The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Katie stood outside the house almost afraid to breathe. She wasn’t sure of the kind of reception she would receive, especially considering the last time she was here. Still, this time she’d been invited, against all hope. Her hand hovered just above the doorbell, hesitant to ring it, when the door opened, and Bethany DuMont gazed out at her. They stood there, silently, staring at one another for a long moment before the older woman let out a sigh.

“Dressed like a normal person today, I see. Well, don’t just stand there like a statue,” she said wearily, pushing open the door, holding it open. “Come on in. Let’s get this over with.“

Stepping inside, Katie was struck with the chaos and clutter. Jessica’s mother was always an organized and composed woman, so at odds with that harried, flustered woman in front of her. Jessica’s death had hit her just as hard as it had hit Katie, and she was handling it just about as well. Maybe that’s why she called me and asked me to come over. Misery loves company after all.

Aloud she said, “Thank you for asking me to come back and help with the funeral preparations, Mrs. DuMont. This... it really means a lot...”

“It’s what Jessica would have wanted,” Bethany said dismissively, moving over to the couch and a large three ringer binder. “I may not approve of you or your... ‘lifestyle choices’” she said with clear derision, “but you were very important to Jess. And... you deserve to be there when my baby girl is laid to rest...” She sniffed loudly, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Katie slid a hand out towards her in comfort, only to wince as the older woman pulled away brusquely.

Yeesh. She really does not want me here, Katie thought dimly, despite asking me to come out.

“Here,” Bethany said after a moment, handing her several brochures from the local funeral homes. “This is what I have so far. I was trying to decide between Summersby Funeral and Forest North Funeral. They both offer a very tasteful and dignified selection of services... I’m just at a loss to which one to choose.”

“Well... we never really talked about things like death and dying a lot,” Katie said slowly, looking over the choices, “but I’m pretty sure I know what she would have liked. Something outdoors, with lots of flowers, surrounded by nature.”

“Outdoors... I didn’t think of that, but... I think you’re right!” said Bethany.

Katie smiled. She was on a roll. “And she wasn’t much on big speeches or anything, but I think she’d like a preacher or minister to do the benediction.”

“Really?” Bethany replied with an all-too-familiar snort. “Jess hasn’t been to church since she was in grade school, and somehow you don’t strike me as the kind of girl that goes to Sunday School.”

Katie bristled, tamping down on her need to snap back. “True. My parents never really pushed religion on us. They sat Jimmy and me down and told us what they believed, and let us ask questions, and ultimately let us make our own decisions. But above all else, they taught us tolerance... you know? Being able to accept a person even if you have different beliefs and lifestyles.“

Now it was Bethany who bristled. “Well, then, in any case, I think that lets out Summersby. They don’t have an outdoors option at all and North Forest does... And... there’s still the matter of music,” she continued, changing the subject. “None of the choices provide musical services, other than the usual canned recorded music that plays on the speakers when you enter the mortuary.”

Katie perked up at that. “Well, as a matter of fact, I do happen to know someone who sings. My cousin Neb... er, Sylvia, plans to be in town for the funeral, and her band mates are coming in with her. I’m pretty sure I could get her to sing something fitting—”

“Your cousin?” Bethany sneered, rolling her eyes. “I doubt a little two-bit singer for some no-name garage band would work for something like this—”

“Actually, Mrs. DuMont,” Katie replied stiffly, arms crossed, “Sylvia’s band Symphonic Nebula is currently on hiatus after their international tour of Europe and Asia. As I recall from speaking to her earlier, they just finished up an interview and photo shoot for the cover of Rolling Stone magazine, and have a week or two off before their lead guitarist has to make an appearance as a guest judge on this season’s ‘American Idol’.“

Gaping for a moment in shock, Bethany scowled, flipping her hair. “Well, of course your cousin is famous! I should have guessed. Poor little rich girl and her wealthy, famous rock star friends...”

“Hey! What is your deal?” Katie yelled angrily, her patience at an end. “I’ve tried to be nice. I’ve tried to be polite. I’ve bent over backwards to keep from snapping at every snide remark you make about me and my family. But enough is enough! Jessica was my entire WORLD! She meant everything to me. And whether or not you can believe it, I meant everything to her too! I thought we could put aside our differences long enough to come together and plan a memorial service for that wonderful girl that we both LOVED so much... but I guess I was wrong.” Standing up, she walked to the door. “I don’t even know why you bothered to invite me over in the first place...”

