Story Code: ([F, mast], [M/F, reluc, oral, fant], [M/F, oral])

The Ascension Project, pt. 2

“This is a very nice place you have here,” Quicksilver said as she lowered Elena to the hardwood floor of the spacious apartment, silently glad that the librarian was a rather slight woman.
Quicksilver didn’t have the super-strength that so many other meta humans had though she maintained a regular regimen of exercise that kept her in peak physical condition.

“Thank you,” Elena said quietly as she turned and walked to the open window, looking down briefly at the street ten stories below before she closed and latched it. “That was amazing, how you opened the window.”

“Force fields,” Quicksilver said as she smoothed her hair back. “I can manage to flip open a simple catch like the one on your window. Like using a credit card. Easier than taking the elevator.” It had been lucky for her that the trick had worked, she had no problem forming simple shapes like blades or staves, but shapes much smaller than her hand were much more
difficult.

Elena nodded absently as she looked out the window for a second more and then closed the drapes. “Would you like some tea or coffee?” she asked quietly.

“Sure, that would be great,” Quicksilver said as she glanced around the apartment. Most of the walls were taken up with bookshelves although one corner was filled with an impressive computer setup. The librarian apparently earned enough to afford the latest in holo displays and a quintessence hook up. The computer sat like a pile of glass alchemical pipes and alembics.
Another corner of the room was taken up by a single bed covered with a heavy comforter. A couple of fluffy pillows were mounded against the headboard. Quicksilver puzzled over the bed for a second, there was a hallway leading off from the living room that apparently led to at least three other rooms.

“Tea or coffee?” Elena called out from the kitchen adjoining the living room.

“Coffee, please,” Quicksilver called out as she inspected the bookshelves. All sorts of books, she mused. From trashy romance novels to The Odyssey to Crime and Punishment to the latest detective novels. “How is your Q-connection working out?” she asked as she pulled a worn copy of Don Quixote from the shelf. She set it back and ran her gloved finger over the spines of copies of Arthurian legend, The Scarlet Pimpernel, and a western.

“Oh, it’s wonderful,” Elena called back from the kitchen. There was a clink as she put the kettle on the stove. “It’s a bit expensive but it’s so much faster than the old DSL.” The librarian emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of pastries and set them down on a small coffee table in front of the couch. “Please, have some. I’m going to go change.”

Quicksilver adjusted her cloak around her and pushed her goggles back as she picked up a small croissant and took a bite out of it. It was fresh. She chewed thoughtfully, enjoying the change from donuts and take out she usually grabbed in between patrols. Her eyes settled on a group of framed pictures set on an end table.

The largest picture was a group photo taken in someone’s backyard, a large two-story white house, complete with climbing roses in the background. Elena was in the foreground with a handsome man standing next to her, his arm around her shoulders. Just behind them was an elderly man dressed in a general’s uniform and a woman who looked like his wife. Quicksilver leaned closer and studied the younger man, something about his eyes seemed familiar. Her inspection was cut short when she heard Elena walking back down the hall.

“Is that your fiance?” Quicksilver asked as Elena walked back into the living room wearing a pair of jeans and a University of California at Santa Cruz sweatshirt.

“Who? Oh, yes. He is,” Elena said sadly as she sat down on the couch. “But how did-?”

“You’re wearing an engagement ring,” Quicksilver said as she finished off her croissant.

“Oh,” Elena said softly as she twisted the ring around her finger.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”

“Oh. No. It’s not that. My fiance...died five years ago. An accident at the lab where he worked. There was an explosion, they never even found the body.”

“I’m sorry,” Quicksilver said as Elena stood to take the kettle off the stove.

“Don’t be,” Elena said from the kitchen. “How do you like it?”

“Black, please,” Quicksilver said. She studied the pictures for a while more, the woman in picture seemed much happier than the one bringing her coffee. “Are you feeling alright?”

“What? Yes, I mean, that man didn’t manage to do anything,” Elena said with a shrug and wan smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. I am.”

“Ok, if you want to talk, here’s my card,” Quicksilver said as she reached into a belt pouch and pulled out the hologram embossed card.

