The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A Ghost Story

Editor’s Note:

In February of 2006 J. Darksong began posting a story called Omega Girl which spawned four direct sequels, at least four spin-off stories, and (thus far) seventeen “second generation” stories. Oh, and two “contributing author” anthologies. Quite the saga, eh?

In May of 2008 Sara Castle posted her own superheroine story: The Honey Trap. With this start, her “Crescent City Saga” also took on a life of its own, with a total of five story arcs, each one grander and more epic than the one before. Arc 5 ended with a tantalizing cliffhanger, and a promise of an action-packed Arc 6.

Alas, sadly, in the real world, Sara ran out of miracle escapes and had to leave us forever. And so the “Crescent City Saga” remains unfinished.

For the past year and a half, J. Darksong and I have been paying a loving homage to Sara’s Crescent City universe, first in the form of the villian Sweet Tooth, then with the heroine Ghost Girl, and finally with GG’s broken-but-amped-up friend Chloe.

And now, with this story, JD completes a vision of closure for Sara’s characters. Sad closure perhaps, but full of hope. I know it’s “just a comic book story”, but when I read it, it moved me. You who are just starting to read this story are in for a treat.

—BalRog

Chapter 1

I can still remember it as if it were yesterday. The first time I met him. The man who changed my life... no, the man who gave my life back to me.

I was standing in a street corner, whipcord thin, half-starved, drugged nearly out of my mind, thrusting my chest and hips out to anyone passing by. I’d lived on the streets for about three months before Eddie found me, and put me to work. At the time, I was grateful. Three months of floating along aimlessly, without purpose, like a ship without a rudder... three months of being lost in my own head, caught in an endless nightmare of pain and loss and betrayal. For Eddie, I was a godsend, a submissive, a well-trained sex slut who would fuck and suck out of desperation rather than money. All it cost to keep me was the occasional meal, and enough drugs to keep my stoned and peacefully complacent.

The life of a streetwalker is a hard one. You basically have little to no say in who you do, as your owner, your pimp, makes all the rules. For the right amount of money, pretty much anything can be negotiated. The fact that I was a Super, that once upon a time I had been one of the city’s celebrated heroines, only made me more sought after. Many a low-life thug and criminal henchman took their turn with me, exacting out a measure of revenge against the former heroine who had once dared to challenge them. And Eddie was less concerned about my well-being, than the increase to his profit margin that my use brought in. Not that I minded in the slightest. Even if I hadn’t been drugged to the gills, I still would have taken their abuse without comment. For them, it was about revenge. For me, it was about atonement.

The truth was, I just didn’t care. I’d fallen from grace, had my life ripped away from me, torn to shreds by the evil sadistic madman that haunted my dreams and nightmares even now. He’d taken my dearest and closest friend, destroyed her mind and poisoned her soul, then used her to do the same to me. She’d betrayed me, helping him enslave me, twisting my mind and soul, until I was completely and totally his creation. I was his “sugar”, she, his “spice”.

* * *

She’d managed to break free eventually... typical heroine, breaking free from her shackles at the last possible moment to topple the bad guy and ruin his grand schemes. Unfortunately, I was still under his spell, and when she’d attacked my Master, I’d fought back, defending him with everything I had, fighting tooth and nail to destroy her, the traitor who had DARED raise her hand against my beloved Master. The woman who had broken free from his insidious control. The woman who had then risked everything to come back and try to free me too. The woman whom I’d killed with my own bare hands to protect my beloved Master.

In my deepest darkest moments I relived that scene, my friend and mentor shuddering, gasping for breath as my hand phased through her chest, past ribs and muscle and lungs, on to her heart. I felt it leap in my hand like a living thing, but I held it fast and squeezed. She begged me to stop even as the life drained from her eyes. And all the while, He stood over us, laughing maniacally, His gooey, slimy body dripping sticky sweetness in a puddle around His legs.

“Take her away!” He ordered, still laughing, hardly believing his good fortune. Her assault on his lair had been only the most recent of a series of invasions by superheroines that day. But he had been ready for all the others. Her, not so much. He hadn’t even known that his “spice” had slipped from his control until she’d confronted him. But I had seen the danger immediately and had protected Master the only way I knew how. I, his ‘sugar’, killed ‘spice’.

“Take her away,” he repeated, “Post her out front as an example to all others who would dare defy me.” I shivered with glee knowing that Sugar had pleased Master, knowing that He would surely reward me on my return. I moved as quickly as I could, turning us both insubstantial and carried her, climbing through the walls and ceilings of the subterranean maze as if they were not even there. At the surface I solidified and tied her lifeless body to the chain link fence. It was still less than a minute after I had killed her. I couldn’t wait to get back to Master!

And then... I felt the ground tremble. I saw fire explode out of the office building that was the front for Master’s lair. I saw that building collapse in upon itself.

“Master,” I’d whispered. I knew Master was perfect, and unbeatable, but I also knew that he did not have my power. I watched helplessly as tons of steel and concrete collapsed inward. I sprang into action, I had to save him. I dove back into the ground, phasing through the rubble, down into the space that had been his throne room, and there I found him, right where I had left him. He was crushed amid the rubble, but not dead yet. I watched as he coughed up the sweet, sticky ichor of his lifeblood, I touched his gooey, syrupy face tenderly.

“Master!” I cried, as much as my insubstantial form would allow. He still heard me. He smiled.

“They got me after all, sugar,” He whispered.

“No Master! Let me save you!” I touched him again, tried to make Him as insubstantial as I was, but I couldn’t tell where the crusty, sugary outer coating ended and the real “inner” Master began.

“Stop, sugar,” he rasped, “That’s an order.”

“But, but...” I couldn’t believe it. The light of my worthless life was dying. “Master! Please, don’t leave me!” I screamed.

“Oh, sugar,” he said, coughing up more syrupy, thick blood, “my true, loyal pet. I’ll never leave you. I’ll always be with you. You’ll be mine forever. Go now, my eternal slave. Oh, and you can remember now... Remember everything. Now, go out and make me proud, my sugar.”

I could do nothing but obey, even though it tore my heart out. The flood of memory threatened to derail me—I was a hero; I was spi—, Am—, Chloe’s best friend; I killed her; I killed my best friend—but I kept going, obsessively, obediently. Soon I was once again standing by the body of my dead friend Chloe, the traitor “spice”. But somehow I no longer feel proud. I feel horrible. I killed her. But wait... Did... did she just twitch? This final shock is too much. I black out.

When I finally come to, I’m surrounded by other heroes, Master’s enemies. They rush to us, pulling me from the ground, pulling spice’s body from the fence, taking us away, even as I cry out, reaching out for Him, the NEED for Him overwhelming everything else, even my shame and guilt at what I’d done. What I’d become.

The moment my rescuers had turned to battle the blaze, clear the rubble, and attempt to rescue any other survivors, I’d ran, simply taking off, unable to deal with the situation at all. My life as a heroine was over. I’d fought and subdued, and captured a multitude of the city’s heroes at my Master’s command, had helped Him deal atrocities and unspeakable acts to countless innocents. I was a murderer. Heroine? Huh. I was unworthy of the title. The only thing left was my life as Master’s eternal slave. The only thing I was good for was being abused and used like the piece of human garbage I’d become.

I was a mere shadow of my former self. A restless shade. A specter. A ghost.

Eddie found me on the very first day that I started selling myself for food. He recognized me immediately, but what street thug really believes that he is inferior to a woman, even a superheroine. He subdued me easily though; I didn’t fight back. All my “fight” was gone. He easily “convinced” me that I should “work” for him. And fuck for him. And live for him. He gave me drugs to dull my memories, insults and degradation to feed my sense of worthlessness, pain to keep me in line.

I let him slip on the metaphorical leash and collar with no protest at all. I would live to please him as I had lived to please that sickly sweet monster before him. And thus the new Master stepped effortlessly into the shoes of the old.

* * *

Please my Master. Fuck my brains out. Get my “candy”. Those were the thoughts first and foremost in my mind the day HE drove up to my street corner, his long black stretch limousine completely out of place for this seedy neighborhood of Crescent City.

Even then, little more than a mindless zombie, I remember being struck by the sight of him. He was tall, easily six feet, with broad shoulders, and dark slightly-curly hair. And as he turned to look at me, he had the most intense look on his face, as if his mind was racing, going a thousand miles a minute, taking in everything around him, missing nothing at all. Our eyes met briefly, and a look passed over his face... a look of profound sadness and pity. And then, in an eye-blink it was gone, replaced by a calm and cool demeanor once more.

“Hey hey, my man!” Eddie chuckled, stepping up to the prospective ‘John’. “Like what you see? My little Jenny here is a special girl... special with a capital ‘S’. She’s one of those metahumans you hear about these days... she’s a ‘Super’. Used to be some hotshot heroine or something, but now she’s just a cock-hungry whore. If you’re looking to get your rocks off, my Jenny will be only too happy to oblige. Of course, being exotic, she costs a bit more,” he said, glancing again at the limo, “but for a discerning man such as yourself, I don’t think it will be a problem.”

“Nae,” the dark haired man replied idly, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, “I suspect not. Tell me, lad,” he said, pulling a thin card from his billfold, “do ye accept plastic?”

Eddie blinked, scowling. “Plastic? Man do you see a fucking card reader attached to my belt? This is a cash only business! You better not be wasting my time—”

“Ach no,” the tall man replied, holding up the plastic card, which let out a bright purple flash of light, “I’m nae wasting yer time at all. You, however, are wasting MY time. And it’s only fair that ye do something to make up for it, aye?”

“Sure,” Eddie replied, his voice sounding slurred, as if he were suddenly drunk. “It’s only fair.”

“Good lad. So here is what you need to do. Go to the nearest police station and turn yerself in. Confess to every single crime ye’ve ever committed, Answer any and all questions they ask truthfully, except for the following. If they ask aboot why ye decided to confess, tell them ye simply had a change of heart, an attack of the conscience. And if they ask any questions about yer new girl Jenny, answer that ye don’t know anything aboot her. In fact, when I leave, ye’ll forget ever owning her at all. Do ye understand, Edward?”

