Author Note: First contribution, written during a period where the internet got conked out for a day.
Starflyte’s enthusiasm waned every second she looked out over the derelict locale, a potentially abandoned factory on the outskirts of the cities industrial district. According to her benefactors information, this was where the notorious Buzzards Syndicate was keeping a new, potentially lethal biological agent for testing. What’s more, the groups leader, Professor Remnant, was rumored to be on site. A true arch-villain. The prospect alone mixed with a compote of chutzpah and ambition made the young heroines mouth water. Breaking up the Buzzards operation AND collaring the leader would be enough to propel her out of the minor leagues. Maybe even early graduation from the academy!
…But now that she perched on the water tower of the building next door, looking down at it…At the posted guards in their red and black uniforms…and their guns…And security measures…She was starting to think that maybe…Just maybe, this was a bad idea…
To be honest, Starflyte thought this job would be easier when she found the belt. According to her mentors, it was called a Meta-Belt, a device that created a powerful costume around the wearer. With it, she had superhuman strength, speed, agility, and it held customizable presets for appearance- which is where she spent a lot of her training doing, rather than focusing on being more efficient with her powers. Typically it was set to a standard blue cover-all suit that covered her from toe to neck, the belt, which was a metallic red in color with it’s large control dial, settled around her waist. There was an option on the belt for a cowl, but she found it pinched her bobbed, blonde hair, and instead used a small eye-mask to conceal her identity.
At 14, almost 15 years old, she wasn’t the youngest person at the Nexus City Academy for Aspiring Super-Heroes, but she certainly did like to think of herself as the most frustrated. Or the most overlooked despite the impressive piece of hardware she had around her middle at almost all times. After a year, she had yet to even earn the right to go on team street patrols in the city, which were rumored to be scripted and heavily monitored by the other Super Heroes. She wasn’t sure where she was going wrong. Maybe it was because her powers were boring. Maybe it was because she spent more time tinkering with the suits appearance functions than actual training and study. Maybe, just maybe, it was because she never passed her beginners field tests.
Show of strength? Fine. Twenty Mile timed lap? Impressive. Self Defense? She could hold herself in a fight. Evasion? Little shaky. Enemy Endangerment Training? THAT was the brick wall.
Enemy Endangerment Training is the class and tests designed to test a budding heroes ability to get out of a bind. Some called it Snidely Whiplash Training. The teachers made it no joke that the job was a dangerous one and that sometimes you run out of luck find yourself in a sticky situation. The tests included a series of role play scenarios, and while the students knew they were never in any real danger from the “Villains”, they were expected to take them seriously. The nickname “Snidely Whiplash Training” comes from Test 1- the buzzsaw deathtrap. The student, henceforth referred to as the Victim, was secured with rope to a log set on a mock buzzsaw table. The buzzsaw itself was just a clever illusion made up with bristles that traveled along a pre-made gap in the middle of the log and it tickled something furious when it reached your backside. Stage 1, you had 15 minutes to try and wiggle yourself free, while an instructor disguised as “The Ropemeister” taunted them and cackled while twirling his mustache. The time limit got less and less until you reached stage 5, in which you had 30 seconds. No one really knew who in the faculty played the Ropemeister, but that’s a story for another time.
The tests ran the gamut of potential danger scenarios that the students would potentially face in the field. From practicing simple escape artistry, to getting out of a bind and subsequently preventing disaster, like the one where you’re strapped to a nuke and need to free yourself AND disable the bomb somehow before it “crashes” into a mock model of the White House.
Sadly, Starflyte lacked the certain something, and never passed a single Endangerment Test. And they let her run all of them, many times. Her benefactor often scolded her that she just didn’t take it seriously. There was nothing about becoming a Damsel in Distress that should be taken lightly, she would tell her. In turn, Starflyte just made the decision that, the best defense against getting captured, was to just not get captured. A simple philosophy, and an ideal one, when you thought about it. But there’s the ideal, and then there’s the situations that come about.
And now here she was, facing her one real chance to show she didn’t need to be saved. Or at least she hoped. It was a really big facility, and those guards looked really mean, and not at all like the common street thugs you get to beat up on in training courses.