“You want me to have this?” Elena asked in amazement as she took the card. She looked down at the card. ‘Quicksilver, Licensed Officer of the Peace, New York City, New York’ it read and gave a cell phone number and e-mail address accompanied by the seal of the governor of New York.

“Sure, unless you don’t want it,” Quicksilver said with a small smile.

“No, it’s not that. But I thought only important people could contact you.”

“You count as important to me,” Quicksilver said. “That...knight, or whoever he was. He asked me to watch out for you. More or less.” And I want to find out why and how he shows up just when you’re in trouble, she thought to herself. She finished her coffee off as she rose. “Great coffee.”

“Oh, thank you,” Elena said as she took the cup from Quicksilver and set it on the tray. “Um, how are you going to-?”

“Window, I guess,” Quicksilver said with a grin as she settled her goggles back on her face. Elena watched as she walked over to the window and stopped. The superheroine slowly turned to look at her and stared at her intensely.

“Is something wrong?” Elena said somewhat nervously. She backed away unconsciously when Quicksilver approached her quickly. She gulped when she found herself backed up against the wall next to her bed, her palms flat against the plaster as Quicksilver stood just in front of her. Elena closed her eyes and felt her breathing quicken when Quicksilver leaned forward, her face coming closer and closer...

“Got it, the bastard,” Quicksilver said triumphantly with a smile. She blinked when she noticed Elena. “Oh, sorry about that,” she said as she backed away and inspected her catch. “Do you know why anyone would want to bug your apartment?”

“What? I-no, why?” Elena said, still confused from the mercurial behavior of the superhero. She had thought that Quicksilver was going to try to extract payment for her escort duties. She flushed and looked down at the floor when she realized that she was so lonely that she would have welcomed even the attentions of another woman.

“I’ll have someone down at One Police Plaza take a look at this,” Quicksilver said as she flipped back the latch on the window and floated out the window.

“Wait! How did you see that?” Elena called out. She could barely see the speck that Quicksilver held when she knew where it was, much less when it was hidden in the woodwork.

“Goggles,” Quicksilver called back as she floated out the window. “They’ve got a bunch of gadgets in them. I’ll get in touch with you tomorrow!”

“Oh, ok,” Elena said as Quicksilver flew off into the night sky. She closed the window and locked it out of habit, tugging the drapes in place as she walked back to the computer chair and sank down onto it. “What a day,” she said to herself as she waved her hand to turn on the monitor. The soft blue glow of the desktop screen illuminated her face in soft light as she logged onto her internet account and checked her mail. A family friend, Megan Jacobs, had e-mailed her a month back about her daughter, apparently she was just enrolling at Columbia for the fall semester. What was her name? Something exotic, Synthea, she thought. Megan had asked if she could look out for Synthea while the girl was at college.

Elena opened a new letter from Megan and opened the attached picture. A smiling blonde girl with sparkling green eyes looked out from the picture flanked by her beaming parents. It looked like it was taken at a going away party. Elena felt a twinge of jealousy when she saw the happiness apparent in the girl’s gorgeous face, how long had it been since she had felt that way?
 

Quicksilver was lost in thought as she flew between the skyscrapers that made up midtown Manhattan. Thoughts of the knight were still bouncing around her mind as she headed towards Times Square for one last sweep before she headed home. Why fixate on one pretty librarian? It could just be that he was insane, in that case he needed to be watched. Or could it have just been an elaborate act. Great, that’s one first she’d rather not see, a meta human stalker.

“Rapid Response unit to Times Square,” she heard the police dispatcher say over her radio. “Meta human disturbance in progress, suspect is considered class A extremely dangerous.”

“Dispatch, this is Quicksilver, what’s the situation?” she said into the microphone mounted in the wrist of her outfit, already turning to fly towards Times Square.

“Quicksilver, situation is unknown. Explosions reported and at least one casualty.”

“Roger that, Quicksilver out.” Quicksilver sighed as she slowed and floated to a stop just behind the last turn that would put her in Times Square. Below her she could see a mass of humanity struggling and pushing its way out of Times Square with all the energy of salmon swimming upstream. She edged around the corner of the building and took a peek at the busy intersection. “Lovely,” she swore softly.

