(Note: Lark can render a person unconscious, with flesh
to flesh Contact due to a special hormone count, enduced with 12 hour
injections. Gloves protect from accidental contact.)
1 AM on the East side of Centra City
A cockroach skittered across the cracked linoleum of the club's
back room, antennae twitching at the scent of stale beer and sweat.
It paused near a boot print smeared in something sticky, maybe
blood, maybe just cheap whiskey.
Then the door burst open, and the roach vanished into the
shadows as three figures slipped inside, their silhouettes sharp against the neon bleeding through the dirty windows.
Teen Shadow's gloved fingers twitched near her nunchucks. The cold metal links whispering against her thigh. Lark adjusted her gloves with a nervous tug, the fabric stretching tight over her knuckles.
Gallant Girl didn't fidget. She just inhaled, slow and steady, the way you do before diving into deep water. The air tasted like chemicals
and desperation.The neon sign flickered once...Titty Twister in cursive pink, before going dark. That was their signal. Three shadows darted across the street, boots silent on asphalt.
Teen Shadow went low, rolling beneath a broken security camera.
Inside, laughter curdled into shouts as the first goon hit the ground, Gallant Girl's escrima stick cracking across his jaw. Lark's fingers brushed a bouncer's neck, he convulsed, then slumped.
Bodies blurred in the strobe-lit chaos.Teen Shadow ducked under a
big man's fist, flipped him over her shoulder and punched him 6 time in the face before sweeping another man's legs out from under him. He fell and Brandi elbowed him hard. "That all you got Rollins?"
Rollins seemed to be shitting himself as he watched them beat
up his best men. A blackjack almost hit Brandi's shoulder from behind, Gallant Girl kicked the guy in the gut so hard his feet left the ground. His gun skittered across the dirty floor as Lark touched his neck and he collapsed.
The three fought side by side, cracking bones and knocking out
teeth. Their fists were relentless, their kicks brutal. But then Rollins appeared with fifteen fresh men, all armed with knives, bats, and blackjacks. Teen Shadow took down four guys, dodging punches and flipping a thug into a liquor shelf...glass shattered, whiskey poured, and the stench of alcohol filled the air.
A bat swung for her ribs; she twisted mid-air, kicked the man’s wrist, and heard the satisfying snap of bone. He howled. Gallant Girl moved like a storm, her escrima sticks a blur. She broke a kneecap, then cracked a skull, spinning to drive an elbow into another man’s throat. He gagged, clutching at his crushed wind pipe before crumpling.
Lark fought hard...the thugs kept their distance. One lunged, and
she grazed his neck. Just enough. He stiffened, eyes rolling back as he collapsed. Still, they were outnumbered. Teen Shadow gritted her teeth. Rollins’ men fought dirty.
A knife grazed Brandi’s side, slicing through the mesh halter.
Blood trickled down her ribs, hot and slick. She barely felt it. Adrenaline thrummed too loud in her veins. She twisted, driving a
boot heel into the attacker’s groin. He doubled over, retching, and she slammed her knee into his nose. Cartilage crunched.
"Next?" she hissed. Gallant Girl moved like liquid violence.
A thug swung a bat. She caught it mid-air, yanked him forward, and headbutted him so hard his teeth clicked together. Blood sprayed. The bat clattered to the floor. She snatched it up, spun, and brought it down on another man’s shoulder. a wet crack echoed. He screamed. She didn’t let him finish. A side kick sent him crashing into two others, bowling them over like pins.
Teen Shadow fought in bursts...feinting left, then striking right. Her nunchucks whipped through the air, cracking against wrists, elbows, jaws. One guy lunged with a knife; she hooked his ankle with the chain, twisted, and sent him face-first into the bar. Glass shattered. Whiskey and blood dripped from his broken nose. She wiped her mouth with the back of her glove, tasting salt and iron. "Lark," she barked, "left flank!"
Lark moved like a ghost, fingers bare.
A thug with brass knuckles swung. she ducked, fingertips brushing his exposed forearm. His pupils dilated. He swayed, then folded like a puppet with cut strings. Another rushed her; she backpedaled, slipped on a spilled beer, but Gallant Girl was there, intercepting with a brutal elbow strike to his temple. He dropped like a sack of bricks.
Teen Shadow’s nun chucks blurred, the chain hissing
through the air. She whipped them across a man’s cheek bone he spun, blood arcing from his split lip, then reversed the swing into another’s gut. He doubled over, retching. She kneed him in the face. His nose shattered with a wet crunch.
Gallant Girl moved like a metronome. left elbow cracking a jaw, right knee driving into a solar plexus. Bones broke in time with her breath. A goon swung a chain at her head; she caught it mid-air, yanked him forward, and slammed his forehead into her rising knee. His skull snapped back with a sound like a melon hitting pavement.
He collapsed, twitching.
Lark danced between bodies, fingertips grazing exposed
skin, a wrist here, a neck there. Every touch dropped men like stones. One thug lunged with a switchblade; she side stepped, nails brushing his stubble-rough cheek. His eyes rolled white before he face-planted into a puddle of stale beer. The knife skittered away.
Gallant Girl fought like a hurricane given human form.
A thug swung a pool cue at her skull—she caught it mid-swing, snapped it over her knee, and drove the splintered end into his thigh. He shrieked, clutching his leg as she spun into a roundhouse that sent his teeth clattering across the floor. Blood flecked her blue spandex, stark as war paint.
Teen Shadow moved like smoke...here, then gone?
Her nunchucks flashed in the strobe light, chains whispering death before cracking against a goon's collarbone. The man crumpled with a choked scream. She didn't pause. Pivoting on her boot heel, she drove an elbow into the next attacker's sternum. The air left his lungs in a whoosh as he folded like cheap origami. "My God!! Rollins begged, screaming for help from Queen Pin.
"Don't get your panties in a ball!" Queen Pin Laughs.
Roland. She orders. Get them! As he walks over to the fight, Queen Pin sneaks away. Ten minutes. That's how long it took for the Titty Twister's back room to transform into a battle field of groaning bodies and shattered glass.
The stench of spilled liquor mixed with blood and sweat clung to the air, thick as smoke. Teen Shadow and her part ners look around at 30 unconscious men lying every where.
"Where Did you get these rejects from? Gallant Girl laughed.
The five and Dime store?"
"Hope they were marked down!"Lark sort of giggled.
The remaining men stumbled back, eyes wide as Roland Thibodeaux's shadow swallowed the strobe-lit chaos. He didn't rush...just rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles like gunshots. His French accent dripped like poisoned honey. "Petites filles, vous allez pleurer."
Teen Shadow's ribs throbbed some where the knife had grazed her, but she grinned, spinning her nun chucks in a figure-eight. "Big words for a guy who buys his intimidation wholesale." Roland's fist came down like a sledgehammer—she barely twisted away in time. The concrete floor cratered where she'd stood.
Gallant Girl lunged low, escrima stick aiming for his knee. He pivoted, catching her wrist with terrifying ease. Bone creaked under his grip. Her teeth gritted, but she hooked her boot behind his ankle and yanked. They went down together in a tangle of limbs and curses. Lark saw her opening...darted in, glove already half-off.
But Roland backhanded her mid-lunge.
The slap echoed like a gunshot.
She hit the wall hard,Gallant Girl and Teen shadow was pissed! And he knew it! Teen Shadow’s wrists burned where her nunchaku had tangled in Roland’s grip. The chain links bit into her skin like teeth. She didn’t let go. With a snarl, she twisted her body weight into a savage knee strike that cracked against Roland’s ribs.
Gallant Girl was already moving, her escrima sticks a blur of dark blue as she feinted left, then drove a spinning heel kick into Roland’s kidney. He grunted but didn’t buckle...just backhanded her hard enough to send her sliding through shattered glass and spilled bourbon.
The sting of alcohol in her fresh cuts barely registered.
Lark shook off the daze from hitting the wall, fingers flexing. Blood trickled from her split lip. "Okay," she muttered, peeling off her glove with her teeth. "Now I’m pissed." She lunged, bare fingertips outstretched, but Roland caught her wrist, his grin widening as he lifted her off the ground like a rag doll. "Little girls shouldn’t play with poison," he purred, squeezing until her fingers spasm-ed uselessly.
Teen Shadow saw red.
She yanked her nunchucks free, the chain whipping around Roland’s thick forearm. With a grunt, she pulled, using his own bulk against him. He staggered...just enough for Gallant Girl to drive her escrima stick into his trachea.
Roland gagged, his grip loosening.
Lark dropped, rolled, and slapped her bare palm against his Achilles tendon. The serum burned through his veins.
His knee buckled.Gallant Girl didn’t wait. She vaulted onto Roland’s back, locking her legs around his torso. Her forearm crushed his windpipe from behind.
“Sleep tight, monster,” she hissed. His pupils dilated. For three terrifying seconds, he swayed—then crashed face-first into the sticky floor. The impact rattled the broken bottles littering the ground. He was out cold.
This time Rollins did piss his pants.
One of his men twitched on the floor, fingers spasming near a shattered whiskey bottle...Lark's work. Another groaned through a broken jaw, his breath bubbling with blood.
Teen Shadow wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her glove, smearing grime and someone else's spit across her forehead. The air stank of copper and spilled liquor, the kind that rots your insides if you drink it straight. She liked the way it stung her nostrils. Made everything feel sharper.
Gallant Girl rolled a limp thug off her boot with a disgusted flick of her ankle. His head lolled, revealing a fresh escrima-shaped bruise blooming purple under his stubble.
"Eleven," she muttered, nudging another unconscious body with her toe. "Twelve." This one had tried to stab Lark in the kidney with a switchblade. Now his wrist bent at a angle wrists aren't supposed to bend. The women went up to Collins and stood with their hands on their hips.
"The girls! Gallant Girl demanded.
"W...w...What girls He feigned ignorance. Teen Shadow grabbed him by the collar of his shirt hauling him to his feet.
Gallant Girl spun her escrima stick like a baton twirler, the dark wood a blur before she suddenly stopped. Tip pressed under Rollins' trembling chin.
"Wrong answer," she murmured, her voice colder than the steel pipes dripping condensation overhead. His Adam's apple bobbed against the pressure.
Teen Shadow didn't wait for his next lie. She drove her knee into his gut hard enough to fold him in half, then yanked his head back by the greasy ponytail. His scream choked off as she pressed her nunchuck chain against his windpipe. "You've got three seconds," she hissed, the metal links digging in. "Then I start counting ribs with this."
The chain creaked.
Gallant Girl's boot came down on Rollins' outstretched fingers with
a crunch that echoed louder than the groans of his men. He shrieked, the sound cutting through the bass still thumping from the club's speakers. "They're downstairs!" he sobbed, snot bubbling from his nose. "Behind the false wall in the wine cellar!"
Lark was already moving, her small frame slipping through the wreckage like smoke. She kicked aside a shattered chair, The cellar door groaned under her sharp kick, revealing shadows that stank of mold and something metallic beneath. Teen Shadow didn't hesitate. She vaulted over the bar, her boots splashing through a puddle of vomit and bourbon as she followed Lark into the darkness.
Gallant Girl took the rear, her escrima sticks slick with sweat and someone else's blood. The false wall was cheap plywood disguised as brick...laughable, really. Teen Shadow drove her elbow through it, sending splinters flying.
The scent hit them first: sweat, fear, and the cloying sweet ness of cheap perfume masking something fouler. Chains rattled in the dark. A whimper.
"Light," Lark hissed. Teen Shadow's fingers found the switch. Fluorescents buzzed to life, flickering over rows of iron cages. The girls inside recoiled like nocturnal animals suddenly exposed.
Some naked, some in tattered lingerie. All branded with Queen Pin's twisted insignia burned into their shoulders. One coughed, the sound wet and raw.
Teen Shadow's knuckles whitened around her nun chucks. Gallant
Girl moved first, her escrima sticks snapping the first padlock in two swift strikes. The metal shrieked. "Torres' merchandise," she spat, kicking the broken lock aside. The girl inside, couldn't have been older than sixteen, scrambled back until her spine hit the cage wall.
Her wrists were raw from shackles.
"Easy," Gallant Girl murmured, stripping off her long gloves and offering bare hands. "We're getting you out."Lark was already at the next cage, her small fingers surprisingly deft with the rusted bolt. The moment it gave, the sobbing woman inside lunged forward, clutching at Lark's utility belt like a lifeline.
