’re not gonna try and stop me, are you?”
“On the contrary,” the doctor said, leaning his head forward for better access. “I’m interested to see where this goes.”
“Me too,” she said, bringing a gloved hand to his unresisting head. Her eyes flashed white, and...
She gasped, feeling sharp pain in her head.
“Yes, I find that double-A tends to inhibit mutant powers as a side effect.”
“N-no. That’s...impossible. You didn’t—” Vigil slurred.
“Arrogance as I anticipated, Ms. Vigil. All this while you’ve been breathing in a recent concoction of mine, an aerosol form of double-A.” He smiled.
She felt light-headed. Ugh...need to get out of here. She stumbled, falling clumsily on the ground. Get up. Get up!
“It’s not perfect, of course, which is why direct application is always more effective.”
Through blurry eyes she saw him cross over from his end, holding a familiar-looking syringe. “No!” She swept his leg, sending him falling to the ground.
Scrambling to her feet, Vigil grabbed onto a bookshelf for support as she limped for the window. She heard an undignified snarl behind her, and a hand grasp her ankle. She lost her balance, her face slamming painfully into the ground.
She groaned, momentarily stunned as spots began dancing in her vision. Before she could recover she felt a foot plunge into her stomach. She cried out as the sharp, throbbing pain cut into her gut.
Through starry vision she saw the man towering above her. Fight. Gritting her teeth, she threw a kick upwards which he dodged and went low, letting his body collapse onto hers and knocking the wind out of her lungs.
She struggled against his weight, thrashing against his body until she felt a sharp, prickling pain of a needle against her neck. Vigil stiffened.
Chapter Eight
Anderson Ghash let out a sigh of relief, pulling away as the vigilante’s struggles slowed. Her brown eyes widened, darting around wildly as she reacted to the chemical. Her face was visibly flushed, her jaw dropping as she heaved in heavy breaths.
“Ninety-percent pure double-A. How do you like it?”
The writhing woman shut her eyes through the mask, her hands balled up into tight fists. Anderson knew she was trying to resist the serum. Anderson also knew she would fail.
“I...I...” the vigilante managed through aroused pants, “I fucking hate you!”
“Still fighting, I see.” Anderson crouched down, leaning close to her ear. “You know it’s only a matter of time, right?” He brought his hand up to her cheek, brushing her soft skin and drawing a sharp hiss from her lips.
“S-stop...” she protested, near-pleadingly.
“Just surrender, Miss Vigil. You’ve resisted far longer than most...most would’ve been on their knees by the time they’d reached my desk.” Another little nugget of information that Ghash hoped would appeal to her ego. “You’ve fought longer than anyone. You can give in now,” he said, stroking her brown hair lightly.
“No...” She shook her head as she religiously kept her eyes shut. “F-fuck off. Fuck off!” she lashed out with a blind punch.
Anderson winced, rubbing his chin as he looked back at her. “Feisty.”
---
Fight...fight! She bit her lip hard, focusing on the sharp pang of pain to regain control. Bit by bit, her quivering arm dipped down, reaching for her shock baton. It was...gone? Her eyes opening in shock, she saw the grinning doctor before her holding her utility belt.
No...
Her eyes followed the belt as the doctor threw it to the side. Vigil couldn’t help the hollow feeling of hopelessness shooting through her, along with that intoxicating drug whispering for her to give in. Everything was going wrong so quickly, and she struggled to keep up, struggled to maintain a hold on herself. His words were a toxic poison worming themselves into her mind, tempting her to give in like she’d always wanted to.
And as his words echoed in her mind, so too did the buzzing of the aphrodisiac, lavishing her mind with a thick layer of arousal, every thought and emotion twisted into lust. Vigil barely noticed as he knelt over her.
She shook her head, trying to raise a hand to resist but found them both pinned under her knees. She let out a whine of frustration, and was shocked at how pathetic she sounded. She was a heroine, a superheroine of the League, and yet...and yet...
She felt it. A large, hard shaft pressing against her through her thin clothing. Her eyes shot to the bulge in his pants instantly, and as if to spite her the warmth in her legs had intensified to an aching, hollow itch aching to be filled. Vigil rubbed her inner thighs together in a desperate attempt to sate that itch.
As if to reward her, a dizzying, unexpected wave of pleasure emerged from her loins, and in a moment of weakness she let out a soft moan. She turned white, seeing his evil grin as she betrayed her own arousal.
She was losing. She knew she was losing the fight, yet...she began to realise she didn’t really know what she was fighting for in the first place. She felt his bulge slowly rubbing against her crotch, gasping as she felt his palms land on her breasts through the material of her clothing.
“That’s it my dear, lose yourself to it...”
Lose yourself...She sank her head into the carpet, feeling him run his hands along her sides. As if it sensed her hesitation, the drug dug in deeper in her mind, a sense of euphoric relaxation settling in her body. It was bliss.
Her eyes wandered lazily around the room as he groped her through her clothes. Everything seemed to be noticeably brighter around her, a pink hue descending on the sides of her vision as a feeling of weightlessness bubbled from within her. Was she fighting? A lazy grin crossed her features. Feels good...why would anyone fight this?
“You feel it, don’t you?” he said as he leaned in close to her ear.
She couldn’t help but shiver at the closeness of his voice. She felt the intensity, the heat from his lips tantalisingly close to her ear..
