The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

J. Conroy Fritz let out a soft sigh of pleasure as he stepped outside his mansion, taking a deep breath of fresh air. Morning was his favorite time of the day, just after the sun’s risen, when the dew was still on the grass. Wrapping his bathrobe tighter around his portly grey haired form, he knelt down and retrieved the newspaper, placed squarely in the center of his welcome mat, as always.

Inside the house, his coffee maker was switching on, brewing the imported blend he’d had shipped in special from Brazil. He screwed up his face at the mere thought of the swill that passed for coffee these days. Taster’s Choice. Feh! ‘Tasteless’ Choice, more likely. And Folger’s? They should call it Buttcheeks... because it tastes like ass! Nodding casually to Charles, his man on sentry duty, he headed back inside. Huh. I should really buy both companies so I can burn them to the ground...

The smell of fresh brew greeted his senses as he entered his kitchen. Smiling grandly, he padded over to the refrigerator, and opened it, retrieving a large half-empty jar of strawberry preserves, and some butter. Inside his pantry, he grabbed a few slices of sourdough bread, and wadded over to the toaster, sliding them in. His cooking staff would be awakening any minute, coming down to prepare his ‘official’ breakfast, but he enjoyed these few quiet moments of the day, when he was the only one up and active. Well, aside from the security guards, he amended with a slight frown, as his toast popped up.

Before his so-called ‘business partner’ Christina Montenegro—otherwise known as Serpentina—had gone on the warpath, their presence hadn’t been necessary. Sure, a ‘made man’ like him had enemies, and bodyguards were part and parcel of being a Boss in the Syndicate. Everyone from penny-ante thugs, to crooked cops, to legit cops, to costume-wearing freaks wanted a piece of the Big Man. He’d therefore kept his identity a closely guarded secret, known only to business associates and dear family friends he knew he could trust. And for more than sixty years it had worked. Few people that had ever laid eyes on him suspected the short, pudgy mob boss of being anything more than a harmless little—albeit rich—gray-haired old man. And the few enemies who had discovered otherwise had never lived long enough to become an issue. He was, in a word, untouchable.

And then, a few weeks ago, during a teleconference with his fellow ‘untouchable’ Syndicate Bosses, Montenegro made it clear that they were far more vulnerable than they suspected. Somehow, that psycho bitch had arranged for him—and the other Bosses—to find the little ‘presents’ she’d left for them. Skeptical at first, he’d opened his desk to find a small box tied with a ribbon and a handwritten note, sent by Serpentina herself, saying ‘I think you lost this, you might want it back’. Inside the box was a small silver ring—HIS ring, an old class ring from his days in Yale. He knew it was his; it couldn’t be faked. Aside from the custom “Skull and Bones” engraving on the side and the unique deep purple sapphire stone, his initials and his nickname were engraved on the inside.

Somehow, the bitch had found out where he lived, managed to get into his house, into his office, into the very desk he sat at every day, not just once, but TWICE—first to steal the ring, and second to plant her little surprise gift—all without any of his bodyguards or staff seeing her! The message was clear: I can get to you anytime I want, and you’ll never see it coming. That very day he’d made several changes. He fired his entire housing staff and bodyguards. He replaced them with new personnel. And, to top it all off, he’d also moved out of his mansion, transferring to his vacation home on Captiva Island, a place he’d obtained only earlier in the year, completely off the books. Even his own kids didn’t know where he was, although he had used his back-channel network to let them know he was okay. His ex-wife? Fuck her. He didn’t care what she thought happened to him. Finally, as a last line of defense, he’d had the latest high tech automated security system installed.

The only positive from that whole episode was in Blackfinger making his OWN bid to handle the problem personally. He very much approved of that idea. The man was an unseasonable bore, with the personality of a brick, but he always got results. It concerned Fritz somewhat that Blackfinger had starting curtailing his activities of the past few years. Fritz had actually told Warren a few times his view that the ‘feared’ River City crime boss was going soft, that he’d lost his drive, that all those women were undoubtedly having a bad influence on him. Blackfinger’s quick reaction to Montenegro’s affront, however, had proved him wrong. The cagey bastard’s still got it after all, he mused, heading back inside.