For that matter, neither do I! Bethany thought furiously at the angry young blonde. She’s the reason my daughter is dead. And yet... and yet... as much as I WANT to blame her... I can’t keep from remembering that she’s still the same little kid that used to play with my daughter in the backyard all those years ago. I mean... she’s obviously hurting as much as I am. I’m just... being a bitch. A royal, angry, spiteful, homophobic bitch. She frowned, such a thought was so out of character for her, that for a moment she could scarcely recognize it as her own.

Nevertheless, she felt strongly that Katherine stay and help her with the funeral, and as the young girl reached for the doorknob, she swallowed her pride and called out to her.

“Katherine... Katie... wait! Please!” She swallowed as the girl paused, turning back to face her. “I’m... sorry. I want you to... stay. I need your help with this. I really do. And... I’m sorry for acting like raging bitch. I know it’s not your fault... I really do! I’m just... angry,” she growled, the frustration she felt evident on her face. With an effort, she composed herself. “I’ve been taking it all out on you because you’re an easy target. And for that... I’m sorry.”

Katie nodded softly. “It’s okay. I did that myself the past several days... hurting the people who cared for me the most, just lashing out in my pain. But... it’s better now.” She smiled sadly. “It DOES get better, Mrs. DuMont. Slowly. And with lots and lots of help.” She sighed softly, sitting back down on the couch. “Would it make you feel any better if I told you we took care of Sureshot for good?”

“What?” Bethany asked, leaning forward so suddenly she nearly head-butted the startled blonde. “When? I thought he was hiding out, still at large?”

“No, he hid himself just long enough to recover. He came after me again, while I was staying with some friends. He showed up with a few more guns and some brand new tricks.” She opened her blouse slightly, revealing the mass of bandages around her shoulder and upper torso. Bethany whistled appreciatively. “He nearly killed me and my friends. It’s probably really bad form to say it, but it’s sheer luck that I managed to beat him. If he’d wanted to, he could have put a bullet in my head at any time.” She smiled grimly. “Instead, he wanted to show off and draw it out. He gave me an opening... and when I saw my chance—I took it.“

Bethany nodded, enraptured. “You mean... you actually did it? You killed him?”

“...no...” Katie admitted after a moment, glancing down. “I wanted to. Goddess Bless! How I wanted to. But... a new and dear friend, and a man that I very much respect, talked me down. Killing him wouldn’t bring Jess back, and killing him in cold blood would make me just as bad as him. So... instead, I made it so he would never be able to hurt anyone ever again.”

“How, exactly?” Bethany asked, frowning.

“How? How... I’m... not exactly sure myself how I did it,” she said slowly, trying to remember. “As far as what I did? He’s basically a drooling vegetable. I basically went inside his mind and turned it off.” She frowned at that, considering. “No... not off, exactly. His mind still works. I just blotted out every notion, every idea, every half-formed thought in his entire head until there was nothing left but silence!” She sighed, closing her eyes. “They locked him up in maximum security to await trial, but when the guards found him raped and beaten nearly to death, they transferred him over to Bellingham Mental Asylum instead.“

“Good,” Bethany said with a savage nod of her head. “Serves him right. I only wish the bastards that kicked his ass in prison had finished the job.” She sighed softly. “I suppose it makes me a terrible person for saying so... but yes, Katie, hearing what happened to him... it does make me feel better.” Katie said nothing, merely sitting there, eyes closed. “Katie? Dear, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I just... I don’t know what to do now,” she admitted in a small voice. “I thought taking down Laraby Fredrickson would make me feel better too... but in the end, it doesn’t really change anything. Yes, he paid for what he did. Yes, he won’t be able to hurt anyone ever again. But is the world really any better off even with him out of the way? Have I accomplished anything if the next crazed madman with a gun pops up and does the same thing to someone else’s loved one?” She shrugged. “I just... I feel so... helpless.“

“But, Katie, you’re not helpless! You’re not!” Bethany said, causing her to look up. “You’re a costumed fre... er, a metahuman. A Super. You have powers and abilities the normal people like myself will never have. You, and your little costume wearing... ‘friends’...” she managed barely hiding her distaste, “can do things people like me could only dream about. You say you feel ‘helpless’? Huh! A girl that can fly and shoot lasers from her hands is anything BUT helpless. You have power, Katie... power to change the world. It’s just a question of whether you will use it or not.“

“The power... to change the world,” Katie mused, her mind working furiously, taking the suggestion to heart. She’s right. She’s absolutely right! I’ve been a fucking idiot not to have seen it... the obvious path! I wanted to do something for Jess... to make up for not protecting her. The very least I can do is to make her city a safe place to live... a place with NO crime, NO violence. A place where no innocent person has to fear for her life ever again. With the sheer number of heroes this city has, it should be easy. But instead of dealing with the problem head on, we just slide it under the rug and ignore it. Well... not anymore. If no one else is willing to do what’s necessary, then it’s up to me.