“It’s interesting. Ten doses of this wouldn’t even give the weakest man on Earth a minor headache, yet give one dose to a woman...”
His breath coated her ear with its heat, driving her crazy.
His ministrations paused at her waist, forcing a frustrated sigh to escape her lips. Yet she didn’t react, content to relinquish control to him. She loved to be controlled, loved to be dominated like the slut she was.
His fingers dipped beneath her shirt, the cold air of the environment caressing her toned stomach as the doctor raised her shirt higher and higher. Her mind went blank as his fingers crept under her bra.
“How does it feel, my dear?” he whispered in that husky, sexy voice, emphasising it with a light brush over her hard nipples.
Oh... she shivered from his touch. At some level she knew he was manipulating her, seducing her, at some level she realised she was being forced against her will, and yet...he was so good at it.
“I saw the video, you know,” he said, his fingertips tracing along the sides of her naked mounds. With each round they crept closer and closer to her nipples, slowly building up her anticipation yet never truly filling her need. “I saw you begging the Mentalist for more.”
The teasing was too much, and Vigil let out a coo, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. She hissed, feeling her breasts being exposed to the elements as he pulled her bra down. Idly tracing her areolas, he leaned in close to her ear. “I know deep down there is a hot, sexy little slut aching to be free.”
The cold air sent a chill down her spine, momentarily pulling her out of her trance. Vigil could already feel the drug clawing after her, threatening to drag her back down. What...what am I doing? I need to fight...he’s...he’s a monster, I can’t allow this...
“I...I can’t...” she whimpered, feeling so weak, so submissive, so...with immense reluctance she ripped her stare from his beautiful eyes, throwing a desperate glance at the open window just a few metres away. If I could...if I could...
She stiffened, feeling his hand cupping her chin, guiding her back to look upon him.
“There’s no running away from this, my little slut,” he whispered, leaning in to land a soft kiss on her cheek.
She was spiralling out of control. Her jaw fell open as she felt his wet, hot tongue slide down her neck to her collarbone, leaving a trail of warm saliva that set her skin aflame. His lips continued downwards, suckling and kissing her overstimulated skin, drawing soft, shy moans from her lips.
It hurt. It hurt so much not to go along, not to give in to the crushing pain against her temples that promised to turn into pleasure if she would just give in. She cried out in pleasure as his lip captured her nipple, suckling lightly as he played with her other breast.
Hungry for more, Vigil arched her back, pressing herself up into his mouth, her own vocalisations increasing in volume as she willingly let him take her down a path of depravity. She recalled the drugged, lusty looks of the kidnapped women in the van the night before, and in that moment she understood. She understood why they would give in, she understood that it was so much harder to fight when there wasn’t nothing to fight in the first place. It was so easy to surrender, to lose herself in the rush, to let him take control. Vigil never felt more alive.
She felt his hands grip his wrist, guiding her hand down, dipping it beneath her panties. “Touch yourself,” he whispered, following it up with a teasing lick along her earlobe.
Touch yourself. His dominating voice echoed in her mind as she stared at the ceiling, the very act of obeying sending titillating buzzes through her nerves. She trembled with excitement, dragging a finger up her labia, feeling the raw heat emanating from her moist pussy.
Touch yourself. Her thumb pressed against her aching clit as she heard her own shameless moan echo through the room.
Touch yourself. Her hips bucked against her own hand as she slid her fingers into her folds, her fingers rapidly growing slick with lubrication. Oh...yes...slut... She writhed against her fingers, hearing her own slutty cries echoing against the walls as the doctor dragged his tongue along the sensitive side of her neck, rising slowly into a hungry kiss locking around her lips.
Touch yourself. She embraced the kiss, letting his tongue explore her mouth. She whined as he pulled away from the kiss, still undulating herself against her finger and his hardness through the clothes separating them. She gazed deeply into his eyes, imagining it was his hard, thick cock that was sinking into her aching pussy, imagining him railing her. In her mind’s eye his strong arms would wrap around her, letting his girthy rod plunge in deeper, and deeper, and deeper, and...
“Ah...ah...ah!” Faith moaned submissively, the drug-fueled orgasm taking her by surprise as sopping juices drenched her fingers and panties. She jerked up hard, her own fingers dragging her into a second crushing wave of a climax, her face locked in pure admiration at the adonis who had tamed her.
“Beautiful,” the doctor grinned widely. Faith didn’t resist as he pulled her dripping hand out, guiding her drenched finger past her parted lips.
Sweet. Tastes sweet. Faith thought dully to herself. There was no shame, no humiliation, only a numb sense of finality. She let herself sink deeper, wallowing in it as she licked her fingers obediently, letting the taste of her defeat coat her tongue.
Everything seemed to dim, darken in the wake of her explosive climax. She sighed contently, letting her head fall back onto the carpet. She was exhausted, yet...yet she craved for more. Faith wanted more of the drug. It wasn’t just an aphrodisiac, it was an escape, an escape for her to throw aside her inhibitions —all of them— before she could begin to fathom her own humiliation. Her humiliation...
Vigil’s eyes widened in horror. Too late.
Anderson laughed, seeing the shock in the vigilante’s eyes. Sure, he’d assisted at some points, but it was her who had led herself down the path. He almost pitied the girl.
He rose from his position, feeling his hard erection aching to fuck the brains out of her. But no...that would be too easy, and it could wait. He carefully picked up another syringe from the drawer beneath his desk, walking back to the girl’s side. He waved it in front of her lightless eyes.