Returning to his kitchen table, a stack of buttered toast with jam and a cup of hot coffee, he chuckled softly to himself. Heh... too much butter, too much sugar, and definitely too much caffeine. My doctor would shit if he knew about my little early morning indulgences, but fuck him. We all have to die one day. I sure as hell don’t intend to spend my few remaining years wasting away on that tasteless health crap.

Taking a bit of toast, he sighed in serenity, enjoying the sweet crunchy treat, then sipped his coffee, allowing the rich flavors to sweep over his palette, the slightly bitter taste mixing perfectly with the sweetness of the strawberry preserves to create that oh so perfect flavor exper—

Wait. Hold on.

He frowned, swirling slightly in his mouth a moment before swallowing. Scowling, he took a sip of coffee straight, swirling it again, scowling deeper. “That’s not my Brazilian Santos brand!” he said angrily, walking over to the coffee maker. He coughed, lifting up the lid, glancing down at the contents, then blinked again. The used coffee grounds sat in a white coffee filter. He’d loaded the coffee maker yesterday, as soon as they new shipment had arrived, specifically for this morning’s repast—but he’d used a brown paper filter!

Oh, shit!

“Serpentina!” he gasped, seized by a sudden sharp pain in his chest and throat. Gasping again, he doubled over, coughing, gagging, spitting up phlegm and bloody mucus. His heart went from zero to overdrive, thudding in his chest like a kettledrum, and his vision was filled with spots, with flickers of blackness at the edges. Fuck... poison... he realized, staggering towards the doorway to the foyer, towards help. He managed a step, then another, before pain and weakness caused him to crash, falling onto his side. He groaned again as new pain blossomed up from his side... he’d most likely broken his hip when he’d fallen. Unable to regain his feet, he lurched towards the nearby counter, trying for the phone instead. Pulling himself up to his knees with the pantry doorknob and the handle from a kitchen drawer, he stretched out a shaky hand toward the cordless phone lying just a few inches away. His bulk proved too much for the drawer, however, and with a cry he fell back to the floor as the handle broke off in his hand.

The pantry door swung wide, pulled open as he fell, and as the life faded from Fritz’ eyes, the last sight he saw was the large wooden crate his coffee had arrived in, the name printed in bold black letters, unnoticed at the time, but now all too significant: Montenegro’s Choice, Mexican blend. Guaranteed good ’til at last, you drop.

Ebony Angel panted softly, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow. The robots had put up more of a fight than she’d anticipated, and she’d been hard pressed to keep her head, figuratively and literally. Her trusty gauntlet blasters had unfortunately proven less than effective; whoever had designed the robots had had their vital circuits electromagnetically shielded, acting as proof against her Omega beams. She hadn’t even thought such a thing was possible! She’d taken a few close shaves, and her costume, such as it was, sported a few new embarrassing rips and tears. On the plus side, she’d managed to do her share of damage as well, disabling one of the three with a lucky punch which had ripped a gash in the metal plating on its chest, thus allowing her Omega Beams to penetrate and fry the automaton’s working parts into junk.

“Alright... one down, two to go,” she said, still grinning. At least she had a plan of attack now. Sioban would be proud of her. “So, who’s next to join the scrap heap?”

“I think that will be more than enough, Miss Ebony Angel,” a female voice issued forth from the lead robot’s mouth. “I have to admit, you’re pretty tough. My mechanized maulers have made short work of many a costumed freak back in LA... but even at three-to-one odds, you’ve managed to hold you own. I’m moderately impressed.”