He nodded briskly.

“Good lad. Now get to it.”

Finished with Eddie, he turned to face me. “And now for you, lass,” he murmured softly, taking me by the arm. Not resisting in the slightest, I let him usher me into the back of his car, and off we went.

* * *

Sometime later, full cognizance and clarity returned, and with it the pain and torment of my reality surfaced. Finding myself in unfamiliar surroundings, I sat up... or rather tried to. I was restrained, shackled to the bed I was lying in. My sluggish brain also registered a few more startling facts, such as the fact that I was in a hospital room, with an IV in my arm, and aside from a thin paper gown, completely naked. I groaned loudly, in a mixture of shame, fear, and arousal from my condition, the latter a direct result of the two former. My time as a sex slave had been etched relentlessly into my psyche, such that every sensation, every bad emotion, only fueled my hypercharged libido. I needed to touch myself, and badly, I tried to will my powers to work, to let me phase through the bindings holding me down so I could reach my aching empty pussy...

No dice. I was stuck, trapped, rendered completely powerless and helpless... which only fed my steadily growing arousal, like an endless feedback loop, I cried out loudly in torment, shaking my head wildly, struggling like a wild woman. I needed, goddammit... needed so badly it hurt! Worse, my mind was clearing, and despite my best efforts, I was starting to remember how I’d came to be here, how I’d sunk so low. Chloe. Oh God. Chloe. Dead... killed her with my bare hands. The shame, the guilt, perversely only ratcheted up my arousal and need more.

I was in Hell. No escape from my thoughts, my demons, my inner torment. And no escape for the physical pain either, my body craving, needing the drugs that had kept me numb for so long. I was going out of my mind, feeling as if I were about to explode out of my skin at any second. I was vaguely aware that I was screaming incoherently, thrashing and shaking the entire bed. When the doctors and nurses rushed into the room, I was so far gone I barely noticed. And when the new stream of drugs entered my system, sedating me, numbing the pain with sweet blessed oblivion, I embraced it wholeheartedly.

* * *

“Eugene.”

Gene Frasier turned, smiling warmly at his guest, who merely regarded him coolly. “Ah, Eva. So glad ye could make it. Please, come in. As I said before in my message, I have need of your assistance.”

“Oh? Do you, now?” she replied, crossing her arms at her chest, leaning against the door frame. “And naturally, you just assumed I would come running just because you called.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m NOT your little slave girl, Frasier. I don’t come crawling just because you call me! And anyway, you have some nerve reaching out to me at all!“

The elder Scotsman winced visibly, wilting under her ire. “Ach... ye wound me deeply, lass. Ye ken as well as I that I made the right call... not for myself, but for ALL of us. It wasnae the time to make yer move against Blackfinger. The bastard is a cagey fox, always prepared, and the only way of holding yer own against him is to be likewise prepared. You, Veronica and Parker, ye were thinking with yer emotions, not logic—”

“Which is damn well better than not feeling any emotions at all!” Eva growled back. “Eugene Frasier, I swear... sometimes I think you’re not a man wearing a suit of armor... you’re an actual robot through and through!”

The tall man sighed heavily. “Fine. Call me callous if you like. Call me unfeeling. It doesnae change the fact that I was right. Those wee ones were securely under his thumb and wouldnae come along without a fight. Parker and Veronica can attest to that. Having Lacie and I in the mix would have only complicated things further, and exposed us all. And where would we be now, eh? Aye, we’d have Angela and Patricia back, but they’d still be Nigel Grimalde’s thralls. I’ve done my research, lass... the drugs he injected them with and the process they went through—it doesnae wear off. You yourself dove into their minds with your powers, and admitted as much, that you couldnae begin to unravel what was done without permanently damaging their minds in the process! So tell me Eva... what was the end game in this little rescue attempt? What was the final solution?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” she yelled back, her frustration showing. “Goddamn you, Gene, I don’t know! I just know... those girls... they needed us. Needed ME...” she sighed, the fight going out of her. “I failed her, Gene. That poor girl, tortured literally out of her mind... and I couldn’t help her.”

“Aye,” Eugene said softly, approaching her now, placing his arms around her. “I ken. Robot or not, I feel just the same. We all failed them. We Supers, as a community, failed them. If we were a closer knit group, maybe we would have realized what was happening before it was too late, before things escalated into the mess it is now. And maybe Patricia would have reached out to us instead of trying to take him on alone and getting sucked into his web as well.” He sighed deeply. “And that, lass... brings me to the reason I called ye here. On the topic of kidnapped and missing Supers, I managed to track one down with my new DNA scanner program, and rescued her. She’s... she’s a mess, Eva. I dinnae ken if there’s anything we can do for her, but... ”

“But you want to try,” Eva finished, sighing heavily. “Gene... this doesn’t make up for Angie and Patty... not by a long shot. I still think we should have found a way to save them... that there IS still a way to save them. But this girl... yes, I agree. We have to do what we can for her as well.”

* * *

My return to consciousness some time later was, surprisingly, less traumatic. My mind was relatively clear, but with a bit of a fog still numbing my emotions a bit, enough to keep me from freaking out. In fact, I felt almost preternaturally calm, as if I’d been pumped full of a few dozen milligrams of Ritalin while I was out. Which is probably close to the truth, I thought dimly, noticing the new IV in my arm. Whatever they were pumping into it me, it was taking the edge off. Still, my situation hadn’t changed. My life as a heroine was over. My old Master was gone. My new Master was gone. I had no purpose, no reason for living. I was a broken doll, no use to anyone....

“...ectioner? That candy-making psychotic?” a female voice was speaking just outside my room. “I thought he was long gone. Every report I’d read and heard about said he’d simply vanished off the grid years ago!”

“Aye, off the grid, but not truly gone,” a man’s voice answered. A familiar-sounding man. Where... did I know that voice from? The fog was in my head, preventing my thoughts from connecting fully, and my curiosity wasn’t strong enough to push aside the complete and total apathy for long. What was the point, anyway? I didn’t care about anything. No purpose. No life. No hope.

“...looking at the doctor’s latest blood work results,” the woman was saying. “I’m a psychiatrist, not a pharmacologist. I’m hardly an expert in drug interactions, but even I can tell these markers are way off. Whatever he did to her, whatever she did to herself afterwards... it’s amazing that she’s not permanently brain-damaged! And then there’s the physical changes... constantly aroused, to the point of nymphomania... no wonder they were using her as a whore, it was probably the only way of taking care of her constant need!”

“I know,” the man replied wearily. “That combination of heroine, dust, cocaine and ‘O’ that she was taking apparently kept her somewhat in check... When the doctors began flushing her system and she came down, she seized up so badly they had to sedate her. It took the better part of two weeks to find a combination of drugs that would ease her symptoms without her having another episode...”

Huh. I was right. They were pumping me full of more drugs. I would have laughed if I’d had the capacity. Drugged by Master, drugged by Eddie the pimp, and now drugged by my would-be rescuers. Different titles, different motivations, same result. I closed my eyes, letting my attention wander once more.

“...don’t know if there is anything I can do for her, Gene,” the woman was saying. “Honestly, from everything I read in her mind earlier, I think she’s actually worse off that Angela was. I... think maybe the best thing would be to turn her over to a long term care facility. I hate to say it, but I don’t think this girl can be saved—“

“Yes, she can!” the man growled suddenly, forcefully, recapturing my attention. Opening my eyes, I glanced up at the window, and saw again, the tall man from before. The handsome dark-haired man who had taken me from Eddie. “That girl in there is my responsibility!” he said forcefully, causing my breath to catch. “MINE! I’ll not surrender her to anyone else! I dinnae care what it takes, Eva, we ARE saving this one!” He shook his head. “I ken I may be asking for the impossible here... that perhaps it truly cannae be done. But until we’ve exhausted every last resource at our disposal, we have to try! Maybe my technology can do what yer powers can’t. Or maybe a combination of the two...”

The rest of their conversation faded out again, but it didn’t matter. My mind kept replaying the words the man had said, over and over again. “That girl is MY responsibility... she’s MINE... I’ll not surrender her to anyone else... mine... my responsibility... My fractured psyche grabbed onto those words and held for dear life, clinging to that one thought, that one insane impossible hope. This man... he had taken me away from Eddie, taken me off the streets. And now... I was HIS.

I had found my new Master. A new reason to live. My life had purpose again.

* * *

“...just saying that—” Eva blinked, suddenly falling silently. “Gene! The girl! She’s awake! She’s still a bit foggy but lucid enough to understand us.”

“Finally!” Eugene replied, letting out a breath. “And ye say she can understand us? Then that lessens the chance of any brain damage from all the drugs she was on. Come on, lass, we should go talk to her.”

“Wait, Gene,” Eva said, giving him a strange look. She frowned, biting her lip. “Gene... before we face her... I’m reading her now and she is in a bad way. That bastard... the things he put her through... he nearly destroyed her. Before this very moment, she was practically suicidal. Hearing you talk, hearing you demanding that we not give up on her... she, um... she seems to have, um...” she glanced away, blushing hotly. “She thinks you are her new Owner and Master.”

Gene blinked in surprise. “She thinks I’m WHAT?” He shook his head, muttering softly in Gaelic. “Well, I’ll be sure and clear up THAT notion straight away—”

“You can’t,” Eva insisted, grabbing his arm. “She thinks of you that way, so you’ll have to act like a Master for her.”

“Ye... ye cannae be serious!” he exclaimed in disbelief.

“Right now, that’s the ONLY thought keeping her sane, the one thing she is holding onto. Gene... if you only knew what she...” Eva sighed. “You can’t take that away from her. She needs it... as much as Lacie needed it all those years ago when fighting the Mind Five broke her. If you truly want to help this girl through her pain and allow her to heal, you’ll have to play the part she’s put you in.”

The elder Scotsman groaned inwardly. “Ge milis am fìon, tha e searbh ri dhìol,” he muttered sullenly. “First Lacie Ann, now this lass... what next? I suppose I’ll have you kneeling at my feet before long as well!”