Already most of the landmark was empty of people. Abandoned taxis and cars were packed to capacity in the streets, something not unusual for this time of night. Quicksilver surveyed the ground quickly and could only see one possible casualty, a pair of smoking sneakers in the middle of scorched patch of sidewalk. The most likely culprit was floating about twenty feet off the ground and surrounded by a halo of white light.

He looked like an angel from any number of prints and pictures that Quicksilver had seen growing up in a Catholic household; although this one looked more inclined to smiting the heathen than anything else. Quicksilver pressed a stud on the side of her goggles and watched as they increased magnification until the angel filled her vision. He was dressed in a loose, flowing white tunic that left his arms and lower legs bare. His wings were large, with a wingspan of at least twenty feet. But what was most intriguing were his eyes, they were nothing but a brilliant white glow. Great body, she thought vaguely as she leaned back around the corner. Weird eyes.

“Keerist, who’s he?” Bladedancer asked as he jumped onto a ledge next to Quicksilver. The superhero was dressed in his usual mix of modern practicality and ancient decoration. He looked like a cross between a modern soldier and a samurai to Quicksilver. A caucasian one, anyway. Bladedancer squatted down on the ledge and smoothed back his short, spiky black hair as he yawned.

“I don’t know, I think he might have killed someone,” Quicksilver said as she zoomed back out and checked the intersection for any more people. “Looks like an angel.”

“Angel, huh? Has he done anything else?” Bladedancer asked as he scratched his back with the heavy wooden bokken, or training sword, that he usually carried by his side. Bladedancer was a relative rarity, a superhero that used weapons.

Most of the superheroes just relied on their natural powers and body to deal with trouble. Bladedancer was certainly strong enough for that, he was easily stronger than Quicksilver and could probably lift a small car by himself. But he had adopted a swordsman’s persona. His weapons, one bokken, two katanas, and a parrying dagger, acted like a focus for his powers. At least, that was what he said they did. Quicksilver thought that he liked how they looked more than anything else.

“How do you want to handle this?” Quicksilver asked as she stretched her neck and shoulders.

“Any news crews around?” Bladedancer, ever conscious of his public image, asked.

“Not yet, Rapid Response is on the way.”

“Ah, hell, we’d better work fast if we want to collar this guy before they get here and take the credit.” He swung his bokken in a quick arc and peeked around the corner. “Ok, I’ll come in from the right and you from the left, shouldn't be too hard for you to get him in one of your force fields. Then we just wait for the cameras to get here.”

“Sure, just be careful, he’s a class one.” Class one, or projectile type. Anyone with that classification could shoot something as part of their powers, usually some sort of energy blast, laser maybe, or a flame. Quicksilver was one of the few who could manipulate force fields well enough to use them as a sort of bullet.

“No prob, babe,” Bladedancer said with a rakish wink. “You watch that pretty rear end of yours,” he said as he launched himself off the ledge towards a building on the other side of the street. Quicksilver watched as he kicked off the building and leapt towards the angel before she flew straight up and arced over the top of the nearest building.

“Alright there, holy boy,” Bladedancer yelled as he zig zagged between the buildings towards the angel. “Give up before we have to beat you to a pulp.”

“Are you one of the fallen? One of the damned?” the angel said in a deep voice that easily carried to where Quicksilver was turning the top of her arc and descending towards the street.
“You cannot be one of the chosen.”

“Fallen?” Bladedancer asked as he jumped one last time and landed just before the angel. “This is New York, pal. We’re all damned.”

“It is as I thought, creation has become fouled by the filthy excrescence of the fallen ones. I knew as much when I was greeted with filth and profanity,” the angel said with a broad gesture around Times Square. “That one dared to assault me,” he said as he pointed to the still smoking pair of sneakers. Now that he was closer, Bladedancer could see that the soles had melted to the sidewalk.

“Ok, pal, why don’t you stop flying and we can get you a nice clean room at Bellvue?” Bladedancer said, his head cocked to the side and an irritating grin on his face.

“Do you mock me, tainted one?” the angel said.

