Breaking out the other member of the team... from League Headquarters

"So," you ask Jokester as you drive his unassuming little armored van and he sits in the passenger seat, "I hope this doesn't mark me as a rookie or anything but I had fun. D'you think anyone will recognize what it means if I put a caterpillar-shaped patch on my outfit as a kill-marking?"

"Hah," the dark-haired, mustachioed antihero replies with a sharp laugh, sounding sardonic but not disparaging. "Never feel ashamed for enjoying a job done well. Feel ashamed for letting your new partner get shot up with mutant bug poison - especially when he has a long damn night ahead. Caterpillar-girl's new **** ring might be squashed, with her stash in a dumpster fire where it belongs, but if we don't track down this Company bitch who was using her, the whole scheme will go to ground."

"Company?" You blink. "So you think it's, like, a corporation backing her? Oh, I just knew all those corporate sponsorships they give out to heroes in this city are dirty..."

Jokester gives a pained groan. "Jesus... 'The Company' means CIA, Bunny. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, I've had to do plenty of handholding for dumb-ass Army grunts assigned to me as muscle, over the years. I guess I should count my blessings that at least this one comes with a pair of big tits."

"And..." he continues, pointing at one of those new console GPS systems attached to the dashboard, "speaking of pairs of big tits, that'll be the location of my other partner calling for extraction. If you were listening earlier, you probably heard her over the radio. Watch your mouth around her, she ain't as jolly or good-natured as I am, and she might be in a bad mood, depending on what she had to do to get me that info."

At some point in the seconds between you looking out at the road and glancing back at him he managed to get another stogie lit up, filling the cabin yet again with pungent smoke. "Looks like she wasn't able to make it to the pick-up point; her tracking device is still in the upper floors of the League's Albert-Speer-wannabe eyesore of a headquarters. We'll have to bust her out. Now then... I know every soldier has her favorite weapon, and you handled that rifle alright, but it ain't the right tool for the job, so throw it in the armory, back there, before we pull up."

"Oh!" you perk up, nodding eagerly. "Yeah, that makes sense. This is the League of Propriety after all, makes sense we'd need to go in without guns this time..."

There's a ringing *clack-clack* as Jokester checks the magazine on a stainless steel Colt .45 and tucks it into a holder on his body armor. "Whoah, hey, let's not go nuts, now. I meant something smaller and lighter. Grab one of those uzis and a few spare mags for yourself while you're back there. Nothing wrong with a little insurance."

Your eyes widen at that. But hey - this guy is the most veteran crime-fighting vigilante commando there is, right? He probably has backing from, like, the FBI or Secret Service or somebody above the police and superheroes of Acropolis City, anyways. "S-sure thing, boss. I, um, always did like Israeli bang-bang."

"Hah," he gives another sharp laugh. "Don't let my arms and equipment guy hear you say that. He makes me look as chaste as a choir boy when it comes to going chasing after every ass that wiggles along."

He looks gratified to see you blush and look away, and continues speaking, gesturing with his lit cigar. "I hope you ain't taking it personal that I'm not trying to get in your B.D.U., soldier. You gotta work your way up to that privilege."

Somehow, his crudity puts you a bit at ease and you giggle softly. "Awww, don't worry, I'm sure it happens to lots of guys." Your mentor chuckles again at that in spite of his still pained arm... you are really starting to feel like you're on the same wavelength. Somehow, he is so much the exact opposite of being a gentleman, so uncaring about bruising your feelings, that it wraps around and makes you feel comfortable.

It's a good thing you aren't easily embarrassed by close contact with him anymore because Jokester decides that the best way for the two of you to reach the League file center where his other partner is being held is for you to carry him up the side of the building, him using a grappling hook gun and you using your powerful legs. It's odd to be carrying a guy a good 60 pounds heavier than you, with his chest pressed against your back and one of his arms wrapped around your midsection for support. It gets you considerably more excited than when you impulsively decided to give oral sex to that loser guy in the apartment a few hours ago. To his credit, he doesn't go out of his way to put his hands on your chest. The grappling hook's motor strains to bring both of you up to the upper floor window but at last you make it. The window has been left open - a sign of the infiltrator's presence.