Eva chuckled ruefully. “No offense, Gene,” she said drily, “but the day you find ME clamoring to become your next slave girl is the day I’ve taken total leave of my senses. Now come on, let’s greet the patient...”

* * *

My Master’s name was Eugene Frasier.

He was handsome to be sure. I’d thought so from the beginning, even when I was little more than a wind-up sex doll for his amusement. To be honest, on some level, I knew it was all the conditioning and drugs my FORMER Owner had used on me to make me this receptive, but the means didn’t matter a bit when the end was sooooo fucking intense. The moment he entered the room, my attention narrowed in on him, like a laser painting its target. My conditioned instincts kicked in, and I found myself becoming in tune with him, monitoring his body’s reactions, to better anticipate his wants, needs... desires. He spoke, introducing himself, and I nearly swooned, taking in the rich exotic sound of his voice, the deep baritone timbre, with that commanding Scottish burr.

He asked me if I knew where I was, and I responded immediately with “Yes, Master.” He visibly winced, clearly uncomfortable at being addressed that way, and he glanced back at the blonde that had accompanied him, as if for reassurance. My heart sank, and I had a moment of near panic at the thought that I’d displeased him. Had I not been shackled to this damned bed, I would have fallen immediately at my knees at his feet and begged forgiveness. But I was shackled, restrained... and as I struggled to come to terms with my situation, the thought suddenly occurred to me that I was bound this way specifically because my Master wished it. He wanted me this way. And then I remember my former Master’s most important lesson—never try to second guess your Master’s will. If he wanted me to do or say something, he would let me know. If he didn’t like being called “Master”, then he would inform me how he wished to be addressed. Calming down, I merely sat, waiting for him to speak again.

Eugene took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Lass. I dinnae ken... I don’t know, how much of what happened to you that ye recall,” he said slowly, “I suppose I’m asking... what do you remember? From before?”

I told him. Everything. Starting from the day Chloe stopped returning my messages. The day I’d found Chloe’s home ransacked, sticky, sweet jelly and syrup everywhere. My partner in crime-fighting was gone, abducted and taken against her will. I’d tracked her down to the villain’s lair. I fired my standard-badged-super-issue non-lethal tranq darts at him... to no effect. But then I was betrayed by the very one I’d come to save. She attacked me, subdued me. And then... HE changed me, altered me, mind, body and soul, turned me into a wanton, needy and obedient slut.

The same wanton, needy, obedient slut I was now, only my obedience was for my new Master, not the sickeningly sweet candy-man who’d done this to me. I even told Him about the end, about Chloe’s escape. About her return, risking everything to reach me. About MY attack on HER, squeezing the life out of her with my bare hands. From his expression, my tale obviously bothered him, but he didn’t ask me to stop, so I continued, giving him all the gory details. I told him about the explosion and the final words, the final orders of the madman who had enslaved me.

I told him about my time as a prostitute. Weeks? Months? Eddie kept me so doped up and busy servicing the “clientele” that I had no idea how much time had passed. Until my New Master, my white knight, had rescued me.

“... and then I awoke to the sound of you speaking, and then you came into the room,” I finished, drawing to a close. My fingers twitched slightly in anticipation. He’d asked me to tell him what I’d remembered. Had I pleased him? Had I done a good job? I waited anxiously for some sign of his approval, and just when I’d begun to despair, the blonde woman punched him lightly on the shoulder.

“Ahhh, um, y-yeah,” he said awkwardly, glancing away from me. “Thank you, Jennifer. That was perfect. Exactly what I needed to know. Umm... good girl,” he added, patting my hand lightly.

Good girl... I couldn’t help myself. I exploded... cumming hard, my vision whiting out. I probably could have orgasmed from the praise alone, but that, added with his touch... it was too much for me, even with the drugs toning down my arousal. Good girl... good girl... The words just kept circulating through my head as I floated for a time in complete Nirvana. For the moment, all the bad feelings, and guilt and everything else was gone, swept away in the tidal wave of utter bliss and fulfillment.

“Jennifer? Jennifer!” Master’s voice pulled me back to reality. His face was very red... from embarrassment, and, if my reading of his body cues were correct, arousal. “All right, back with us again, eh? Verra good.” He glanced wearily at the blond, who seemed to be struggling to restrain her laughter. “Ahem... if it was not already evident, my colleagues and I brought you here to aid you... to try and help you regain what you lost during your captivity.” He reached out to touch my hand, then paused, reconsidering. “I want to help you get your life back... to become the heroine you once were.”

I swear, had my heart not already been shattered beyond repair and ground into dust, it would have melted from the sincerity in his voice. But... it was impossible. “Forgive me, Master,” I replied softly, noticing him wince again, “but I can never go back to what I was. I’m... damaged goods. All I am is a broken toy, good only for sucking and fucking.”

“That’s not true!” the blonde woman stated, speaking for the first time. “Eugene, tell her! She’s not a worthless brainless toy!”

“I am!” I insisted bitterly, staring down at my feet. “You heard my story. I’m not a hero. I’m a murderer. What kind of hero kills her best friend?“

“You didn’t kill anyone, Jenn,” Master insisted, taking my hand this time. I shuddered, but pushed my arousal aside to focus on his words. “You didn’t kill your friend. You left, you ran away before the heroes finishing rescuing everyone from the fire. They found your friend Chloe beside the fence surrounding the property. They gave her CPR. She’s... she in bad shape. Verra bad shape,” he said, avoiding my gaze, “but she IS still alive. She’s been in a coma in Crescent City Memorial for the past three months, but I received word from Dr. Freeman that her brain activity has increased in the past few days, and it looks like she’ll be waking up soon.”

Chloe... was alive? I stared at the man in front of me, trying to comprehend. Was it possible? He had to be lying... and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to doubt him. I’d stuck my hand into her chest, made her heart stop beating, and left her for dead. She... she couldn’t possibly be alive. Could she?

Could she?!?

“Eva, lass, what’s wrong with her?” Eugene asked, waving a hand before the stunned girl’s face, getting no reaction. “What’s happening? I’d thought the news that her friend was still alive would make her happy... boost her spirits, not make her go comatose as well!”

“It’s just too much for her to process,” Eva stated grimly. “Too much stimulation, and too many drugs still in her system. She literally can’t process the news you just gave her. Gene, I’m going to have to quiet her mind for a while, to let this all sink in, before she has a meltdown.” A lovely blonde face swam into my vision then, clear blue eyes filled with worry and concern. “Just relax, sweetie,” she said, placing a hand gently on my forehead. “It’s okay. Sleep now. Things will be better in the morning.” As I felt myself sinking into slumber, I dared, for a moment, to hope that she was right... that tomorrow would be a better day. For a moment, l let myself believe it could be possible, that the future might just be a bright one.

I was so very very wrong.

Chapter 2

Hope is the most terribly dangerous thing in existence.

A person with hope will go far beyond their normal limitations, do things you would think impossible, and suffer unimaginable torments past their endurance, all in the name of hope. Nothing can build you up higher than having hope. And nothing can bring you to the lowest depths of despair than having that hope broken, dashed, and crushed under heel.

“Are you sure you understand what I’m telling you?” Master said for the third time as we rode across the city to Crescent City Memorial. “Your friend Chloe was badly hurt. She is alive, but there’s no telling how badly off she’ll be. The doctor mentioned head trauma...”

“Yes, Master, I understand,” I replied, barely containing my excitement. I was hearing His words, yes, but all my thoughts were on Chloe. She was alive! My actions while under that evil candyman’s control had pretty much burned every bridge I had. I’d effectively destroyed my own life, and cut any and all meaningful ties. But Chloe... she was my friend. She understood, better than anyone, what I had endured, and what I was going through. In her, at least, I had one last connection to my life from before.

“Jennifer!” Master’s sharp rebuke snapped me out of my inner dialogue.

“Sorry, Master,” I replied, chastened. I needed to pay attention to Him, to do my part as His obedient and devoted servant. And yet... the prospect of seeing my friend again, alive and well, made it hard to focus on Him. It was almost as if... almost as if the part of me, my old sense of self-worth, was coming back to life. I was still a slave... but maybe that wasn’t all I was.

“Gene, let it go,” the blonde girl, Eva, said wearily. “The girl’s focused on her friend right now. Let her have this. Let her be excited for a change! After the way she was moping around before, listless and unemotional, this is a pleasant change.”

“Aye,” the Scotsman murmured softly, fingering the small wooden box on his lap. “I only hope she’s not setting herself up for disappointment.”

But I was. And in a big way. Reaching the hospital, Master went in first, having a long and detailed talk with the doctor, while the blonde and I were kept outside. After a while, he returned, but again, he held us back. “On my advice, the doctor decided to keep her sedated for a while until we arrived,” he said grimly, opening the small box he’d brought. Inside was a silver grey collar, similar to the one around my own neck. I actually bristled for a moment. Was Master planning on turning Chloe into His slave as well?

I... wasn’t sure how I felt about that. On one hand, I was Master’ slave. He had given my life meaning and purpose again. If Chloe was in the same state of mind I was when I first awoke, then binding her to Him would be a blessing, a relief from the pain of being utterly lost without someone to guide you. But... at the same time, she’d managed to break free from our mutual Master at the end, had incredibly enough, managed to shatter his control over her, and tried to free me as well. Did she even NEED a Master in her life? Or would my well-meaning Owner unknowingly put her back into the same hell she had only just escaped from?

He must have sensed my unease, however, because He turned to me then and explained His intent.

“Jennifer, my lass,” He said gently, in a way that made my toes curl, “I only wish to help your friend. This collar is an invention of mine. It has the ability to neutralize the powers of a Super wearing it. The one you are wearing is what kept you from slipping out of your restraints when you first woke in the hospital.” He sighed softly. “I’m hoping this won’t be necessary, but considering what your friend Chloe is capable of, and the... um, agitated state you were in when you first woke up, I thought it best that we take precautions.”