Tawnya scowled. “Yeah? Well, you know, we aim to please, lady. Why, I’ve been fighting these guys so hard specifically to impress you! Now, why don’t you come on out and show yourself, so I can ‘thank you’, y’know, personally for all the exercise your little mechanoids have given me.“

A sudden blast of energy struck the dark heroine from behind. Crying out, she turned, staggering, spying a strange woman with blue eyes and light brown hair with a long silver steak down the middle in a strange metal studded costume, with an oversized backpack on her shoulders. In her hands she held a small black ray gun. As Tawnya’s mind and will fled she had just enough awareness to notice that the gun was modeled after the old-style ‘phaser’ from the original Star Trek. The woman chuckled at her evilly as Ebony Angel sank slowly to her knees, strength leaving her as a strange euphoric sensation began to overwhelm her.

“Sorry about the sneak attack,” the attacker said, sliding her weapon back into the holster on her belt, “but even with my two handsome bodyguards I doubt I would have gotten you with a clean shot. Besides, I’m a bad guy, and we don’t play fair. But allow me to introduce myself. I am Ms. Machina... and you are about to become my newest minion!”

The sharp-witted reply Tawnya had ready for her opponent never made it to her lips. Instead, only a loud deep moan escaped instead as wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure welled up from within. Her head was spinning, and the room seemed to be shifting underneath her. Moreover, her pussy was gushing, and her nipples had turned to hard little diamonds, sending sparks to erotic pleasure through her with every deep breath, with every slight movement. It was becoming harder and harder to focus on what was happening, on where she was, on what was going on around her.

“Wh... what d-did yo... yyyooooouuuu... doooo to mmmmeeee?” she managed to slur as a wave of pure pleasure made her eyes cross.

“Me? Why, nothing,” Larissa said with a laugh, kneeling down to caress the dark-skinned beauty’s cheek. “I didn’t do a thing. My Psychotropic Reconditioner, however, has pretty much scrambled your brain. You’re floating right now in an endless sea of endorphins being secreted by your brain in response to the little jolt I gave you.” Her smile turned evil. “As a side effect, you’ll find yourself feeling very agreeable to any suggestion I happen to give you. For instance, I want you to think of me as your very best friend right now,” she said confidently, leaning forward to lick the girl’s ear as she whispered, “a friend you feel a special connection to... a friend who you feel you could tell your deepest darkest secrets to...”

Tawnya gasped, her eyes rolling back into her head from the teasing touches. Her mind, assaulted by pleasure, had no defense for the woman’s poorly worded suggestion. When her vision cleared again, she found herself staring up into the smiling face of her dearest friend and lover, the person she felt a special connection with. “Katie...” she murmured softly, catching Larissa by surprise as she reached up suddenly, pulling her into a steamy passionate kiss.

Breaking free a moment later, slightly dazed from the kiss, Ms. Machina chuckled softly. “Wow... not sure who this ‘Katie’ girl is, but if that’s how you greet her, she’s one lucky gal.” She sighed softly. As much fun as it would be to indulge herself and play with this sexy mocha skinned beauty, she DID have an actual agenda, and she needed to return to it. “Alright, my lovely little Angel,” she said firmly, staring into Tawnya’s glassy brown eyes, “I want you to tell me about one of your other friends, the heroine named ‘Luminaire’. I want to know her secret identity. Tell me who she is.”

“Ooooohhh... mmmm... Katie,” Tawnya breathed, sliding a hand down between her thighs, seeking and finding her wetness.

“Yes, yes, I’m Katie,” Larissa replied with a frown, misinterpreting her response. “Now focus. I need to know Luminaire’s secret identity. What is her real name?”

“Ooohhh... K-katie!” Tawyna gasped, arching her back as her ministrations set off a minor orgasm, merely whetting her appetite for more.

Ms. Machina, on the other hand, was far from happy. Dammit. Either she’s got a lot more will power than I thought to resist answering me, or she’d so damned ditzy and horny that she can’t focus on anything but sex long enough to respond! Reaching down, she grabbed the young black girl’s arms, pulling them away from her pussy, getting a pleading whine in response.

“Listen to me!” Larissa snapped, slapping her cheek hard to get her attention. “I want you to answer me, and answer me truthfully! Do you know the identity of your friend Luminaire?”