“Iiiiiieeeeaahhh... am a maaaannnn... of constant sorrow,” I sang softly, “I’ve seen trouuuubble all my days.” I was completely naked, kneeling down on the cold, hard ground. A heavy steel collar encircled my neck, to which a chain was attached, which ran down, connecting to the shackles around my arms and my ankles. I was effectively hobbled, bound in this uncomfortable position.

“Iiiiieeeeaaaahh, bid fareweeeeell to River City... the place where Iiiiiieeeeaaahhh was born and raised...”

A drop of water fell from an old rusted pipe in the ceiling, striking me along my back and I winced, biting my lip against the sensation. My back was a livid crisscross network of cuts, gashes, welts, and scars, most recent of which had been inflicted upon me in the past two weeks or so since I’d been held in this compound. That in and of itself was a testament to the persistence and depravity of my tormentors. I was no lightweight; even with my powers effectively blocked and taken from me, I was still a tough SOB. Not as tough as my mom, Omega Girl, but pretty durable nonetheless. Knives, whips and canes didn’t work on me, so my captor had been forced to be more... creative. Suffice it to say, I now had a new appreciation—irrational fear, really—of construction equipment and welding tools.

“Fooooorr twenty long yeeeaaaarrrs... I’ve been in trouble... no pleasure heeeerrrreee on Earth I’ve found...”

Well, perhaps one source of pleasure. Perhaps the only thing that kept me sane, that gave me the strength to endure these daily tortures and cling to the thin threadbare sliver of hope of somehow, some way, escaping this hell. I remembered Devon, her touch, her taste, her scent... I remembered the kiss we’d shared just before the three devils attacked and brought me back to their Mistress. I hoped that she was well, that she hadn’t given up on seeing me again. But of course... she had visions now. She, more than anyone, would know if I would survive this and return to her. And she would know what had happened, and would tell my parents... oh. Right.

“Foooorrr in this plaaaaaaceee... I’m boooouuuund to suffer... I have no frieeeennnds... to help me now...”

Just before my capture, I’d learned a little of the events happening to my family. My dad had survived, barely, his battle with his older brother and being impaled through the heart. I was a medical student; I knew pretty much what that entailed. And that unless he’d had the battle INSIDE a hospital operation room with a surgical team standing by watching with a spare heart prepped and ready, he shouldn’t have survived. Somehow mom had saved him, used her ‘Goddess’ mojo to stave off death until he could be treated. The effort had apparently burned her out, though, leaving her completely powerless. Even more so than me in my current predicament. Even if Devon had been able to contact them, neither of them were in much condition to rush to my rescue right now.

“Iiiiiiiiitttt’s fare thee weeeeeell... my old true looooover...” I sang softly, thinking again of Devon, “I never expeeeeeeect to see you again! Fooooorrrr, I’m bound to riiiiiiiiddee... that northern railroad.” I murmured as booted footsteps rang from the hallway outside my cell, drawing ever closer. “Perhaps I’ll diiiiiieee... upon this train...”

I found myself waiting in equal parts dread and anticipation as my tormentor drew closer. The soft clink of metal against stone distracted me momentarily, my chains dragging slightly as I shifted position, turning to face the door. She would want me facing her, meeting my fate head-on, as it were. I’d learned very quickly what was expected of me, and with the idea that I might have to endure this torture for a VERY long time, I decided that noble defiance in the face of adversity was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Not that She would have let it go on for long, anyway; a little defiance amused her. Open revolt, however, annoyed her.

And after feeling her annoyance once before, I wasn’t eager for a repeat performance.

“Yooooou can bury meeeeee... in some deep valley... for many yeeeeeeaarrrs, where I may lay...” he sang silently in his head, as the lock to his cell clanged, and swung open, and a tall thin, dark haired woman strode inside. “Theeeeenn you may leeeearrrrrn to love another... while I am sleeeeeeeping in my grave...” My eyes dropped automatically to her feet, staring hard at her custom emerald green snakeskin pumps. Against my will, of its own accord, my cock sprang to attention.

“Well, well,” Serpentina’s melodious voice sang out, causing my manhood to twitch ever so slightly. “It seems my guest has recovered from our earlier conversation. Tell me, Umbra, are you excited to see me?” Umbra. The moniker I’d adopted while on the run for a murder I hadn’t committed. I wasn’t that person anymore, and yet, that was how She knew me, so, to her at least, “Umbra” I remained.

