A Feedback Loop

There we are, standing around the medical bed where Mystique Mirage lays strapped down, knocked out cold, looking like some twisted version of Sleeping Beauty. Dr. Mind is hovering over her, all those gadgets and gizmos I have collected over the years humming and flashing as they scan her brain. I can tell he has brought some of his own tech too since he's joined us.

"It's quite fascinating," Dr. Mind mutters, more to himself than to anyone else, his eyes locked on the readouts.

Mark, who's still looking a little pale and shaky, snaps, "Fascinating isn't the word I'd use for almost getting my mind fucked out of my skull."

The old villain, true to his gentleman villain shtick, offers a smooth apology. "I beg your pardon. It appears we're dealing with a feedback loop."

Clonica, who never had a filter to begin with, demands, "How about you skip the cryptic shit and spell it out for us?"

While I keep my eyes on Mirage's still form, Dr. Mind explains. "Mystique Mirage possesses a latent form of passive mind reading. It's not something she can wield at will, but to create her illusions, she must tap into the minds around her. It's a two-way street; she perceives minds to project into them."

Mark's frustration is palpable. "We had a rule about not fucking with mind readers."

Dr. Mind continues, unphased by the interruption. "Her desire to please you was sexual in nature, and as she aroused you, she perceived it coming from you, reinforcing her actions. The ray has conditioned her to seek your pleasure, creating a loop. The more she satisfied you, the more she felt compelled to continue, escalating until… well, forever."

I stand there, staring at the **** super, the pieces clicking together in my head. "So, her power to please got all tangled up in her head thanks to the ray, and she went haywire trying to make Mark happy," I summarize, my tone laced with a mix of wonder and wariness.

Dr. Mind nods, confirming the twisted diagnosis. "Indeed, that's what seems to have happened," he says, adjusting his spectacles with the back of his gloved hand. Clonica, true to form, swears a streak that'd make a sailor blush, and I can't help but frown at the entire mess.

Mark pushes his own nerdy glasses up the bridge of his nose. "So, how do we fix this?" he asks, the frustration clear in his voice.

I lean in, studying the sleeping form of Mystique Mirage. "Just how fucked up is she now?" I ask, my voice tight with concern.

Dr. Mind points to a monitor that might as well be displaying alien hieroglyphs for all the sense it makes to the rest of us. "It appears she's… fried her brain, in layman's terms. Or rather, her neural pathways have been rewired to seek that endless pleasure in Mark to the point of no return."

Sienna, who's been silent up until now, pipes up with a question. "What happens if we wake her up?"

Dr. Mind doesn't miss a beat. "She'd likely continue to desperately seek out sexual gratification for Mark until one of their respective brains couldn't take it anymore."

Clonica tries to lighten the mood with a crude joke about which brain would turn to mush first, but Mark's stern look wipes the smirk right off her face. "Sorry, boss," she says, suddenly serious. "Just trying to cut the tension, you know?"

I shake my head, looking down at Mystique. "Great, we've created a sexy French succubus." I remember her schedule. "Shit, she's supposed to be making the rounds to other leagues tomorrow."

Mark catches my eye and smirks. "No need for a tour if she announces she's joined our league."

Confused, I start to ask how the hell she's supposed to do that in her current state, but then it hits me. He's looking at me with that grin, and I realize what he expects. I'm the shapeshifter here...

"Guess it's time for me to put on a show," I say, my voice a mix of resignation and a hint of excitement. "Volt Vixen, the master of masquerade, at your service."

Mark chuckles but then turns towards Dr. Mind with a frown. "Doc, I don't care how you do it, but you better fix Mystique asap!"