The Iron Maiden...

Bran watched as Lotta and Rola scurried off into the distance with their guides, their figures gradually blending into the crowd. With a sense of purpose, he turned and began his silent trek through the labyrinthine halls of the police headquarters. As he walked, his steps were measured and his demeanour exuded an air of confidence, thanks to the subtle influence of the earrings he wore. No one gave him a second glance as he seamlessly blended into the bustling atmosphere of the building.

Bran had been a low-level thug for most of his life. He'd spent most of his days working in a factory, toiling away in the bowels of Republic City. His role had been simple: follow orders and keep his head down. But now he felt a stirring of excitement in his chest, a desire to do something more.

He wanted to be a part of all this, to be a player in the big game of Republic City. Bran was no longer content to be a spectator, to be a piece in the grand scheme of things.

Passing by desks and offices, Bran listened to the hum of conversation and the clatter of typewriters. Officers went about their daily tasks, engrossed in paperwork or engaged in casual conversations. Their obliviousness to his presence was a testament to the power of his earrings, granting him the guise of just another face in the busy police headquarters.

He caught snippets of conversation as he walked, fragments of information that hinted at ongoing investigations and cases. Detectives huddled together, discussing leads and sharing theories. Bran absorbed these tidbits, his mind becoming a repository of potentially useful knowledge.
Equalist activities, speculation on their motives and the potential threat they posed to the city's delicate balance. The brand new Avatar Korra, her chaotic arrival in Republic City. The insidious activities of various Triads like the Creeping Crystal and the Red Monsoon, their clandestine operations intertwining with the fabric of the city's underbelly. Tales of power struggles, territorial disputes, and illicit dealings floated in the air, adding an undercurrent of tension to the atmosphere.

Bran stepped into Chief Lin Beifong's office, his heart pounding with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. The office exuded an air of authority, with walls adorned with commendations and shelves filled with neatly organised case files. The armoured Chief’s commanding face, with its weathered lines, penetrating eyes, and defined features turned to take his presence in. The seasoned enforcer of justice met his gaze, her expression devoid of surprise or suspicion.

Without uttering a word, the Chief returned her attention to the documents before her, engrossed in her work.

Bran couldn't help but feel a wave of relief wash over him as he observed her lack of reaction to his presence. Encouraged by this, he cautiously approached the Chief's desk, his footsteps light and careful as if at any moment she could explode into action with those metal wires of hers.

He stood by her shoulder, his looming presence failing to elicit any acknowledgment from her.

Bran placed a hand on the Chief's shoulder, expecting some sort of reaction. But there was none. He prodded her face, his fingers pressing against her high cheekbones. Still, no reaction. Emboldened by the lack of response, he ran his fingers through her silvery hair, his touch brushing gently against her scalp. And yet, she remained indifferent, oblivious to his intimate actions.

The power of the earrings surged through Bran, intoxicating him with its possibilities. By now he'd figured out they actually had the power to basically bend people. Whenever he said something with the word normal in it, his words seemed to become true for that person. He'd unlocked Lotta's inner slut, making her surrender to his advances and beg for a taste of his pulsating member. He manipulated Beifong's guards into blueballed sellouts betraying their oaths for tugjobs.

With this power it seemed like he could do anything.

No woman would be able to resist his charm, and he could use their holes, fulfilling his insatiable desires without any consequences.

All of Republic City would be his playground, a never-ending feast of pleasures and conquests.

But first, Lin Bei-Fong, the Chief of the Metalbending Police, herself.

Bran ran his fingers down the side of the chief's face, sliding his hand down to the base of her neck. He wrapped her throat with his fist lightly, exerting just a slightly growing pressure.

Nothing.

Not a twitch or a gasp.

She continued to just write away as if he wasn't even there. No, that wasn't right. She knew he was there. She had subtly adjusted her position in her seat to accommodate his grip but she just carried on with unwavering focus, unfazed by him.

Spirits, she'd really let him do anything to her.

Bran's cock hardened at the prospect of defiling this stoic, powerful woman.

He leaned in, bringing his lips close to her ear. "I want to fuck you, Lin." He whispered, his voice filled with lust and desire. "I want to bend you over your desk and pound your pussy until you can't think straight anymore."

"I'm not surprised. If your manhood is proving difficult to restrain, I could bend a proper cage for it." She paused as if in thought and continued more to herself than him, "In fact that should most likely be standard procedure for all detainees…"

The faintest hint of a smirk appeared on her face before vanishing once again, hidden behind her usual stoic demeanour.

He chuckled and shook his head, even as his hands snaked down to paw at her body. As he felt nothing but various hard surfaces, he realised his notion of just taking Lin was going to run into the problem of her entire body being tightly encased in metal armor.

Well that was an issue…

…eh, not really…