“Y-y-yesss!” Tawnya hissed, eyes wide, pupils dilated. Goddess, she needed to touch herself, needed to feel, needed contact,... just plain needed. Katie’s sweet loving face swam in her vision, fading in and out, like a mirage. She knew she needed to answer her, to make her happy, if she was going to continue feeling as good as she’d felt before. “Yes! Yes! I know!” she gasped out again, squirming in the older woman’s grasp. “Please, Katie...”

“Good girl,” Larissa replied, rewarding her by giving her pussy a single deft caress. Ebony Angel screamed, cumming again, jerking hard in the other woman’s grasp, but remaining held tight. “Now... tell me her name. Who is Luminaire?”

“Oooohhhh... gaawwwwddddeesss..” she moaned again, arching her back, desperate to make contact again, to be rocketed back into that perfect sensation of orgasmic bliss. “Katie... please, Katie... please! Need you, Katie!” she babbled, saying the name, babbling, needing the pleasure again. “Katie! Katie! Katie! It’s YOU!”

Larissa growled in disbelief. “Are you STILL fighting me?!?” she gaped incredibly. “What the hell?” Releasing Ebony Angel’s, Larissa pulled her gun from her belt again. “Fuck this. Let’s see if you can resist a DOUBLE-SHOT from my little toy! Your mind will either fold under the pressure, or crack under the strain.” Grinning with sadistic pleasure, she raised the gun. “Either way, I get a permanently loyal, docile, and sexy-hot slave out of the deal.“

A loud crash distracted her at the last second, however, and she turned to find another of her robot sentries smashed, tumbling aimlessly onto the marble floor, a huge hole blasted in the middle of its chest. “What?!?” she cried out in alarm, whipping her weapon up in front of her. Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed as the smoke cleared, and the identity of the new intruder was revealed. “Again?!? No! No way!” she said in sheer disbelief “It can’t be! Not you again?”

“Excuse me, Sir?” Constance said softly, shaking her Master gently, but insistently, trying to wake him as pleasantly as she could. Well, as pleasantly as she could WITHOUT involving his cock, tempting though that might be. “Sir, please, wake up. You have a phone call.”

Nigel grunted, groaning softly, eyelids fluttering. “C... Constance?” he mumbled blearily, yawning. Cracking open an eyelid, he glanced over at the desk clock’s digital readout: 4:28AM. Closing his eyes again, he sighed, taking a deep breath. “Constance,” he said slowly, “please tell me you did not just wake me up at four in the morning... especially considering the late night we had last night... just for a simple phone call.”

The young Asian girl winced slightly. Nigel was rarely in a good mood in the mornings even after a full eight hours of sleep. “No, Sir. I mean, yes... but it’s an important phone call. It’s from Mr. Mayfield. He insisted... said it was a matter of life and death.”

“Warren Mayfield?” he said, suddenly wide awake. “Damn. He’s not one for hyperbole.” He sighed deeply, considering. Four twenty-eight here... means it’s almost seven-thirty there on the east coast. He knows the time difference as well as I do... and yet whatever this is about couldn’t wait three more hours on a Sunday morning. Nodding grimly, he gently disengaged himself from Patricia’s embrace, earning a soft groan from his sleeping wife at the loss. Rolling out of bed, wincing slightly at the pain in his knees, he took a moment to slip on a robe before taking the phone from Constance. Then he stepped outside into the master suite’s sitting room.

“Warren. I trust you have a good reason for waking me up so early in the morning?” he began, walking over to the fireplace, glancing again at the damage done from his visitor earlier.

“Nigel. Thank goodness,” the Syndicate crime boss said with relief. “I was worried maybe she had gotten to you already.”