This part of the League HQ is surprisingly banal, being given over to evidence storage and room after room full of file cabinets for the mammoth amount of paperwork generated by an organization with several hundred members for whom using a streetlight as an improvised baseball bat is all in a day's work.

After turning a few corners, watching Jokester silently disable a few cameras - really, you'd think they would design the things so you can't just step under them while they're pointing another direction and switch them off, but maybe that's the only way the heroes know - and strolling past an empty security station, you find what seems to be the main sorting room for their archives. Most of the desks and worktables are empty for the night... but one is lit, with two sitting at it.

"Ahhh..." Jokester whispers. "There's Bones. Way she was talking I thought the situation woulda been hot, or 'hot', hah... but it looks like she ain't in danger of anything but getting bored and hit on. She's undercover as a C-rank up here so let's not blow her cover."

The first one you see, peeking around the corner, is a young, rather pudgy and unattractive young man in a ninja costume (with the mask currently off) that, if it weren't for his current location, would make you suspect he was a superhero imitator, and not a particularly good one, accessorized with a picture of a microchip on the front and a bunch of electronic gadgets that look like they came from one of those home video game systems that are just starting to get popular. "Wow, Pip!" he says, as if it's a name, "I didn't think a game this old could be so, hehehehehhh, engaging! I guess it's all about who you play it with. Bet you didn't expect me to do this well on my first round of something, huh? But there's not a game made that the Cyber-ninja can't conquer! Wow, is it dark outside already? I figured the next shift would've been here by now." Spread out in front of him are dozens of domino tiles, indicating that the game has gone on for quite some time.

A sultry female voice comes to him, with a hint of annoyance and sarcasm leaking through. "Yeah. Wow. And it's my favorite game, too. You're just amazing, C-N." Your curiosity gets the better of you and you lean further over to see who was speaking. The 'Cyber-ninja' turns aside bashfully. "Well, you did do a rather apt job of explaining the rules... and please, eheh-eheh-eheheheh, call me Pete."

At the other end of the table is a striking beauty with very exotic features. She has the fit, athletic figure and toned abs typical of a superheroine, and the huge, firm F-cup boobs which fill out more female costumes than not these days; the former is totally exposed, baring her midriff by a shiny jet-black bodysuit (seemingly made of latex) mostly open from the shoulders all the way down to the upper reaches of her bikini area, and the portion of her open bodysuit that covers the latter is as tight as any bikini top.

In fact, not only is her outfit all black, but everything about her with the exception of her blue eyes is in grayscale - her skin is a highly unnatural gray pallor as if from a black-and-white photograph, and there is a large black 'spot' around one of her eyes, covering about a third of her face. Whether it is makeup, a tattoo, or some kind of birthmark is unclear. Her glossy black hair is very short around the back and sides but still more stylish than practical, with a lot of volume on top.

Fortunately, with your own looks, you know you don't have anything to be jealous of. On the contrary, your first thought is that you and she will look striking as part of the same team, with her dark color scheme and your stark white hair and camouflage leotard! You wave to her before thinking, and she deliberately avoids your gaze and clears her throat. Jokester leans over your shoulder too and gives her a casual salute.

"Alright, Bunny," Jokester whispers, "I've got some personal files to collect while we're here. Keep an eye on things but don't do anything unless the alarm gets raised, in which case, use those powerful, sexy thighs of yours and get Bones to safety at the evac point. She's got some kinda... super-powered luck? Or maybe telekinesis? Whatever it is, she could easily kick the ass of anyone short of an A-rank hero, so if just one nosy cape shows up, help her give 'em the bound-and-gagged treatment before they raise the alarm if you can."

"Um," you say to him, "what if more than one shows up or our escape route gets cut off?"

Jokester shakes his head and tsk-tsks. "The old saying about there being no stupid questions doesn't apply to unsanctioned black-ops vigilantes, Bunny; that oughta be obvious." Before you can ask what he means he just turns on his heel and ducks down a side corridor.