"They...they took my sister downstairs," she gasped, her voice shredded. Lark's jaw tightened. Her bare fingertips twitched at her sides, itching to carve vengeance into Queen Pin's flesh.Teen Shadow moved like a vengeful ghost through the rows of cages, snapping locks with brutal efficiency.
Her nun-chucks were forgotten. Now it was just her gloved hands and the animal rage twisting her gut. One girl, barely conscious, had cigarette burns laddering her thighs. Another's split lip still oozed, her left eye swollen shut. The air tasted like rust and ammonia, thick enough to choke on. Teen Shadow's knuckles cracked against the next padlock until it surrendered.
Gallant Girl worked methodically, each escrima strike.
precise as a surgeon's scalpel. The girls flinched from the noise but not from her. Her voice stayed low, promising names and addresses for safe houses between the splintering of metal. One cage held twins, their ankles chained together with a length of dog leash. Gallant Girl didn't swear.
She just gripped the leash in both hands and pulled until the clasp snapped like a gunshot. Lark moved faster than any of them, her small hands a blur as she unshackled wrists with an intimacy that spoke of personal experience.
The girl she freed first...dark-haired, shaking, grabbed Lark's wrist suddenly. "You're real," she whispered, her thumb brushing the bare skin where Lark's glove had been.
For a terrifying second, Lark froze—but the serum didn't transfer. The girl just clung tighter, her grip desperate. Teen Shadow didn't have time for relief.
The cellar stairs groaned under sudden weight. reinforcements. She spun her nun chucks in a low arc just as the first boot hit the concrete floor. The chain caught the thug's knee with a wet crack. He screamed, toppling into the men behind him like dominoes.
Gallant Girl was already moving, her escrima sticks flashing in the flickering light as she drove them into the next attacker's solar plexus. The man folded with a wheeze, his gun clattering uselessly to the ground.
Lark vaulted over a toppled chair, her bare fingers outstretched. She brushed a sweating neck...just a glancing touch, but it was enough. The skinhead's eyes rolled back before his skull bounced off the wine rack. Bottles shattered, spraying cheap Merlot across the concrete like arterial spray. Teen Shadow used the distraction to drive her heel into another goon's groin. His scream cut off when Gallant Girl's elbow connected with his temple.
The rhythm of violence was familiar now...dodge, strike, breathe. Teen Shadow's lungs burned from the cellar's damp air, but she grinned as her nunchucks wrapped around a thick wrist. Bone snapped like kindling. The thug howled, cradling his ruined arm. Gallant Girl finished him with a spinning kick that sent him crashing into a stack of crates marked "Exotic Imports." Ropes and leather restraints spilled out, slithering across the floor like snakes.
Suddenly the lights went out?
Lark didn't need light. She moved through the darkness like ink in water, her bare fingertips finding exposed skin. A neck here, a forearm there. Each touch was met with a gasp, then the heavy thud of a body collapsing. Someone swung a pipe blindly; she felt the rush of air against her cheek and countered by driving her knee into his groin. His pained grunt told her where his face was. Her palm slapped his forehead. Silence..
Gallant Girl fought by sound and memory. The scrape of boots against concrete, the wet click of a tongue against teeth before someone spat.
Her escrima sticks became extensions of her arms, cracking ribs, shattering kneecaps. When a meaty hand grabbed her ponytail, she didn't hesitate. She threw her weight forward, flipping her attacker over her shoulder. His scream cut off when her heel found his
larynx. Teen Shadow moved like a dancer in the dark. Her nunchucks whirled, chains singing through the air before impacting flesh with dull thuds.
She felt rather than saw the moment Roland's reinforcements
faltered their panicked breaths, the stumble of their retreat. A man's wrist snapped under her twisting grip. Another screamed when she drove her knee into his diaphragm hard enough to taste bile. Gallant Girl fought with the precision of a metronome.
One, two, strike. Her escrima sticks blurred, cracking jaws and kneecaps with mechanical efficiency. Eleven down. Twelve. She lost count when blood sprayed across her cheek, warm and coppery. The fifteenth attacker went down choking on his own tongue after her
heel found his throat. Lark moved like a vengeful ghost...bare fingers brushing necks, wrists, any patch of sweat-slicked skin. Each touch was a death sentence.
A skinhead's pupils dilated right before his face hit the concrete. Eighteen. Someone grabbed her hair she drove her elbow backward and felt cartilage give way. The air smelled like gunpowder and piss.
Gallant Girl's escrima sticks were twin blurs, cracking jaws and ribs with econometric precision. A goon lunged with a switchblade; she disarmed him with a twist, then shattered his wrist with a downward strike. Twenty. Blood flecked her blue spandex, dark as ink.
She barely blinked.
Then the hissing started.Lark was mid-stride, her bare fingers outstretched toward a thug's sweat-slicked neck, when the sound registered. A high-pitched white noise like a nest of vipers exhaling.
Her eyes darted to the floor where the canister rolled lazily between combat boots, spewing yellowish vapor that clung to the concrete like swamp fog. She opened her mouth to shout a warning just as the first tendril of gas licked her ankle. Her lungs seized.
Gallant Girl reacted fastest...she tore a strip from her own sleeve, clamping it over her nose and mouth with one hand while her escrima stick whipped out to send the canister skittering back toward the staircase. Too late.
The gas spread unnaturally fast, climbing their legs in thick, sentient ribbons. Teen Shadow swung her nunchucks blindly at the thickening cloud, the chain slicing through vapor that reformed instantly. Her next breath tasted like rotting oranges and chloroform. The edges of her vision pulsed black.
Lark crumpled first. One second she was lunging toward the last standing thug, fingers outstretched, then her knees hit concrete with a sickening crack. Her bare hand twitched against the floor, palm upturned like a beggar's.
The serum that could drop a man in three seconds was useless against whatever cocktail Queen Pin had engineered. Teen Shadow tried to shout her name, but her tongue felt swollen, her words dissolving into a wet cough.Gallant Girl fought the longest.
Even as the gas coiled around her thighs like a lover’s embrace, her escrima sticks whirled...until they didn’t. The left one slipped from fingers gone numb, clattering against a wine bottle. Her knees buckled in slow motion.
The tactical weave of her bodysuit scraping concrete as she slid down the wall. She snarled something guttural...maybe a curse, maybe a name, before her chin hit her chest.
Teen Shadow lasted three more breaths. The nunchaku chain slipped from her grip, wrapping around her own ankle in a cruel parody of the shackles they’d just broken.
Her vision tunneled, the cellar warping into a fun house mirror of shadows and swaying light. The last thing she saw was Lark’s tiny hand, twitching on the ground inches from a thug’s boot. Then the dark swallowed her whole.
They were roughly escorted/ drug up the stairs from the basement., Their bare feet barely found purchase on the cold stone steps as unseen hands groped their bared bodies...slapped jiggling asses, squeezed Tits, pinched erect nipples, fingers pulled at their pubic hair, fondling pussies.
Gallant girl walked ahead her head up proud, despite the fact, her size 30D breasts were on sadistic display for the miscreants.Teen Shadow, pulled hard at her ropes, her teeth clenched. Lark was scared, but refused to show her fear. She watched their approach with predatory amusement, her painted lips curling as Teen Shadow stumbled.
Her bound wrists robbing her of balance, only to be yanked upright by Roland’s meaty hand tangled in her short blonde hair. Gallant Girl spat blood onto the Persian rug, earning a vicious twist of her nipple from Thibodeaux.
"Ohhh myyyy..." Queen Pin drawled, tracing a razor-tipped fingernail down Gallant Girl’s sweat-slicked sternum. "The mighty bitch trio." Her nail stopped just above the dark triangle of pubic hair, flicking upward to flick a swollen nipple. Gallant Girl snarled—until Roland grabbed her long black hair forcing her chin up.
Gallant Girl maintains defiance despite her exposed nudity and brutal treatment, while Teen Shadow struggles against her restraints and Lark conceals her terror.
Queen Pin taunts them.
Emphasizing their helplessness with cruel touches and Roland's violent grip. That’s when the smell hit them: cigars, expensive perfume, and beneath it all, the coppery tang of dried blood embedded in the floorboards.
Teen Shadow’s eyes darted to the reinforced steel door behind Queen Pin’s throne, the one vibrating with muffled feminine sobs. "Still thinking you can save them?" Queen Pin laughed, pinching Teen Shadow’s left nipple hard enough to leave crescent indents.
"You can’t even save yourselves."
Queen Pin’s voice dripped with vicious glee at the three heroines who were shoved forward, their bare feet stumbling over the ornate rug. The air was thick with the scent of leather and sweat mingled with something darker, something fermented and sour.
Lark’s knees buckled first, her small frame trembling as Roland’s
thick fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass, squeezing hard enough to leave purple welts. A goon behind her laughed, his breath hot and stale against her neck as he licked a stripe up her spine.
She shuddered, choking back a feeling of utter disgust!!
Teen Shadow’s vision swam...her head still fuzzy from whatever gas had knocked them out. She blinked, trying to focus on Queen Pin’s smirking face through the strands of her own short blonde hair. A rough hand groped her breasts,
twisting her nipples until she hissed through clenched teeth.
Her wrists burned against the ropes, the coarse fibers biting into her skin with every jerk of her captors' grip. Gallant Girl, ever defiant, stood tall despite the humiliation, her muscular thighs flexed as she resisted the hands pawing at her body, her dark blue mask the last shred of dignity left on her bare skin.
Lark, the smallest of the three, stumbled as Roland then shoved
her forward. His thick fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, his laughter booming as she struggled to keep her balance. Her tiny breasts, so often mocked—now drew cruel pinches and slaps from t
he men surrounding them. One goon grabbed her face, mashing his lips against hers...a sloppy, forced kiss.
The taste of stale tobacco and cheap whiskey made her gag, but she refused to whimper. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Instead, she imagined the moment her fingers would slip free, the moment she’d touch bare skin and watch their eyes roll back.
Gallant Girl walked with her chin high, her muscular body tensed against the groping hands. Queen Pin leaned forward, her painted lips parting in delight as she watched her men torment the taller vigilante. "Look at her she purred, "still trying to act like she’s in control."
Roland seized Gallant Girl’s long black, straight hair, yanking her head back so hard her spine arched. The men cheered as Queen Pin stood, her tall frame looming as she drug a single, razor-sharp nail down the center of Gallant Girl’s chest.
Teen Shadow’s breath hitched as rough hands squeezed her firm
bare breasts from behind, fingers digging into flesh still sensitive from earlier abuse. A wet, sloppy kiss was forced against her neck...The stench of cheap whiskey and sweat making her stomach turn, before Roland’s meaty palm cracked against her ass, the sting radiating up her spine.
She stumbled forward, her bound wrists preventing any attempt to balance herself. Lark, shoved next to her, took the impact worse her smaller frame nearly toppling before Roland caught her by the throat, his thick fingers pressing just enough to make her gasp. The air smelled of cigar smoke, sweat, and something darker something metallic and old. Queen Pin lounged on her ornate chair, draped in black satin and silver jewelry, her smirk widening as the trio was paraded before her.
Gallant Girl, despite the humiliation, kept her chin high, her
muscular legs tensed even as fingers traced the curves of her body with grotesque fascination. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen,"
Queen Pin purred, reaching out to flick Gallant Girl’s erect nipple. The taller woman barely flinched, her hazel eyes flashing defiance.
Lark stumbled as Roland shoved her forward, Her small frame trembled against the rough handling. A goon grabbed her face, forcing his lips against hers in a sloppy, demeaning kiss—his tongue thrusting past her clenched teeth before she could react.
The taste of tobacco and whiskey made her gag, but she refused to whimper. Her fingers twitched behind her back, des perate for the barest touch of skin...but the ropes held firm, and her captors knew better than to let her make contact.
Queen Pin chuckled, admiring Lark’s futile struggle.
"Still think you can fight?" she taunted, snapping her fingers.Two men seized Lark’s arms, spreading them wide exposing her small breasts to the hungry gaze of the room. Teen Shadow took every strike, every grope, every humiliating slap with gritted teeth, until, Roland’s wet lips closed around her nipple, biting deliberately.
She jerked against her bonds, muscle now straining as saliva
dripped down her bare chest. "You’ll scream louder than that soon," he promised, his French accent thick with malice. His fingers traced the waist band of her briefs, now long discarded before dipping lower, teasing the blonde curls between her thighs.