Nigel started. “She? She who?” Briefly, he wondered if he somehow meant the Frasier girl, but he dismissed that notion out of hand. Warren almost certainly didn’t even know who Katherine was. Oh, right. The crazy snake bitch. It must be about her. Could she have already made some kind of move? I’m still gathering my own resources to deal with her once and for all. “What’s going on Warren? And... what’s that beeping in the background?“

“That’s the heart monitor,” the elderly man replied bitterly, “in my hospital room. It was her, Montenegro... Serpentina,” he confirmed. “She went after us, all the other regional bosses, and she’s taken off the kid gloves. And as far as I can tell, I’m the only one who managed to survive.”

“WHAT?!?” Nigel nearly shouted, then glanced over at his bedroom. “GODDAMMIT! What happened, Warren?” he asked quietly. “How did she move so fast? How did she get to all of you?”

“You have to give the bitch credit,” Warren replied with a sigh. “She does her homework. Ever since we called her out about her little vendetta against you, we’ve all taken precautions. But the bitch is smart. I tell you, Nigel, it’s like she was one step ahead of us the whole time!” He sighed. “You know I have a thing for antiquing. It’s one of the few indulgences I allow myself. With the threat level raised, I’d had to curtail my activities a bit, change up my schedule, and try to randomize it as much as possible. Not that it helped. Last night, I took the Lotus down to East 60th to peruse a few stores, and sometime between the second and third store she managed to plant a car bomb.” He laughed ruefully. “The only reason I’m alive at all was pure luck—some idiot backed into me as I was pulling out, so I had the driver put it in park and got out to yell at the guy when the damn thing exploded.”

“Jesus,” Nigel breathed. “You’re right... you are lucky to be alive.”

“Yeah. The others weren’t so lucky, though. She took out Ignacio last night in Minneapolis. That stupid bastard... always had a thing for the hookers. Everybody knew it. Apparently so did Serpentina. She had one of her girls set him up... while they were humping like rabbits, she slit his throat ear to ear. And I just heard about Fritz. I got the call earlier this morning from his son, Jacob. The bitch poisoned his coffee somehow. He moved to a new house in Florida, installed the latest security system, doubled his guards, and she STILL got to him.”

Nigel nodded slowly, frowning. Ignacio ‘Junior’ Moreno wasn’t exactly one of his favorite people. He was a ‘sometimes’ business partner, and that was only with deep reluctance. The man was a pig, which, he thought wryly, noticing his own living situation, was a statement in and of itself! Likewise, he wouldn’t lose much sleep over Conroy Fritz’ death. As Blackfinger, he’d worked with both men at first out of necessity, and then later for mutual benefit and protection. Warren, however, was different. Warren Mayfield was a real stand-up guy. The New York mob boss was the one who had loaned him the seed money he’d used to start Grimalde Industries all those years ago, and while he wasn’t as close to the man as he was to Richard, his other early investor, he did count the old man as one of his few actual friends in the world.

“Warren, I’m sorry to hear about Ignacio and Fritz,” he said softly, “but frankly I’m more concerned about you. Are you someplace secure? If she knows she failed to get the job done, she’s bound to come after you again—”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Warren replied grimly. “There’s no need for her to send anyone else after me. Shrapnel from the explosion perforated my abdomen, pretty much turned my intestines into linguini. I’m done, Nigel. The doctors have me loaded up to the gills with pain killers, but it’s just a matter of time before I go septic, then I’m a goner. No, no... I just needed to warn you... tell you to watch your back. Because make no mistake, my friend... she’s going to come after you next. It’s just a matter of time.”

Nigel held the phone for a long moment after the call ended, thinking. Damn Warren, you’re one of the few men left in the world that I could truly call a friend. Now you’re dying in a hospital somewhere in Manhattan. And even then, on your death bed, you took the time to call and warn me. Damn Serpentina and her goddamn crazy vendetta! He closed his eyes for a moment. Okay. That’s it. I was content to play out this little chess match with the bitch, to keep things civil, but she apparently doesn’t know the meaning of the word. I’ve already been checking into her activities discreetly so far. I’m almost certain she’s the one who kidnapped Frasier’s son Jimmy, and I was willing to treat her with kid gloves to get the kid back safely. But the gloves come off NOW. It’s time to switch from defense to offense.