I nodded at that. Master really was very wise. “I understand. Can we go see her now?”

“She’s in the room right across from us,” he said, pointing a little down and to the right. Inside was... ohhhh god. Chloe was bandaged up, with tubes and IV’s and all... and I know I looked the same way when I’d regained consciousness, but it just broke my heart to see her like that. I moved to head for the door, when Master stopped me.

“Jennifer!” He said sternly, causing me to freeze. “I go in first. The doctor and I will be the first persons she sees when she wakes. If and when she calms down, I’ll allow you to come in and see her. And you will ONLY come inside when I tell you. Do we understand each other, lass?”

I nodded, my heart practically beating in my throat. Was he being overly cautious, or was there something else I was missing? That fragile hope I clung to was starting to wear thin, but I hung on nevertheless. It will be all right. However bad off she is, Chloe will heal. She’ll forgive me for trying to kill her, and I’ll forgive her for turning me into a slave and giving me to that monster. It’ll be fine. We’ll both heal, and in time, things can be like they used to be.

As we watched through the window, Master stepped inside, gently placing His device around her neck. After checking with the doctor, He nodded, and the physician in charge turned off the sedative and introduced a stimulant. The result was almost instantaneous, as her eyelids began to flutter. Groaning softly, she opened her eyes, and lifted her head. I smiled. Chloe was back! I wanted to dance in place, to laugh, to sing, to scream with joy—

“Uuuhhnnn! UGGHNNNN! AAAHAHHHH!!!” her screams of anguish penetrating the nearly soundproofed room, froze that feeling inside me. “Nooo!! Bad men! Hurts! Why hurt me? WHY?” She began struggling, kicking and screaming, trying to get free. My heart sank in my chest, but I held on again to that hope, remembering how I’d woken in a frenzy as well. I couldn’t hear them, but I could see Master and the doctor talking to her, trying to explain what was going on. It will work, I told myself. They’ll calm her down, and then I can talk to her, and everything will be fine.

And then... everything went horribly horribly wrong.

The collar, the safeguard Master had thoughtfully placed around her neck to keep Chloe’s electrical powers turned off failed. The collar exploded, literally, in a shower of sparks and metal, flying off her neck in all directions. Freed, her electricity began to surge, lashing out angrily about the room, frying equipment and monitors, blasting and charring the walls. The leather restraints holding her to the bed burned away into ash, as did her bandages and bedclothes, and with a start, she leapt from the bed, onto the floor, her thin wiry body folding underneath her from months of disuse. And all the while, she kept screaming, gibbering nonsense, yelling and screaming and kicking out, like a naked child having a temper tantrum.

Master stood still in the midst of all the chaos, a grim look on his face, as the doctor huddled behind him in fear. Lightning bolts crashed all around him, and yet, miraculously, they somehow missed him, deflecting to spots around him instead. He continued to talk, to try and get through to Chloe, but amidst the maelstrom of energy, he couldn’t get close enough to actually reach her. Finally, he turned, staring at us through the window, saying something. I couldn’t hear him, but the blonde girl next to me obviously understood. Frowning, she stepped forward, placing a palm against the window, and closed her eyes. Instantly, the lightning storm stopped, and Chloe collapsed like a puppet with her strings cut.

“What did you do?!?” I yelled grabbing Eva by her collar, shaking her frantically. “Chloe! What did you do to her! Tell me!”

“She merely put her to sleep,” Master replied, sounding exhausted as he stepped from the room. “As I asked her to. Jennifer... I... this situation...” He shook his head in dismay. “You cannae see her just yet. You saw what happened.” He grunted, leaning forward and slamming his fist against the wall hard enough to make me jump. “Hell slap in intae ye!” he muttered in frustration. “I should have known... should have figured it out. She’s not simply an electric fount, she’s also a technopath! The collar didnae work—her powers merely reprogrammed it, then fed off the energy from it to recharge herself!” He lifted his shirt sleeves, removed the grey bands from his wrists, tossing them aside in disgust. “I’m only lucky that I was wearing my armor remote units in there. I was able to reconfigure them on the fly and use my nanos to deflect her strikes, but the effort burned out both control units! Blast me heid... how could I not anticipate something like this!?!“

“Gene! Easy, now... get a hold of yourself!” Eva admonished, talking to him but staring at me. “Contrary to popular belief, you’re NOT perfect. Even you can’t predict and think of every eventuality. But that’s fine. Right now, you have someone who needs you to pull it together!”

She was right. I wasn’t really sure what scared me more, what happened inside the room, or the fact that my Master—the man I depended on to guide me and take care of me—was having his own mini-meltdown. With an effort, he rallied, calming himself, and turned to face me again.

“Sorry. I’m sorry about that... display, just now,” he said sincerely. “Eva’s right. I can blame myself for this later. Right now, I need to keep my head and focus on what to do in the here and now.” He sighed softly. “Obviously, you won’t be able to speak to your friend now... but you can come and see her if you want. The doctor is getting some orderlies to help take care of her, to wash and clean her, bandage her up again, and have her placed in a different room.” He sighed softly, glancing away, and that was when I knew... I knew somehow, that my fragile hope was about to snap.

Please, god... don’t say it. Please don’t. Let me hold on to the illusion at least!

“Jennifer,” he began again, even as the tears began to flow down my cheeks, “Chloe... she’s not... herself. The head trauma I mentioned? The doctor warned me that there might be some... brain damage. It’s too soon to tell the extent of the damage, how much she will remember, whether she’ll remember at all, or how much of the old Chloe is still there inside her.” He shook his head. “It’s just... before, the way she was acting, and what she was yelling out... she was like a scared, wee bairn...”

Brain damage. The nail in the coffin. Of course. Obvious. We’d been fighting, after all. I’d tried to bash her brains in, had slammed her head repeatedly against the concrete... and then I’d stopped her heart. No heartbeat, no blood. No oxygen to the brain. And who knows how long she’d gone from the moment she officially ‘died’ to the moment the rescuers managed to revive her?

Gone. It was all gone. Chloe’s body was alive, and would heal, but her mind, that sharp, funny, clever, mind of hers... it was gone. Forever. Brain damage doesn’t heal. Nerves don’t regenerate. The girl I’d known, the friend and mentor I’d cherished for most of my young life was really and truly dead. All that was left was a shadow, the poor damaged remains of what she used to be.

Just like me. Just like me.

* * *

Things were... harder after that.

Master convinced me to go and visit Chloe again a few weeks after she’d gotten settled in her new home. She had indeed regressed, reverting to a childlike state. Physically, she was five years older than me, but mentally, emotionally, she was a four year old child. She didn’t know me, which in and of itself was heartbreaking, and yet, somehow she felt that there was a connection between us. Unlike with the doctors and nurses, she smiled when I came to see her, and even hugged me. She told me that I was a nice lady, and that she didn’t know why, but she loved me. I managed to make it through the entire visit before breaking down, crying and sobbing the instant the door closed behind me.

Chloe wasn’t the only one receiving therapy, however. Every day, for more than two weeks, the blonde, Eva, and several other people came to see me. I was being “deprogrammed”, as they put it, having them use hypnosis, and drugs, and psychic powers to try and unravel the complicated knot of submission and enslavement imposed upon me. It was awful, and I hated every minute of it, but I endured it, because, deep down, I knew this was what Master wanted of me.

Irony at its strongest. My Owner and Master, who could make me do anything He wished, could literally remake me into anything He wanted, wanted the only thing He couldn’t get from me. He wanted the old me back... the way I was before I’d been corrupted, destroyed, and remade. And while most of the memories were still there, covered and buried under layers of sweet sticky sugar and honey, the connections, the feelings and emotions that went with them were all scrambled. I wasn’t that person any more. And no matter how much my Master wanted me to, no matter how much I wanted to please Him, I couldn’t be her.

“It’s no use,” Eva confided in him after a particularly fruitless session. “It’s like trying create a castle out of sand. Yes, the pieces are all there, and I can assemble them together, but there’s no substance holding them in place, nothing to bind them together. And the slightest bit of pressure causes them to crumble apart again.”

“I see,” Eugene replied softly, running a hand lightly through my hair. Such a simple gesture, and yet it had my blood boiling, my thighs clenching with need. As part of my ‘sessions’, I was stimulated sexually while my mind was probed. After all, sex and arousal had been pretty much hardwired into me by my former Master’s insidious programming. The only way of countering was to use the same method. And truth be told, if Master were to strip me naked and slide His godlike manhood into me, I actually believed he could possibly fuck the old Jennifer back into existence!

Eva apparently shared the same prospective as I. “You know, Gene,” she said archly, “it would make things easier if you would just bite the bullet and give the girl what she really wants.” Jerking back, the tall Scotsman went red in the face, sputtering, even as the blonde psychic laughed. “Oh come now, Gene,” she said chiding. “We’re all adults here. The girl has consented to being your sex slave, yet you refused to have sex with her. If you really want to help breakthrough all the mental blocks in her head, you’ll have sex with this girl.“

“Eva... are ye daft?!?” he protested. “In case you’ve forgotten the fact, I’m a married man, and happily so! I wouldnae do anything to dishonor Lacie Anne.”

I’d never met or heard of Lacie Anne Frasier in my life, but in that moment I hated her with every fiber of my being.

“Gene, please,” Eva continued. “Trust me on this. Lacie wouldn’t mind. Hell, knowing that it would help Jennifer, she’d encourage it!”

“Nae,” he replied, stubbornly. “I’ll not dishonor my wife that way!” He took my hand in his own. “Jennifer, my lass... I care about ye, I do. Ye’re my responsibility, and in my care, and I’ll do everything I can to help ye. I’ll give ye everything ye need to get better. But I cannae give ye that.”

I nodded softly, eyes closed. “It is okay, Master. Really. As your slave, it’s not up to me to make demands upon you. I will gladly accept whatever attention you deem me worthy of.” I opened my eyes then, looking at him seriously. “But Master... I cannot be what you want me to be. I cannot be Jennifer Rose Contreras anymore. She is dead. She’s gone. And no matter how much I might want it, I can never regain what I’ve lost.”