“Hey, no, no,” Bladedancer said in what he probably thought was a soothing way. Quicksilver sighed as she readied a force bolt in her right hand. Bladedancer had a knack for irritating everyone except the general public, who loved him. “So why don’t you come on down and we can have a little talk about not incinerating people in Times-”

Quicksilver swore as her goggles darkened to compensate for the bright flash of light coming from the angel’s palms. She made out the silhouette of Bladedancer as he leapt away from the beam of energy pouring from the angel’s hands. Concrete glowed red for a split second before it shattered and vaporized from the intense heat. Quicksilver threw the transparent force bolt in her hand at the angel’s head, striking him directly above the ear.

The angel snarled and clutched at his head as he turned to face Quicksilver. “Treachery would be expected from filth such as you-” he started to say when Bladedancer leapt up behind him and hit him with a crushing doublehand strike. The angel’s head snapped to the side as he shot to the ground, skidding for about twenty feet until slammed into a taxi.
“I will purify this place!” the angel roared as he staggered to his feet, bleeding crimson blood from a nasty cut along his temple where Bladedancer had hit him. He jerked his palms up and fired off another stream of blinding light, incinerating several cars and a storefront. Bladedancer leapt gracefully over the light, executing a perfect half turn as he landed on the taxi behind the angel and struck out with his bokken.

The angel staggered forward as Quicksilver darted towards him with a long staff formed from a force field in her hands. She swung with her entire body behind the blow and sent the angel smashing back into the side of the taxi, the door crumpling under the impact. He reeled forward and Quicksilver spun, bringing the staff around to smash into his head again as Bladedancer struck him from the other side.

That seemed to finish him and the angel slowly folded up, his forehead bouncing off the pavement and blood streaming from the cuts and gashes on his head and back. Quicksilver let the staff dissipate as she wiped back her silver hair with one gloved hand.

“Doesn’t know when to quit, does he?” Bladedancer said as he examined his bokken.

“Strong son-of-a-bitch, did he hit you?” Quicksilver asked.

“Nah, I was too fast for him. Cracked my bokken though. Asshole.”

“Looks like I’m too late,” a new voice said over a loudspeaker. Quicksilver turned and smiled at the sight of Lt. Conners of the Rapid Response unit stomping into Times Square in his mechanized armor suit. The hunchbacked and squat humanoid shape was painted a dark blue and had the NYPD emblazoned on its front. The officers face was just barely visible through the bulletproof transteel window in the front of the suit. “What’s the situation?”

“He’s out cold,” Quicksilver said as she let her force field dissipate. “I think we might have hurt him pretty badly, he refused to go down.” She saw Lt. Conners turn his head and speak into his radio for a moment.

“Ambulance is on the way,” he said over the loud speaker as he opened the shell of the suit. He ducked out from under the hatch as it swung upward and hopped to the sidewalk. He was dressed in a dark blue jumpsuit, the same thing that SWAT officers wore. Lt. Frank Conners was handsome in a rather rough way, Quicksilver had known him for about five years and dated him for three. In all that time she had never seem his face without stubble for more than a couple hours. Combined with a scar down his right cheek from a crazed super who had punched into his suit’s cockpit, the stubble gave the lieutenant a certain roguish quality most of the time. Sometimes Frank just looked like he should be on the other end of a pair of handcuffs.

“How you been doing, Frank?” Quicksilver said, unconsciously smoothing her hair back and standing a little straighter.

“I’ve been doing pretty good,” Lt. Conners said with a smile. “Yourself?”

“Pretty good,” Quicksilver said as she leaned back against the crushed taxi, one foot up and resting against its side, her hands clasped behind her back and a crooked smile on her face.

“Hey, excuse me,” Bladedancer said.

“It’s been a while since we had dinner,” Lt. Conners said as he leaned against the taxi next to Quicksilver. “Why don’t we get together Friday? I can get us a table at Le Matin same time as usual.”

“I think he’s starting to wake up-”

“That sounds good,” Quicksilver said as she leaned closer to Lt. Conners and pushed up her goggles. “I’ll meet you there.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek before hopping back into the air. “Take care of this, will you?” she called to Bladedancer before she disappeared into the night sky.
 

Synthea Jacobs, sometimes known as Arc, hunched over her history homework and tried to concentrate on the founding of the Roman Empire. Out of the corner of her eye she could still see Lucy wearing only a towel around her waist and preening in front of the mirror hanging on the door of the dormitory room. She licked her lips and forced her eyes back onto the textbook as Lucy bent over and began to rummage through her drawers.