She kicked out wildly, but another thug caught her ankle, wrenching it sideways until her balance faltered. The laughter of the men echoed as she hit the floor hard, her bound wrists twisting painfully beneath her weight.Gallant Girl surged forward—only for Queen Pin’s stiletto to press between her shoulder blades, pinning her in place.
"Watch," the older woman commanded, her voice dripping with venomous glee. Below them, Teen Shadow writhed as Roland’s calloused fingers finally breached her, violating her in slow, taunting thrusts while the others cheered. His free hand tangled in her short hair, yanking her head back until her throat arched. "See? Queen Pin breathed, watching Gallant Girl’s fists clench. Your little protege isn’t so untouchable now." Lark’s whimper cut through the laughter.
Molly Hensen, red hair gleaming under the chandelier, traced the
tip
of a riding crop along the girl’s trembling ribs. "Tiny tits, she cooed, flicking the crop upward to tap one nipple. But they still bruise pretty." Behind her, Victor Otto lumbered closer, his sausage-thick fingers already working the buckle of his belt. Lark’s breath hitched as Molly leaned in, lips brushing her ear.
"Bet you wish your knockout trick worked now, huh?" Gallant Girl’s mask tore away with a sickening rip of Velcro. Queen Pin held the scrap of fabric between two fingers like a trophy, now letting it flutter to the bloodstained rug.
"Look at her," she commanded. Roland obliged, wrenching Gallant Girl’s head back by her hair exposing high cheekbones flushed with rage, sweat-slick skin, lips parted around ragged breaths. The men whistled. Queen Pin’s polished nail scraped down Gallant Girl’s sternum, pausing to circle a nipple.
"Even better without the mask," she purred.
Teen Shadow thrashed as fingers clawed at the edges of her thin black eye-mask. It came away with a snap of elastic, her short blonde hair sticking to her forehead in damp strands. The sudden exposure made her flinch like standing naked under stadium lights.
Roland laughed, pressing his thumb against her parted lips.
"Still got some fight?" he taunted in French, dragging the digit down ward to trace the swell of her breast. Behind her, Molly Hensen, red hair catching the dim light twisted Lark’s tiny wrist until the younger heroine gasped. Her own mask fluttered to the ground, revealing wide, terrified eyes.
The "rape beds" weren’t beds at all...just steel-framed cots!
The length and width of a queen sized mattress with leather restraints bolted to each corner, the surfaces stained dark with things Teen Shadow didn’t want to identify. Gallant Girl hit the metal first, her muscular body arching as Queen Pin personally buckled the cuff around her left ankle. The older woman hummed, running a lacquered nail along the inside of Gallant Girl’s thigh.
"Muscles won’t help you now," she murmured before yanking the restraint tight enough to bruise. Teen Shadow tasted bile as two thugs hauled her onto the adjacent cot, her bare back scraping against cold metal.
The rope bit into her wrists instantly, the rough edges catching on skin still tender from earlier ropes.Lark’s cot was a little bit smaller the frame adjusted for her petite frame. Molly Hensen straddled her hips, smirk widening as she secured the girl’s wrists above her head.
"Bet you've never been tied up like this before," Molly whispered, her breath hot against Lark’s neck. The riding crop traced a slow line from Lark’s collarbone to her nipple, lingering just long enough to make the girl whimper.
Teen Shadow twisted against the restraints, her legs now splayed wide, leather straps securing her ankles with terrifying efficiency. Roland’s shadow loomed over her, his thick fingers already tracing the curve of her hip Molly Hensen strolled in, doing her make up..
The cots groaned under the heroines' weight as Queen Pin's men secured the final straps leather biting into flesh with the precision of practiced cruelty. Teen Shadow's breath came in short, sharp bursts, her ribs expanding against restraints that left no room for struggle.
The cold metal beneath her bare skin leached warmth like a living thing, and the scent of bleach barely masked something older, fouler beneath. To her left, Gallant Girl's muscles stood in stark relief as she tested the bonds, her jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. But the straps held—engineered for bodies stronger than hers.
The Heroines looked about the room in horror!
There was at least 30 beds!
She wonders about who would be on those beds?
Her heart dropped in her chest, Would they use their white slaves? The cots stretched endlessly in the dim, flickering light row after row of stained metal frames, their leather restraints dangling like dead limbs waiting to be animated.
Teen Shadow’s breath hitched as Roland’s calloused fingers traced
the inside of her thigh, his laughter thick with thick, happy anticipation. "Thirty beds," he mused in that accented growl,
"and only three heroines." His thumb pressed into the soft flesh just below her hipbone, a preview of the bruises to come. "Guess we’ll have to share."He walked away, retreating as Molly Hensen walked in with her electronic pad.
"They’re gonna charge twenty bucks to Fuck those hot Pussies of yours," Molly Hensen explains., leaning over the foot of Teen Shadow’s bed. Her red hair fell forward as she smirked, tracing a finger along the inside of Brandi’s thigh. "Hope you’re on the pill, because these guys don't wear Condoms and don't give a shit or not if the knock you up or Not!"."
Brandi's wrists burned against the leather cuffs securing her to the bed frame. Her 32D breasts ached from Roland sucking them for two hours. had attached earlier, Across the room, Gallant Girl groaned as Roland Thibodeaux climbed onto her bed, his massive frame making the springs creak.
Over by the door, Manuel Torres was counting cash, his gaze
lingering on Lark’s small, trembling body. The card reader beeped again, A nother twenty minutes paid. Brandi clenched her teeth. Climbing on top of her was a man she caught kidnapping and
raping children. The sight of him disgust her.
"You bastard! She said, pulling at her restraints, but it was futile.
Shut Up Over there!! Torres yells, the man paid for 20 minutes of
Your Pussy and he is gonna get Pussy!"
Across the room, Gallant Girl hissed as Scar twisted her nipples between his thick fingers. "This is what happens when you put me in jail for six months!" He said looking over at Brandi. I am gonna Fuck your babe friend from Capital City, he growled before slapping Melissa's 30D breasts hard enough to leave red welts. Her body jerked against the restraints, but she refused to scream.
Brandi's heart hammered. She could see Lark's small frame
trembling two beds over, her pale skin flushed and her mouth gagged with a red ball. A balding man with prison tattoos traced her ribs. Warden Collins, who she'd exposed for taking bribes. He leaned down to whisper, "You cost me my pension, little bird.
Now you're gonna pay."
The stench of sweat and cheap cologne clung to the humid air.
Brandi twisted her wrists against the cuffs, leather digging into raw flesh. The card reader at her bed beeped...another sales transaction.
A hand clamped on her thigh, calloused fingers spreading her wider.
a voice slithered into her ear, his breath hot with whiskey. His thumb rubbed slow circles on her inner thigh.
Nearby, Gallant Girl snarled as a big man's bulk shadowed her bed,
his laughter was thick. "Hey! He sneered" You got some big Titties!!" He chuckled, pinching her nipple until she gasped. "Hey! Rollins Yelled. You want that Pussy...you pay for it!!" "
He pulls out his credit card "Can I have her for an Hour?
"$60.00 Bucks! Rollins answers.A towering man with a spiderweb tattoo across his shoulders dragged his knuckles down her stomach, laughing when she snarled at him. "Oh, I missed that fire," he chuckles before slapping her hard enough to snap her head to the side. "Six months in County because of you, bitch.
Now you're just another hole! and you can't do anything about it!" Brandi's breath hitched as fingers dug into her hips as some one new climbed onto the bed. She didn't recognize him, but the way his eyes gleamed told her everything. Another enemy, another payback.
He smelled like motor oil and stale cigarettes. "Heard you like burning places down," he rasped, dragging a switchblade along her ribs. Not deep enough to cut, just enough to make her flinch. "Maybe I'll return the favor."
Beside her, Lark whimpered as Warden Collins straddled her, his
thick fingers squeezing her tiny breasts. "Bet Batgirl never let you get captured like this," he taunted, grinding against her. The bed beneath Lark creaked under his weight, the sound drowned out by the rhythmic slap of flesh and the hum of neon buzzing overhead. Brandi turned her head just enough to catch Lark's wide, terrified eyes—no gloves, no way to use her power.
Gallant Girl's gasped! at her next client. He was easily 7 feet and 300 plus pounds . His cock was at least 15 inches long, Thick as a small table leg and fully erect! She tried to close her legs, But her rope kept her wide!..Brandi gritted teeth as her new client climbed onto her bed.
His hands grabbed her hips, pulling her roughly against him.
The scent of motor oil and sweat filled her nostrils as he positioned himself. She could feel his arousal pressing against her thigh, hot and insistent. "You burned down my brother's warehouse," he growled, fingers digging into her flesh. "Now, you're gonna pay for it."
Across the room, Gallant Girl let out a muffled scream as the
towering man forced himself inside her.The bed groaned under his weight, the sound mingling with the wet slap of skin on skin. Tears streaked Melissa’s face, but she refused to beg. Two men stop at Lark's Bed and read out load, the info on her card.
"Lark, heroine from Gotham City, Known to be 18 yeas old, sculpted ass! Tight pussy (Was) a virgin 1 week ago. blonde hair & pubic."Aint got much on Titties! The other man chuckles. "Says she's 18B! The other man read. sign say $20 to fuck her?
Brandi could hear a voice over a PA .Special discount on the little bird! Half-price for virgins!" The men laughed, but Brandi's stomach twisted. Lark's whimper cut through the noise, high and desperate.
Warden Collins grinned down at Lark, his yellowed teeth glinting under the fluorescent lights. "You hear that, little bird? Half-price means I get to go twice." He slapped her thigh and called out, "Two turns for twenty!" The card reader chirped its approval.
Brandi arched against her restraints as the switchblade-wielding client pressed closer, his hips grinding against hers. The neon sign outside buzzed like a trapped fly, casting sickly pink light over the rows of occupied beds.
"Special discount on the little bird!" The PA crackled again.
Brandi's breath caught as the switchblade-wielding man pressed
the cold steel against her inner thigh, his other hand gripping her left breast roughly. Across the room, Gallant Girl's muscular frame trembled as the 7-foot-tall inmate withdrew, only to slam back into her with enough force to make the bed frame shriek.
The scent of sex and sweat thickened the humid air, mixing
with the metallic tang of blood from split lips and torn restraints.
The PA system crackled again, an older woman's raspy voice slicing through the moans and creaking beds. "Fresh meat just arrived!
Special offer—double your time if you bring friends!"
A chorus of rough laughter erupted near the entrance as three
more men swaggered in, their eyes locking onto Lark's trembling form. Warden Collins licked his cracked lips, fingers tightening around her tiny breasts. "Gonna make you sing, little bird," he growled before chewing on her nipples, leaving angry red marks.
Brandi’s thighs burned as her latest client. A wiry ex-con with a
jagged scar across his collarbone dragged his calloused palms up her inner thighs. "Remember me, Shadow? he hissed, tracing the switchblade along her hipbone. You kicked me off a fire escape last summer. Broke three ribs."
The blade tip pricked her skin, a bead of blood welling up. His breath smelled of stale beer and nicotine as he leaned down, teeth grazing her earlobe. Tonight, I break you."
The PA system announces fresh arrivals, drawing more men
toward Lark. Now subjected to Warden Collins' cruel attentions as
the environment deteriorates further into a cacophony of suffering, vengeance, and commodified brutality. Across the room, Gallant
Girl’s grunt turned into a choked scream as the 7-foot inmate lifted
her hips off the mattress, driving deeper.
Sweat gleamed on her toned abs, her muscles straining against
the ropes. The bed’s metal frame groaned like a dying animal Lark’s whimpers hitched higher as Warden Collins’ fingers dug into her thighs. “Still got that Bat girl attitude?” His laughter was a wheezing rattle as he leaned down, his tongue leaving a wet trail up her ribs. The neon sign outside flickered, painting her tear-streaked face in garish pink light.
Brandi barely had time to register the sting of the switchblade
before the wiry ex-con slammed into her, his hips pistoning with rough, jagged thrusts. Her wrists twisted in the cuffs, leather biting into already raw flesh. The scent of his sweat—sour with prison stench clung to her nostrils. “You,” She gritted her teeth as his fingers twisted in her short blonde hair. “should’ve left me in County.”
His breath was hot against her ear, uneven and panting.
The card reader on her bed beeped again—another twenty minutes.
Lark’s choked cry cut through the humid air. The Warden had her flipped onto her stomach.,His thick fingers spreading her cheeks
apart. “Batgirl ain’t walking through that door,” he sneered, spitting into his palm before rubbing it between her thighs.