Not knowing what else to do, you get under a desk with a narrow gap in it, so that you can peek out at the room while remaining unseen. Unfortunately, this proves to be the worst thing you could have done - it seems that the natural enemy of a 'Gun Bunny' is a 'Dust Bunny', because you feel a burning tickle in your nose. You try to stifle it but you've put yourself in too cramped a spot, so you just bang your elbow - and then, when you let out an absolute whopper of a sneeze, you bang your head on the underside of the desk for good measure.

"Holy hexadecimals!" the guy says, making Bones visibly roll her eyes even as she's shooting you a toothy grimace. "I thought this was way past operating hours! Did you hear that?"

"...Nnnno, it must have just been me shifting in my chair..." As the 'cyber-ninja' is standing up and turning in your direction, she reaches out and grabs his arm.

"Wait! Ah fuc-" she visibly swallows her words and then smiles with pouted jet-black lips at him. "Pete... c'mon, don't tell me that you're using imagined noises as an excuse for getting cold feet... don't you remember? I promised you that if you got the best of five rounds of dominoes then we could play... whatever game you wanted next." She licks her lips and pulls his hand close to her, letting it slide over her shoulder and resting it on her neck.

"Uhhh..." the nerdy C-ranked hero's voice visibly quavers. He forgets about you in an instant. "I just meant... I was kind of kidding about... w-wait! Nevermind, you're right! A bet is a bet!"

"Yeah..." Bones says, sliding sensually onto the table, scattering domino tiles and laying on her side in a pinup pose. "I'm sure you can think of a game that you can teach me Pete, maybe show me that you can handle more than just electronic to- GAH!"

It seems that the game is up on her subtlety, as she's unfortunately uncorked the bottle on the thirst of the kind of guy who spends all day working around both figurative and literal goddesses, and can expect good-natured condescension from them at the absolute best. 'Cyber-ninja' does a graceless leap onto the table, arms outstretched to grab at her as if she were a life preserver.

You blush and wince, wondering if there's some way you can bail her out of this. But even though you don't want to make a bad impression on your new teammate, the prospect of messing up Jokester's errand is more dire, so you just sit silently as the guy starts putting his hands all over the gorgeous gray temptress. He grabs her breasts roughly and squeezes them in his hands, leaning over her and starting to noisily kiss her on the mouth. Soon he's rolling on top of her, alternating between fondling her tits and bouncing them in his hands, and running his hands along her perfectly-toned midriff.

"Hey, that's- c'mon, there's no need to rush things, uh, Pete..." she protests as he slides down to start planting kisses on the exposed gray skin of her chest. But her words aren't getting through. The nerd is hastily yanking down the bottom half of his dorky costume, throwing the pants across the room where they land atop the desk you are crouching under, revealing his pasty backside and a rock-hard erection pointing straight at her.

"Nnnhhh!" Bones winces and forces herself to laugh awkwardly. "God damn kid, there's a little thing called 'foreplay' you know, you don't have to..."

Cyber-ninja's response is to make a rather poor attempt at a lusty growl in his nasal voice. "Ohhh yeah, my monochromatic maiden, I'm getting to that!" He shows just what he means by roughly climbing on top of her and shoving his angrily-throbbing cock against her chest, using his hands to squeeze her ample quantities of soft tit-flesh around himself as he begins to thrust wildly. "Unh! Unh! I... saw this one... in one of the first risque picture galleries of the new cyberspace!"

Bones can be heard sighing again as she goes at it. Seemingly resigning herself to her fate she slips one of her gloved hands down between her legs. Though it covers the outer part of her legs, her bodysuit is mostly uncovered along her inner thighs, with only a tiny, tight thong-like section with a tiny zipper on it covering her crotch and riding up between her ass-cheeks. She slides her fingers inside that tight space and begins rubbing vigorously. "Oh. Yes. Wow. It's fantastic." she says in a not-particularly convincing voice, apparently not invested in hiding her tone of annoyance since she knows this guy is going to do everything he wants regardless.