Not so well

Holly grimaced as she rolled across the stone floor, barely escaping the searing heat of Missfire's blast.

She touched her radio. "Woodpecker, I could really use some help here..." The only reply was a faint crackle. Removing her earpiece, her green eyes took in the singed plastic with dismay. "Damn it," she muttered, crushing the useless device. Quickly nocking an arrow, she peeked over the marble desk and quickly fired an arrow at the red-headed pyromaniac. She dived back under cover even before she heard its tinkling explosion, a fresh whoosh of fire over her head telling her she had missed.

"Ben, where are you?" she murmured to herself, raising her arm to shelter herself from the unbearable heat. Sweat dripping from her brow, black spots began appearing in her vision. She found herself longing for Michael's cum, to guzzle it from that big cock, to suck those tennis ball testes dry... Holly bit her tongue, hard, pulling herself out of the fantasy, horrified she would ever think such a thing. In a snap decision, she decided she couldn't afford to wait any longer. Redistributing the energy from the rest of her arrows into a single one, she nocked it, and took a breath to steady herself.

Holly dived across the city hall's lobby, in slow-motion lining up a killing shot. But as fear flitted across Missfire's pale features, the archer could only see a young woman just like any other. Knowing she would regret it, Holly altered her aim, and released the string, before impacting the ground. Her arrow sailed past Missfire's hourglass figure, but exploded against the wall ten paces behind her in a deafening cacophony of tinkling chimes, the concussive wave knocking the villain clean off her feet. Holly scrambled for another arrow, even as Missfire staggered to her feet, clutching her ears. She got to her knees and aimed her bow, just as the redhead pointed a glowing palm towards her. A stand-off.

"I'm glad the legendary Artemis is feisty," Missfire half-laughed, half-growled. "This has been so much fun!"

In the sudden quiet without any roar of Missfire's flames or Artemis's arrows, Holly heard the sound of muffled footsteps pounding towards them. "Not really," she replied, then rolled out of the way. The wall behind her suddenly flew into pieces, as a black-white-and-red clad man charged straight towards where her arrow had exploded. With a gleeful cackle, Missfire's palm erupted into a column of red and yellow, the flames enveloping Woodpecker's body as he braced himself against the tempest, fighting his way forwards step by step.

Holly was about to draw another arrow, when she heard Sparrow's voice behind her, through the shattered wall.

"The Contortionist escaped onto the eastern street!" called Rachel as she ran past. "C'mon, or we'll lose her!"

Frozen by indecision, Holly looked between Sparrow's receding figure, and Woodpecker, fighting his way towards Missfire. The girl's beautiful face, contorted in a manic grin, was lit a deep red by the flames, her long scarlet hair billowing out behind her.

"Go!" yelled Ben over the tempest. "I've got this!"

Looking between her options one last time, Holly picked herself up and sprinted after Rachel, hoping the near-invulnerable boy was right.

The telekinetic girl burst out of the atrium's emergency exit, Holly several seconds behind her. Just as she crossed the threshold, she heard a voice behind her - a voice that didn't make sense.

"Artemis!" She looked around, to see Rachel - a different Rachel - racing after her. "It's her!"

Looking around, Holly saw the first Rachel, and quickly put two and two together. Taking aim down the alleyway, she fired at the now-distant girl she had mistaken for her friend. The silver tip grazed her target's slender arm, and buried itself in the brick wall behind her. The purple, white, and black colours of Sparrow's costumes flickered before turning into a black catsuit. For an instant, the girl looked towards Holly, and despite the distance, Holly saw her features morph from Rachel's pale visage to the tanned face of the Contortionist. She smirked, then ran around the corner.

Holly followed her - only to find the street filled with a crowd that had gathered to gawp at the flaming city hall. Rachel flew over her head, hovering in place as she surveyed the crowd, before silently descending. "It's no use. She could be anyone."

Holly bit her cheek nervously. "I'm so sorry, Rachel. I thought - I didn't realise -"

"It wasn't your fault," the blue-eyed girl reassured her.

"Yes, it was," argued Holly. "I had a clean shot down the street at her, and I missed."

"From seventy metres at a moving target."