“What do you think of this?” Lucy said as she held up a lacy see-through top to her bare breasts. “Is it too slutty?”

“I-I don’t know,” Synthea said and looked back at her textbook. The nineteen year-old freshman forced herself to focus on the words and did her best to ignore the younger woman strutting around the room. It had been two weeks since she had moved into her room at Columbia University, in that time her roommate had continued to walk around naked or nearly so despite her polite requests to put on some clothes. College, she sighed to herself.

“I suppose this will do,” Lucy said as she pulled on a tight, black leather halter-top and a matching micro-mini skirt. She stroked her tanned and bare belly as she modeled for herself in the mirror. “Sure you don’t want to go to the party?” she asked over her shoulder. “All you do is study.”

“N-no,” Synthea said as she bent her head back to her book and let her thick mane of rich golden hair fall in a curtain to hide Lucy’s leather clad ass.

“Fine,” Lucy said as she slinked out the door. “Your loss.” Bitch, she thought to herself as she walked down the hallway towards the stairs.

Synthea let out a long sigh of relief and ran a hand through her hair, gathering it at the base of her neck as she leaned back in her chair and stretched. She bit her lip as she thought of Lucy’s tight ass and large, round breasts. “Oh god,” she moaned as she buried her face in her hands. “Think about something else.” Unfortunately, the only other thing she could think about was the Shadow Emperor. She had run into him about two weeks ago at the museum, he had been as handsome and charming as ever even as he had been trying to fly off with a Van Gogh. She and Quicksilver had stopped him but all she could think about was his eyes and smile.

She moaned and bit her lip when she felt her right hand stealing down to rub herself through her jeans, as if it had a mind of its own. She glanced guiltily around the room and stood, pulling off her white t-shirt and unbuttoning her jeans as she reached for robe. A minute later she was standing in the bathroom, water from the hot shower sending billowing clouds of steam up to obscure the ceiling.
 

Quicksilver had taken the elevator up to Le Matin because she didn’t want the city to see up her short black cocktail dress. She smiled as the door opened and the maitre’d stepped forward and greeted her. He was an incredibly professional man, ensuring that any superhero who happened to stop by was never pestered for autographs and was treated like any other costumer, in other words, superbly.

Le Matin was the city’s top restaurant, both literally and figuratively. It was located on the top two floors of the World Trade center’s west tower in an area that used to be occupied by a top internet company. They had moved out to larger quarters ten years ago, leaving an area equipped with a top of the line kitchen originally meant to provide for weary webheads.

“Miss Quicksilver, your gentleman companion has already arrived. I took the liberty of seating you at your usual table,” the maitre’d said as he lead Quicksilver towards the raised balcony that ran around the inside of the east and south walls. Quicksilver smiled at the few people she knew, the mayor was eating with her husband and advisors and Bast was just finishing up with her latest dates. The catwoman’s tawny fur glowed in the candlelight as she looked over towards Quicksilver and winked knowingly.

“Hey Samantha,” Frank said as she sat down across from him and glanced out the window. The Atlantic stretched out to the horizon, in the far distance she could see the slight darkening that signaled a storm rolling in. Quicksilver paused and stared at her reflection, silver hair that glowed in the candlelight and was her namesake framed her beautiful face. She didn’t feel like a Samantha most of the time.

“Hi,” she said back with a slow smile, eying his somber face and steady eyes. She had missed these dates with Frank. They hadn’t been seeing each other very much since he had asked her to move in with him. He was ready to settle down, at least as much as either of them could, but she still didn’t feel comfortable with making such a concrete declaration of their feelings for each other. “Were you here long?”

“Nope, just enjoying the view,” he said back, reaching across the table and taking her hand in one of his. Quicksilver smiled back and placed her hand on his as she slipped one foot out of her high heeled shoe. “Have you thought about it?”

“What? Oh,” Quicksilver said. “I’m not ready yet, Frank, I’m sorry.” She patted his hand comfortingly. “Just give me some more time.”