The neon light glinted off the silver handcuffs securing her wrists
to the bedposts. A balding man with prison tattoos—someone Brandi vaguely recognized from a drug bust...stepped up behind the Warden, grinning as he unzipped his pants. “Double-team discount?”
Gallant Girl’s muscles flexed, her powerful legs straining against the spreader bar as the 7-foot inmate braced his hands on her hips. Blood trickled from her bitten lip. “You’re—ah! gonna regret this,” she hissed, but the inmate just laughed, his thrusts shook the bedframe.
“Regret’s for people with futures,” he growled, yanking her head back by her dark hair. Across the room, Warden Collins drove into Lark with a wet slap, his belly pressing against her bruised back.
The little heroine’s fingers clawed at the sheets, her tear-streaked face buried in the mattress. The balding man behind Collins fumbled with his belt buckle, his breath ragged. “Hold her still,” he panted, spitting into his palm before guiding himself toward Lark’s trembling body.
Brandi’s vision blurred as the wiry ex-con’s thrusts grew
erratic, his switchblade still pressed against her ribs. The card reader beeped...another twenty minutes. But he didn’t stop, his grunts turning into ragged growls. “That’s right,” he hissed, fingers tightening in her hair. “Take it, Shadow.” The stink of his prison tattoos filled her nostrils, the ink blurred by sweat and old scars.
Lark’s bed creaked violently as the balding man shoved Warden Collins aside, his thick fingers gripping her hips. “My turn,” he slurred, lining himself up with her trembling body. The neon light flickered, catching the tear tracks on her cheeks. Collins chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hold her tight, boys...little bird’s got fight left.”
Gallant Girl’s breath came in sharp gasps as the 7-foot inmate’s thrusts turned brutal, his calloused hands leaving bruises on her thighs. The spreader bar rattled against her ankles, the metal biting into her skin. She craned her neck, catching Brandi’s eye across the room—silent, furious. A message passed between them, unspoken but clear. Hold on!
Lark’s tiny frame convulsed as the balding man drove into her,
his gut pressing against her bruised back. The neon sign flickered again, casting jagged shadows over the scars crisscrossing his shoulders trophies from prison shiv fights.
“Batgirl’s not comin’,” he slurred, spit dangling from his chin.
His fingers dug into Lark’s hips, lifting her slightly to angle deeper.
Her muffled scream dissolved into a whimper when he chuckled.
“Yeah, you feel that, birdie?”Across the room.
Gallant Girl’s dark hair stuck to her sweating forehead as the 7-foot inmate braced one massive hand on the headboard. The bed groaned under their combined weight, screws threatening to shear.
“Still got that hero stamina?” he taunted, slamming into her hard enough to make her toned abs flex involuntarily. Blood welled where her teeth had split her lip. The inmate grinned, running a thick tongue over his gold-capped incisor. “Good. Means you’ll last.”
The PA crackled again... raspy voice slithering through the moans
and creaking springs. “Five-minute warning for Slot C! Who wants next dibs on Gotham’s little songbird?” Near Lark’s bed, a wiry carjacker Brandi had put away last fall elbowed past the Warden, fishing crumpled bills from his jeans.
His knuckles were tattooed with ‘GRIP IT’!
She remembered breaking two of those fingers during the arrest.
Now they trailed down Lark’s trembling spine, pausing to squeeze her ass cheeks. “Ain’t so tough without Bat girl holdin’ your hand, huh?”
"I wouldn't say that! Woman's voice arose from the entryway.
Oh...No! Collins panicked. Batgirl!!
Get her!! He yelled
The flickering neon sign outside buzzed louder as Bat girl's
silhouette filled the doorway, her cape billowing like a living shadow. For a heartbeat, the entire room froze—even the rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh stuttered to a stop. Then chaos erupted as twenty hardened criminals abandoned their screaming captives and rushed her in a wave of prison tattoos and bared teeth.
Batgirl's first kick shattered a meth dealer's jaw, her elbow
crunching into a carjacker's nose in the same motion. She moved like liquid shadow, flipping a white slaver over her hip before driving a knee into his groin. The air filled with the wet crack of cartilage and the stench of fear-sweat.
Near Lark's bed, Warden Collins backpedaled so fast he tripped over his own pants around his ankles.The neon light buzzed erratically as Batgirl's escrima sticks flashed—another two men dropped, clutching shattered kneecaps. She pivoted, cape swirling, just in time to catch Gallant Girl's agonized stare across the room.
The 7-foot inmate had withdrawn from Melissa's battered body, his monstrous erection glistening under the pink lights as he reached for a length of chain. Down!" Bat girl barked—too late. The chain whipped through the are for her leg, but missed. She smashes a man in the nose.The neon sign's buzz rose to a scream as bodies surged forward. Bat girl's escrima sticks became blurs, cracking ribs and shattering fingers, but the tide of convicts kept coming.
A meaty fist almost clipped her temple.She ducked, The 7-foot inmate was now face to face with her. Ballgirls escrima stick cracked across his temple—once, twice—before his knees buckled.
The towering inmate swayed, blood dripping from his split brow, Lark writhed against her restraints, trying to get into the fight. "Hold on! Bat girl responds, looking over her shoulder, I'm coming for you guys!"
These Bastards won't get away with Rape, without paying the Piper!"
Bat girl took out three other men with kick and punches.
By the time the time she dropped the the 20th goon, almost the whole club lay quiet. She skidded to a halt beside Lark's bed, fingers already working at the cuffs. "Almost got you Hun!" Bat girl reassure Lark.
Lark's restraints popped free just as a meaty hand clamped
around Bat girl's throat from behind. Her escrima sticks clattered to the floor as the remaining men surged forward...twenty hands grab her and hold her secure. Lark rolls off the Bed and raises her Fists. Butt naked, She side-kicks a man in the back, he smashes into a table Rookie Mistake...she should have raced over to free Melissa and Brandi.
Bat girl's cape tore at the seams as four tattooed arms wrenched
it sideways. Someone's belt looped around her wrists. Too tight, too fast—and suddenly her boots left the ground as she was hoisted onto an empty bed. The neon buzzed like a dying wasp overhead, painting her pale thighs in garish light as they forced her legs apart.
"Spread her!" someone panted, and cold metal clicked around her ankles.Lark lunged—barefoot, bleeding—but a thick forearm caught her across the throat. She gagged, fingers scrabbling for skin contact, but the serum wouldn't work. 12 hours, must be up? She reasoned.
Bat girl's escrima sticks rolled under a bed as they forced her
onto the filthy mattress. Hands came from everywhere! Her boots were removed. and men jerked off her costume. In seconds, she was totally naked. A man apiece, grabbed a limb and pulls them near a bed rail, and tie her wrists & ankles to them
The spreader bar snapped shut around her ankles with a click
that echoed louder than gunfire. Brandi strained against her cuffs latex squeaking against sweat-slick metal, watching Bat girl's toned abdomen flex as they pinned her wrists above her head.
Now spread-eagled, and every stitch of clothing, and under garments, ripped away, Barbara Thrashed about wildly in her restraints, causing her 34E Breasts to bob from side to side .She was desperate! But, all her struggling did was...make their Cocks rock hard!
She heard a man yell above the din "Bat girl's tits are Extra Large!
The crowd roared with laughter. Another man yelled Bet her pussy's tighter than a bank vault!" Barbara's heart pounded. The stench of very stale beer and sweat thickened as fingers traced her inner thighs.
A carjacker she'd put away last year—knuckles tattooed with
'GRIP IT' leered down at her. "Remember me, Bat bitch?" His calloused thumb pressed against her clit, rough enough to make her hips jerk involuntarily. The card reader on her headboard beeped. Twenty dollars deposited. Across the room, Brandi's breath hitched as ropes bit into her raw wrists. The wiry arsonist from her first bust knelt between her thighs, his jagged teeth grazing her hipbone.
"Twenty-seven months in Black gate, he growled, calloused fingers parting her folds roughly."For you! His thrust was a punishment. No rhythm, just jagged hate. Neon light striped her bouncing breasts pink as he pistoned inside her, the card reader tallying another twenty minutes. Bat girl's muffled scream tore through the humid air.
The tattooed carjacker had his Cock deep in her Pussy. his thick fingers knotting in her long red hair. "Hold still, Bat bitch," he grunted, pounding harder into her. Her escrima sticks lay just beyond reach. Close enough to taunt, too far to save her.
A Lanky arsonist with a burn scar across his collarbone smirked
down at Teen Shadow, his calloused hands kneading her breasts like dough. "Remember Torching my meth lab?" His thrusts were punctua tion marks, each one jamming into her Pussy Pushing her further up the mattress.
Gallant Girl's muscles strained against the ropes as the 7-foot
inmate finally entered her again slow this time, savoring her choked gasp. "Heroes break same as anyone," he rumbled, twisting her nipples between his sausage-thick fingers. The bed groaned under their combined weight, its rusted springs singing a dirge.
Lark's tiny frame convulsed as the tattooed carjacker switched to
her ass without warning, his breath hot against her ear. "Grip it," he mocked, slamming his tattooed knuckles against her hipbone with each thrust. The neon sign's buzz synchronized with the wet slap of flesh—pink light catching the tears dripping onto the pricing card below her face: Bat girl's Sidekick - $15 Special.
Bat girl's thighs trembled as three men took turns mounting her,
A meth dealer Brandi recognized spat on his palm before forcing two fingers into Bat girl's Pussy. Another Man shoved his large hard Cock down her throat. Her gagging breaths came in short bursts, mascara-streaked tears glistening under the flickering lights.
The card reader chimed again. Another twenty from someone queuing up behind the man currently railing her pussy. Lark Twisted in her Spread-eagled hell! Being slammed into her Pussy. Her tits bounced wildly, her tiny body jolted with each brutal thrust. The neon sign's buzz synchronized with the wet smacks of flesh against flesh, the air thick with musk and spilled beer. Gallant Girl's powerful legs strained against the ropes on her ankles .
Her large 34 D Tits shook hard as she struggled in her restraints the 7-foot inmate loomed over her with his giant pulsing Cock. He laughs, sliding his cock between he breasts. Bat Girl's thighs trembled as the tattooed carjacker withdrew from her pussy, only for another man.
This one reeking of gasoline and prison sweat. To thrust inside with
out hesitation. Her back arched involuntarily, her toned abs flexing as her body betrayed her. The neon light buzzed louder, casting garish pink stripes across her heaving breasts and the saliva glistening between her thighs. Someone grabbed a fistful of her red hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. "Bat bitch owes me sixty seconds from last time," a meth cook panted, pressing the tip of his cock against her lips.
The card reader chimed again—like a cash register tallying her degradation. "From her hiding place behind some boxes in a small room, Centra City's newest Heroine, calculated how she could help the 4 Bound heroines? She was watching through a small crack in the wall. She had been spying on the Titty Twister for 3 weeks, trying to find a way to shut it down. She had followed Bat girl's trail to this location. She had remained hidden, afraid she would be captured too. But she was afraid no longer.
Maria Tori Cortex slipped from the shadows like a whisper.
She inhaled sharply through her nose, smelling rancid sweat, stale beer, and rancid sex. She controlled her breathing, steadying her nerves. Every man in there had raped her mother, and would rape her too if she got caught? Maria adjusted the black mask of her M/S X costume.
She couldn't count how many men crowded the neon-lit room. Too many! But she saw patterns...weaknesses, her photographic memory analyzing guard rotations, blind spots, clustered weapons. Bat girl's discarded escrima sticks glinted under a bed six feet away. Maria's fingers flexed. She'd trained with broomsticks, mimicking TV footage
of Bat girl's movements precisely. His stench hit her first!
Semen and sweat layered over bleach. A meth cook staggered past
her hiding spot, adjusting his pants while another man took his place between Gallant Girl's spread thighs. Maria's gut twisted seeing Melissa's muscular body...once so powerful in their training sessions...now limp with exhaustion, her blue spandex ripped away, ropes biting into her wrists as the seventh inmate this hour mounted her.Maria's fingers trembled as she watched a carjacker.
The same one who'd put three girls in the hospital last year, now plunged into Bat girl's Pussy! Barbara's head thrashed side to side, her red hair matted with sweat against the stained mattress, her 34D breasts bouncing violently with each thrust. The neon light flickered overhead, catching the tear tracks cutting through the smeared makeup on her face. Maria's nostrils flared—semen, blood, and the
acrid tang of fear hung thick in the air.