Eugene sat there for a moment, considering. “In that case,” he said slowly, “if Jennifer Contreras is truly dead to you... then ye’ll have to become someone else.”

* * *

I was floating. Floating in darkness. All was darkness. And then... Light.

“Who are you?” a male voice spoke from the darkness.

I considered the question. Who... was I? My name? I mean... I was pretty sure I had a name. But I couldn’t seem to remember.

“Who are ye?” the voice asked again.

That... voice. No, Voice. Master’s Voice. Who was I? I didn’t know that, but I knew WHAT I was. I was Master’s slave. His possession.

“Who ARE ye?!?” the Voice asked again, insistent.

“I... don’t know,” I answered, unsure. It was like there was a stone wall inside my brain, and everything important is locked up on the other side. Weird.

“Yer name is Rose.” the Voice states.

Rose. Yes. With the name came memories... slowly at first, but then more, and faster. Yes... my name is Rose. Rose Contreras. I’m Master slave. But more than that, I’m a Super. I have powers. I used to be a heroine—

“Are ye sure she is ready for that much, Eva?” the Voice asked, speaking to someone else.

«It is part of who she is,» another voice, female, answered. «If I’m going to rebuild a persona from scratch, I have to have something to build from after all.»

—but that was a long time ago. Something... happened. I was in an accident of some kind. I can’t remember what happened exactly, but someone very close to me died. Her name was Jennifer. She died, but I survived. She took care of me, but now that I’m alone, I have Master and Mistress to look after me.”

“Ach! Mistress are ye now, eh?” the Voice replied, sounding slightly amused.

«For what all this entails, yes,» the female voice replied back, sounding anything but amused. «And anyway, I’m the one doing all the heavy lifting here, so no comments from the ‘peanut gallery’. Now shush and let me concentrate...»

It was strange. It was a bit like watching a TV program playing in your head, or watching someone perform a play. I knew, somehow, that the things I was seeing were bits of my life, pieces and flashes, memories coming back to me... but at the same time it felt like someone else’s life. I felt so... detached. Like my emotions had been numbed to the point of feeling almost nothing at all.

And then I saw His face. Master. Eugene Frasier. And I felt it then... an emotion, deep and primal, welling up from within me, surging, so hot and strong and powerful that it was almost frightening. Love, devotion, security, submission, gratitude, happiness, joy, nirvana... all stemming from that one thought, that one word. Master. It was like a universe unto itself.

“Remember what it means to be Rose Contreras,” Master’s Voice responded. I thought back again, remembering my time as a costume wearing Super... of saving people. I remember training, working together with Am—

«Whew! Caught it just in time!» the blonde said again with a sigh. «Cut it kind of close, though.»

—another girl, an older wiser heroine. I remember being with her, remember us fighting together as a team... but for some reason I couldn’t picture her face, or her name. Still, I remembered the feeling... of being strong. Of being brave, fearless, of putting my life on the line, facing villains and bad guys, and criminals, super powered and mundane. I remembered... being a heroine.

“Good Girl, Rose,” the Voice approved.

Ahhhhhhhh! Goddess! Pleasure! Such... pleasure! Another image, another memory slamming into my mind. Master... fucking me. I was squirming and mewling as He pinned me down, helpless, obedient, vulnerable... ecstatic. He was penetrating me to my utmost depths, to my very core, and I welcomed it. I surrendered to him. I gave him everything, everything that I was, everything that I would ever be. My desire for Him was the worship of a God, my pitiful moans, fervent prayers. And through it all he answered my prayers with boundless pleasure, the words ‘good girl’ echoing endlessly in my brain...

* * *

Eugene glared hotly as his companion, who merely sat there, panting, breathing heavily from the effort. “And I suppose you HAD to implant that image in the wee girl’s head as well?” he asked, deeply affronted.

“Yes, Eugene, I did,” Eva replied, matter-of-factly. “I told you from the beginning, for any of this to work, for these changes to stick, she needs constant positive reinforcement. I’m editing her memories on the fly, trying to filter them as much as possible, but some things simply HAVE to be there to them to adhere to. Taking her most recent and most... umm... potent memory of her time with that syrupy sadistic crook and editing it to be a memory of you was the best I could do. And since you refuse to simply fuck her and give her NEW memories to work with, I have to use what I have!” She turned to glare at Gene. “If you hate what I’m doing so much, then just say the word and I’ll leave. I’ll step away and let you handle things yourself.”

Eugene sighed heavily, walking over to her, and surprised het by pulling her into a hug. “I’m so sorry, lass,” he said simply, squeezing gently. “I ken this is hard on ye. I ken yer doing yer best. And I’m verra grateful to ye for it. I couldnae do this without ye. And I dinnae mean just for yer psychic powers. Ye’ve been a good friend, despite the issues currently between us. And again, that is also my fault.”

Eva considered, then sighed softly. “Okay... so maybe it’s not entirely your fault. I am mostly just upset that you were proven right. I mean... it’s damned annoying working with a guy who is always right about everything!“

“Well that leaves me out of the equation,” Gene remarked bitterly. “Or have you already forgotten about wee Chloe’s awakening?” He let out a deep breath. “I simply try and do the best I can... to do right by everyone. But lately it just seems that I’m compromising more and more, doing things that run in the grey area between right and wrong. And it’s a slippery slope, Eva. I just... it feels like if I do this with Rose, if I have sex with her, justifying it as helping her... then what else could I justify doing? Could I kill someone if they left me no other choice? Could I actually murder someone to save the people I care about?” The memory of the incident with Mara a few months ago was still fresh in his mind.

“Gene,” Eva said softly, pulling him into a hug this time. “I get it. I understand what you’re saying. Believe me, it’s nothing that anyone who does what we do doesn’t wrestle with sometimes. But believe me when I say this... Even in an impossible situation, kill or be killed, if there was anyone capable of finding a way out without taking your enemy’s life, you’d be the one to do it. You’re the most honorable man I know. And the smartest.” She pulled back, smiling, swatting him lightly on the arm. “Just don’t let it go to your head. Now then... let’s finish up with your girl here while I still have the energy to continue.”

* * *

I felt... different, when I next woke up. Good, but different. I sat up in my bed, glancing around. Master Eugene was nowhere to be seen, and Mistress Eva was sleeping in a nearly recliner. I grinned at that. Despite how things had started, I was actually starting to like her. She was actually very beautiful, quite sexy... when she wasn’t digging around inside my grey matter. A gurgling sound in my stomach reminded me of the reason I’d woken up—nature calling—and I slipped out of the hospital bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor, as I padded over to the bathroom to do my business. In there, on the cold porcelain, I stopped to think about things... about my life in general.

What was I going to do with the rest of my life? I mean, there was the obvious, of course. Serving Master and Mistress, attending to their needs, in whatever way they required of me. But realistically, that wouldn’t account to much in the way of service. In the past several weeks I’d learned quite a bit about my Owner. First of all, He was rich. Ridiculously rich. He had servants to clean his house, to cook his food, to pretty much handle anything he wanted. And Lacie—whom I still detested with all my heart—was apparently Master’s personal and preferred slave, the one that shared his bed.

So, what did that leave for me? I wasn’t a heroine, not anymore. I was still a Super, however. I still had my powers, still possessed my abilities... when I wasn’t wearing the collar Master had given me, anyway. I still wore it, though, for the symbolism if nothing else. But still... Surely there was some way I could still be of use, some way I could help people again. I was mulling this around in my head when I stepped out of the bathroom and nearly ran right into Master Himself!

“Ah! Yer awake,” he said with a smile. “How are you feeling, lass?”

“Good. Um, I mean, better. Um... well, mostly,” I said shyly, glancing away. His presence, as always, was intense, and caused my heart to thud in my chest like a lovesick school girl. Perceptive as always, Master noticed that something was on my mind, and coaxed me into telling Him. He listened to my inane ramblings, however, instead of laughing at me, or dismissing me out of hand, He thought on what I’d said.

“So... you’d like to do something with your new lease on life?” He asked carefully. “Something to help people, and contribute to society using the unique powers and abilities you were Gifted with?”

I nodded eagerly. “Yes, Master. I know... I know I’m still recovering from everything I’ve been through these past weeks. I’m not a broken doll anymore, more like a patchwork rag doll now—better, but not fully, ah, functional, not yet. I recognize that. But still... there has to be something I can do besides just lying around.”

Gene nodded. “Verra well. Get dressed and come with me. There’s an old friend of mine that I want you to meet. I think he might just be able to help you with that.”

All too soon we were riding in the back of Master’s limousine, heading out of the city, and deep into the country. “Ye ken, Rose,” he said as we pulled up to a large western style ranch house, “there are a lot of other Supers besides ye that hae been abducted, kidnapped, and enslaved. For years now, an underground slave market has been operating in various cities throughout the world. There’s a huge market for tamed and subdued heroes and heroines out there... either as sex slaves or simply as trophies. Some people would pay a fortune to be able to say they’d fucked a famous costume wearing Super, spent the evening with them and made them do whate’er they wished.”

I nodded grimly. I’d experienced that firsthand. Eddie had pulled in quite a profit with me in his stable, with everyone willing to pay extra to have a piece of the fallen heroine, the woman who had once saved the city and even put many of them behind bars. At the time, I hadn’t cared what was happening with me. Now, with my mind clear and my own once again, I could only look back with disgust, and pity for anyone else having to go through what I had.

“I’ve created a team, a freelance group,” Eugene continued, “a force of Supers dedicated to tracking down, rescuing, and helping others like you, saving them from the fate they find themselves trapped in. It will be dirty work, going again and again into the kind of hell ye escaped from, only to bring others back out from it. Those Supers that rescued you and Chloe, for instance... they were part of this team.” He shrugged. “I think ye would make a welcome addition, Rose. With a bit of training, ye could become a powerful agent of good for other victims like yerself. There are a lot of people out there, Rose, like ye yerself were once, who could really use yer help.”