"So what? If I can't hit my shots, what's the point of having me on the team?"

That made Sparrow hesitate. "Don't forget it's daytime," she eventually suggested, with a sympathetic smile. "When the moon is bright you're much more powerful, right?"

"Right," sighed Holly.

Holly's pale skin gleamed in the moonlight, her thighs, stomach and cleavage in sharp contrast to the rest of her midnight-blue costume. Her black hair and cape fluttered behind her in the cool breeze as she drew an arrow, straining against the bow's tension, before releasing it. The arrow sailed into the distance, before finally burying itself in the bullseye painted on a sandbag, its contents spilling onto the concrete. The girl from Nottingham nocked another arrow, then effortlessly floated into the air, until she was higher than the rooves of the old industrial warehouses nearby, when she fired. Propelling herself forwards, Holly dropped from the sky, slowing herself at the last moment to land next to her target. She scowled to herself: missed it by 10cm.

"Thought I might find you here."

Holly spun around, bow drawn - but released the tension when she saw Michael descending the steps towards the disused canal towpath she had co-opted into an archery range. She couldn't help but notice how the sweater he was wearing tightly hugged his physique, and upon seeing him again, she felt a sudden burning in her stomach, a craving for something she had only tasted once. The archer quickly turned away from him, mentally reminding herself how disgusting his actions with Mary had been. What was wrong with her?

"Sparrow told me you've been beating yourself up over Missfire and the Contortionist escaping today," Michael continued, undeterred. "I almost caught the Contortionist when we met, but she's... slippery."

Artemis pulled her arrow out of the sandbag with unnecessary ****. "They already stole some kind of chameleon camo suit, and burned down half a dozen buildings. When I was alone, I was the only one in danger - but now, every shot I miss puts more lives at risk." She paused for a moment. "Although, I did graze the Contortionist with one of my arrows. So... there's probably silver in her bloodstream, with residual lunar energy, and I can usually feel that energy - so maybe we can track her down, catch her when she's not expecting it!"

"That's the spirit," grinned Michael.

"It's a long shot, even if we wait a couple of weeks until the full moon," Holly warned him, trying to banish the thought of seeing that smile from below whilst she sucked his cock. "My senses are sharper with more moonlight, and there'll be barely any residual energy in her blood."

"So, today went pretty well," he suggested to her. "Our cashflow problems are solved, and we have a way to catch the Contortionist."

"I suppose so," shrugged Holly, retrieving the rest of her arrows, stubbornly fighting the urge to look back at Michael.

"Do you... do you mind if I have a try?"

Holly turned around in surprise, and held up her bow in query.

"Yeah. I only did archery a couple of times as a kid, but I always found it pretty fun. If you don't mind, of course."

Holly's feelings towards Alpha Man softened, as she saw a bit of his humanity. "Go ahead," she offered, handing him the composite bow. With a slight fumble, he put an arrow into place, then drew back the string, the ease with which he took the high-tension bow to its limit belying his strength. Watching him, however, Holly couldn't help but smile - he reminded her of herself when she had just started, making all the same mistakes. Carefully taking aim, he released - and missed the target completely.

"Ah." Michael sheepishly glanced at her, drawing another arrow. "Definitely out of practice."

Holly chuckled kindly. "Here." She stepped behind him, moving his right elbow up, tapping his stomach - well, his abs - so he straightened to his full height, feeling her costume-clad breasts brushing his back as she did so. For a heartbeat, she stood there, inhaling his intoxicating, manly scent.

Then she stepped back. Michael fired, and hit the bullseye.

"Evidently not that out of practice," she remarked, a twinkle in her eye.

Michael shrugged modestly, handing her back her bow. "Thanks. It's late - I think I'm going to turn in. Sure I can't convince you to get some sleep?"

"Not tonight," admitted Holly. They just looked at each other for a moment - the black-haired archer bouncing between thinking she had been too harsh on him, or not harsh enough, given the way he was looking at her now.

"Well, goodnight," said Michael, and walked back towards the house.

Holly kept training for the rest of the night: there was no other way of fighting the blame she placed on herself - nor of suppressing her dark fantasies.