I swallowed before answering. “You know that I am... M...Mistress,” I added, the word forcing itself from between my lips with only a slight hesitation. “You haven’t given me room for any other response.”

She laughed, and again my cock throbbed in sympathy. My response pleased her. “That’s very true. You’re completely in my thrall, aren’t you? Utterly helpless and completely vulnerable,” she said, kicking apart my legs with the toe of her pump, then pressing none too gently on my engorged manhood, “...just the way I want you.“

I grimaced in pain, freezing, not wanting to provoke her any further. It was agony and ecstasy intertwined; on the one hand, she was so obviously happy, so entertained by my predicament that I couldn’t help but feel pleasure. On the other hand... she was stomping on my bloody dick! I was effectively neutered—figuratively, thank God, though I supposed that could easily change on a whim—and chained and powerless as I was, I could do nothing more than mewl in pain, begging silently for mercy. Of which, I knew from experience, she had none.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she stepped back, glancing down at me with disdain. She scowled, wrinkling her nose. “How long have I held you down here, maggot?” she asked, inquisitively, a rhetorical question, not actually expecting an answer. But my geas-bound ass couldn’t resist the urge to provide her with an answer anyway.

“I’ve been here for forty-seven days and ten hours, Mistress.”

“That long, hmm?” she replied thoughtfully, idly tapping a green painted fingernail against her chain. “Forty-seven days, and still you haven’t cracked. Impressive. Still, I HAVE been having my attendant mete out your punishments this last week instead of granting you my personal touch. I’ve been just sooooo busy lately, what with the impromptu relocation, dealing with my former business partners, and sending ninja assassins to kill that rat bastard Grimalde and all... but don’t worry. I intend to make it up to you by giving you lots of special attention from now on.“

Snapping her fingers, she gestured to me as two tall, muscular, scantily dressed women stepped into the cell. “This disgusting mongrel is filthy. Bathe him, scrub him, and when he’s presentable again, have him brought to my room.”

“Yes, Mistress,” they answered back in unison. Moving as one, they knelt down and, each grabbing an arm, pulled me to my feet. Their faces were blank, their eyes glassy, and from the near perfect unison of their movements, they were deep under Mistr—under Serpentina’s spell. And from the rough handling I was receiving, something told me this would be just slightly more enjoyable than stepping naked into an automatic car wash.

And as I glimpsed the sadistic grin on my Mistress’ face as I was literally dragged away to my scrubbing, I got the distinct feeling that this will be the least traumatic thing that would happen to me today.

Jennifer Rose Contreras stood in the parking lot, surveying the tranquil scene, finishing one last butt. God Dammit! she thought to herself I promised her I was gonna stop, and now she’s gonna... Aaargh! My clothes smell like smoke; my breath smells like smoke; fuck, I bet even my hair smells like a damn chimney.

She shook her head, set her jaw, and, with all her will-power, smashed out the remains of that one last cigarette. Can’t do anything about it now. Can’t back out. Can’t leave. This is my last chance to see Chloe for fuck knows how long. My assignment, finding the missing Frasier boy, could take months, years even. And there’s no way I’m gonna let someone else handle it. So man up, Contreras. She needs to see you... no matter how much it hurts.

She walked, marched really, across the tasteful wooded lawn, past the well-tended stone-and-wrought-iron fencing and the abstract marble statuary, up to the grand gothic building at the end of the path. She stopped and looked at the plaque: “Crescent City Sanitarium”. Oh God, Chloe, how could I have left you here, rotting for all these years? She shook herself, disgusted with her own hesitation, her own... fear? She hunched her shoulders, growled softly and pulled open the huge wooden door.

Of course there was all the standard bureaucratic bullshit. Presenting identification. Searching the files to find Chloe’s room (as if Rose couldn’t find it blindfolded by now). Signing all the release forms absolving the institution if any harm were to befall poor Rose for visiting an “unstable metahuman”. Yada, yada, yada. Interesting twist this time though. Doctor Perkins wanted to see Rose before the visit as well as after.

The doctor offered his hand as she walked into his office. “It’s so good to see you, Ms. Contreras,” he said, “I can’t tell you how much Chloe has missed you.”

“Um, sure, Doc,” she replied, “So, then... why not let me go straight to see her?”

“Ah. Yes, about that. The last time you were here you complained, quite vociferously, about the gloves.”