“Yes, Master. I’d like that. I... I want to help.”

“Good,” He said with a nod. “But in that case, a few ground rules. One. From this moment on, I’m nae yer MASTER.” He held up a hand to forestall my protest. “I’m yer Boss. Ye’ll become my employee, my agent, nae my slave. Rationalize it any way ye wish, but if we go forward with this, ye’ll nae be calling me Master ever again.“

I swallowed painfully, nodding. It was what I wanted, what I needed to do. But losing Eugene as my Master was... daunting. Boss... didn’t quite carry the same feeling, the same... devotion. Still, I would let my lips say the “correct” words even as my heart spoke the truth. As to the actual “job”... I couldn’t deny it. Facing that darkness again, staring into the abyss, it scared me shitless. I didn’t think I was strong enough to face this again. Trying to save someone else, I might end up caught myself. I could lose myself again. And the next time, I might not be able to come back.

“We’re here,” he said briskly, opening the door, stepping out. I glanced around, noting idly the horse standing by idly, as a tall grey haired man approached us. “O’course, I wouldn’t simply throw ye to the wolves unprepared. If ye want to do what we talked about on the ride over, then ye’ll need to be properly trained. And there’s no one better to help prepare ye for this kind of work that this man, Major Frank Peterson. Frank, this is the girl I told you about.”

“Uh huh,” the ex-Marine barked, taking a drag from the cigar clenched tightly between his teeth. He exhaled, sending a blast of thick smoke directly into my face even as he reached out for my hand, shaking it. “So, you’re the delicate little ‘Rose’ I’ve been hearing about,” he mused, even as I struggled to breath, fanning myself frantically. “Cute little thing... not much to look at. But, heh... you’ll do.”

“Gee... thanks...” I managed, turning away as he exhaled again. “Haven’t you ever heard about the dangers of smoking?”

The old man laughed. “Kid, I fought in ’Nam back in ’72 and Grenada back in ’83. I’ve been shot, stabbed, blown up, and almost decapitated. If I actually keel over and die, taken out by these cigars, more power to them!” He said, blowing another blast of the vile stuff into my face.

“Well,” I replied, coughing, “Maybe you could spare the rest of us. Ever heard of second-hand smoke?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “These days, little lady, you get cancer from the air, from the water, from the insecticides used on your food... hell, you can supposedly get brain cancer from using your cell phone! Everything will kill ya.” Stamping out the cigar with one hand, he pulled and rolled a new one, striking a match idly against the side of his boot lighting the new one, in a move so smooth and practiced he must have done it a few thousand times.

“Well, Frank, try nae to kill mae wee girl while ye train her, will ye?” Master—no, the Boss—replied archly, heading back to the car. “Rose, lass,” he called over his shoulder, “do whatever Frank tells you. Learn from him. Take his advice to heart. Become strong, inside and out. But, remember, if ye ever at any time decide ye dinnae want to continue...” He paused, turning to stare at me with such tenderness that I almost ran back to Him again. Almost. He merely nodded and slid inside the car, the invitation open. And then, He drove away, leaving me to face my destiny.

Chapter 3

The only thing constant in the world is change.

Whether it’s small changes, or large grand scale changes, nothing truly stays the same. Especially people. It’s simply a fact of life. When trauma strikes, you either let yourself be broken... or you change, you adapt, and you continue on.

For me, the first five years seemed to just fly by. Or, more likely, the time was simply lost in the rather epic struggle to define—or redefine I suppose would be more accurate—myself. “Jennifer” Contreras was gone, and I was still figuring out who “Rose” Contreras was. Add in that my memories were not all there, and the ones I had were, by necessity, somewhat unreliable, it was a bit of a trial just to find myself inside my own skin.

Of course, I did have help in that matter. My Master—NO, dammit! My BOSS—was a mainstay in my life during these years, always coming by to visit, to check up on me during my training, and afterwards, making it a point simply to visit and spend time with me. In a way, everything that I am, I owe to Him. And that’s beyond the obvious, of saving my life, and making me His slave, giving me a purpose, a reason to live, and all that. The main thing I had to thank Him for was his stubbornness and my freedom. He was so determined NOT to be my Master that He forced independence upon me, whether I wanted it or not. And, really, once I figured out that that was what He truly wanted of me, I finally embraced it, wanting, as always, to please my Master in any and all ways.

Though I have yet to beat him in a game of chess. I’d swear he cheats somehow...

Make no mistake. I’m still His smitten and utterly devoted slave. A harsh word or tone from Him would send my knees to the pavement so fast you’d think I’d teleported there. I was His collared and leashed thrall... I had just been given the longest and loosest leash in the entire history of slavery, and had learned to make the most of it.

It was at Master’s insistence that I continued going to visit Chloe. Looking back at it now, I’m eternally grateful that he’d made me do so, though at first, it was probably the closest I’d come to direct insubordination. Seeing the woman I’d idolized, that had taught me and helped me so much, reduced to the state she’d been... it was heartbreaking. And yet, for her, my presence was everything. Just by being there, by giving her a familiar face, someone from her past to connect to, seemed to help her. The doctors said they noticed marked improvement in her every time I came to visit. As she improved, as I got close to her again, I saw more and more of the spunky girl I’d known and loved shining through.

Soon visiting Chloe was no longer a chore—it had become one of the bright lights of my life. She was always glad to see me, and always greeting me with a loud “ROSIE!” and a great big hug that threatened to squeeze me in two. Like me, she, too, had had her memories altered and adjusted by Mistress Eva, so she knew me now only as Rose. Mercifully, Mistress had blanked out her memories of the “bad man” that had hurt us. At least one of us never had to relive the trauma that had ultimately destroyed our lives. Well, it really wasn’t that bad for me either. At least not back then. Mistress had left me aware enough to know what had happened to us, that we’d been kidnapped, captured, and tuned into sex slaves, but again, thankfully, most of the details were, blessedly, gone.

“Gone, but not forgotten,” Mistress Eva had warned me during one visit, when she’d stopped by to check up on Chloe’s progress. “I couldn’t remove the memories completely,” she admitted, “not without permanently damaging your psyches. In order to have a present and a future, you have to have a past to link them to. Right now, parts of your past are hidden and locked away, but eventually, when you’re emotionally ready to face them, those memories will return. The only way you can truly be a whole person again will be to face those memories head on.”

Fair enough, I supposed. I was frankly just grateful that the nightmares had stopped, and I was able to sleep through the night. And for Chloe, stuck in the mentality of a small child, the less trauma she had to deal with, the better.

The third most instrumental person in helping to define myself—after the Boss and Mistress—was Frank Peterson. The former Marine major was exactly what I needed during that time. He was part father-figure, part drill sergeant, part cruel taskmaster, part friend and confidant. He pushed me and pushed me, and when I thought I could go no further, shoved a boot up my arse and pushed me even further! And though his history was much more different than my own, he understood exactly what I was going through.

“Yeah, well... back in the day, after my tour of duty was over, and I was sent back home I had a rough time fitting in,” he’d confided in me one night after training. He tapped idly on his artificial leg, a souvenir from his time during the war, recently upgraded to a fully functional prosthetic by our Boss. “I was pissed off about the leg... pissed off about losing the only way of life I’d ever known... hell, just pissed off in general! Back home, I found that not everyone viewed me as a hero for fighting for my country... that some limp-dick assholes were actually protesting our entry into the war in the first damn place!” He growled, taking one last puff from his cigar before stamping it out, and lighting another. I’d merely sighed, turning my head slightly away from the stench, which by then, didn’t bother me nearly as much as before.

“I dunno where the idea came from, really,” he said softly, “but somewhere along the lines, I figured, ‘If they won’t view me as a hero, then I’ll embrace the role of a villain.’ I was pretty handy with machines and tools and such back then... so I built myself a metal framework suit, a robotic shell, actually, and calling myself ‘Major Devastation’ I went on a criminal rampage.”

“Wait... you were a villain?” I’d asked, shocked and naive. He’d merely laughed.

“Well, where did you think I’d met your ever lovin’ Master from, shopping in K-Mart?” He took another long drag. “We tangled quite a few times. He was my fuckin’ nemesis. He, well, I was probably little more than a blip on the radar to him. Hell, Armor Man versus some guy in a mechanical wind-up robotic suit? Low tech versus High tech? Hah! No contest. Still, I was working through some things, venting my rage. And with him as my arch enemy, I had someone to focus that rage on.” He was silent for a long time, and I’d almost thought he was done speaking when he sighed and continued.

“And then, during one of my capers, I came across something that would end up changing my life forever. I’d hijacked a certain device from a noted mad scientist of some repute... Dr. Mania. It was a prototype ray gun, and I thought, ‘Fuck yeah! More firepower! Just what I need!’ Except the gun was a mind altering Enslaver... created to, well, basically do what was done to you with chemical-laced candies to anyone I pointed it at and pulled the trigger.”

That drew me up short. I stared at him a bit harshly after this revelation, but he merely shrugged. “I was a jock with a chip on my shoulder. I had no idea what the damn thing did. All I knew was that it was a laser gun and a weapon I could use against my nemesis. So... the next time we fought, in a crowded shopping mall of all places, I pulled out my trump card and fired. And the beam... fucking deflected off his fucking armor and hit a young girl that was running, fleeing from the battle. She collapsed in a heap, and I was so shocked that I forgot about the fight, threw down the gun, and rushed over to her.”

He chuckled grimly. “‘Major Devastation’, for all his anger and angst, had never actually hurt an innocent in all of his battles. I’d actually gone out of my way to protect the innocent civilians during my crime sprees. My rage was focused on the establishment, not the people themselves. Maybe it was the Marine in me—Ha! HOO-rah!—or maybe, maybe it was that deep down I didn’t want to be the bad guy. I’d like to think it was the latter.”