To her left, Lark's tiny frame jerked like a broken doll as a meth dealer with prison tattoos hammered into her from behind, his fingers digging bruises into her hips. The pricing card above her bed flashed SIDEKICK SPECIAL - 15$ in garish pink letters. Maria's jaw tightened. She'd seen Lark flip a 200-pound enforcer during their rooftop chase last month. Now those same toned legs trembled helplessly, spread wide by cold steel bars.
Bat girl's scream cut through the cacophony as two men switched positions—one withdrawing from her pussy, the other immediately forcing his cock down her throat. Her escrima sticks rolled under the bed just inches from Maria's hiding spot, their polished wood reflecting the flickering neon. The arsonist kneeling between Brandi's thighs laughed, his jagged teeth scraping her nipple. "Hero tits taste like justice," he slurred, . The pricing card above her bed flashed VIGILANTE VIP - $25/15min as another convict swiped his card.
Maria's pulse hammered against her ribs.
The meth cook's limp cock still dripping onto Bat girl's thigh, the carjacker wiping sweat from Lark's pricing card, the way Gallant Girl's toned arms strained against fraying ropes. Her photographic memory mapped every detail: the rusted bed springs singing under weight, the sticky floorboards squeaking with shifting feet, the single fire exit blocked by a grinning bouncer fondling himself as he watched.
She moved like a shadow between stacked beer crates, not even disturbing the dust. Bat girl's discarded escrima stick felt cold in her palm. Maria tested its weight with a silent wrist flick. The motion was perfect. She'd practiced it six hundred forty-seven times in her basement after studying news footage frame by frame.
Lark's whimper sliced through the rhythmic grunting.
Her tiny body arched as another convict mounted her, his prison tattoos glistening under the flickering neon. Maria's nostrils flared. That particular scumbag...knife scar across his left eyebrow, had broken a twelve-year-old's femur during a botched carjacking last summer. She'd memorized his mugshot from Teen Shadow's case files.
Bat girl's thighs trembled violently as two men switched positions. One withdrawing from her pussy, the other forcing her head sideways onto a meth cook's erection. Maria zeroed in on the escrima stick's position. Three steps past the sobbing brunette getting finger-fucked by a grinning arsonist. Four more beyond the bouncer who'd just swiped his card for "Bat bitch throat special."
Maria lunged. Not towards Bat girl... but for the fire alarm.
Her small frame blurred past a meth cook still buckling his belt.
His glazed eyes missing the flicker of movement entirely. The alarm’s pull handle snapped down under her palm with a satisfying crack, triggering strobes that turned the orgy into a stuttering nightmare.
Men froze mid-thrust, their sweat-slick faces flashing
red-white-red as the siren’s wail drowned out groans and wet slaps.
bat girl's body went rigid beneath her latest attacker. Not from pain, but recognition. Her swollen lips parted around a gasp as she spotted Maria darting between beds. The escrima stick in the girl’s hand wasn’t just held correctly, it was held Exactly as Barbara herself would, right down to the 15-degree wrist tilt. Even spread-eagled and streaked with semen, the detective in her noted the precision.
The fire alarm’s strobe made everything move in freeze-frames:.
A meth cook pulling out of Brandi’s pussy, his slack jaw illuminated red. The tattooed carjacker halfway through swiping his card for Lark’s ass, fingers frozen midair. Gallant Girl’s head lolling toward the sound, her muscular thighs twitching where they were lashed to the bed posts. Maria didn’t wait for chaos to settle.
She dropped into a roll and came up swinging Bat girl’s escrima stick—crack—directly into the arsonist’s trachea as he fumbled with his pants. His gurgle was lost under the siren, but the spray of blood across Brandi’s stomach wasn’t. Gallant Girl’s eyes snapped open when Maria’s small hands yanked at her ankle restraints. The ropes gave way with a twang—old hemp fibers frayed by hours of Melissa’s thrashing about, in her restraints..
Freeing her wrists took three seconds. Maria tossed her the
second escrima stick. "Left guard, low stance," she hissed. Muscle memory kicked in; Gallant Girl caught it mid-air, her fingers curling around polished wood still warm from Bat girl’s grip.
The meth dealer mounting Lark never saw the escrima coming.
It caved his temple in with a wet crunch. He toppled sideways, his Cock still twitching, semen splattering across the pricing card. Maria already moving, snatched Lark’s discarded glove from the floor. The tiny sidekick’s fingers trembled as she fumbled it on. The serum wouldn’t work yet, not with adrenaline flooding her veins, but the sight of it made the next attacker hesitate just long enough to catch Gallant Girl’s elbow in his teeth.
The bouncer was first to recover, his ham-sized fist swinging . Maria ducked, letting momentum carry her under his arm. Her escrima stick cracked upward into his armpit. Nerve clusters didn’t care about size. He howled, clutching his deadened arm as Gallant Girl’s right hook sent him crashing through a rack of liquor bottles.
Bat girl’s thighs snapped shut the instant her wrists came free.
The meth cook still balls-deep in her found himself flipped onto his back, her knee driving into his trachea with surgical precision. His gurgle was lost in the strobe-lit chaos. She didn’t waste time covering herself She just stepped up and smashed her fist into the jaw of the closest Goon.
Maria darted beneath a swinging bottle, her small frame slipping between two arsonists mid-swing. The escrima stick whirled in her hand—crack-crack—striking pressure points with clinical efficiency. One man collapsed clutching his groin! The other screamed when she shattered his kneecap.
Bat girl’s training manuals had mentioned these strikes, but Maria executed them with eerie perfection, as if she’d been studying under a Master for years. Gallant Girl surged forward, her muscular thighs streaked with semen and sweat, but her punches still carried the force of a freight train. She drove her knee into a carjacker’s ribs.
Snap—the sound barely audible over the wailing alarm.
Lark rolled off the stained mattress, her tiny body trembling, but
her gloved fingers already reaching for the nearest attacker’s throat. The serum wouldn’t work yet—not with her pulse racing—but the sight of her bare hand made a meth dealer stumble backward into Bat girl’s waiting elbow. Maria spun past them, her small frame weaving between beds like smoke. Her photographic memory tracked every movement, the way Brandi’s thighs shook as she kicked free of her restraints, the way Bat girl’s red hair clung to her sweat-slicked back as she twisted a rapist’s wrist until it popped.
The escrima stick flashed in Maria’s hand....cracking against a bouncer’s kneecap with pinpoint accuracy. He bellowed, crashing into a rack of whips and chains. Gallant Girl roared, her muscular body streaked with blood and sweat as she flipped a mattress onto two attackers. Lark, still trembling, snatched a discarded pricing card and slashed it across a carjacker’s eyes. Bat girl moved like vengeance itself, her strikes brutal...no flair, no wasted motion. A meth dealer’s nose exploded under her fist.
Maria saw it first—the flicker of movement behind Brandi.
Three men, fresh from the back rooms, wielding cattle prods. Teen Shadow sensed it too, pivoting—but too late. Electricity arced. Brandi’s scream was swallowed by the siren as her naked body convulsed, collapsing onto the sticky floor. Lark’s glove was halfway off when the whip cracked across her knuckles.
A carjacker—missing two fingers from their last encounter.
He grinned, conching leather restraints around her ankles. "Try that trick again, little bird," he hissed, spitting on her bare stomach.
Bat girl’s thighs trembled violently as another convict mounted her. this one reeked of gasoline and burnt rubber, his calloused fingers digging into her hips. Neon lights flickered overhead, catching the sweat glistening between her heaving breasts. The pricing card above her bed blinked. HEROINE HOLE - $30/15min A line formed behind the arsonist currently pistoning into her.
Gallant Girl’s ropes groaned under her thrashing, the hemp fibers fraying from hours of resistance. Across the room, Lark’s tiny body jerked with each thrust from the carjacker pinning her down. His missing fingers a grim souvenir from their last encounter. The scent
of semen and bleach clung to the air, mixing with the metallic tang of fresh blood where restraints had bitten too deep.
Bat girl’s thighs trembled violently, slick with sweat and other
fluids as another convict mounted her. Neon lights strobed overhead, catching the way her red hair stuck to her heaving chest. The pricing card above her bed flickered: HEROINE HOLE - $30/15min. A line of men waited their turn, their eyes hungry, fists clenched around crumpled bills.
Gallant Girl’s ropes groaned under her thrashing, the hemp fibers fraying from hours of resistance. Across the room, Lark’s tiny body jerked with each thrust from the carjacker pinning her down—his missing fingers a grim souvenir from their last encounter.
The scent of semen and bleach clung to the air, mixing with the metallic tang of fresh blood where restraints had bitten too deep. Bat girl’s thighs trembled violently, slick with sweat and other fluids as another convict mounted her. Neon lights strobed overhead, catching the way her red hair stuck to her heaving chest.
The pricing card above her bed flickered:
HEROINE HOLE - $30/15min. A line of men waited their turn, their eyes hungry, fists clenched around crumpled bills.Gallant Girl’s ropes groaned under her thrashing, the hemp fibers fraying from hours of resistance. Across the room, Lark’s tiny body jerked with each thrust from the carjacker pinning her down. His missing fingers a grim souvenir from their last encounter. The scent of semen and bleach clung to the air, mixing with the metallic tang of fresh blood where restraints had bitten too deep.
Bat girl’s thighs trembled violently, slick with sweat and other fluids as another convict mounted her. Neon lights strobes overhead, catching the way her red hair stuck to her heaving chest. The pricing card above her bed flickered: HEROINE HOLE - $30/15min.
Just then 10 other men enter the club.
Maria knew she was too late.
The fresh wave of attackers, Reeking of stale cigarettes and prison sweat poured through the brothel's back entrance like a tide of hungry rats. Their eyes locked onto the naked heroines still bound to their beds, their expressions predatory as they fumbled for wallets and zippers. The pricing cards fluttered mockingly above each bed.
The first convicts lined up behind Bat girl's trembling thighs.
Bat girl's muscles bunched violently as she bucked against her restraints, her sweat-slicked body twisting just enough to slam
her knee into a rapist's jaw. His teeth shattered against her kneecap with a wet crack, but three more men piled onto her before he hit the floor. Hands clawed at her thighs, spreading them wider as a bank robber...One she'd hospitalized last year, leered down at her.
"Miss me, Red?" he growled, his calloused fingers digging into
her hips as he mounted her without preamble. Neon lights strobed overhead, illuminating the way her red hair whipped side to side as she thrashed.Across the room, Gallant Girl's restraints groaned under her violent convulsions, the ropes fraying but holding as a carjacker with a barbed-wire tattoo punched her ribs.
"Shoulda stayed in Grand Capital, bitch," he spat, slamming her thighs apart with his knee. Lark's tiny frame jerked like a broken marionette beneath an arsonist twice her size, her whimpers drowned out by the slap of flesh on flesh. The pricing card above her bed.
*SIDEKICK SPECIAL - $15/30min fluttered mockingly with each thrust. Teen Shadow's wrists bled where the zip-ties sawed into her skin, her combat-honed muscles straining against five separate attackers.
One chuckled against her neck, his breath reeking of prison hooch as he whispered,. His calloused hands groped her breasts roughly before another convict shoved him aside, unbuckling his belt with yellowed teeth. he card above her...
—VIGILANTE VAG - $25/15min—was already smeared with fingerprints from eager customers. Across the aisle, Batgirl's thighs trembled violently as three men pinned her spread eagled to the mattress. Her red hair stuck to her sweat-slicked back where another rapist had ejaculated moments before.
Neon lights flickered over the fresh semen glazing her toned
stomach as a bank robber she'd once humili ated mounted her with a grunt. "She gasped when some one held pliers to her nipple.
"Remember me, Red?" he growled, his swollen cock head
pressing against her battered entrance. The pricing card above her bed —HEROINE HOLE - $25/15min—fluttered under the ceiling fan's stale breeze as the line behind him shifted impatiently. Batgirl bucked violently when his hips slammed forward, her sweat-slicked thighs straining against the leather cuffs.
Neon signs flickered across his prison tattoos a crude bat symbol crossed out beneath barbed wire—as he pistoned into her with the rhythm of someone who'd waited years for this. Her teeth bared as another man leaned down to squeeze her left breast, his fingers digging into flesh still bruised from earlier assaults. Across the aisle, Gallant Girl's muscular body arched off the mattress when a carjacker drove into her without preamble.
The pricing card above her headboard.
