Fire and Ice have some leisure time in a women's club.

The media had an absolute fit trying to understand the pictures. Talking heads debated whether they were accidental leaks of a private joke gone too far, or a satirical reclamation of feminine power in light of recent events, or a valid reappearance of the world’s best-known magic jewelry. Brandon watched as much of the news as he could, awarding points in his head to anybody who came the closest to the truth. None associated the costumed heroine Vixen with the fashion mode Mari McCabe (who became a household name overnight, like other gorgeous women with public proof of sexual escapades), but the general damage mattered more than the personal. The Justice League said they had ended the threat of the amulets and had all the perpetrators in custody, and then a new amulet appeared out of nowhere, except maybe it wasn’t new and maybe they’d gone missing from the GCPD’s evidence locker, or maybe there were dozens of others in the wild. Only a select few knew for sure. But the League was on their back foot, doing public relations damage control while privately dealing with another violation of one of their own.

The Watchtower was tense the next day, but Brandon didn’t intend to hang around and experience it. He had another event to attend, halfway around the world. He’d spied an opportunity, a two-hour break between shifts for one of the League’s newer members coinciding with the end of shift for another, and he was happy to tag along. A little sneaking away here, a little stomach-churning teleportation there, and he stepped out onto the gorgeous seaside vista of Riccione.

“Lovely!” Fire threw out her arms and embraced the chilly Italian night. “Such a wonderful change from the dark space. If I could have all my rest time in a place like this, I would be truthfully happy.”

“Says the woman who lives in a tropical paradise,” deadpanned Ice in an equally thick accent from the other side of the world.

“Rio is no paradise. It is nice! But to be in a place where the sun does not hit so hard, without so many…” she waved her hand in the air, groping for a word.

“Tourists?”

“No. Pigs in the bodies of men.”

“Chauvinists.”

“Yes! Chauvinists,” she repeated with a Portuguese-tinged pronunciation. “To not worry, it is fun sometimes.”

“Unless you worry about female attention.”

The green flame around Fire’s body disappeared in a flash, leaving a buxom woman with long olive-colored hair and an outfit designed for a casual day at the beach. “I never worry about female attention if it comes from the right place.” She brushed the back of her hand against Ice’s and winked, then set off down the streets of the city. Ice’s eyes passed over Fire’s retreating backside, then a layer of ice covered her body and shattered into a fine, cold mist, revealing flimsy clothing in a blue color scheme.

Brandon tried not to be surprised. Every pair of female superheroes (and pair of female villains, and some pairs involving one of each) had rumors about potential lesbian trysts, but some were more popular than others. Supergirl and Batgirl, as the perky teenage sidekicks to top-tier heroes. Batwoman and Catwoman, as a yin-yang relationship between Gotham’s hottest heroes in black spandex. Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, which he’d recently learned was actually canon. But even higher than those, way at the top of the list, were Fire and Ice. They joined the League around the same time, they went on missions together, their powers and personalities formed an obvious balance, and according to their schedules they aligned their free time as much as possible. He had strong suspicions even before Ice smacked Fire’s sarong-clad ass in retaliation. But then, he thought, he was standing two feet from them wearing a magical sex-inducing trinket. They might not realize what they were doing, and they probably wouldn’t until it was too late.

He followed the duo, sneaking along the quiet streets until they passed a well-equipped female bouncer and entered a building. Even if he hadn’t done some online sleuthing regarding the name of their location, he’d have recognized it as a women-only club on first glance. The large red “no” sign over a male silhouette helped, as did the bouncer who glared at any male-presenting person who approached too closely. But with the power of the amulet he strolled right by her, and on a whim he undid a few more buttons on her shirt. Might as well give everybody else something to look at for a bit.

Though the club’s website boasted all sorts of all-female activities he wouldn’t mind invading—yoga, book clubs, a gym, anything one might find at a Gotham community center—he had two people in mind, and he’d follow wherever they went. He trailed Fire and Ice up far too many stairs to the rooftop, where a small pool waited six stories above the street. They weren’t alone; a few women already swam and lounged, taking advantage of the relative peace and relaxing under the early-evening sky. None piqued his interest more than the Brazilian and Norwegian heroes stripping down to bikinis and slipping into the water. He doffed his uniform, including the gloves, and waded after them with both amulets around his neck. Fingerprints wouldn’t be an issue in the pool, and he wanted to touch every inch of the bodies he was about to ruin.

The heroines did not immediately get into sexy shenanigans like splashing each other while giggling and making out, a staggering disappointment given all the lesbians Brandon had seen in pornography. They drifted and swam, relaxing and interacting with each other incidentally, enjoying a simple break from the hassles of hero duty. Fire’s long hair followed her like a tail, weaving through the water as she maneuvered from one end of the pool to the other, and whenever she burst from the water with a sprinkling of droplets, her assets bounced in a sleek black bikini made more of strings than actual fabric. Ice kept her head above water most of the time—not that dipping beneath significantly changed the broad patch of bright white hair atop it—and lingered near the edge in a white two-piece more suitable for competition swimming than getting a tan. If any men had been allowed on the rooftop, both women would undoubtedly be swarmed by hopefuls looking for a chance to flirt with the heroes in disguise. As it was, Brandon was around to take advantage of their situation, so it fell to him to do the work of six horny men.