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Chapter 18
by
micdan282
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A Hero's Fall
Word on the street was that the Corpses were expecting a major shipment, this time, directly from the Supplier himself. If the intel panned out, it could be the break Nightingale needed to finally shut this operation down for good.
She moved through the empty parking complex where the exchange was supposed to take place. Her boots made no sound against the cracked concrete as she crept past rusted barriers and dim, flickering lights. Her instincts prickled. It was quiet. The kind of quiet that meant something was coming… or already watching.
"Looking for someone?" a voice echoed from the other end of the car park. She spun around to find Anthony Meekin, the Rogue Knight, walking towards her. He wasn't in his armor, just regular clothes. However, she did notice the buckle on his belt was glowing an electric blue.
“Meekin, buddy didn’t we just do this?” She called back. “Tell you what, you surrender, tell me what I want to know and I promise not to hit you too hard.”
“I’ll admit you won last time bitch.”
“And the time before that and the time before that,” She teased.
“But this time things are different!” Anthony tapped his belt buckle and a swarm of nanobots flooded out of it. Moving like liquid the nanobots formed around his body with terrifying precision creating sleek black armor over him. The nanobots swarmed and adjusted, giving him a fluidity that should not have been possible for something so heavy and imposing. Nightingale gritted her teeth. He had upgraded.
"You look different," she called out, keeping her voice steady, though a cold shiver ran down her spine. The nanobots continued to travel down his arm and formed a sword. "Do you really think it'll make a difference?"
“I’ve learned my lesson, Nightingale. And I’ve come prepared.” With that, he charged at her.
Nightingale reacted instantly, back flipping out of the way, her body a blur of graceful, practiced motion. Her grappling hook shot out, catching a nearby pillar and she zipped herself across the car park. Her fingers found the electrified stun batons strapped to her waist. The moment she flicked the switch, a surge of power crackled between them. Even with his fancy new suit Nightingale knew she could beat him, he was still the same old Meekin.
He swung at her and Nightingale instinctively held her ground, she was well outside the strike zone. Or so she thought. In a blink, the blade shimmered with movement as a swarm of nanobots surged along its edge, extending the weapon mid-swing like a living thing. The sword snapped forward with unnatural speed, now well within range.
She barely had time to react, blocking at the last second with her batons. The impact rang out like thunder as metal collided with metal. The **** of the blow slammed into her, sending her reeling backward, boots skidding across the concrete before she hit the ground hard.
Nightingale climbed to her feet, catching her breath, but the Rogue Knight was already charging, his massive sword swinging. She ducked, narrowly avoiding the blow. She tried to use her powers to throw him off balance but he seemed immune.
“Your powers won’t work this time.” An upgraded feature of the new armour was that it protected the wearer inside from sound attacks. "In fact," he said with a cold smirk, "I don’t even think I need this to beat you." As he spoke, the sword shimmered, then unraveled.
The nanobots that formed the blade dissolved into a cloud of dark particles, slithering up his arm like a living tide. They reabsorbed into his armor, fusing seamlessly with the plates until not a trace of the weapon remained.
He's cocky. I can use that.
She lunged forward, her body a blur of motion, aiming her stun batons for his chest. But the Rogue Knight didn’t flinch. The armor absorbed the electricity with ease, the nanobots instantly rerouting the charge, leaving him unscathed. He stepped forward, knocking one of the batons from her hands with a brutal swipe.
"No tricks this time," Rogue Knight sneered, his voice muffled but menacing beneath his black helmet.
Before Nightingale could brace his armored fist slammed into her gut like a sledgehammer. The impact stole her breath, folding her in half as the ground rushed up to meet her. She gasped, struggling for air, every inhale a blade to the ribs. But she **** herself upright, shaking, her palms pressed to the ground. Her vision swam.
He didn’t wait.
A brutal kick caught her in the side, sending her rolling across the pavement. Her baton clattered out of reach. She clawed toward it, but another strike, this time a crushing blow to her ribs, kept her down.
“C’mon,” he taunted, looming over her. “Where’s all that spark now?”
She coughed, blood slicking the corner of her mouth. Rogue Knight reached down, gripped the front of her suit, and hauled her to her feet. "You're tough," he growled. "But not tough enough."
He drove his knee into her midsection before throwing her like a rag doll against a nearby pillar. Stone cracked. She hit the ground and didn’t move for a second. With a shaky groan, Nightingale rolled to her side, blood in her mouth, bruises blooming beneath her suit. She wanted to fight, giving up wasn't an option but before she could do anything, Knight grabbed her by the throat with one hand and effortlessly lifted her off the ground.