HEROINE HOLE -$20/20min—swung wildly with each thrust.
She'd already broken one attacker's nose with a headbutt, but the next three had learned, pinning her legs wide with practiced efficiency.
Maria is captured and brought inside in costume and bound with her wrists, tied behind her back. Bat girl watched through sweat-matted lashes as Maria was dragged in, still clad in her blue spandex. though the fabric was torn at the thighs where rough hands had groped during the struggle.
The tiny vigilante's wrists were cinched behind her back with
zip-ties, her legs kicking futilely as two meth cooks hauled her toward an empty bed. Neon lights caught the panic in Maria's wide eyes as they forced her onto the stained mattress, her photographic memory no doubt cataloging every horrific detail of the room the peeling wall paper, the rusted bed frames, the way Gallant Girl's toned abdomen flexed violently against the ropes as another convict mounted her.
"Let her go! You Bastards!!! Gallant Girl yelled out.
"She's only 16!! " Brandi Adds, almost Pleading. "My God!! Barbara did beg. Please...She's a Virgin!!" Maria's wrists strained against the zip-ties as they ratcheted her ankles apart on the filthy mattress. The pricing card—VIRGIN VIXEN - $500/10min, was already slapped above her headboard before her first scream tore through the brothel.
Neon lights glinted off the tear rolling down Maria's cheek as a convicted pedophile licked his lips, unbuckling his belt with shaking hands. "Been waitin' for a fresh one," he wheezed, his breath sour with meth as he climbed between her trembling thighs.
Bat girl's spine arched off the bed when her latest attacker bit her nipple The smell of sweat and semen filed the air. she snarled at Maria's captor through gritted teeth.
"Touch her and I'll shove that belt down you....? The threat dissolved into a choked gasp as another convict forced his huge hand over her Mouth and nose, cutting off her air while his free hand groped her abused breasts.
Maria's whimper cut through the brothel's humid air.
High-pitched, and terrified, as the evil pedophile traces the waistband of her blue spandex with a yellowed fingernail. Neon lights caught the tear tracks on her cheeks when he finally tore the costume down her thighs, exposing virgin flesh to the stench of stale cigarettes and desperation."
No! Please!!!" She begs, her photographic memory betraying her
with perfect recall of every creaking bed spring nearby. The meth-head's yellowed fingernail scraped lower, tracing Maria's
untouched slit through torn spandex. A collective groan rolled through the room as men adjusted their grips on their cocks, watching the tiny vigilante thrash. Neon lights caught the glint of fresh hickeys blooming across Batgirl's thighs while Gallant Girl snarled through a mouthful of someone's forearm. Across the aisle, Lark's whimpers hitched higher as the carjacker reapplied duct tape over her mouth.
"Quiet, side-dish," he chuckled, slapping her inner thigh where earlier welts were still raised. The SIDEKICK SPECIAL card fluttered with each thrust from her newest attacker—some bank robber whose ribs Teen Shadow had cracked last summer.Her nipples stood taut from the cold air conditioning, or perhaps from the dozen sets of eyes raking over her bound form.Bat girl's thighs twitched involuntarily.
The next man... one reeking of bourbon and motor oil drug his calloused palms up her inner thighs. The neon pricing display above her flickered HEROINE HOLE - $30/15min in garish pink as he spat on his cock head and pressed forward without ceremony. She arched violently when he sheathed himself in one brutal thrust, her back muscles straining against the leather restraints. Across the aisle, Gallant Girl's guttural snarls dissolved into wet choking sounds as someone forced their cock past her clenched teeth
Maria's whimpers crescendoed when the meth-head finally
yanked her spandex down t to her ankles, exposing untouched flesh
to the brothel's stale air. The pricing card above her—*VIRGIN VIXEN - $500/5min, swung wildly as three more men lined up behind the pedophile, their hands already working their zippers.
"Please...I've never..." Maria's whisper was drowned out by the
slap of flesh against flesh from Bat girl's bed.Bat girl's thighs trembled violently as the bank robber rammed himself deeper, his prison tattoos glistening with sweat under flickering neon.
She craned her neck just enough to see Maria's tear-streaked face memorizing it like she'd memorized every escape route in Gotham before another convict grabbed her hair and forced her mouth onto his cock. The HEROINE HOLE card flickered above her as semen dripped down her chin.
Maria's photographic memory betrayed her...recording every detail of the pedophile's yellowed teeth as he pried her thighs wider, the way his meth-stink breath hitched when he finally touched her virgin flesh. "Sweet little cunt," he slurred, his fingers probing where no man had before. Across the room, Gallant Girl's muffled roars vibrated through the mattress as two carjackers took turns mounting her, their belts whipping her muscular thighs purple with each thrust.
Teen Shadow's vision blurred—not from the zip-ties carving into
her wrists, but from the sudden mental snap. One moment, she was tasting blood from a rapist's split lip; the next, she stood outside The Titty Twister with Lark adjusting her utility belt and Gallant Girl stretching her scarred knuckles. The memory-vision hit with brutal clarity: Lark's teasing laugh as she vaulted onto the fire escape, Gallant Girl's warning growl about backup plans, the way Maria had nervously talked about how they were going to Kick Their Asses!!
They were inside now, in her dream.
Brandi blinked, and suddenly she was standing outside
The Titty Twister again—fully suited, gloved fingers flexing around her nunchaku. The night air smelled of rain and gasoline instead of sweat and semen. Lark was adjusting her utility belt with that cocky smirk, completely unharmed. Gallant Girl cracked her knuckles, her muscled shoulders rolling beneath the blue spandex.
"Backup plan stays, Gallant Girl growled, nodding toward the alley. Maria’s in position."Lark vaulted onto the fire escape with effortless grace, her tiny frame silhouetted against the neon sign. Worst case, we burn it down," she quipped, though her fingers twitched toward the gloves she'd need to remove for her paralysis serum to work.
Maria...still just a blur in Brandi's peripheral vision nervously adjusted her escrima sticks. "We're really doing this?" The memory was so vivid Brandi could taste the pre-mission adrenaline, sharp as copper.
Next, She was standing, Melissa and Lark too. Their hands tied behind their backs, The men telling them what was their fate.
She blinked again, and she was back again, The men laughing at
her as she struggled to free herself. She was so confused...Was she dreaming? Was this real? Was she hallucinating?
Brandi's naked body jerked against the restraints as another
faceless attacker buried himself inside her. The stench of sweat and cheap cologne filled her nostrils, but her mind was elsewhere trapped between the brothel's nightmare and the crisp memory of standing outside with her friends, untouched, unbroken.
The conflicting realities made her skull throb.
Lark's muffled screams snapped her back. The tiny vigilante's breasts bounced violently as a carjacker pounded into her, his greasy hands leaving bruises on her pale hips. Neon light caught the tears streaking through the duct tape residue on her cheeks. Across the room, Gallant Girl roared against the ball gag, her muscular thighs trembling as three men took turns on her—each thrust punctuated by a slap to her welted ass.
Brandi blinked sweat from her eyes, unable to reconcile the sensations—the cold metal cuffs around her ankles, the hot breath of the burglar currently raping her, and the phantom memory of standing outside in the rain. Her nipples stiffened as another convict squeezed them violently, laughing when she gasped. "Still fightin', Shadow?" He spat on her stomach before slamming back inside. The pricing card above her swung mockingly: VIGILANTE VIXEN - $50/15min.
Maria's screams cut through the din high-pitched, desperate.
Brandi twisted her head just enough to see the pedophile
forcing the teenager's knees apart, his yellow teeth gleaming under neon. "Easy now," he crooned, fingers probing where no man had touched before. Maria's photographic memory would trap her in this horror forever every stench, every texture while Batgirl struggled against three men pinning her face-down, her famous red hair matted with semen and blood.
The mattress beneath Brandi jerked as her current attacker
A car thief whose ribs she'd broken last summer finished with a grunt and rolled off. Before she could gasp for air, another convict shoved a wad of cash at the bouncer and climbed between her thighs.
The VIGILANTE VIXEN sign flickered overhead as he spat into his palm, slicking himself without breaking eye contact. "Remember me, Shadow?" His prison tattoos rippled as he lined himself up. "You put my brother in a coma." He sheathed himself in one brutal thrust, laughing when her back arched off the bed.
Across the room, Gallant Girl's muffled roar vibrated through the mattress as three men pinned her facedown. The FEMALE FURY pricing card swung wildly above her, the "$40/15min" barely visible beneath fresh bloodstains. Someone had torn her utility belt in half the jagged edges of broken escrima sticks still protruded from a bouncer's thigh nearby. Lark's duct-taped mouth emitted a high-pitched whine as the arsonist she'd testified against tightened the rope around her spread thighs.
The SIDEKICK SPECIAL card now read "$25/30min—DISCOUNT
FOR MULTIPLE BUYERS" in smeared Sharpie. Maria's first scream shattered the humid air when the pedophile finally penetrated her virgin flesh her photographic memory etching every grunt...
Every creak of the bed springs, the exact shade of yellow in his nicotine-stained teeth. Neon lights reflected in her panicked tears as three more convicts lined up behind him, their cocks already glistening with anticipation. Bat girl's spine arched violently when her newest attacker—a carjacker whose jaw she'd dislocated last winter bit down on her shoulder while thrusting.
The GOTHAM GIRL card flickered "$60/10min—NO HOLDS BARRED" above her sweat-slicked body.Brandi's wrists burned where the zip-ties sawed into flesh, but the pain felt distant compared to the war in her skull. One moment, the meth-head was yanking her hips upward for deeper access; the next, she stood outside The Titty Twister's rusted fire escape with rain-cooled nunchaku in hand. Lark's laughter rang clear as she vaulted onto the railing—no bruises, no duct tape gag—while Gallant Girl adjusted her blue gloves with that familiar, furious precision. "We go in hard," Gallant Girl was saying, but Brandi couldn't tell if the words were memory or hallucination. Maria's nervous voice cut through: "I-I was
Two weeks pass. It was quiet now, Every one was either was either asleep or , drunk or Dead. It was a brutal night! last night! Al of the other girls were taken to Queen Pin, so she could ship the off to Afghanistan. It was only the four of them lat night to quell the Lust of the men. 400 Men, 4 women...easy Math.
Maria wiggled her fingers, trying to see if she could loosen her bonds, But the leather straps were too tight, Even the ropes that bound her wrists, ankles, and neck too tight. Her spread eagle position made her feel exposed, and the Vibrator inserted in her rectum made her feel humiliated, again. She was so sleepy, but the thought of another rapist mounting her kept her awake.
She looked about her friends...they were all out cold, fainted, or just too tired to even move.She trembled, knowing that she was no longer a virgin! She knew some day she would lose her virginity to a man. But...it would be to some one she liked, or loved. Not to an Evil dregs of society! Monsters!! Who only wanted sexual revenge for being locked up by her heroine mentor Teen Shadow.
Brandi seemed to be in some sort of dream state?
She was straddled her motor cycle, Lark was at her side, Gallant
girl was standing next to her. She was fully suited, Lark was suited, Gallant girl was suited. She was in her apartment, Lark and Gallant Girl were seated on her couch with Maria, who was suited too. "We have to stop Queen Pin, and Samson!" Maria said, with anger in her eyes.Brandi was dreaming, she knew it was a dream.
Back in the whorehouse, Brandi was sleeping, her eyes closed. Her hands tied to the upper bed posts, her ankles tied to the lower bed posts. She was spread eagle, naked, sweating, smelling of semen and urine. Her lips were bruised, her nipples were sore. her ass was red from being spanked. her pussy was swollen and sore.
She was dreaming of being free, of being suited, of being with her friends. She was dreaming of being Brandi James, not Teen Shadow. She was dreaming of being in her apartment, with Lark, Gallant Girl, and Maria. They were all suited, all ready to go on a mission. They were talking about Queen Pin and Samson. And about how they would stop them. Brandi was dreaming of being free, of being strong, of being a hero!
Maria was awake, her eyes wide open.
She was tied to the bed next to Brandi, her wrists and ankles
bound to the bed posts. She was also spread eagle, naked, sweating, smelling of semen and urine. Her lips were bruised, her nipples were sore. Her ass was red from being spanked. her pussy was swollen and sore. She was no longer a virgin. She had been raped by more than 200 Men! All huge men, more than, twice her size. But they didn't Care...they just kept Coming!!