“...do it. Just...just finish this,” she said hollowly, not even bothering to look at him or to cover up.
He smiled. “No. I want you to do it.” He placed the syringe in her hand.
Vigil looked down at the syringe. She could still feel the shame creeping back into her mind, reminding her of her failures and defeats. I...I don’t need to live with the shame anymore... The drug whispered to her, promising to take them away.
She could feel her lust, the dark part of her mind craving for more, the dark part of her mind that desired to be taken, dominated, fulfilled. I...I can have more. The drug cooed to her, promising to give her pleasure beyond her wildest dreams.
Anderson watched the vigilante stare blankly at the syringe, before she positioned it at her forearm. Just as he had expected. He almost felt a sense of nostalgia when he looked upon her crestfallen face, wishing he’d recorded her fall from confident, arrogant heroine to his personal sex slave.
Vigil heard a familiar voice.
---
“What are you doing, Faith?”
“I can’t do this. I can’t live like this anymore. I’ve suffered nothing but defeats. I’ve been outsmarted, outclassed, beaten, humiliated...”
Mindtwist crouched over her, a grin crossing her features. “I didn’t know you memorised a thesaurus.”
Faith ignored her joke, dropping her eyes to the syringe. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”
Mindtwist sighed, letting her bum sink to the ground as she sat next to Faith. She took her sunglasses off.
Faith sneered. “I suppose you’re gonna make me look into your purple eyes and tell me everything’s gonna be okay.”
Her mentor snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a figment of your imagination, I can’t do that.” She looked into the distance, shaking her head. “Fuck, Faith...you really think you’re so god-damned special?”
“What?”
“You’re not. All of us have lost before. All of us have been defeated, over and over and over and over and over again.”
Faith shook her head. “You haven’t been humiliated. Not like this.”
Mindtwist looked darkly at her. “You’d be surprised.” Her look softened as she reached over, taking the syringe from Faith’s unresisting hand. “I’m not here to tell you everything is gonna be okay.”
Mindtwist threw a disgusted look at the syringe before throwing it to the side. “It’s not, Faith. The point is, we get back up and keep trying. We keep fighting until we win. Until then, we lose — again, and again, and again. That’s part of the deal.”
“That’s a pretty crappy deal.”
Mindtwist laughed. “It is. Especially for you, my dear apprentice. But we don’t do it for ourselves. We do it for the people out there — the ones we care about.”
Faith looked back up at the ceiling. “Angie,” she whispered.
“And me! Don’t you dare forget about me.”
Faith couldn’t resist a smile.
Mindtwist looked wistfully out the window. She rose, turning back to look at Faith. “Get up, Faith. You’re all we’ve got, don’t you give up on me.”
---
“Mindtwist,” the vigilante murmured.
“Excuse me?” Anderson frowned.
A strange smile crossed her soft features. “She was my mentor back before the Purge.”
“Uh...huh.” Anderson scratched his head. This wasn’t abnormal. Many of the women he’d personally had the fortune of breaking usually had some sort of mental farewell to their old selves before fully embracing their future lives as sex slaves. The way he saw it, allowing it was almost...respectful. Man, I’m such a good person, Anderson thought sardonically.
“She was a master in the mental arts, and helped heal my mind after I lost to Mentalist.”
“...right.” How long was this going to take? His cock was really aching at this point.
“You know why I’m telling you this, doctor?”
Anderson rolled his eyes, shrugging.
“So you know who to find to put your broken fucking mind back together.” Her blank expression warped into a horrifying snarl, as she shot her leg out, knocking Anderson to the ground.
Impossible. This was impossible. She was drugged, broken, defeated. This was impossible. He struggled in her vicious grasp, taken aback by her sudden strength as she clamped a palm painfully over his face. He watched in horror as her eyes shone white—
Anderson Ghash let out a sigh of relief, pulling away as the vigilante’s struggles slowed. Her brown eyes widened, darting around wildly as she reacted to the chemical. Her face was visibly flushed, her jaw dropping as she heaved in heavy breaths.
“Ninety-percent pure double-A. How do you like it?”
The writhing woman shut her eyes through the mask, her hands balled up into tight fists. Anderson knew she was trying to resist the serum. Anderson also knew she would fail.
“I...I...” the vigilante managed through aroused pants, “I fucking hate you!”
“Still fighting, I see.” Anderson crouched down, leaning close to her ear. “You know it’s only a matter of time, right?” He brought his hand up to her cheek, brushing her soft skin and drawing a sharp hiss from her lips.
“S-stop...” she protested, near-pleadingly.
“Just surrender, Miss Vigil. You’ve resisted far longer than most...most would’ve been on their knees by the time they’d reached my desk.” Another little nugget of information that Ghash hoped would appeal to her ego. “You’ve fought longer than anyone. You can give in now,” he said, stroking her brown hair lightly.
“No...” She shook her head as she religiously kept her eyes shut. “F-fuck off. Fuck off!” she lashed out with a blind punch.
Anderson winced, rubbing his chin as he looked back at her. “Feisty.”
---
Fight...fight! She bit her lip hard, focusing on the sharp pang of pain to regain control. Bit by bit, her quivering arm dipped down, reaching for her shock baton. It was...gone? Her eyes opening in shock, she saw the grinning doctor before her holding her utility belt.
No...