“Her name,” he continued, “was Sylvia Reynolds. While I was locked up serving time for this latest fiasco, I heard about what had happened to her. Basically the same as you, but without the, ah, ‘enhanced libido’. She’d imprinted on me as her Master when I’d gone to her after the attack, but other than that she was basically a blank slate. The doctors, the psychics, the deprogrammers... couldn’t do squat for her. Whatever that gizmo was, it had completely rewired her brain. She was a fucking slave... MY fuckin’ slave. And that realization was like a pitcher of ice water poured down my back. I knew I had to take responsibility for what had happened to her... and by gum, I did.”

He sighed softly, holding his cigar as the memories rolled by. “My ‘enemy’ managed to pull some strings, and get me released into his care. Like being on probation, and he was my probationary officer. He told me later that he’d done some digging, found out about my past, about my service in the military, the reason behind my anger, all of it. He’d got me into counseling, anger management, and even arranged for treatment for Sylvia, who was by now, utterly dependent on me. And I got better... worked through my own issues and in doing so, helped Sylvia with her own. I married her two years later, and until her death three years back, we lived a normal, happy life.”

* * *

A powerful and poignant moment, indeed. But if I’d thought such a connection between us translated into some form of leniency or sympathy, I was sadly mistaken. Which he proved to me the very next day.

“CONTRERAS!! Move your goddamn lazy slow-as-a-slug ASS!” the drill instructor bellowed loudly, as I ran full out, panting and sweating, through the torture chamber he charmingly referred to as an obstacle course, with a heavy fully loaded backpack on my back. Near the goal, I tripped, stumbling, and face planted, lying there panting and sweating as he continued to yell and shout at me. “Get your ass up off the ground, you maggot! What the HELL is wrong with you? You’re faster than this! You’d better than this! What the hell is your major malfunction?!?”

I merely gaped at him, shocked, trying to reconcile this attitude after last night’s tender moment. “But... but...,” I stammered, “last night...”

“Last night was last night!” he yelled back, squatting down to stare me in the face. “That was down time. And down time has nothing to do with what happens when you’re on the clock! Right now, we’re not friends. I’m the instructor, and you’re the slimy little maggot I am TRYING to whip into some semblance of shape! Now GET YOUR PATHETIC ASS UP OFF THE GROUNG BEFORE I SHOVE A BOOT SO FAR UP YOUR ASS YOU TASTE LEATHER!!!” Stumbling back to my feet, he added, as I crossed the finish line, “And do the whole goddamn course over again! And again, until you fuckin’ get it right!”

Brutal. Simply brutal. And yet, strangely enough, I loved him all the more for it. It was hard, but it was also exactly what I needed. Master had given me purpose. Frank gave me discipline, and structure. He taught me the value of routine, of working with a set plan in mind, and that the true test of a warrior was to be able to overcome any obstacle, whether it was external or internal.

The training was working. I was getting stronger, inside and out. For the first several months, Frank insisted that I do everything without the use of my powers... training the ‘hard way’, as he put it. I grumbled slightly, miffed at having to run and dodge and backtrack around an obstacle course instead of simply phasing through to the finish line, but I obeyed as always. And I grew stronger for it. The first few weeks, I’d felt half dead after every run. After a month, I was running it in full gear without passing out at the end, and after two months, I could do it without even being out of breath. When I was finally allowed to use my powers again, I actually found the stress and strain of phasing and altering my form tired me out more than the doing it the so-called hard way.

Still, that first year was the hardest. I’d yet to fully break free of my sex addiction. I needed my Master’s touch, and my body craved His pleasure. I’d been physically and mentally conditioned to it, and all the chemicals my former Master had pumped into me had pretty much hardwired it into my system. I needed to cum, badly, at least once a day, or I turned into a complete basket case. To his credit, Frank understood my needs, and for the first few months indulged me, even gratefully fucking me into a stupor on occasion when the cravings got too bad, and my large assortment of toys failed to get the job done.

Ever the drill instructor, however, Frank ultimately used my needs as a way to increase my independence. As time went on, he fucked me less and less, using it was a ‘reward’ for a particularly good day of training, if I met my assigned quotas or surpassed them. As a motivational tool, it pushed me harder than anything else, paralleling my already embedded notion that all I needed to do was be perfect for Master, to do everything He wanted of me, and become what He wanted of me, in order to finally receive His attention. If I wanted pleasure, if I needed sweet sexual release, then all I needed to do was give Frank 110% out there on the field, to follow his orders to the letter, and be the very best I could be.

And as those moments of perfection became harder and harder to achieve, as I steady wore myself out to the point of exhaustion trying to achieve the impossible, receiving my ‘rewards’ less and less... somewhere along the line it became more about becoming better than receiving the reward itself. One full year after arriving at Frank’s camp, I realized my addiction had been broken, without drugs or hypnotherapy, or mind control. I was STILL an addict. I knew enough about my problem to realize it was like alcohol—one slip, one bad night, and I could easily fall off the wagon again. But for the time being, I was free of that constraint. The sexual demon inside me had finally been caged.

“It’s all about control, Rose,” Frank had told me smugly that day, as if he’d somehow always known this would be the end result. “Mind control. And no, I ain’t talkin’ about the kind you think! All this time you’ve been under control all right... but not control of your own making. You’ve been doing everything you’ve been told most of your life—first by your folks as a kid, then as your mentor, who took you under wing as a rookie superhero... then as ‘Sugar’, the obedient pet of that villain that captured and brainwashed you... and even now, as Gene’s obedient servant and my student. All this time, you really haven’t had to truly exert your own willpower for anything, just follow orders.”

“So, what? Are you saying, I shouldn’t let you order me around and run that damn obstacle course all the time?” I asked, smirking.

He chuckled. “Well, that is the end goal, here, kid. Suffice it to say, Rose, when you reach the point when I order you to jump, and you can tell me to kiss your ass, I’ll call this a success. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet. Baby steps, kid... baby steps. You’ve reached the point now where you can take control of your own mind and body, can wrestle down those wants, desires, and impulses and keep them under control.” He paused, frowning a bit. “You ever watch Star Trek as a kid? The original I mean, not any of them fancy remakes and updates, and all that crap.” I blinked at him, not following. “You know who Mr. Spock is, right?”

“Of course. Everybody knows who Spock is,” I replied with a shrug. With popular media these days, even if you’d never watched a single episode, you’d at least heard the name before. “But I still don’t see what this has to do with anything—“

“It’s his philosophy I’m trying to instill within you, kid,” he replied, pulling out a cigar. “Spock is a Vulcan, a member of an alien race that is all logical and analytical. They don’t show their emotions. They say they were basically genetically bred NOT to have emotions or some crap like that. It’s not important. The thing is, Spock is only half Vulcan. His mother was a human. So, unlike most of his people, he actually has emotions. But over the years, he has learned to suppress them... to still feel pain and sadness, or happiness and joy, but through discipline and training, he’d learned to block them out, to not let them control him. You understand what I’m saying, kid?”

I nodded, seeing the parallels. “So... you’re saying I should become like Spock, cold and analytical, and emotionless?”

“Not emotionless, no,” Frank shook his head. “But you do need to be able to keep your emotions in check. You’ve already gotten a handle on your lust. You just need to take it a step or two further... develop what I like to call ‘combat focus’... the ability to shut out what’s going on around you and focus on your goal, what you need to do, and how best to do it. Back in ’Nam, you had to develop that kind of mentality or your ass was dead. With bullets whizzing by, your buddies screaming and dying around you, if you panicked and lost your focus, you could very well end up lying on the ground beside them.” He patted me lightly on the shoulder. “Trust me on this, Rose. Develop your combat focus, and you’ll be able to accomplish anything.”

* * *

Fast forward five years. I was now a lean, mean, combat-ready machine. After the third year, Frank had judged me ‘fit’ enough and ‘competent’ enough, to start going on active missions and rescuing others like me, the old me. And we’d done just that, saving at least fifty people from situations even worse than my own. Granted, not all of them could be saved. Some of them... goddess, it gave me nightmares to imagine the things they must have endured. For a pitiful few, rendered little more than empty shells, there was nothing left to salvage, but most recovered, and were able to live a somewhat normal life, many of whom were now a part of our group, working with us. And in saving them, helping them, I in turn helped myself.

This particular job I was set to accompany Frank and another Super, codenamed Tank, on a mission to rescue a lost soul, someone like the old me who had been kidnapped and enslaved by some lowlife reprobate with delusions of grandeur. My role on the team was mostly advisory, to play lookout and backup if needed, though they’d doubted it would come to that. The job was simple enough: a covert snatch and grab, slip in at night, tranquilize and disable both the perp and the victim, and bring them both out. Everything had been planned out to the smallest detail.

But as experience has taught me, it’s exactly when things are so perfect that nothing can go wrong that everything goes wrong.

“Contreras? Contreras, come in,” Frank’s voice spoke into my earpiece.

“I’m here, Major,” I’d replied, my voice slightly mumbled as I inhaled. “What’s up? Am I needed?”

“What I NEED is for you to put out that damned smoke,” he hissed in annoyance. “I can see the light of your cigarette from here through the bushes, and you’re always leaving those damned butts around! I don’t want any trace that we were here afterwards when the police come by to investigate.”

“I brought a tin with me,” I’d snapped back in annoyance as well, even as I stamped it out and slid it into the small metal container. “And anyway, you’re the one that got me started smoking anyway, Mr. Cuban Cigars!”

“Yeah, well, don’t come crying to me when you end up with... huh? Wait, hold on. I’ve got something...” he went silent for a moment, causing me to be concerned. I was on lookout duty. Had I missed something? Just when I was starting to worry we’d been compromised, Frank came back on. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Frank? What is it? What’s wrong?” I asked, beyond concerned now, officially scared. Frank rarely lost it on a mission, more of a Vulcan that I could ever hope to be when he was on the clock... but he sounded like he was about to go nuclear. “Talk to me Frank! What’s happening? Did something happen to the girl?”

“What? The girl?” he replied, still somewhat shaken. “No... no, we’re still... the mission is fine. Still a green light. I just... I just got an emergency call from the ‘Home Office’, so to speak. Eugene Frasier and his family were just attacked. Some... monster, behemoth kind of thing, it just... destroyed his house!”