He turned around to find Constance, clad in a small white shift, holding a bone china saucer and cup filled with coffee. Smiling slightly, he nodded. “Thank you, Constance. That smells like liquid heaven. I take it you’re up to speed on what’s happening. If not, take whatever you need out of my head now. Are you ready to make a few early morning calls?”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied, walking over to a chair, taking out a pen and pad. “Ready when you are.”

“Good. First of all, I need you to contact Winston and Jeffrey. Cancel the 9am meeting. Express my apologies, and offer to reschedule for... shit, next month? On the seventh?” Constance nodded, assuring him it was free. “This’ll put them way behind on the weapons contract, so send them both, ah...” He paused, considering again. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Winston a ‘Blazers fan?”

“Yes, Sir. I remember him mentioning trying to get tickets to the playoffs two weeks ago.”

“Thought so. Call Paul Allen. Make sure you get Paul himself, not his staff, not his sister. Tell him I’m calling in that favor he owes me—Skybox seats WITH Paul in the Moda Center, full seafood buffet too; Jeffrey likes king crab legs and lots of ’em—when you have all the details, pass them on to Winston and Jeffrey’s staff with my personal apology. And tell Allen we’re square now, and I’m square with his nephew too.” He sighed. “And while all that’s percolating, call Frank DuBois down in Salt Lake City. Arrange a video conference call for a full status report. I need to know what’s happening down there, and I mean detailed specifics. No more excuses. Finding and flushing out Christina Alvera Montenegro is now our number one priority.“

“Yes, Sir,” Constance nodded, scribbling furiously. Then she paused, glancing up. “Um, Sir? What about Robbie and Justine? You and Patricia promised to take them to the carnival today.”

“Dammit,” he cursed loudly, then winced, glancing back at the bedroom. Whew. Glad Patricia is such a heavy sleeper, though I’m starting to regret the fact that Constance is such a LIGHT sleeper. I almost wish I hadn’t gotten this news until it was too late to do anything about it. Still, as much as he hated to disappoint his children, he would much rather keep them both alive and well. “I’m afraid we’ll have to cancel the outing for now... at least until we get a bead on where she’d hiding out. She’s managed to take out three men as secretive and paranoid as I am without them even noticing. I can’t take the chance of her going after the kids.” He scowled. “It would be just her style, too... attacking a pair of helpless children.“

“What about the children?”

Nigel whirled around to find his wife staring at him with wide eyes. Not such a heavy sleeper after all, I guess Sighing he went to her, pulling her into a comforting embrace. “It’s one of those things I can’t tell you too much about, babe. Plausible deniability. Here’s what I can give you. Serpentina has made her move against the Syndicate. Blackfinger is probably next on her list. We might have to go to the mattresses, babe, but neither of us wants open warfare, blood in the streets. She’s more into snipers and poison and betrayal. For sure we have to keep the kids, and you, out of public sight for the next few days. It’s dangerous, babe. So, no trip to the carnival tonight, and probably no school for the kids, and you’ll need to work from home for a few days too.“

Patricia nodded soberly. That bitch is threatening my kids, my man, ME! I want to deal with it personally, but Nigel’s better prepared for an all-out gang war than I am. I’ve got to trust him.

“Okay, I’ll handle the kids,” Patricia said, “Robbie will be so disappointed. He’s been looking forward to riding all the rides with you all week. But they’ll live. I mean that literally, Nigel. I’ll make sure we’re okay. You make that cunt eat lead. Right?”

“Right,” said Nigel, “Call in whatever favors you need to cover your absence and the kids’ absences... and do whatever you need to to protect the kids. My men will be on the offensive.”

“I see. Well, maybe Tawnya can watch the kids today—”

“No!” Nigel said sharply. “That is, I need her for something else. Sioban is currently ‘babysitting’ the young Frasier girl.” Something niggled at his mind about that. Why hadn’t Sioban been with Katherine when she had stopped by last night? He sighed deeply. No time to think about that now. Surely dependable Sioban had everything under control.