Rose didn’t like where this was going. “Dammit, I just didn’t see why she had to wear them. They’re uncomfortable. The rubber doesn’t breath, and it makes her itch. And did you have to tape them onto her arms?”

He gave her an incredulous look, “Do I really have to answer that, Rose?”

“Look—”

“Rose, you were abusive to my staff, and they don’t deserve it.”

“Well, if they didn’t make her angry she wouldn’t shock them!”

“’Shock’,” said the Doctor, now raising his own voice, “Is that what you call it?”

“Now, just a second, Henry—”

“No, Rose, look at this!” he said, showing her his bare, but not smooth, forearm, “This is a scar from a third-degree electrical burn. I only have one, but most of my people whom I trust to handle Chloe have SEVERAL. Anyone else this dangerous we would have locked in a vault and said ‘good riddance’. But we remember, Rose. We remember what she meant to this city. What YOU meant to this city. We’re happy to do whatever it takes. But we need you to support us, not undercut us, and, please, PLEASE, not in front of Chloe.”

Somewhat chastened, Rose pressed on, trying to make her point. “Look, you told me yourself that she doesn’t have conscious control of it anymore, right? She only fires shock-bolts when she’s angry, right?” Now almost pleading, “So why do you make her angry?”

“Rose, I didn’t want you to have to see this. I know you feel guilty enough as it is. But you’re not giving me any choice. Do you want to know the number one thing that makes Chloe angry? Here, I have a few clips from some of her play sessions...” He picked up his remote, pointed it at his monitor and pressed play.

The screen resolved to show a grown woman with short-cropped blonde hair sitting on the floor amidst a pile of crayons. She was wearing an exaggerated expression of childish anger and flinging random crayons at the wall.

“WHERE’S ROSIE?!” she shouted.

Her nurse/teacher was immediately at her side, hand on Chloe’s shoulder. “You know, she’s not here today, Chloe. We talked about that. Oh, that’s such a nice... um... unicorn!”

“It’s not a... I WANT MY ROSIE!!” ZAP

Henry paused the video at that point. “I have half a dozen more clips like that,” said Henry sadly, “if you want to see them.”

Rose hung her head. These were the people who were with Chloe every day. And they really did care about her. But he was right. They had to protect themselves, even if it meant that Chloe was always strapped into those god-awful insulated lineman’s gloves.

“No, Henry,” Rose quietly replied, “That won’t be necessary. I understand. So, can I go see her now?”

“Sure,” said Dr Perkins, standing and smiling, “I’ll walk with you.”

“Jesus, Henry,” said Rose, now back to her natural, prickly state, “You don’t have to fuckin’ babysit me too! I told you I’d behave.”

“No, no! That’s not it at all!” he said as they turned and walked up the stairs, “I haven’t seen Chloe in a while either. And it will give my image a boost if she sees me walking in with you.”

“Your image needs a boost?”

“She heard me give the order the last time we had to restrain and glove her. I’m not her favorite person right now.”

He stopped and opened a door.

“Wait,” said Rose, “that isn’t Chloe’s room.”

“Sorry,” he replied, “It’s still her play period right now. She’s in the rumpus room.”

They entered a large open room with warm deep pile carpeting, activity stations with all sorts of puzzles and games, and tastefully decorated walls that you would never guess were padded until you leaned against one. Under the windows in one sunlit corner of the room were Chloe and her teacher/nurse, building something together out of a pile of plastic blocks, made all the more difficult by the awkward rubber gloves.

As Rose and the doctor approached, the teacher touched Chloe’s shoulder.

“Chloe,” she said softly but happily, “look who’s here!”

As Chloe looked up, her expression of intense concentration dissolved into one of equally intense joy. Chloe jumped up and leaped over the pile of blocks, then ran until she practically crushed Rose in a bear hug.

“ROSIE! YOU’RE HERE! YOU’RE HERE, YOU’RE HERE, YOU’RE HERE!”

Rose was only slightly shorter than average, and slightly built at that. But Chloe was somewhat taller than average, and—after years of eating like a hyperactive five-year-old—a bit overweight. So, as it worked out, Rose’s head was buried in Chloe’s voluptuous cleavage.

Rose knew it was wrong. I can’t think of her that way! She’s just a child now. And I’m... I’m the one who made her that way. But Rose couldn’t help but remember when they were lovers, when Chloe had been the ‘spice’ to Rose’s ‘sugar’, when they had both joyously served Master...

That thought finally broke the spell. Rose shivered convulsively, but she was back in the present, half-smothered by an excited, innocent, child-like Chloe. Feeling wetness on the top of her head, she pulled back a bit

and looked up at her.