“WHAT?” I yelled, going cold inside. Master. He’d been attacked? Was he all right? Was he dead? No. No way. Couldn’t be. He was Armor Man. I’d seen his high tech suit form around his body in the blink of an eye, faster even than a bullet. His wife—whom I still hated with a passion—was Omega Girl, the greatest most powerful Super in the country. There was no way anything could have happened to them. And yet, I couldn’t stop my heart from pounding like a kettledrum in my chest.

“I don’t know all the details,” Frank continued. “He apparently sent out a burst encrypted S.O.S. to all his known associates, including me, with sketchy details, but then the signal just suddenly cut off—”

“I’m going.”

“Negative, Rose,” Frank growled even as I moved to leave my concealment behind the bushes. “Rose! Stay put. That’s an order! He’s all the way back in River City. You’d never make it there in time to do any good! And even if you did, what could you do against someone powerful enough to beat Armor Man and Omega Girl?!?”

“I don’t know,” I said grimly, considering my options, “but I have to try! I can’t... I won’t just let this happen! He needs me, and I’m going to Him!”

“ROSE! Goddammit, you are staying put! I order you to stay here!” Frank yelled into my earpiece, nearly busting my eardrum. I froze, of course, obeying his command. He was in charge. He was my trainer, my instructor, my commander.

But he was NOT my Master.

“Major Peterson, Sir,” I said calmly, but resolutely into my communicator, “you can kiss my ass.” I flipped it off, shutting out any comment or reply, and sprinted down the street, spying a fast car parked in a nearby drive way. Phasing through the locked door, I quickly hotwired it, and backed out of the driveway, peeling off in the direction of River City.

* * *

In the end, Frank was right. I didn’t arrive in time to be of any use. And seeing the devastation left behind in the wake of Duncan Frasier’s attack, I really wish I hadn’t come. Despite his armor, he’d been able to do absolutely nothing against his genetically enhanced brother. Indeed, the other Supers arriving on the scene to help had fared just as well, each of them hurt and badly injured from the attempt. Even Omega Girl, the supposedly invincible heroine, had been thrashed to within an inch of her life. That fact alone was enough to give me pause, and wonder just what kind of a monster was Master’s older brother?

“...just lucky he decided to back off and leave when he did,” Eugene was saying to a young dark haired man and a young Asian woman, both dressed in black ninja garb. “If he’d been serious about taking the wee bairns with him, I dinnae thin’ we could have stopped him. Still, I thank ye both for coming to my aid.” He sighed deeply. “I ken yer both still a bit miffed at me for nae supporting you back five years ago...”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, old man,” Parker Albinn said wearily, gently rubbing his bruised ribs. “It’s water under the bridge. And you never came out and said ‘I told you so’, even though you were right all along. Do you, ah—”

The pinched expression on his face spoke of unbearable sadness. I knew that expression well.

“Aye, lad. I try to keep tabs on the lasses, as well as I’m able. Patty—”

“Don’t tell me, Gene. I can’t stand to hear that she’s a cock-crazed slut like Angie...”

“Nae so, lad. She graduated from River City U with honors. She’s studying law at Stanford, was just selected editor of the Law Review. ’Tis a matter of public record, but I have nae doubt that she suffers as Grimalde’s slave in private. He apparently flies down to see her every weekend without fail.”

“And Angie?” asked the speedster.

“Eva moost hae done more for the lass than she realized. Apparently she’s recovered. She’s working again, for Grimalde, o’course. She’s apparently the new head of his Genetic Research division.”

“Amazing,” said Parker, “So... so it was all for nothing, then. Oh, hell, who am I kidding? It was... it was a fool’s errand to begin with. Having you and Lacie along wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“Not that WE made much of a difference here tonight,” Veronica Mitchell replied ruefully, clearly trying to change the subject away from Parker’s painful failure with the Angels. “My katana can cut through stainless steel and concrete without even dulling the blade, and I couldn’t even scratch that behemoth’s hide!” She shuddered lightly. “For all the good we did, we might as well have been shooting spitballs at him.” She sighed, glancing away. “What about Lacie and the kids? Are they all right?”

“Lacie’s well enough. She took quite a beating, but she’s already healed from most of the damage,” Gene replied grimly. “I’d managed to get the wee ones into my lab before the house buckled, so they were safe. The shielding held. They didnae see anything that happened, thank goodness. I could only image the trauma they might hae endured if they’d been awake during all this.” He scowled, fury rolling off him in waves. “This will be the last time Duncan ever gets this close to my family again. He’s showed his hand, revealing what he’s been up to, hoping that this show of strength would break me. Instead, it’s only fired me up. I’ll find a way to stop him, or by god, die in the attempt!”

I stiffened at that. Master’s death was what had drove me to make the trek out here to his home after all, and was the last thing I wanted.

“As for the immediate future,” he continued, “I’m taking the family to Midas for a few weeks. Sarah and Valerie were kind enough to invite us to stay with them for a bit until things settle down a bit. And frankly, some time away from the city, with someone the kids know and love, will be good for them. It’s been too long since they’ve seen their cousins after all. While we’re gone, I’ll have the company rebuild the house, and have a few extras I’ve been meaning to add installed.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Parker nodded in agreement. “Well, Gene, take care. You guys have a good trip. And say hi to Silver Girl for me.” He grunted, turning to his partner. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Roni and I are going to head in to the hospital and get checked out... and get a few dozen different prescription painkillers while we’re at it...”

Gene nodded, then sighed, turning towards the wall I was hiding behind. “Ye can come out now, lass,” he said simply. “I ken ye’re there.” Sheepishly, I stepped out into the light. “I can appreciate ye giving me a moment alone to converse, but ye dinnae need to hide from them that way.” He nodded, looking me over, and smirked. “Ye look good, Rose. Very good.” He paused again, considering. “Ye heard about what happened here from Frank, I take it.”

“I did,” I replied softly. “We were on a mission. I... kinda left, in the middle of it.” I winced as he frowned at that. “I know. I shouldn’t have left. I let myself get emotional, let my feelings cloud my judgment. I’m sorry. But... I knew he and Tank could handle it. I was just there for backup. And... I just couldn’t handle the thought of you dying. Of not being able to see you again, talk to you, t-touch you—“

“Rose,” he said gently, silencing me with a touch. Goddess! How I’d missed His touch! Long repressed desires kicked into full gear again, but I managed, barely, to push them back down. “Lass,” he continued softly, “I appreciate yer concern. Ye have no idea how happy it makes me that ye cared enough to come all the way here when ye knew I was in danger. But lass... ye have to let it go. We talked about it when I first brought ye to Frank, remember? I’m not yer Master anymore. I’m yer Boss. Your Employer, and even that only as long as ye choose it!” I shook my head in denial, but he continued on heedless. “Yer strong enough now to stand on yer own, lass. Ye don’t need a Master.” He chuckled. “Ye were independent enough to tell Frank to ‘kiss yer ass’ if you walked away from the middle of a mission.” My eyes went wide. “The girl I rescued five years ago could never hae done that. And all I’ve ever wanted for ye, Rose, is to be free... free of that past that has haunted ye and held you back. All I want is for ye to be able to live yer own life by YOUR terms.”

And, really, I was. I’d come a long way. And I knew only too well where I’d come from, what I’d been like before He’d walked into my life. Aside from the reaming I’d no doubt get from Frank when I finally returned to the fold, I was more than satisfied with what I was doing. Master paid me for my services, for helping Frank and the others save kidnapped people. It was like we were part of a mercenary force or something, like the ‘A-Team’, helping the downtrodden and unfortunate, but getting paid for it as well.

I even had a goal in mind, a reason behind being a part of the team beyond simple redemption for my actions. Well, maybe, in tandem with, rather than beyond. Chloe was living in the Crescent City Sanitarium, being looked after and treated by a top notch nursing staff, but the bottom line was that she was living in a mental institution. I wanted to take her away from that, and if there was no way to restore her mind to the way it was, then at least she could live in a real home, and be cared for and looked after in a comfortable, safe environment. Currently, her care was being bankrolled by Master entirely, and while he may have considered me his responsibility, I considered her to be mine.

Nevertheless, I knew what Master wanted from me. “Yes, Sir... Boss,” I replied, forcing a grin. “I get you. And, well... thanks. If it’s okay, I’d really like to stay on with the company a while longer, keep fighting the good fight. I would, um, prefer to work alone from now on.” He frowned slightly, but I merely shrugged. “Hey, you did say on my own terms, after all. And, really, I work better alone, without the distraction of other people. And anyway, with my powers, other people just keep me from using my stealth to best advantage anyway. So, tell me Boss. Would, um, that be okay?”

Gene shrugged. “If that’s the way ye want it, then yes, so be it. I’ll see what I can do. That doesnae mean there won’t be times when I’ll need ye to work with others on something big. But yes, I’ll make sure ye are listed as a solo operative.” He paused, considering. “Is there, anything else ye need, lass? Anything at all?”

Yes, I thought dimly. Just you. Aloud, still smirking, I said, “A bump in pay would be nice.” He chuckled, which eased the ache in my heart significantly. “Seriously, though, Sir... I was thinking a new costume might be in order. Maybe something a bit more durable, considering the line of work we’re in?”

Gene nodded, thoughtfully. “I think I have just the thing. I’ve been toying around with a bit of psycho-active fabric taken from that lunatic Dr. Mania, trying to understand how it works. I think I’ve perfected an entirely safe version, one that may just revolutionize the clothing industry itself... provided I can find a way to manufacture it for less than five thousand dollars a square foot,” he added ruefully. “Still, I think I can accommodate you.” He nodded. “A new costume is a good start, lass. I’ll get right on it. Do ye have a specific design in mind?”

“Yes, Sir. I do.”

“Something like yer old one, perhaps?”

I shook my head. “No. That part of my life is over with. Jennifer is dead. Geist is long gone. This is a new start, and a new life.” I smirked at that, as an idea came to me. “From now on, you can call me Ghost Girl.”

((a new beginning...))