Anthony smiled wickedly from inside his suit as a sinister idea came to mind. With his free hand he reached up grabbing the top of Nightingales costume and ripped it off exposing her naked breasts.
“Damn, always thought you had a good set if tits.”
Her breath caught in her throat, but her mind raced. She felt violated, her body on display for this criminal. She had one last option, the smoke bombs in her utility belt. She could use them to disorient him, maybe escape. With a sudden twist of her body, she pulled herself free of his grasp and tossed a smoke bomb to the ground. The air around them thickened with a dense, **** haze.
The Rogue Knight growled, but his movements slowed. He couldn’t see her now, but neither could she see him. Nightingale's pulse quickened, but she pushed forward, using the momentary distraction to pull a throwing knife from her belt. She aimed for his exposed joints, the only area where the armor was ****.
But just as she prepared to strike the Rogue Knight’s fist shot through the smoke like a sledgehammer, slamming into her side with the **** of a truck. She felt a sharp crack in her ribs as her body crumpled under the blow, her breath stolen once more. He was upon her instantly, a steel-cold grip on her arm. With a cruel laugh, he pulled her to the edge of the car park.
“Goodbye, Nightingale,” he murmured, his voice dark and triumphant. Before she could react, he hurled her off the roof.
The world turned into a blur of lights and sound as Nightingale plummeted downward, the wind whipping past her ears. Her mind raced, she needed a plan, something to stop her fall. She tried to focus, but everything was spinning. Her strength was gone, her body battered, she was helpless. And then, just before she hit the ground, nothing. Total silence. Black.
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Perils of a Novice Superheroine
A generic superheroing setting drenched with sex and scandal
Acropolis City, the center of super-human and caped crusader activity in this particular world - with its own dizzying highs and lows, high-tech skylines and slums standing in stark, four-color contrast, it provided everything that a costumed megalomaniac or masked vigilante could ask for. In fact, as is usually the case where colorful masked characters are the norm, it has become something of an institution by this point. But although the mere existence of costumed heroes and villains no longer shocks people, these people - who, by their very nature, thrive on attention - keep finding new ways to stand out from the crowd and attract the eye. This last goal tends to get a lot of emphasis in the most simple, sexualized way possible. For reasons that the world's most brilliant scientists have yet to explain, latent super-abilities seem to manifest more often in women than men by a ratio of 3 to 1 or more. This is true even when the superpower isn't "natural"; paranormal artifacts fall into their hands, esoteric martial arts schools never seem to have a male heir, the technological prototypes they test always seem to be the ones that are most easily used or abused for good and evil. Unfortunately, the glory days of the past where citizens were happy to see any old masked do-gooder show up are over - in recent years, Acropolis City has established a ranking system of heroes where those who get high marks from the citizens and resolve incidents are rewarded with corporate sponsorships and (most coveted of all) seats at the prestigious League of Propriety. Those who intimidate the populace, cause excessive collateral damage, or simply don't excite anyone, garnering low rankings, get 'asked' to move to less prestigious cities. Few superheroes want to get stuck battling clans of villainous hillbillies and corrupt small-town sheriffs for the rest of their careers, so they're always eager to please the influential citizens of Acropolis City (judges, eminent scientists, first responders, and of course the all-important reporters). On the other side of the law, a similar dynamic predominates; only the most glamorous and charismatic costumed ne'er-do-wells can make it in this town. And so, the novice superheroines just learning the ways of battling for justice and order, without any team to back them up, always end up patrolling the skeeviest, most undesirable slums of the city and taking on the most thankless rescues. As if that weren't bad enough, most of them feel obliged to dress in ways that get more outlandish and revealing with every passing year while they fight the good fight and/or feed their craving for attention, depending on how you see the 'cape life'. As if that weren't troublesome enough, the superhuman mutations that make so many of these heroes' careers possible also result in greatly increased sexual sensitivity, particularly in females. The adventures and misadventures that these spandex-clad lady crusaders get into are often too hot to print for the kind of comics that their young admirers would read. Messy mistakes will be made, but you don't want to disappoint your readers, do you? So let the League know what kind of superheroine you are, your chosen name, powers, and appearance, and they'll send you out on your first patrols. Good luck.
Updated on Dec 27, 2025
by micdan282
Created on Nov 30, 2016
by fyreant
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