“Chloe... baby... What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“I muh... I muh...,” stammered Chloe before breaking down completely, “I missed you SO MUCH, ROSIE!!”

Rose reached behind the shaking, crying woman-child and rubbed her back. “Shh... Shh, Chloe... It’s alright... Remember? We talked about this, right?”

“Yeah,” Chloe replied, “You gotta work.” She uttered that last word with such malice that it was lucky to escape without 3rd-degree electrical burns.

“That’s right, but I come here whenever I can...” prompted Rose.

“’Cuz... ’cuz you love me,” replied Chloe.

“Right,” said Rose, smiling. At this moment, the other mercs at the agency would never have recognized her as the cranky, foul-mouthed, chain-smoking Ghost Girl.

She reached down and gently took hold of Chloe’s rubber-clad hand. “So why don’t you show me what you’re building over there?”

Grinning and dragging Rose behind her, Chloe headed back for the pile of bricks, chattering all the way. “Oh, Rosie, it’s gonna be a CASTLE... with TWO PRINCESSES... an’, an’, an’ all the evil bad guys are outside an’ they can’t get in. An’ they have tea parties an’ pretty dresses an’ puppies an’ everything...”

It was late, long after official visiting hours were supposed to be over. But somehow the official hours never seemed to apply to Rose and Chloe. Even more telling, the light was still on underneath Henry Perkins’s office door.

Opening the door and knocking gently, Rose said, “Henry, you got a minute?”

“Come on in, Rose.” He smiled a tired smile. “Why else would I still be here?”

“I’m sorry it’s so late. I had to tell her that I wouldn’t be here in the morning, and then it took us another hour and a half to get her to sleep.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Henry, I saw the drawing.”

They both knew which drawing she meant.

Rose continued, “She didn’t want me to see it, she hid it in the bottom of the stack, but I found it anyway.”

“I’m... I’m sorry, Rose. She was talking about ‘bad dreams’ in our therapy session, so I asked her to draw me a picture of what she saw. She said he’s the boogie man. She said he’s gooey and he tastes like candy. She said that’s why she doesn’t like candy anymore.”

“You and me both, kiddo,” murmured Rose. Then louder, “It’s him then; she’s remembering him.”

“Yes, Rose. There are other things too, but mostly... him.”

“Oh GAWD, Henry!” cried Rose. “I want her to get better. I want her to remember. But... but...”

“Not him?”

“ANYTHING BUT HIM!”

“I know, Chloe,” said the doctor, “But she is getting better, in spite of... that. We let her keep the picture because it actually helps her. She can look at it and talk to it and tell it’s not real, that it’s just a piece of paper, that it’s not even big enough to hurt her. It helps her. I’m hoping that one day she’ll just rip it to shreds.“

“I’m... I’m glad. You know, that it helps her.”

“But I’m sorry you found it, Rose. I wish you hadn’t.”

“Me too, Henry. Me too.”

“Ah, Karen! What a nice surprise!” Darryl Jeffries greeted his visitor at the door with a one-armed hug. “What brings you by?”

“What brings me by? Are you kidding me?!?” she exclaimed in horror. “I just heard! You were SHOT protecting Grimalde from an assassin last week, and I’m only now hearing about it?” She shook her head, hands clenched in fury and fear. “I thought... I mean... no one had any real information... there was nothing in the news... and I checked every hospital in the area but none of them had a Darryl Jeffries listed...” Her hands clenched into fists, and she fought to hold back the tears. “And then... I checked... the funeral homes...”

“Oh, oh, baby, no,” he said softly, pulling her into another, tighter hug, wincing slightly as the healing wound in his shoulder pulled from the contact. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to get word to you that I was okay. Mr. Grimalde felt it best that it not be publically known that some gunman had attacked and threatened his family on his own front yard. Downplaying it with the media, making it seem like a ‘mere’ foiled intrusion, kept the word from spreading. In fact, where did you hear about it? If it made the news somewhere Mr. Grimalde will have my ass!”

Karen waved it off. “Metahuman grapevine. Supers gossip like old church ladies. But that’s beside the point! How could you DO this to me? I thought... I thought...”

“Karen, I SWEAR I didn’t mean to hurt you or slight you! But we HAD to keep a lid on this. Karen... I didn’t even tell my mama.” She gasped. He continued “And none of us were seriously hurt, thanks to Luminaire. She stopped him from fulfilling his contract—”

“Okay, that’s all fine and dandy,” she said, sniffling, “but the real question is, are YOU okay? Nothing broken, or internal bleeding, or anything? You’re alive and walking around, obviously... but how well are you REALLY?”