Her eyes followed the belt as the doctor threw it to the side. Vigil couldn’t help the hollow feeling of hopelessness shooting through her, along with that intoxicating drug whispering for her to give in. Everything was going wrong so quickly, and she struggled to keep up, struggled to maintain a hold on herself. His words were a toxic poison worming themselves into her mind, tempting her to give in like she’d always wanted to.
And as his words echoed in her mind, so too did the buzzing of the aphrodisiac, lavishing her mind with a thick layer of arousal, every thought and emotion twisted into lust. Vigil barely noticed as he knelt over her.
She shook her head, trying to raise a hand to resist but found them both pinned under her knees. She let out a whine of frustration, and was shocked at how pathetic she sounded. She was a heroine, a superheroine of the League, and yet...and yet...
She felt it. A large, hard shaft pressing against her through her thin clothing. Her eyes shot to the bulge in his pants instantly, and as if to spite her the warmth in her legs had intensified to an aching, hollow itch aching to be filled. Vigil rubbed her inner thighs together in a desperate attempt to sate that itch.
As if to reward her, a dizzying, unexpected wave of pleasure emerged from her loins, and in a moment of weakness she let out a soft moan. She turned white, seeing his evil grin as she betrayed her own arousal.
She was losing. She knew she was losing the fight, yet...she began to realise she didn’t really know what she was fighting for in the first place. She felt his bulge slowly rubbing against her crotch, gasping as she felt his palms land on her breasts through the material of her clothing.
“That’s it my dear, lose yourself to it...”
Lose yourself...She sank her head into the carpet, feeling him run his hands along her sides. As if it sensed her hesitation, the drug dug in deeper in her mind, a sense of euphoric relaxation settling in her body. It was bliss.
Her eyes wandered lazily around the room as he groped her through her clothes. Everything seemed to be noticeably brighter around her, a pink hue descending on the sides of her vision as a feeling of weightlessness bubbled from within her. Was she fighting? A lazy grin crossed her features. Feels good...why would anyone fight this?
“You feel it, don’t you?” he said as he leaned in close to her ear.
She couldn’t help but shiver at the closeness of his voice. She felt the intensity, the heat from his lips tantalisingly close to her ear..
“It’s interesting. Ten doses of this wouldn’t even give the weakest man on Earth a minor headache, yet give one dose to a woman...”
His breath coated her ear with its heat, driving her crazy.
His ministrations paused at her waist, forcing a frustrated sigh to escape her lips. Yet she didn’t react, content to relinquish control to him. She loved to be controlled, loved to be dominated like the slut she was.
His fingers dipped beneath her shirt, the cold air of the environment caressing her toned stomach as the doctor raised her shirt higher and higher. Her mind went blank as his fingers crept under her bra.
“How does it feel, my dear?” he whispered in that husky, sexy voice, emphasising it with a light brush over her hard nipples.
Oh... she shivered from his touch. At some level she knew he was manipulating her, seducing her, at some level she realised she was being forced against her will, and yet...he was so good at it.
“I saw the video, you know,” he said, his fingertips tracing along the sides of her naked mounds. With each round they crept closer and closer to her nipples, slowly building up her anticipation yet never truly filling her need. “I saw you begging the Mentalist for more.”
The teasing was too much, and Vigil let out a coo, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. She hissed, feeling her breasts being exposed to the elements as he pulled her bra down. Idly tracing her areolas, he leaned in close to her ear. “I know deep down there is a hot, sexy little slut aching to be free.”
The cold air sent a chill down her spine, momentarily pulling her out of her trance. Vigil could already feel the drug clawing after her, threatening to drag her back down. What...what am I doing? I need to fight...he’s...he’s a monster, I can’t allow this...
“I...I can’t...” she whimpered, feeling so weak, so submissive, so...with immense reluctance she ripped her stare from his beautiful eyes, throwing a desperate glance at the open window just a few metres away. If I could...if I could...
She stiffened, feeling his hand cupping her chin, guiding her back to look upon him.
“There’s no running away from this, my little slut,” he whispered, leaning in to land a soft kiss on her cheek.
She was spiralling out of control. Her jaw fell open as she felt his wet, hot tongue slide down her neck to her collarbone, leaving a trail of warm saliva that set her skin aflame. His lips continued downwards, suckling and kissing her overstimulated skin, drawing soft, shy moans from her lips.
It hurt. It hurt so much not to go along, not to give in to the crushing pain against her temples that promised to turn into pleasure if she would just give in. She cried out in pleasure as his lip captured her nipple, suckling lightly as he played with her other breast.
Hungry for more, Vigil arched her back, pressing herself up into his mouth, her own vocalisations increasing in volume as she willingly let him take her down a path of depravity. She recalled the drugged, lusty looks of the kidnapped women in the van the night before, and in that moment she understood. She understood why they would give in, she understood that it was so much harder to fight when there wasn’t nothing to fight in the first place. It was so easy to surrender, to lose herself in the rush, to let him take control. Vigil never felt more alive.
She felt his hands grip his wrist, guiding her hand down, dipping it beneath her panties. “Touch yourself,” he whispered, following it up with a teasing lick along her earlobe.
Touch yourself. His dominating voice echoed in her mind as she stared at the ceiling, the very act of obeying sending titillating buzzes through her nerves. She trembled with excitement, dragging a finger up her labia, feeling the raw heat emanating from her moist pussy.