Frank nodded and glanced out the window. When he looked back his somber face had disappeared and was replaced with his normal smirking one. “Our friend from Times Square is resting comfortably in a containment cell. The Army is going to be by tonight to pick him up for transfer.”

“Do you need to be there?”

“Nah, Jerry can take care of everything.” He smiled and leaned closer. “Just a night for you and me.” Quicksilver smiled back and calmly slid her stockinged foot up his leg and thigh. She watched his eyes widen slightly as she slouched down a little and lightly brushed her toes over his crotch, feeling his cock stiffen almost immediately. “This is going to be short dinner,
isn’t it?” he managed to gasp almost normally.

“Short dinner,” Quicksilver said as she rested her chin on her hand. “Long night.”
 

Synthea held her breath as she ran her face under the steaming shower spray. Her long blonde hair was soaked to her back, falling to her waist in water darkened curls. She leaned back and wiped water from her face as she leaned against the tiled side of the shower. The shower hadn’t done anything to help with clearing her mind. Instead, the warm water and privacy only made her even more agitated. She hadn’t even begun to wash herself.

“Oh god,” she said to herself as memories from the beginning of the quarter flooded back. She had walked in on Lucy showering, she hadn’t meant to but she had been tired and hadn’t been paying attention. It wouldn’t have meant anything, but she had just stared at Lucy’s taut, firm body, glistening with water and soap suds. Lucy hadn’t said anything, had just gone on washing as if Synthea wasn’t there. That night Synthea had gone into the shower well after midnight and spent an hour pleasuring herself with thoughts of Lucy in her head. It had just gone downhill from there.

Now she was thinking of the Shadow Emperor in the same way. “Oh god,” Synthea said again as she brushed her hand across her breasts and felt her nipples jutting out, hard and stiff. She could imagine him capturing her with his command over the shadows, they’d wrap around her arms and legs, holding her in the air spread eagle while he walked around her, running his hands over every inch of her body.

Synthea gasped and spread her thighs, one hand rubbing herself as she squeezed her breasts with her other hand. He’d slowly strip her, leaving only her mask on, and then he’d- Synthea paused as she fantasized. What would he do? Usually in her imagination he’d kiss her lips, then her breasts, then her quim. Then he would slowly tease her until she was begging him for release. Only after all that would he let her come. But tonight...

Synthea moaned and turned around until her forehead was pressed against the wall of the shower, her legs back and apart. The Shadow Emperor would smile at her with that heart melting grin, that grin that made her legs go weak. Then he would move behind her and she would hear him opening his pants.

Synthea thrust her hips back as she slid one, then two fingers into herself while her other hand brushed over her clit. He’d rub his cock over her quim as she begged him to stop. Then he’d hold her hips and thrust- Synthea gasped as she pushed another finger into herself and began to move her hips up and down along her fingers. Her full breasts were mashed against the warm tile of the wall and she began to move herself against the wall, lightly rubbing her nipples against the tile while she furiously rubbed her clit. He’d kiss her neck and whisper all the things he was going to do to her in her ear while he played with her clit, then-

Synthea cried out and bit her lip to try to keep from making any more noise as she came abruptly, clenching around her fingers. She leaned against the wall, her body shuddering as she panted for breath, the steaming water still pouring over her. She slowly turned around and slid down the wall, tucking her long, gymnast’s legs in from of her and resting her chin on her knees, letting the water wash over her as she felt her heart beating in her chest.
 

Quicksilver looked up at Frank’s face, watching as he threw his head back and groaned loudly. She sped the motion of her head as she moved her full and soft lips over the shaft of his cock. He was pressed up against the wall of her bedroom and she was kneeling in front of him, his hands buried in her soft and luxuriant silver hair. Quicksilver ran her tongue over the bottom of Frank’s cock as she wrapped her lips around the head and began to quickly stroke his shaft with her right hand. Her left hand was busy beneath her bunched up skirt as she pleasured herself in time with the motion of her head over Frank’s cock.

“Oh my god, Samantha,” Frank moaned as he stroked her hair. “I’m going to come.” Quicksilver slowed the pace of her stroking, lightly running the tip of her tongue over the head of Frank’s cock, teasing him and drawing out his impending orgasm. Between her stockinged thighs she quickly rubbed her clit, occasionally slipping one finger inside herself. “Oh, Christ,”
Frank gasped, his back tensing as he thrust his hips forward and let loose his seed inside Quicksilver’s hot and waiting mouth.