Darryl smiled, and Karen sighed, simply melting inside. She wanted to be furious about being kept out of the loop, but staring at that face, at that smile, all she could feel was a warmth that started in the pit of her stomach and spread throughout her entire being. Damn. Elise was right... I really do have it bad for him.

“Oh, Karen. I can’t tell you how it makes me feel that you came all this way... that you cared enough... that... Karen, I’d love to ham it up a little right now and let you coddle me, but I can’t. The truth is, I’m fine.” He half shrugged, mindful of his shoulder. “The shot was a clean through and through. No bone or vital organs, just muscle tissue and sinew. Honestly, I’m just a little stiff,” he admitted, gingerly stretching his arm. “The docs prescribed a whole bunch of pills for the pain, and muscle relaxants to help with the mobility, but it really makes my loopy, and frankly I had just about enough of that stuff when I was in the hospital for my knee, after, y’know, the wreck... Anyway I’ve been getting by just fine on Tylenol.”

He frowned. “Oh, Jesus, where are my manners! Would you like some tea? I’ve got the kettle on and I was just about to pour myself a cup when you arrived.”

Wow... every time I think he can’t possibly be more impressive, he tops himself. “No, no, actually, you have a seat and let me bring it,” she said, rushing past before he could protest. Pouring two mugs, he brought one to Darryl, and sat down across from him. Blushing, she glanced down briefly, staring into her cup. “Well, um, I’m glad to hear you’re okay. And, uh, I hope everyone is doing okay as well. I heard some of the, ah, others were injured as well?“

“Yes. That bastard managed to take down about half of our security force and all of our snipers single-handedly.” He shook his head. “I suppose we should all feel lucky he was in a generous mood—none of the wounds were fatal. Of all of us, Constance and I were probably the worst off, and she took a hit in the shoulder like me, but, you know, she’s a lot smaller... But she’s recovering nicely, though! I think she’s a bit envious of Sioban, Tawnya, and Miss Frasier’s quick healing abilities.”

“Yeah. Elise heals pretty quick, too. I wish I had that gift.” She sighed, sipping her tea. “No. Scratch that. What I really wish is for five minutes alone with Sureshot for what he did to you. Um, uh, and the others too, I mean,” she added quickly. “It sucks that I missed out on everything. I’m not exactly bulletproof or anything, but I still would have helped if I’d been around.” She glanced down at her mug again, blushing even hotter. She wasn’t exactly sure how this next part would be received, if she going too fast, or what, but after the way she’d felt hearing Darryl had been shot, she knew she had to at least make the offer.

“So. Um. You, ah... you mentioned that a lot of your security people were, um... hurt in that fiasco, right? And the Angel girls as well?”

“Oh THEY’RE fine! After a day you couldn’t even find the scar on either of them. But, yeah, the security staff is a bit ragged to say the least.”

“Right... So, um... anyway... I was thinking,” she began, swallowing as she raised her eyes to find him staring at her intently. “Oh! I was... um... thinking... maybe, if it’s okay with your boss... I might s-stay here at the mansion? In one of the guest rooms? You know, just for a few days, until the threat of another attack passes? Or, well, maybe play chauffeur with you until your arm heals up?” Darryl’s smile returned, and Karen bit her lip to keep from moaning as her toes curled.

“That’s... that’s a wonderful idea,” he agreed. “Karen, you’d really do that for me? This is... Thank you! Mr. Grimalde’s convinced that Serpentina will try again after this attempt failed, but we’re REALLY understaffed right now, and with him planning to send Tawnya off to help with the search for Mr. Frasier’s son, I’ve been going nuts trying figure out how to keep everyone safe! Having someone as powerful as you around would go a long way to making us all feel a lot more secure.”

Karen nodded, even as she squealed like a little girl inside. YEEESSS!! He wants me to stay! Even if it’s not exactly for the reason I wanted, he is at least happy to have me around. Her thoughts fuzzed and faded completely, however, as she felt his hand caress hers. She looked up to find him staring at her again with that intense gaze of his.

“And Karen,” he added softly, gently, their eyes just inches apart, “having you here, close by? Well.., that makes me feel really good too. Really good.“

The resulting kiss was not their most epic to date. But, well, let’s just say the tea had plenty of time to cool before they drank it.