Touch yourself. Her thumb pressed against her aching clit as she heard her own shameless moan echo through the room.
Touch yourself. Her hips bucked against her own hand as she slid her fingers into her folds, her fingers rapidly growing slick with lubrication. Oh...yes...slut... She writhed against her fingers, hearing her own slutty cries echoing against the walls as the doctor dragged his tongue along the sensitive side of her neck, rising slowly into a hungry kiss locking around her lips.
Touch yourself. She embraced the kiss, letting his tongue explore her mouth. She whined as he pulled away from the kiss, still undulating herself against her finger and his hardness through the clothes separating them. She gazed deeply into his eyes, imagining it was his hard, thick cock that was sinking into her aching pussy, imagining him railing her. In her mind’s eye his strong arms would wrap around her, letting his girthy rod plunge in deeper, and deeper, and deeper, and...
“Ah...ah...ah!” Faith moaned submissively, the drug-fueled orgasm taking her by surprise as sopping juices drenched her fingers and panties. She jerked up hard, her own fingers dragging her into a second crushing wave of a climax, her face locked in pure admiration at the adonis who had tamed her.
“Beautiful,” the doctor grinned widely. Faith didn’t resist as he pulled her dripping hand out, guiding her drenched finger past her parted lips.
Sweet. Tastes sweet. Faith thought dully to herself. There was no shame, no humiliation, only a numb sense of finality. She let herself sink deeper, wallowing in it as she licked her fingers obediently, letting the taste of her defeat coat her tongue.
Everything seemed to dim, darken in the wake of her explosive climax. She sighed contently, letting her head fall back onto the carpet. She was exhausted, yet...yet she craved for more. Faith wanted more of the drug. It wasn’t just an aphrodisiac, it was an escape, an escape for her to throw aside her inhibitions —all of them— before she could begin to fathom her own humiliation. Her humiliation...
Vigil’s eyes widened in horror. Too late.
Anderson laughed, seeing the shock in the vigilante’s eyes. Sure, he’d assisted at some points, but it was her who had led herself down the path. He almost pitied the girl.
He rose from his position, feeling his hard erection aching to fuck the brains out of her. But no...that would be too easy, and it could wait. He carefully picked up another syringe from the drawer beneath his desk, walking back to the girl’s side. He waved it in front of her lightless eyes.
“...do it. Just...just finish this,” she said hollowly, not even bothering to look at him or to cover up.
He smiled. “No. I want you to do it.” He placed the syringe in her hand.
Vigil looked down at the syringe. She could still feel the shame creeping back into her mind, reminding her of her failures and defeats. I...I don’t need to live with the shame anymore... The drug whispered to her, promising to take them away.
She could feel her lust, the dark part of her mind craving for more, the dark part of her mind that desired to be taken, dominated, fulfilled. I...I can have more. The drug cooed to her, promising to give her pleasure beyond her wildest dreams.
Anderson watched the vigilante stare blankly at the syringe, before she positioned it at her forearm. Just as he had expected. He almost felt a sense of nostalgia when he looked upon her crestfallen face, wishing he’d recorded her fall from confident, arrogant heroine to his personal sex slave.
Vigil heard a familiar voice.
---
“What are you doing, Faith?”
“I can’t do this. I can’t live like this anymore. I’ve suffered nothing but defeats. I’ve been outsmarted, outclassed, beaten, humiliated...”
Mindtwist crouched over her, a grin crossing her features. “I didn’t know you memorised a thesaurus.”
Faith ignored her joke, dropping her eyes to the syringe. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”
Mindtwist sighed, letting her bum sink to the ground as she sat next to Faith. She took her sunglasses off.
Faith sneered. “I suppose you’re gonna make me look into your purple eyes and tell me everything’s gonna be okay.”
Her mentor snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a figment of your imagination, I can’t do that.” She looked into the distance, shaking her head. “Fuck, Faith...you really think you’re so god-damned special?”
“What?”
“You’re not. All of us have lost before. All of us have been defeated, over and over and over and over and over again.”
Faith shook her head. “You haven’t been humiliated. Not like this.”
Mindtwist looked darkly at her. “You’d be surprised.” Her look softened as she reached over, taking the syringe from Faith’s unresisting hand. “I’m not here to tell you everything is gonna be okay.”
Mindtwist threw a disgusted look at the syringe before throwing it to the side. “It’s not, Faith. The point is, we get back up and keep trying. We keep fighting until we win. Until then, we lose — again, and again, and again. That’s part of the deal.”
“That’s a pretty crappy deal.”
Mindtwist laughed. “It is. Especially for you, my dear apprentice. But we don’t do it for ourselves. We do it for the people out there — the ones we care about.”
Faith looked back up at the ceiling. “Angie,” she whispered.
“And me! Don’t you dare forget about me.”
Faith couldn’t resist a smile.
Mindtwist looked wistfully out the window. She rose, turning back to look at Faith. “Get up, Faith. You’re all we’ve got, don’t you give up on me.”
---
“Mindtwist,” the vigilante murmured.
“Excuse me?” Anderson frowned.
A strange smile crossed her soft features. “She was my mentor back before the Purge.”
“Uh...huh.” Anderson scratched his head. This wasn’t abnormal. Many of the women he’d personally had the fortune of breaking usually had some sort of mental farewell to their old selves before fully embracing their future lives as sex slaves. The way he saw it, allowing it was almost...respectful. Man, I’m such a good person, Anderson thought sardonically.