“Oh, ah, did you hear about that, with Eugene’s daughter? Katherine is having some issues after the loss of her friend a few weeks ago, serious depression and the like, and Sioban needs to stay with her. And I need Tawyna for a special mission out of town. I... want her to help join the search for Eugene’s son. I’ve uncovered a few new leads already, and I need someone I can trust out in the field to take charge of the search and coordinate with the team already in place. She’ll need to start prepping for that as soon as she gets back from patrol.”

“Right, right, I guess I can understand that, but...” Patty said slowly, a slight frown marring her lovely face. She’d never seen Nigel like this. He was getting ready to go to war. So much of his time as Blackfinger had been spent feinting and dodging, trying to avoid confrontation. It was amazing, and maybe a little frightening, to see him pivot on that dime, getting ready to turn and fight. And getting Tawnya involved this deeply. That had it’s risks too. He couldn’t allow her into the Blackfinger side of the operation. Patricia, a former Tearbearer herself, knew only too well that any attempt to involve Ebony Angel in any actual ‘black hat’ operations would cause her to lose the Left Tear, and her superpowers. So Nigel would be keeping her as far from any of that as he could, sending her AS A HERO on a rescue mission to disrupt the bitch’s operations that way. And the girl is only eighteen! Barely out of High School! Not that Patrica had any doubts about Tawnya being ready to ‘fly solo’ as needed, it was just seemed really risky.

“Nigel... Why Tawnya? Why now?”

Nigel pulled her into a deep embrace, kissing her deeply. “It’s for her own protection, darling. You know how she feels about the family. You know she wouldn’t stop to measure right and wrong to protect them. And you know I can’t ORDER her anymore and expect it to stick. So I have to get her away from here for the time being. I have to put her in a morally unambiguous situation, where she’s an angel of mercy on rescue mission, not an invader seeking revenge. She might lose the Tear otherwise. Trust me, babe. It’s for her own good.”

Patricia sighed, melting against her Lord and Master. The last time he’d asked her to trust him and let him handle things, she’d gone off on her own, behind his back, and nearly ended up ruining everything. Now he was asking her again. “I trust you, Nigel,” she said sincerely, kissing him again. “I’ll let you handle it your way. But please... if anything changes... if there is anything I can do to help—”

“Believe me, love, if there’s something I need from you, I’ll let you know.”

Watching her pad back to the bedroom, Nigel let out a slight sigh. It always hurt knowing that his life as Blackfinger put his family at risk, but until he had a way of counter the very real threat Serpentina represented, he didn’t have a choice. I’m definitely going to have to call in some favors on this... maybe all of them. And maybe Eugene can convince some of his friends to ‘run interference’ against any would-be assassins, now that we’re all friends again... just in case. Annoying, having to depend on others... but I don’t want to take any chances with my family. He glanced over at Connie, already busy making calls.

«That goes for you too, dear one,» he projected his thought grimly. «I’m sorry I have to burden you with this as well, Constance, that you alone would know the full story of exactly what we’re facing. Still, I am glad to have you along for the ride.» Constance turned towards him, still speaking on the phone, but smiled at him. Nodding once, he took out his own cell and began making calls...

“Give it up, scumbag,” Roberta Bayport, the heroine known as Robotica, called out loudly. Stepping over the ruined hulk and debris of Ms. Machina’s sentry, she pointed a gleaming chrome colored hand at the villain. “We’ve tangled twice now, and both times ended with you running off, tail between your legs. Make it easy on yourself and just surrender peacefully.”

Larissa glared at her for a long moment before bursting out into laughter. “What? Me, surrender to some cheap alloyed bimbo that thinks herself a super hero?!?” she scoffed. “Forget it! Those first two times, I wasn’t even after you. I was hunting for a REAL heroine, the aptly named ‘Light of Justice’. You...you were just a little mouse that kept stumbling into my carefully laid traps!” Robbie frowned, bristling at the insult. “Now, however,” she continued stepping back to reveal the moaning twitching Ebony Angel lying at her feet, “I have the next best thing. This ‘little birdie’ will tell me everything I need to know to track down my quarry.”