She groaned around his cock as she felt herself coming already as his come splashed over her tongue. She looked up into his eyes, her own eyes dancing with mirth as she slowly and deliberately swallowed his come. As she drew back from his cock and licked her lips slowly, she knew that he would be hard again in a matter of minutes. “My god,” he rasped as he leaned forward and kissed her. “We really should do this more often,” he said as he drew her sopping hand up from her thighs and began to slowly suck her juices off of her fingers.

“Mmm hmm,” Quicksilver murmured as Frank moved his own hand to her quim, lightly tracing over her outer lips and dancing over her clit. “Ah, damn, yes,” she whispered in his ear as he wrapped his free arm around her waist and lifted her over to the bed, assisted by her flying ability. He set her down on the edge of the bed and pushed her backwards, leaving her legs dangling towards the floor and her skirt hiked up over her waist. She clasped her hands behind her head and looked up at him with a broad smile as he knelt down and ran his hands up her stocking clad legs.

His lips were trailing kisses up her inner thigh when Quicksilver felt his head lift and heard him swear vehemently. “What is it?” she said lazily.

“My pager, dammit, it’s an urgent call for the Rapid Response unit,” he said as he pulled his pager from his belt, ready to turn it off.

“Are you going to answer it?” Quicksilver asked. She watched as he grinned and left it on as he bent his head to her quim. She propped herself up on her elbows and watched as he pressed the vibrating pager against her clit. She bit her lower lip in pleasure as the vibrations sent a shudder of ecstasy through her. “Jesus,” she moaned as he began to lick at her quim while pressing his pager against her clit. Already close to coming, she cried out and arched her back towards the ceiling as another orgasm tore through her. “Damn, is your pager alright?” she gasped as she reluctantly sat up.

“Sure, just a little sticky,” Frank said as he wiped his pager off with a tissue. “I’ll call as soon as I know what’s going on.”

“You need me out there?” she asked as he stood and tried to adjust his clothes to a semblance of order.

“Nah, you handled that crazy in Times Square, we can handle whatever this is,” he called out as he hurried out the door. Quicksilver listened to the door close and fell back onto the bed.

“Damn,” she said with feeling.
 

Elena woke groggily, her face half buried in her pillow as she blinked and stared at the wall next to her bed. What had woken her up? She was usually a sound sleeper and she had been having the most wonderful dream about Edgar.

“Elena Willows,” a woman’s voice said from above her bed. Elena’s eyes widened and she scrambled into a sitting position, her back pressed against the headboard as she gaped at the woman standing by her bed.

The woman was wearing a black bodysuit that fit her like a glove. She wore a small pack and a utility belt and holster were slung around her waist. A matte black mask, curved and darkly reflecting the room, covered her entire face with a smooth surface. Elena realized that she couldn’t see any eyeholes. “Elena Willows,” the woman said again and Elena realized that the woman was holding a wicked looking dagger. “You have been sentenced to die for crimes against God, may you burn in hell,” she said in a rather tired voice.

“W-what?” Elena stammered as the woman lifted the dagger. “For what? I-” She shrieked and held up her hands in a futile effort to block the dagger as the woman stabbed towards her. She was sure she was dead and then she heard the distinct clang of metal on metal.

“Ah, ma cherie, that is no way to treat my wife,” a man’s voice said with a upper class British accent. “Marguerite, are you unharmed?”

Elena opened her eyes and turned her head to look at the man standing next to her bed, the gleaming rapier in his hand just inches away from her throat and blocking the woman’s dagger.
“I’m fine-” she started to say when the woman whirled on the man and jabbed savagely at his throat, heart, and groin with her dagger.

The man, dressed in 18th century clothes complete with a scarlet cloak, retreated a step, his rapier flicking up to parry each of the woman’s attacks. Elena tried to see his face but it was covered from the nose down by a crimson sash. The woman grunted and flicked her left hand, causing a trio of gleaming blades like claws to pop from the knuckles of her heavy glove.
The woman lashed out with a low kick at the man and caught his riposte with her claws and slashed at his neck with her dagger.