Maria day dreamed of being free, of being suited up again. of being
with her friends. She was dreaming of being Maria Tori Cortex, not M/S X. She was dreaming of being in her apartment, with Lark, Gallant Girl, and Brandi. They were all suited, all ready to go on a mission. They were talking about Queen Pin and Samson. And about how they would stop them. Maria was dreaming of being free, of being strong, of being a hero!
"God damn it!! Gallant girl cursed from bed,
Her naked body arching upwards, her muscles straining with all the strength they could deliver, to break out of her degrading, Spread-eagled position. The railings rattled, but the ropes tied to them and to her wrists & ankles remained UN-broken! Her large 30 D Tits, shook wildly from the effort!
In the last bed. Bat girl 's 34E cups also shook wildly, she attempted, twisted in her own Bonds.. feeling, as if every man's eyes in the World...were locked on her Tits! Her wrists burned, Her ankles burned, Her pussy burned, Her Asshole burned, Her mouth burned. She had been Fucked in her Pussy, Her Ass, Tit Fucked! And forced to suck 200 cocks! And still...she was spiting out their disgusting Cum!!
Brandi...trapped in her own Spread-eagled Nightmare, Just stared
at the ceiling. Silently crying...causing heavy tears to roll down both cheeks.Her mind drifted back to the last time She, Lark and Gallant Girl met outside the club, dressed in their costumes, planning their attack on Rollins and free all the white slaves,.
Queen Pin sold him for his club. At he time...she wanted nothing more than to smash her steel lined, gloved fist right into his arrogant smug face! Brandi's fantasy was shattered as a weak woman's frail hand touched her shoulder.The old waitress—the one who'd been sneaking them scraps of bread leaned close enough for Brandi to smell the gin on her breath.
"They're shipping you out at dawn," she whispered, fingers trembling as they brushed the fresh cigarette burns on Brandi's collarbone. "Queen Pin's got a submarine docked at Pier 12."
Her milky eyes darted toward the security cameras. "
Says she wants you broken in before the Taliban buyers arrive.
" The woman was nervous as she slowly cuts the rope away connected to her left wrist. She had stolen a knife from one of the drunks, slipping it into the waistband of her ragged dress when he'd passed out atop her.The blade trembled as she sawed at Brandi's restraints—first the left wrist, then the right her hands shaking so violently the knife nicked Brandi's skin twice.
Blood welled in thin lines, but Brandi barely flinched.
Her eyes stayed locked on the flickering TEEN SLUT neon sign above her bed, its "$30/15min" pricing now sputtering like a dying heartbeat. The woman returned to her side after cutting away Brandi's legs. "I'm gonna get out of here! The woman announced, handing Brandi the knife. There is an alley on Carlton street
....take it! It is the best way to avoid Collins and his ilk! If you are really lucky? they will have No idea on where to start looking for you? Now!.. get you and your buddies out of here! It's three Am. She said adds. You got 30 minutes before they come for you! Brandi grabbed her arm. "Why? She questions. Won't they....?
The woman smiles."Honey! She explains, I Got the big C! Cancer,
she clarified. Doc,,said I got a month! Who cares if I Die a few weeks earlier!"Brandi nods and then releases the thin arm of the waitress. Thank you, She whispered to the woman. The woman presents an expressionless look on her face, then looks over her shoulder once before disappearing in the shadows. "Come on!, Brandi said cutting Maria's left restraint. Let's get out of here!"
Maria winced as the blade slipped, nicking her wrist.
"Hurry!" she hissed through gritted teeth, her photographic memory already cataloging escape routes from the blueprints she'd studied weeks ago. Gallant Girl thrashed against her remaining ankle restraint, the bed frame groaning under her raw strength. "Cut Bat girl loose first!" she snarled, nodding toward the vigilante whose mascara-streaked face, was urging to them.
Brandi worked on Lark's bonds. While,at the other bed Maria cut Bat girl's ropes.Bat girl groaned as her wrists were freed. She flexed her fingers and rubbed her wrists, wincing at the pain. But she didn't waste time. She quickly rolled off the bed and onto the floor, landing in a crouch. Her muscles protested, but she ignored them.
Maria cut away Gallant Girl's ankles first. and was going for the
ropes on her wrists next. But, suddenly, two men with gun's showed up. "Hey!! the biggest of them, yelled out, standing where Maria was 3 seconds earlier, while the other man held a gun others. They darted looks From, Bat girl to Brandi. Bat girl nodded to Gallant girl, who suddenly raised up with her powerful legs and wrapped them around his mid-section, puling him backwards, His gun fell to the floor.
Freaked...the other man turned to face Melissa. That was Bat girl's clue! She crouched low and swept his legs out from under him, Maria caught the gun in mid air and rushed to assist Gallant Girl, While Brandi punched the man over and over with her bare fists! Gallant Girl squeezed her thighs tighter, The man started grunted in pain.
Bat girl stood up and also went to help gallant Girl, leaving Brandi to take out her anger on the other man. Maria took the knife and cut away her wrist ropes. The knife clattered to the floor as Maria freed Gallant Girl's wrists. Gallant Girl rolled off the bed, her muscles screaming in protest, As Bat Girl treated The man's face like a punching bag.
Both men down and out cold, they huddled together.
"We need clothes," Bat Girl Girl spoke up.
Gallant Girl nodded. "Yeah, but Where the Fuck did these fucks...?
"Forget Clothes!! Brandi interrupted.
The waitress said we had 30 minutes!
20 are probably Gone!!
We got to get the Fuck out!!"
The stench of stale sweat, sex, and cheap liquor assaulted their noses. Neon signs flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows across the stained concrete floors. Bat Girl's eyes darted to the exit—fifty feet of open space, littered with passed-out drunks and discarded condoms. She sighed, Your right!"
"We'll be Butt naked! Gallant Girl protested.
"We've been Naked! Lark spoke. For two week!!"
Gallant Girl sighed...and finally nods.
Maria was all ready tying a sheet around her waist. Bat girl was tying a sheet around her large breasts. Brandi chose a sheet around her waist. They looked ridiculous, but it was better than nothing. Gallant Girl sighed one last time. She had Tits almost as large as Bat girl's So she choose to cover em, for the trip. Her face turned beet red at the thought.
"I'd rather fight a Dozen Satanists!! Gallant Girl snarled.
Than go out like this!!"
Bat girl groaned. "As much as i hate to admit it? But shei Agreed
with Melissa! Maria nodded, her small body trembling beneath the makeshift sheet, her photographic memory already mapping escape routes. She pointed toward a rusted ventilation grate near the floor. "That leads to the alley.
Saw the blueprints when I cased this place." Brandi hesitated—the memory of her father's motorcycle between her thighs, the wind in her short blonde hair, the weight of her nun chucks at her belt...before nodding. "Go. Now."
They crawled through the vent, metal grating their knees, the stench
of mildew and old grease thick in the cramped passage. Maria led, her small frame navigating the tight turns with ease, her photographic memory guiding them like a map burned behind her eyelids. Bat girl brought up the rear, Her bare feet with Red painted toe nails still glaring, under her sheet snagging on a jagged edge, tearing away to expose her welted back. She didn't stop.
Below them, the club pulsed—moans, laughter, the wet slap of flesh.
A drunk stumbled into view, pissing against the wall beneath their crawlspace. Brandi froze, her breath hitching as the man's head lolled back—his bloodshot eyes locking onto hers through the grate. Click. The sound of a hammer cocking. The man grinned, exposing rotted teeth. "Well lookie here—"
Maria shoved Brandi forward. "MOVE!"
The gunshot obliterated the silence as they scrambled deeper into the duct work. The bullet ricocheted behind them, sparking against metal. Bat Girl kicked backward blindly, her heel connecting with something soft. A howl. Then cursing in Spanish.
Brandi's vision fractured—one moment crawling through grease-slicked vents, the next standing outside the Titty Twister in full costume, the chrome zippers of Gallant Girl's bodysuit catching streetlight. "We hit Rollins first," she heard herself say, flexing her gloved fingers around the police baton.
The memory was crisp—Lark adjusting her gloves, Gallant Girl cracking her neck. No sheets. No burns. No stench of semen and sweat. Reality slammed back as her bare shoulder scraped against rusted metal. The duct shuddered—footsteps pounding below.
Maria's sheet snagged, exposing the fingerprint bruises on her
thighs. "Left turn!" Maria gasped. The vents branched like arteries, pulsing with distant bass. Somewhere behind them, a man laughed. "Found the hero cunts."
Bat Girl's stomach lurched. She knew that laugh—Carlos "The Hammer" Mendoza. The wife-beater she'd busted last year after he'd shattered his girlfriend's jaw with a socket wrench. His footsteps grew louder. Closer. Maria's breath hitched.
"Next vent—right turn—leads outside." The metal groaned beneath Carlos's weight. Brandi's consciousness shattered again, suddenly standing in full vigilante gear beside her motorcycle, adjusting the choker around her neck. "Torres has three lookouts on the roof," Gallant Girl had said, tightening her blue spandex gloves.
The memory was so vivid Brandi could smell the leather.
Reality crashed back as Carlos Mendoza's calloused fingers clamped around her ankle, dragging her backward through the vent. Her bare thighs shrieked against the jagged metal edges. Below them, the club's neon signs pulsed—TEEN SLUT $20/20MIN—casting hellish shadows across Maria's tear-streaked face as she kicked futilely at another attacker's grasping hands.
Brandi's mind fractured again—suddenly standing outside the Titty Twister in full costume, the night air crisp against her mask. "Torres has infrared cameras," Lark was saying, adjusting her gloves with that familiar click of wrist buckles. The memory smelled like motorcycle exhaust and Gallant Girl's peppermint gum. Brandi reached for her baton—
Reality flooded back in a wave of pain as a calloused hand twisted her nipple from behind her. What th...? Brandi shouted, spinning away. She couldn't believe what she was seeing? Queen Pin's-whipping Boy. Roland Thibideax. Behind him, five men. "Shall we Dance?"
Brandi drops her sheet and raises her fists.
"I'll Lead!" Brandi responds.From her rear, Bat girl, Gallant Girl, Lark and maria also drop their own sheets, and ready for combat. Gallant Girl smiled, her tanned face twisting into a predator's grin as she cracked her knuckles. "Five against six?" She rolled her shoulders. "I like those odds."
Roland lunged first—the mountain of a man's ham-sized fist whistling toward Maria's face. She ducked under it like a hummingbird avoiding a freight train, her photographic memory already calculating trajectories. Bat girl's elbow smashed into Roland's kidney with a meaty thunk. He roared, dropping Maria just as Brandi's bare foot connected with his groin. The crunch of testicles collapsing made even the other men wince. Roland folded like cheap origami. The remaining five hesitated—just long enough for Lark to dart forward.
She remembered about her touch, but sadly that option was off the table. She had no serum injectors and the 12 hours she had expired 2 weeks ago. But, she was fast! She slammed her fist into the nearest man's throat, dropping him instantly.
Gallant Girl spun, her muscular legs snapping out in a brutal roundhouse kick that sent another attacker crashing into the rusted vent wall. Brandi barely registered Maria's small frame slipping behind her—until she felt the girl's fingers tighten around her wrist. "Time to go!" Maria hissed. The vent exit loomed ahead, the grimy alleyway barely visible through years of neglect. Bat Girl didn't hesitate—she launched herself feet-first through the grate, landing
in a crouch that sent pain shooting up her bare legs.
The cold night air hit them like a slap. Behind them, Roland groaned, trying—and failing—to rise. The others lay scattered, unconscious or groaning. Maria didn't wait—already limping toward the alley's mouth, her small frame trembling. "We have to move!" she urged, glancing back. Brandi's legs burned, but she forced herself forward, her bare feet slapping against wet pavement. Gallant Girl cursed, adjusting her makeshift sheet. "Fuck, I miss my boots." Bat Girl snorted, then froze.
Headlights. A black van rounded the corner.
Its tinted windows reflecting the alley's grime. Brandi's body moved before her mind processed the threat—shoving Maria behind a dump ster. The van's tires screeched. Doors flew open. Queen Pin's laughter carried—dark and rich, like molasses laced with arsenic. Brandi's stomach dropped. Too fast. Too soon.
Gallant Girl pivoted, her muscular frame blocking Bat Girl's exposed body. "Fuck. Fuck!" The moonlight caught the sweat on her shoulders. "They circled around—"The van doors slid open.Brandi stood, her fists raised, Beside her Gallant Girl and Bat Girl Raised theirs too.