Rose Contreras took a swig of coffee from her cup, wincing slightly at the taste. Gas station blend wasn’t exactly her first choice, but they’d been driving into the wee hours of the night, and despite the taste, the brew did its job well. She glanced sidelong at her partner, head down, eyes closed, head leaning against the window of the car. She sighed in rare moment of sympathy. The girl was too young. She was completely unprepared for what they were doing. She had no training, no super-powers that would do her a lick of good in a fight, not much to speak of in the way of gumption or attitude either. By all rights, she shouldn’t even be a part of this mission. Still, her talent had already proved useful. Twice she had saved them from a perilous fate. Despite Rose’s own personal misgivings, she knew the team needed this girl.

She glanced back in the back seat at her other partner, Hugo Smith, otherwise known as Malleable Man. Hugo glanced up at her and smiled, winking, but she merely sighed, rolling her eyes. Smith was like her—a trained operative, a ‘second chance’ redemption case, a hardened veteran, a “hero for hire”. In his former life, Smith had been a remarkable cat burglar, noted for some of the most daring, high-profile robberies of their time. When he’d attempted to steal a very large and valuable diamond from a notorious and ruthless gangster, and found himself in over his head, the organization stepped in, rescuing him and giving him a new identity in exchange for his services. To Rose’s thinking, the man—talented though he was—was a liability to the team. He was a selfish, unthinking, uncaring chauvinistic buffoon. But even so she couldn’t deny the fact that the man did occasionally come in handy.

Although, truth be told, if this rescue mission ends up becoming a combat scenario instead of a simple snatch-n-grab, this guy is less than useless. Darklight wasn’t exactly in the best of shape after escaping from the prison, but he’s still a powerhouse. If we have to tangle with the guys that took HIM down, I’m not liking our odds.

Rose growled softly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. She was irritable and from more than just a lack of sleep. If she were honest with herself, she’d have to admit most of her anxiety came from the fact that she was going into an unknown situation with a partner for the first time since she’d joined this outfit. She preferred to work alone, to depend entirely on herself, even when working as part of a coordinated group project. A tear pooled in the corner of her eye as the thought about her last partner. That partner had betrayed her, had ended up turning her into a brainwashed slave for some psycho. True, her partner had ALSO been turned into an mindless, obedient slave first... but the end result was the same. She’d trusted the other super completely, looked on her as a mentor. And the two she was with now? She didn’t really know the girl, and she didn’t trust Smith to hold her coffee for her let alone watch her back in a fire fight!

Still... the mission is what it is, she thought grimly, taking the exit heading into Austin, Texas, keeping an eye out for the closest rest stop or motel. I need to find the Frasier kid. He was taken on MY watch, and I can’t let that stand. She sighed again. Plus... well, the guy took a bullet for me. I was hired to protect HIM, and the guy ends up saving my life. I owe him. And I’ll pay him back even if it kills me.

“The rest stop,” Devon McKinley murmured softly, not opening her eyes. Rose glanced sidelong at the dark haired girl. “We’re staying there for the night. Take the next left, about three miles ahead.”

“You saw something?” Rose asked, curious. Devon merely shook her head, yawning.

“Nothing worth mentioning. I saw us calling it a night and bedding down to start up again tomorrow.”

Rose frowned, not sure if the girl was being cute or serious. “But nothing about your boyfriend?” she pressed.

“No. It’s like I told you. Using this Gift is like walking in a pitch black room with a flashlight who’s batteries are about to die. I get random flashes. I can kind of aim where I want to see, but whether the light comes on or not is out of my control.” She shrugged. “In the meantime, my totally fried brain gave me an image of our car parked outside the America’s Best Value Inn, and us trudging in, staying in room 207.” She yawned again. “No attacks, No Jimmy, Just us checking in. And hopefully getting a good night’s rest, ’cause frankly, I’m beat.”

“Here, here,” Hugo called out from the back seat. “I second the motion.”

Any comment Rose might have made she held as the sign for the America’s Best Value Inn came into view. “Tch... fine,” she grudgingly agreed, taking the left, circling around to enter the parking lot. “Okay. We’ll call it a night. Just make sure you both get plenty of shuteye. Tomorrow is going to be another long day. The Intel we received from the boss said he’s somewhere in this city. And Austin’s a big place. We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

“Hell,” Hugo grumbled, opening his door, stepping out into the parking lot. “Here it is ‘needle in a haystack’ time and me with my pitchfork back home in my other pants.”

The sarcasm was lost on Devon. She merely sighed contentedly. Jimmy was close. She knew it. She could feel it. He was in trouble—very bad trouble, if the visions she’d had of the torture he was experiencing were true—but they were close. So very close, now. Just hang in there, baby, she whispered to him silently. Just hang on. We’re coming.