This was a bad idea, she admitted it. It wasn’t too late to turn back, go back to the Academy, and maybe just vow to put forth an honest effort! Yes, that was what she would do. How silly to think she could do this all on her own as a novice. Now how did she get down from…
Starflyte turned to hop down from the watertower, but came face to face with someone roughly the same height as she. Dark hair, tied in pigtails that came to their shoulders. For a face, all Starflyte could see was a mask made to look like a skull, and thick goggles that reflected her surprised expression. The stranger then pressed a damp cloth that smelled heavily of chemicals to Starflytes nose. All she needed was a sniff and her mind and vision began to reel. The next thing she knew, she was falling, the watertower getting smaller and smaller before her vision faded to black…
Starflyte’s head was pounding when she came to, and not sure if it was from the chemical or the fall. The fall itself felt like a dream. Her wits began to clear, which led to a most sobering revelation. Her hands were cuffed behind her, securing her to what must have been a chair of sorts.
That’s fine, she thought. I’ll just…
The cuffs remained firm. Which was odd because most any other time she could crumble a set of heavy duty cuffs to pieces. She emitted an expletive, but instead of words, her voice was muffled by the length of cloth pulled between her teeth, and nodded rather sharply behind her head. This…wasn’t good. She struggled some, summoning up that strength that came from her belt…which…was sitting on the table right across from her…It was then her head was clear enough to take notice that she was very much not in her costume, the source of all her powers, leaving her in her underwear…that is, if someone hadn’t granted her the dignity of a long t-shirt to cover her modesty.
“Gweaf.” She huffed into the gag, testing her bond just a bit more. No powers. Captured. No one knows she’s out here…
She turned her attention to the room. It was small, with a bare bulb overhead for light, with the table, her chair and, now that she’s looking, the bitch that caught her by surprise leaning against the wall with her arms crossed all smug, well probably smug. She was still wearing the skull mask. Starflyte growled into the gag and hunched forward, mumbling out a series of choice words. It did little to even phase the other girl, who continued to watch her for several minutes before something to her right caught her attention, the door opening with a rusted squeak.
“…She’s awake, Professor.” She had a soft voice. Not one she would expect from a supposed villainess.
A man stepped into the room, dressed in a rust red overcoat that matched his shoulder length, unkempt hair. He had a stern face, with a frown framed by a trimmed goatee. Starflyte knew who this was. She’d seen him on the news. Professor Remnant himself. The ringleader of the Buzzards Syndicate. A mad scientist with some renowned psychic powers, which ranged from reading minds to creating weapons from pure thought. And he looked down at her with a very cross expression, which almost made Starflyte look away in dismay as though she had somehow displeased this man.
He leaned over her and hooked a finger under the gag along her cheek, pulling it down so it rested, slightly uncomfortably, on her chin. “Your name.”
Starflyte took a moment work her jaw and lips some. “De..Deb…” She shook her head some. “Starflyte. My name is Starflyte.” Her voice was breathless, as in truth, she was quite scared at this moment. A notorious supervillain was lording over her, and he did not look happy to have her in his presence…
“Starflyte.” Remnant looked to the other girl.
“From the Academy. Just started her second, Professor.” The girl said.
“…A novice.” It was a statement more so an inquiry. “And…What brings an upstart to my neck of the woods…? Thought you might score an easy A?” There was a venomous humor to his voice.
“N…No…” Starflyte said indignantly, hunching herself back against the chair, though he certainly was hammering the nail on the head. That was, until she had second thoughts and STILL wound up like this.
“Hmm.” He studied her, eyes that seemed to burrow in hers flickering behind a pair of spectacles. He stepped away from her and moved to converse with the other girl, beginning to talk quietly amongst themselves. No doubt about what to do with her.
Starflyte struggled some more, and contemplated calling for help, but who would come? She was in the heart of the Buzzards base no doubt. And they were standing right there. Making a move would be forcing their hands, and to be honest she did not was to test out the rumors regarding Remnants power set. But, still she couldn’t help but ask…
“W…what are you go—mmph.” The gag pulled itself back into place, as though by itself. Oh, god, was there someone behind her? Her heart skipped at the notion that their might be another one behind her, just poised to…dispose of her…should the signal be given.
“Shh.” Remnant looked to her and put a finger to his lips, and returned to their whispered conversation. And it went on for some time, leaving her to listen to the hammering of her own heart.
Eventually they both turned to regard her. Though she couldn’t see the girls face, Starflyte figured the one of the Professors face was silently pondering what to do with her.
And then they looked at each other for a moment, and then left. Just…Left. She blinked as the door locked with a clank. What? No rant? No extolling about her approaching doom? No interrogation?
