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Chapter 20
by
micdan282
What's next?
Nighttime Run In
The city was cast in moody grey fog that clouded the city. Nightingale moved across the rooftops, her boots silent against the damp concrete. She wasn’t chasing a lead tonight, just patrolling, hoping for clarity she hadn’t found since the auction.
A flicker of movement stopped her. She turned, tensing, every sense sharpened until a familiar silhouette emerged from the mist.
Whisper.
She leaned with casual confidence against a ventilation unit, arms folded, her suit blending seamlessly into the shadows. Her mask was in place, but the scarf that usually concealed her mouth was pulled down, revealing a sly, half-smile.
"How did you know where to find me?" Nightingale demanded.
"I have my ways," Whisper purred, her voice as smooth as velvet. “Heard you’ve been trying to get information on the Supplier. Bet you’ve been struggling.”
Nightingale’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m looking for answers,” she said, stepping forward but not too close. “You know something. Don’t you?”
Whisper gave a lazy shrug. “I might. But I didn’t come here to talk about work.”
Nightingale’s heart kicked up.
“Then why are you here?”
“To see you.” Whisper’s tone was low, intimate. “I really liked working with you, you know. You’re smarter than most of the masks out there. Sharper. And when it comes to fighting, well, you move like someone who’s been dancing with **** for a long time.”
Nightingale swallowed, heat creeping into her chest. “What do you want?”
Whisper took a slow, deliberate step forward, her eyes glinting. “I wanted to see you again and you wanted to see me too. Admit it.”
Nightingale felt her breath catch. She shook her head, forcing the words out. “I don’t trust you.”
“But you want to.”
That landed harder than it should have. Nightingale took a shaky breath, aware of the distance narrowing between them. Whisper stopped just in front of her, so close she could feel the heat of her body through their suits.
“Tell me to back off,” Whisper whispered, her voice barely audible. “Say it, and I’ll walk away.”
Rikki’s mouth opened but nothing came out.
Whisper lifted a hand, slowly, deliberately, and brushed a gloved finger down the side of Nightingale’s jaw. Her touch sent a shiver down Rikki’s spine.
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” she said, voice low and dangerous. “You don't have to be the perfect little hero.”
She leaned in and Nightingale didn’t stop her. Their lips met in a kiss that was more fire than tenderness—urgent, wrong, and impossibly good. Rikki's mind screamed a thousand reasons to pull away. But her body betrayed her, leaning into the heat, her hands finding Whisper’s hips, anchoring herself to something she knew she shouldn’t want.
“Good girl,” Whisper spoke softly as Rikki began kissing her neck.
When they finally broke apart, Rikki’s breath came in shallow gasps.
“This is a mistake,” she murmured, eyes flicking down, guilty.
Whisper only smiled. “Then we’ll have to make it again sometime.”
And with that, she stepped back, vanished into the mist like she’d never been there at all. Nightingale stayed frozen for a long time, her pulse thundering in her ears. She didn’t know if she hated Whisper more for doing this to her or herself for letting it happen.
What's next?
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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