“She was a master in the mental arts, and helped heal my mind after I lost to Mentalist.”
“...right.” How long was this going to take? His cock was really aching at this point.
“You know why I’m telling you this, doctor?”
Anderson rolled his eyes, shrugging.
“So you know who to find to put your broken fucking mind back together.” Her blank expression warped into a horrifying snarl, as she shot her leg out, knocking Anderson to the ground.
Impossible. This was impossible. She was drugged, broken, defeated. This was impossible. He struggled in her vicious grasp, taken aback by her sudden strength as she clamped a palm painfully over his face. He watched in horror as her eyes shone white—
Last edited by Artee 3 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
Chapter Nine
“M-m--macchew? Izzat yoo?”
Detective Lynn snapped her eyes to the mumbling man on the ground. “Jesus Christ,” she murmured, rushing to his side. His eyes were unfocused as he muttered incoherently to himself, frothing at the mouth. The detective shot a glare at a nearby officer. “The hell are you waiting for? Get the bloody medics!”
As the paramedics hurried in, Lynn rose and walked over to the office desk, spotting the grey envelope that was quickly becoming the calling card of the vigilante. Picking it up, she peered over at the gibbering doctor and shuddered. What the hell are you doing, vigilante?
---
It was justified. He deserved every bit of it.
Vigil watched from a distance as the quivering doctor was carted into an ambulance. The incessant siren sounds continued blaring into the night, yet they became nothing but background noise as she sank back into her thoughts.
It was messy. It had to be done. She couldn’t have left him to the cops, he would’ve been freed the very next day. Yet killing him was out of the question. She needed to get him out of the picture, while still not crossing the line. And...and he’d raped her...
But shattering his mind like that...
Vigil exhaled harshly, letting herself lean back against the parapet as she ripped off her sweat-soaked mask. She could still feel a miniscule amount of the drug weakly coursing through her veins — an otherwise-inexplicable soothe blanketing her mind. She allowed herself to enjoy the cool droplets of rain washing over her face, sighing as she felt her aching muscles relax against the hard concrete. What the hell did I get myself into?
It was done. No point worrying about it. Like it or not, she’d achieved both her goals, disrupting the Pact’s plans without crossing the line. Whether it was ethical, whether she did it because of her fury was a debate Faith couldn’t let herself fall into. Emotions, feelings, empathy...
“Weakness.”
“M-m--macchew? Izzat yoo?”
Detective Lynn snapped her eyes to the mumbling man on the ground. “Jesus Christ,” she murmured, rushing to his side. His eyes were unfocused as he muttered incoherently to himself, frothing at the mouth. The detective shot a glare at a nearby officer. “The hell are you waiting for? Get the bloody medics!”
As the paramedics hurried in, Lynn rose and walked over to the office desk, spotting the grey envelope that was quickly becoming the calling card of the vigilante. Picking it up, she peered over at the gibbering doctor and shuddered. What the hell are you doing, vigilante?
---
It was justified. He deserved every bit of it.
Vigil watched from a distance as the quivering doctor was carted into an ambulance. The incessant siren sounds continued blaring into the night, yet they became nothing but background noise as she sank back into her thoughts.
It was messy. It had to be done. She couldn’t have left him to the cops, he would’ve been freed the very next day. Yet killing him was out of the question. She needed to get him out of the picture, while still not crossing the line. And...and he’d raped her...
But shattering his mind like that...
Vigil exhaled harshly, letting herself lean back against the parapet as she ripped off her sweat-soaked mask. She could still feel a miniscule amount of the drug weakly coursing through her veins — an otherwise-inexplicable soothe blanketing her mind. She allowed herself to enjoy the cool droplets of rain washing over her face, sighing as she felt her aching muscles relax against the hard concrete. What the hell did I get myself into?
It was done. No point worrying about it. Like it or not, she’d achieved both her goals, disrupting the Pact’s plans without crossing the line. Whether it was ethical, whether she did it because of her fury was a debate Faith couldn’t let herself fall into. Emotions, feelings, empathy...
“Weakness.”
Epilogue
ELSEWHERE...
The doors slammed open. In walked a beautiful, red-skinned woman flanked by four of the bar’s hostesses. The hostesses didn’t seem to be escorting an intruder so much as following their leader, and they all had strange pink glows in their eyes. It was much like the pinkness in the eyes of a victim of double-A, but the colour in their eyes was so much more vibrant.
The leaders of the Pact reacted quickly, with pistols, shotguns, submachine guns all raised at the new arrival immediately. The enthralled hostesses raised their own weapons in response. There was a tension in the air as both sides watched the other, each waiting for the other side to make the first move.
The red-skinned woman snorted, and raised her foot to step forward—
And the enthralled hostesses screamed, dropping to their knees. The pink glows in their eyes were viciously ripped out as they clasped their heads in pain. They moaned, dropping unconscious to the ground.
The red-skinned woman smiled. “Ah. An honour to meet a psychic of your calibre...Mimosa.”
---
Mindshaper glared at the woman. Her real name wasn’t public knowledge, yet some stranger somehow knew? She narrowed her eyes, reaching out to probe her mind and immediately running into a thick mental barrier. She’s trained.
“Nice try, love,” the woman winked, before looking away from her.
“What do you want?” Julius asked the woman. He’d remained seated throughout the entire charade.