“What? Is that... Ebony Angel?” Robotica said in alarm. Growling, she shifted her hand, transforming it into her sonic blaster cannon, aiming it for the villainess’s head. “What the HELL did you do to her, Machina?” she demanded. “If you’ve hurt her, I swear—”

“You can swear all you like, Robo-slut!” Machina snarled, lightly tapping a hidden button in her gloves, activating her backpack’s battle mode, “but the only one getting hurt here today is YOU!” Suddenly, the heavy backpack on her shoulders unfolded, wrapping around her like a cocoon, covering her in a layer of heavy grey metal, which quickly reformed into a suit of battle armor. Robotica took a step back in alarm as the metal-suited villainess raised her own arms towards her, arms each baring the barrel of some kind of energy weapon. She had just enough time to duck and hit the ground as a blast of super heated plasma energy discharged, scorching the wall in front of which she’d been standing moments before.

Dammit, Robbie cursed silently, rolling to the side, taking shelter behind a heavy oak desk. It figures that a woman calling herself ‘Ms. Machina’ would have some kind of machine in reserve, as a trump card. It appears she’s packing plasma weapons, among other nasty little surprises. And from the brief glimpse my scanners were able to get of her new getup, I estimate that exoskeleton should increase her natural strength by a power of ten. That alone makes her a match for me in a fair fight. Huh, as if she would fight fair in the first place! On top of that, she still has that last walking tin can on her side, and if things turn sour, she still has Ebony Angel as a hostage. I need to try and neutralize her advantages somehow...

“What’s the matter, Robo-tart?” Ms. Machina called out loudly, stalking her way through the room, “run out of big talk already? I thought you were here to stop me, not play hide and seek!” She scowled slightly. The only heat signature her suit’s scanners were picking up was that given off by her ‘little birdie’ lying prostrate on the floor, mindlessly diddling herself into a stupor. Grunting, she shifted frequencies, scanning the electromagnetic spectrum, until she found what she was looking for, an unusual signal emanating from a localized spot somewhere in the room. “Ah! Gotcha!” she crowed, readying a pair of mini-missiles, locking onto her frequency. She fired, and they streaked across the room, tracking the signal, exploding in a loud and fiery blast.

“HAHAHAHAHA!” Larissa cheered loudly. “Eat hot thermite-powered death, bitch! Those babies will melt you down into a puddle on the floor! It’s over for you, Roboticunt!”

“The NAME,” Robbie fired back, stepping out from behind a marble pillar, tagging the villainess from behind with a missile of her own, before locking onto Ms. Machina with her electro-shock stun blaster, “is Robotica,” she said calmly, taking careful aim. “And I suggest you remember it.“

“SHIT!” Ms. Machina cried, hitting the ground as Robbie fired. The blast missed, sailing over her, striking Ebony Angel instead. Rolling as she fell, Larissa fired back, hitting Robotica square on. The metallic maiden screamed, then shuddered, her cybernetic systems momentarily overloaded from the plasma discharge. Slamming against the wall, she groaned, then dropped down onto her chrome plated bottom, helpless as she waited for her systems to reboot.

Larissa, however, wasn’t about to give her the chance. “Sorry, Robo-bitch,” she crowed, standing over the downed heroine, plasma cannon ready to fire point blank at her face. “Looks like you lose. What was that you said before? Huh? Something about remembering your name? Well MY name is Ms. Machina, and I don’t have time for losers like you.” She laughed heartily... but her laughter died as a blast of yellow-white energy enveloped her from behind, piercing her defenses from the damage caused by Robbie’s previous missile attack. Both her suit’s systems and her vision went dark.

“She said, her name is Robotica, you bitch” Ebony Angel panted, wearily, her gauntlet blaster powering back down again, “and you better damn well remember it...“