The man bent backwards, avoiding the dagger by a hair, and caught the woman’s wrist. They struggled for a moment before the woman shoved him backward and retreated towards the window. Just as she was about to dive through the open window, she reached into a pouch and withdrew something long and gleaming. Elena ducked as the woman threw it towards her and felt a stinging pain on her cheek.

“Are you alright, my dear?” the man said as he knelt by her bed and dabbed at her cheek with a handkerchief.

“Y-yes,” Elena said, still in a daze from what had just happened. She felt the thin cut along her cheek and turned to stare wide-eyed at the throwing dagger embedded in the headboard.

“Never fear, you are safe now,” the man said.

“Edgar?” Elena said softly as she reached out to touch the man’s face. He was so close that she could smell him, a mild scent of salt air and pine. “Is that you?”

“Edgar? I do not know anyone by that name, Marguerite,” he said. “Now, I must be off, there is much work that still needs to be done.”

“Edgar!” Elena yelled as the man spun and walked away down the hallway away from the living room. She half-fell from the bed and scrambled to her feet, sliding on the hardwood floors as she ran after the man. But there was no trace of him in any of the rooms, only the elusive smell of the sea and the forest.
 

Shade fell from the woman’s apartment, watching the street race up to meet her before she pulled the release on her parawing and swooped up in a tight arc. The stiff polymer wings of the parawing caught the currents of air sweeping along the street and carried her higher.

Curse this job, she thought to herself as she rose and banked towards the west, crossing over rows of buildings. I never should have agreed to take a job from those religious zealots, she thought grimly and swooped towards a dark patch of shadow between two buildings. She frowned behind her mask and disappeared.
 

“Jerry! Jerry, you son-of-a-bitch, do you know what you called me away from?” Frank yelled out as he stomped down the stairs towards the police stations garage. “Can’t you take care of a goddamned loony without my help-” He stopped and ducked back into the stairwell, his gyrojet pistol in his hand and ready in a moment.

He glanced around the doorway leading into the garage and surveyed the wreckage. A few overhead lights that had survived flickered dimly, doing almost nothing to illuminate the garage. The shattered remains of two police cruisers lay crumpled in the far corner, their headlights still on. What was left of the transport van had been peeled open like an orange, the bodies of the drivers and guards crumpled around it. “Fuck,” he muttered as something moved in the darkness on the other side of the garage.

“Face me in the open, Arizath,” a rasping voice boomed from the direction of the garage door. Frank saw something move in the shadows. Something large, with, he paused and squinted, wishing he was in his suit, wings?

“Dellecmos,” another voice called back from Franks’s left. It was a more refined voice, deep, the voice of an orator or politician. “It has been a long time.”

Flame flickered from the garage door and Frank saw something at least ten feet tall stepping out of the shadows into the sputtering light of the flourescents. It’s skin was a dark red and gleamed in the light. From one clawed and immense hand it held a massive flaming sword, almost as long as the thing was tall. A pair of wings like a dragon’s sprouted from its shoulders and framed its face. It looked almost human but Frank had no illusions about what it might be. He had seen the face many times but always in movies or old paintings. A demon.
 

“Scoot over, will you, sleepyhead?” Shade whispered as she slid into the bed, her nightgown whispering against the flannel sheets.

“Hmm? Theresa? Did you get everything sorted out?” Michelle said in a muzzy voice as she rolled over to face Shade.

“Yes, it was just a mistake in shipping, they needed my signature before they could send the last shipment,” Shade said as she smiled and brushed back Michelle’s black hair from her face.

“I missed you,” Michelle whispered as she snuggled up to Shade and nuzzled her face into her shoulder.

“I was just gone for the evening,” Shade said as she wrapped her arm around Michelle’s slim shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

“Mmmhmm,” Michelle said, her breathing already slowing.

“Goodnight,” Shade said as she settled down into the pillow.

“Goodnight,” Michelle murmured back. Shade smiled and let her head rest against Michelle’s as she closed her eyes. Give her this message, she thought bitterly, what a bunch of lunatics. I’m a professional, she thought and drifted off to sleep.