The woman gave a snide grin. “I couldn’t help but overhear your little...discussion when I was passing by.”
“Really? Through the crowd, through the blaring music, through the noise-cancelling field generators in our walls?”
The woman ignored the question. “I have an idea that could be...mutually beneficial.”
“I assume you refer to the vigilante.”
“Yes,” her grin grew wider. “But I want something, in exchange.”
“Speak.”
“I’d like a friend broken free from Palmer Containment.”
Palmer Containment? Mindshaper frowned. Formerly the League’s high-security prison for superpowered villains, NovaSec took over after the Purge, using it as a mutant containment facility. What does she want with a mutant?
“You want us to go up against NovaSec?” Julius asked the more pressing question.
The woman giggled. “For a business so reliant on Aphrodite’s Ambrosia, you seem remarkably ignorant of its source.”
“Well, enlighten us.”
The woman cleared her throat. “Well, Ambrosia comes from what Calypso Pharma refers to as yyrtin extract.”
“That’s common knowledge,” Julius remarked.
“What no one else knows is yyrtin extract comes from the genetic material of...an incubus.”
Mindshaper saw Julius shoot a look at her, and she shrugged. An incubus? That’s...impossible.
The woman raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Hot as hell, red-skinned, chiselled abs, huge dick? Sound familiar?”
“I’m afraid not,” Julius said.
“Well, an incubus is kept in stasis in Palmer Containment. Calypso has an agreement with Novasec letting them extract his genetic material for making Ambrosia.”
“Hmm. So if we were to secure this incubus, we would be able to restart production of double-A?”
The woman snapped her finger. “Exactly.”
“And how does the vigilante factor into this?”
“The vigilante?” The woman cocked her head. “Oh, right...let’s say a little birdie whispers to her of an impending attack by the monstrous, eeeeeeevil Pact, in a desperate move to secure a source of Ambrosia...”
Mindshaper scoffed, interrupting as she looked at Julius. “You can’t be thinking about this. We don’t need double-A, I can handle the brainwashing instead of trusting this fake whor—”
“Shhh...”
Mindshaper gasped, suddenly feeling the woman’s finger on her lips. When did she...she was just there...how...Her tongue tingled, suddenly aching to dip out of her parted lips to taste that soft, smooth finger. She shivered, feeling soft fingers tracing down her temples to her cheek. Despite attempts to stay impassive, Mindshaper couldn’t stop a soft sigh from escaping her lips.
Her eyes...so pink...her lips...so close...so...
The woman pulled away, leaving Mindshaper flustered and panting. Snapping out of it, Mindshaper balked, looking around at the bemused, aroused looks of the men around her and shooting them a withering glare.
“I trust that demonstration was more than sufficient?” the woman asked. Mindshaper felt a tingle of delight at her sexy voice and flushed.
Julius cleared his throat. “Yes, yes it was.”
“Excellent. Now, to work out our—”
“I want the vigilante. Unbroken,” Mindshaper rasped, lighting her mind with a fire to purge anything that bitch may have left in there.
The woman sneered. “Or...I could have you both. I’m sure everyone around here would be happy to see your stuck-up exterior melting into a soft, submissive little sl—” her voice cut off into a strangled cry as Mindshaper rose sharply.
“You forget your place, temptress,” she spat, her eyes burning in a purple fury. She held her hand up, feeding thought after thought of pure pain into the woman’s mind, drawing a gurgled scream from the squirming red lady. “How does it feel...Lillith?” she said, plucking the woman’s name from her mind.
Mindshaper felt the woman’s mental barriers reforming rapidly as the woman’s face morphed into a pained, forced smile. “Not—much—of—a masochist,” she admitted through gritted teeth.
“You—”
“Mindshaper,” Julius’s voice called from behind.
Mindshaper snarled, pulling herself out of the woman’s mind and placing her shades back on. She turned to Julius. “Fine. If you wish to play with fire, be my guest. But I want Vigil. Untouched.”
The woman groaned, rising as she rubbed her temples. She laughed dangerously.
A torrent of pain that’ll fell the strongest of heroes, and she laughs?
“You...you’re an interesting one, Mimosa. Very well, the vigilante will be delivered to your doorstep, untouched,” she enunciated the final word mockingly.
Mindshaper huffed, sitting back down. Around her were stunned faces. Good. In the Bazaar, all that mattered was your reputation, and she’d reclaimed her own. Still, with the mischievous look on Lillith’s face, she knew this was far from over.
~~~~~
Aaaaand that's Vigil 1! I'm feeling better about this one compared to the previous iteration. I've got several drafts of Vigil 2 in the works, but it'll probably be a long time before I push it out. Still, please do give feedback, I love feedback
Especially on the emotions-related parts, I'm not sure how well they were done.
Thanks for reading!
ELSEWHERE...
The doors slammed open. In walked a beautiful, red-skinned woman flanked by four of the bar’s hostesses. The hostesses didn’t seem to be escorting an intruder so much as following their leader, and they all had strange pink glows in their eyes. It was much like the pinkness in the eyes of a victim of double-A, but the colour in their eyes was so much more vibrant.
The leaders of the Pact reacted quickly, with pistols, shotguns, submachine guns all raised at the new arrival immediately. The enthralled hostesses raised their own weapons in response. There was a tension in the air as both sides watched the other, each waiting for the other side to make the first move.