“Wrrss wewen vver!” Starflyte growled and bounced in the chair before seriously giving it her all to get out of those cuffs. Then she stopped cold. What about that mysterious force that reapplied her gag? She strained her neck as best she could to look behind her, and saw nothing but the rust-mottled wall. She was equal parts relieved, as well as creeped out. But now she felt no reason to not thrash around and mouth curses into her gag in a desperate bid to get free, only succeeding in knocking the chair over and planting her on her side. Not exactly ideal, but if she could just…wiggle off the chair…
About then, the girl in the skull motif costume returned. She wasn’t holding anything sharp, so that was a small blessing. The girl emitted a sigh and moved to put her upright on the chair. Starflytes first instinct was to kick her when she bent over to pick her up. The girl was just barely clipped by her bare foot as Starflyte thrashed at her, before a cold chill shot through her. Dread, fear, and helplessness seemed to coat her like a heavy blanket, a light seeming to emanate from behind those dark goggles. Docile under the girls power, Starflyte was returned into the upright seated position.
“Behave.” The girl whispered as she took her leave. It would be another ten minutes before the gloom and cold left her and she could think straight again.
…Her belt was still on the table, this was the first thought that crept back into her head as thoughts of doom and death filtered out. Just a few feet away, was her salvation. If she could get to her belt, she’d be out of this. She tested her grip on the chair, and put all her strength into a hop. The chair ‘bonked’ as it rocked forward only a few inches. She took a breath through her nose and rocked herself forward, bit by bit, inch by inch, until she was scooted completely up to the table. She huffed and puffed into her gag breathlessly as she pondered how to get into her suit. She tried twisting her arms up to try and get them over the back of the chair, but found it too high. She ‘Mmph’ed in frustration. She was tired, hungry, and starting to get a bit pissed. She decided to put her head down and think. As fate would have it, she pressed her forehead against the belt buckle…
Skull Girl, as Starflyte had dubbed her internally, returned another twenty minutes later with some water and a graham cracker for the prisoner. It was important to keep hostages in good health, even if, as the Professor pointed out, it was a thankless task. It made sense. They were holding this girl against her will, so did she really expect a ‘thank you’ for water and food?
She unlocked the door and stepped into the cell—Finding the chair empty, and a small pile twisted metal on the floor.
Someone whistled to her left, and Skull Girl had but a second to glance aside before a fist smashed into her face. The mask splintered and cracked as the girl stumbled back and to the ground. Potentially a broken nose. Starflyte was on her in a second, wrestling her onto her stomach, using strips made from the t-shirt she’d been fitted with as makeshift rope to bind her wrists and ankles. Already, she could feel that strange psychic doom sense start to try and worm it’s way into her head, but thankfully the suit held psychic dampeners, lessening it to a mild feeling of ill tiding.
Rolling her over onto her back, Starflyte yanked off the girls mask. Unveiled, the girl struggled and glared at Starflyte indignantly, sniffing back a bloody nose. Skull Girl made to scream, but got a mouthful of t-shirt scrap for her trouble, finishing the gag off with the same cleave gag Starflyte had been fitted with.
Starflyte giggled a bit, looming over her captor. “You know, I know a few people in the Academy that would call this an indirect kiss.” Skull Girl only growled and struggled more in response. There was little time to gloat. The strips weren’t going to hold forever, and no doubt Remnant would be curious over what became of his accomplice.
But she wasn’t going to just waltz out of there, was she…?
…
Starflyte slapped a palm to her head and began to fiddle with her belt. She had become quite adept at altering the costume to her personal designs, thanks to the highly customizable interface. Within a few minutes, she had a cowl that just barely could be passed off as black pig tails (again, it pinched her scalp like hell, but she was determined to see it through), the girls own mask, and a black bodysuit decorated in skull motif. Not a perfect representation, but at a distance…Oh yes this would work…
She regarded her captor-turned-captive and gave her a slight kick in the behind before sauntering out the door, slamming it shut and locking it with their own key.
Skull Girl grumbled and nibbled on the gag, worming her arms to try and free her wrists. A few minutes later, the door unlocked, and the Professor entered. Immediately, she stopped struggling, and looked away in shame.
“…Mmpph mmm…” Was all she managed as the Professor took a seat on the empty chair and lit his pipe. He waved a hand at her, and the gag pulled itself free, allowing her to spit out the wad of cotton fabric.
“…I’m sorry, Professor…” She uttered.
“Oh, don’t be sorry, Molly. This has been an ideal learning experience for you. Your first real tussle with a nemesis…Ah, but they do grow up so fast.” He chuckled and puffed his pipe.
“..P…Professor?”
“Hm?”
“C…Can I get un-Mmph…” Molly squeaked as the cleave gag slipped back into place.
“Shh…” Learning experience or not…She would have to be punished for allowing the captive to escape. “Just lay there and think about what happened.”
“yss shure.”
-The End