The red-skinned woman snorted, and raised her foot to step forward—
And the enthralled hostesses screamed, dropping to their knees. The pink glows in their eyes were viciously ripped out as they clasped their heads in pain. They moaned, dropping unconscious to the ground.
The red-skinned woman smiled. “Ah. An honour to meet a psychic of your calibre...Mimosa.”
---
Mindshaper glared at the woman. Her real name wasn’t public knowledge, yet some stranger somehow knew? She narrowed her eyes, reaching out to probe her mind and immediately running into a thick mental barrier. She’s trained.
“Nice try, love,” the woman winked, before looking away from her.
“What do you want?” Julius asked the woman. He’d remained seated throughout the entire charade.
The woman gave a snide grin. “I couldn’t help but overhear your little...discussion when I was passing by.”
“Really? Through the crowd, through the blaring music, through the noise-cancelling field generators in our walls?”
The woman ignored the question. “I have an idea that could be...mutually beneficial.”
“I assume you refer to the vigilante.”
“Yes,” her grin grew wider. “But I want something, in exchange.”
“Speak.”
“I’d like a friend broken free from Palmer Containment.”
Palmer Containment? Mindshaper frowned. Formerly the League’s high-security prison for superpowered villains, NovaSec took over after the Purge, using it as a mutant containment facility. What does she want with a mutant?
“You want us to go up against NovaSec?” Julius asked the more pressing question.
The woman giggled. “For a business so reliant on Aphrodite’s Ambrosia, you seem remarkably ignorant of its source.”
“Well, enlighten us.”
The woman cleared her throat. “Well, Ambrosia comes from what Calypso Pharma refers to as yyrtin extract.”
“That’s common knowledge,” Julius remarked.
“What no one else knows is yyrtin extract comes from the genetic material of...an incubus.”
Mindshaper saw Julius shoot a look at her, and she shrugged. An incubus? That’s...impossible.
The woman raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Hot as hell, red-skinned, chiselled abs, huge dick? Sound familiar?”
“I’m afraid not,” Julius said.
“Well, an incubus is kept in stasis in Palmer Containment. Calypso has an agreement with Novasec letting them extract his genetic material for making Ambrosia.”
“Hmm. So if we were to secure this incubus, we would be able to restart production of double-A?”
The woman snapped her finger. “Exactly.”
“And how does the vigilante factor into this?”
“The vigilante?” The woman cocked her head. “Oh, right...let’s say a little birdie whispers to her of an impending attack by the monstrous, eeeeeeevil Pact, in a desperate move to secure a source of Ambrosia...”
Mindshaper scoffed, interrupting as she looked at Julius. “You can’t be thinking about this. We don’t need double-A, I can handle the brainwashing instead of trusting this fake whor—”
“Shhh...”
Mindshaper gasped, suddenly feeling the woman’s finger on her lips. When did she...she was just there...how...Her tongue tingled, suddenly aching to dip out of her parted lips to taste that soft, smooth finger. She shivered, feeling soft fingers tracing down her temples to her cheek. Despite attempts to stay impassive, Mindshaper couldn’t stop a soft sigh from escaping her lips.
Her eyes...so pink...her lips...so close...so...
The woman pulled away, leaving Mindshaper flustered and panting. Snapping out of it, Mindshaper balked, looking around at the bemused, aroused looks of the men around her and shooting them a withering glare.
“I trust that demonstration was more than sufficient?” the woman asked. Mindshaper felt a tingle of delight at her sexy voice and flushed.
Julius cleared his throat. “Yes, yes it was.”
“Excellent. Now, to work out our—”
“I want the vigilante. Unbroken,” Mindshaper rasped, lighting her mind with a fire to purge anything that bitch may have left in there.
The woman sneered. “Or...I could have you both. I’m sure everyone around here would be happy to see your stuck-up exterior melting into a soft, submissive little sl—” her voice cut off into a strangled cry as Mindshaper rose sharply.
“You forget your place, temptress,” she spat, her eyes burning in a purple fury. She held her hand up, feeding thought after thought of pure pain into the woman’s mind, drawing a gurgled scream from the squirming red lady. “How does it feel...Lillith?” she said, plucking the woman’s name from her mind.
Mindshaper felt the woman’s mental barriers reforming rapidly as the woman’s face morphed into a pained, forced smile. “Not—much—of—a masochist,” she admitted through gritted teeth.
“You—”
“Mindshaper,” Julius’s voice called from behind.
Mindshaper snarled, pulling herself out of the woman’s mind and placing her shades back on. She turned to Julius. “Fine. If you wish to play with fire, be my guest. But I want Vigil. Untouched.”
The woman groaned, rising as she rubbed her temples. She laughed dangerously.
A torrent of pain that’ll fell the strongest of heroes, and she laughs?
“You...you’re an interesting one, Mimosa. Very well, the vigilante will be delivered to your doorstep, untouched,” she enunciated the final word mockingly.
Mindshaper huffed, sitting back down. Around her were stunned faces. Good. In the Bazaar, all that mattered was your reputation, and she’d reclaimed her own. Still, with the mischievous look on Lillith’s face, she knew this was far from over.
~~~~~
Aaaaand that's Vigil 1! I'm feeling better about this one compared to the previous iteration. I've got several drafts of Vigil 2 in the works, but it'll probably be a long time before I push it out. Still, please do give feedback, I love feedback
Especially on the emotions-related parts, I'm not sure how well they were done.
Thanks for reading!