Lark and Maria stood back, but did nor cower.
Queen Pin exited the van first—her towering frame draped in black satin, the pentagram necklace glinting beneath the streetlights. Behind her, Roland Thibideaux lumbered out, still clutching his ruined groin, his face twisted in agony and fury. Four more goons fanned out behind them, their hands resting on holstered weapons.
Brandi's bare feet shifted on the cold concrete.
her body aching from countless assaults. Yet ...she still coiled to strike. She felt Maria's tiny fingers brush her wrist—the girl trembling but not retreating. Gallant Girl exhaled sharply through her nose, her muscular thighs flexing. Bat Girl wiped blood from her split lip, her red hair matted with grime.
"Last stand?" she muttered.
Brandi felt her heart skip a beat, her bare toes curling against
the cracked asphalt. Queen Pin’s laughter coiled around them like smoke—thick, choking. Roland lumbered forward, his ruined groin forgotten, eyes black with vengeance. The van’s headlights cast their naked bodies in grotesque relief—bruises flowering purple, welts raised like braille. Maria’s whisper cut through the tension:
Leftmost goon—hip holster—weak stance."*Brandi didn’t hesitate.
She lunged, her bare foot connecting with the man’s knee.
The crack echoed as he crumpled. Gallant Girl followed—her tanned fist snapping another’s head back. Bat Girl’s elbow found a throat. Lark darted between them, a wraith in the chaos.Queen Pin snarled. Roland roared.Then the night exploded with violence Brandi's knuckles splitting against Roland's jaw,
Bat Girl's knee crushing a groin, Gallant Girl's elbow snapping a
nose sideways. But it was Maria who moved like a liquid shadow darting between hulking bodies, her photographic memory predicting every swing before it came. She snatched the hip-holstered pistol, ejecting the magazine with a mechanical click that made Queen Pin freeze mid-laugh.The world blurred into sweat-slicked limbs and the coppery stench of blood. Brandi barely registered the moment Maria pressed the gun's cold barrel against Queen Pin's temple—only the sudden silence as the towering woman's breath hitched.
Roland's fist stopped inches from Lark's face.
The goons froze. Bat girl noticed something that did not register
with her before? Her utility Belt.Bat Girl walked up and un hooked it from around Queen Pins waist. Bat Girl smiled. "I'll be damned, it's mine!" She hooked it around her own hips, securing it snugly against her bare waist. She opened several pockets in the belt. Her eyes widened. In a pocket she found something and tossed the single item to Lark.Lark facial expression immediately brightened.
It was a medical injector, 10 cc's.
She looked up Bat Girl smiled. "You are welcome." Lark looked back at Queen Pin, Roland and the goons. She pressed the injector against her thigh and pressed the release button. She felt the serum flow into her body.
Bat Girl announced. "20 Seconds!" She said in her mind.
"What's going on a man inquired?
Is the l;little bitch...shooting up...?"
The man's slurred question barely registered, as Lark's fingertips began tingling. That familiar, electric surge crawling up her nerve endings. Queen Pin's smirk faltered when the injector clattered to the pavement. "Five seconds." Lark noted in her head. Then—contact.
Lark’s bare palm slapped against the nearest guard’s sweaty neck.
His leer froze mid-twist, pupils dilating as his knees buckled.
The thud of his body hitting the concrete echoed like a starter’s pistol. Queen Pin’s satanic jewelry rattled as she backpedaled, but Gallant Girl was already moving, her blue-spandex-clad leg whipping out to sweep Roland’s ankles from under him. "Fourteen left," Maria hissed, her photographic memory tallying threats in real time. Seconds pass Lark drops 2 more men. But, this with a spinning back kick.
Gallant Girl flips backward, landing behind Roland, her Escrima
sticks cracking against his kidneys before he can turn. He bellows, stumbling forward—straight into Teen Shadow’s rising knee. Blood sprays from his broken nose as he crashes down.
“Twelve,” Maria counts, teeth gritted. Lark’s bare foot lashes out, catching a goon’s temple mid-charge.
His eyes roll back before he collapses atop Queen Pin’s designer boots. The crime boss shrieks, tripping over his limp body. Bat girl lands a precision kick to the last guard’s solar plexus, dropping him like a sack of cement.Maria’s fingers twitch—calculating angles, trajectories—
then she darts forward. Her palm connects with Roland’s carotid artery. The giant’s knees hit the floor just as Teen Shadow’s elbow cracks against Queen Pin’s jaw. The satanic necklace snaps, scattering obsidian beads across the pavement.
Bat girl pivots, her recovered utility belt swaying as she yanks a smoke pellet from its pouch. She hurls it—not at the enemies—but at the neon "Titty Twister" sign above them. Purple smoke billows, masking their nakedness for three precious seconds. That's when the heroines really shine Gallant Girl and Bat girl Take out 2 men apiece.
"Teen Shadow, BREAK IN Three!" Maria counted.
Teen Shadow nodded and they positioned, and kicked Roland at the same time. It took by surprise and he fell forward, "No! He shrieked when her saw Lark in his path. He tried to turn away, but Lark caught his hand. His eyes widen, and then he dropped as the serum took hold. Bat Girl and Maria moved out of the way, when Queen Pin turned to run, Gallant Girl started to follow her, but Lark tapped her hand.
"Bitch is mine!!"
Queen Pin ran, but her high heels, tight dress and jewellery slowed her escape. Lark was already sprinting, her bare feet slapping against wet pavement. Gallant Girl and Bat girl exchanged glances.
One amused, the other calculating, before turning back to the remaining threats. Roland remained out cold beneath them. Teen Shadow wasted no time; she snatched up his discarded belt and looped it around his thick neck, using it as a makeshift leash to keep him pinned. The unconscious goons lay scattered like broken toys, their sweat and cheap cologne mixing with the scent of spilled beer and blood.
"Brandi!" Maria's sharp whisper cut through the adrenaline haze. Teen Shadow blinked—her knuckles were split, her bare skin streaked with grime. She turned to see Maria gesturing toward the alley's mouth where Gallant Girl had Bat girl propped against a dumpster. The purple smoke from Bat girl's pellet still lingered, curling around their legs like spectral fingers.
All the remaining men rush inside to coordinate with Rollin's other goons. "The Van! Gallant Girl suggested as a way to escape. Keys are in it! Marie yelled looking
in side Bat girl, Lark and Ten Shadow all nod, and they start to walk in Marie's direction. Suddenly in the window, the old waitress that had freed them appeared and waved.
Marie's eyes go wide...Mom!!!"
Seconds later...the entire building Exploded!!!"
The big sign with women's breasts and the name Tittie Twister fell broken to the ground. Brandi blinked—smoke stinging her eyes as her bare knees pressed into shattered asphalt. The explosion’s aftershock vibrated through her bones. One moment, Marie’s mother had been waving from the window; the next, the brothel erupted in a fireball that sent debris raining down like hell’s confetti. A high-pitched ringing drowned out the screams as Brandi’s vision doubled. She wasn’t outside anymore.
Suddenly, she felt the cold bite of metal cuffs around her ankles
the familiar, hateful stretch of being spread-eagled on one of the Titty Twister’s stained mattresses. The hallucination was vivid—sweat-slick skin sticking to vinyl, the clink of coins dropping into her headboard’s payment slot. A thick-fingered hand groped her left breast, twisting the nipple until she gasped. But when she turned her head, the face blurred into smoke. Reality snapped back like a rubber band.
Brandi was kneeling outside the burning brothel, her naked body shivering not from cold but adrenaline. Maria was screaming—raw, animal sounds as Bat girl held her back from the flames. The old waitress was gone. Gone. The realization hit Brandi like a punch: Marie’s mother had just rigged the entire building to blow.
A final act of defiance, and maybe a way to pay Marie back for the life she gave her.Gallant Girl’s fingers dug into Brandi’s shoulder. “Move!” She hauled Brandi up, tossing her toward the idling van as debris rained around them. Lark was already sliding into the driver’s seat, her bare thighs pressing against the cracked vinyl. The keys dangled from the ignition. Bat girl dragged Marie into the back the younger girl’s sobs muffled against the older heroine’s chest.
The van’s engine roared as Lark stomped the gas.
The vehicle lurched forward, tires squealing against the curb. Brandi caught one last glimpse of the inferno behind them the neon sign collapsing into the blaze, the silhouette of Queen Pin staggering in the smoke. Then the alleyway swallowed them whole.
Maria’s ragged breathing filled the cabin. Batgirl held her tight, fingers threaded through the younger girl’s hair. “She knew,” Maria whispered. “She knew the whole time.” The van swerved onto a main road, streetlights flashing across their bruised skin. Brandi’s thigh pressed against Gallant Girl’s, sticky with sweat and soot. None of them spoke. The truth was a live wire between them: Marie’s mother had chosen this. Chosen them.
Lark’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.
“We’re not clean,” she said, voice raw. The unspoken addition hung heavy but we’re alive! The city blurred past, neon signs smearing into streaks of garish color. Teen Shadow flexed her fingers, phantom sensations lingering the weight of Roland’s belt in her grip, the crack of Queen Pin’s jaw under her elbow. Her body hummed with violence not yet spent.
The van swerved into an alley. Bat girl’s utility belt clinked as she pulled a burner phone from a pouch. “Safe house,” she muttered, fingers tapping. Gallant Girl leaned over, her breath warm against Brandi’s ear. “Your parents’ place. It’s closest.” Brandi stiffened.
The thought of that empty house—her father’s motorcycle still in the garage, her mother’s perfume bottle collecting dust sent something jagged through her ribs.Maria’s fingers curled around hers. The van fishtailed onto a residential street. Neon gave way to porch lights. One flickered—just like the bulb her dad never fixed. A key under the mat, that was there for 20 years, gave Brandi entrance.
The front door creaked—same pitch as when she’d sneak in past curfew. Dust motes swirled in the foyer light. Teen Shadow’s bare foot pressed into the familiar groove in the hardwood where her mother’s rocking chair had sat.Maria’s breath hitched. "It smells like..." She didn’t finish. The scent of lemon polish and gun oil clung to the walls, preserved like a museum exhibit. Bat girl’s utility belt clicked
as she flipped the deadbolt.
Gallant Girl limped to the couch—the one with the cigarette burn from Bobby’s nervous prom night. She collapsed onto it, her blue-black bruises stark against the floral upholstery.
Lark raided the kitchen, returning with a bottle of vodka and a fistful of gauze. "Medicine," she muttered, tearing open packages with her teeth. Maria stood frozen in the hallway, staring at the bullet hole in the wall, the one from the night Brandi’s parents died. Her fingers traced
the jagged edges. "They’re still here," she whispered.
Brandi forced a smile. "Yes They are!"
Maria's fingers trembled against the bullet hole.
The vodka bottle passed from Lark to Gallant Girl, the burn of antiseptic merging with liquor's bite as they dabbed at split knuckles. Brandi watched Maria’s reflection in the hallway mirror, the way her shoulders hitched when she inhaled, like she was trying to swallow the house’s ghosts whole. The silence stretched, pulsing like an open wound.
Then—laughter. Raw, jagged.
Brandi blinked, the bullet hole under Maria’s fingers blurring. The vodka bottle slipped from Lark’s grip, shattering against hardwood. The sound snapped something loose in Brandi’s chest. A memory—no, not a memory. A loop.
She was back home.
"Mother...Dad! She smiled, wondering if she could be considered a Whack Job" for talking to Ghosts?" She felt Maria's arms wrap around her waist from behind, and she heard Maria whisper, "They are here...I can feel them."
Brandi turned and kissed Maria's forehead. Gallant Girl said, "Let's get cleaned up."Bat girl added, "Yeah, we stink...like sweat, smoke, cum and blood." Lark was already
headed toward the bathroom. Brandi called after her, "Lark,,,There is a small shower in my room to the top and right. She explains. A guest bathroom with a shower, Top and left. and down her, in my parents room is a garden bath tub, and a stand alone shower. Bat girl
looks at Brandi, "You parents had a "His & Her" bathroom? Brandi nods, "Yeah Dad was a Police officer, a CSI investigator, Mom was an attorney General."
Maria looked at Brandi, "May I shower with you?"
Brandi sort on sneered. "No,." She responds. I am not shy
or anything Brandi explains. Just...Old Fashioned... I guess!" Maria looked sort hurt, but nods. "I understand.".
Bat girl, Gallant Girl and Lark went into Brandi's parent's bathroom. Lark turned on the shower. Gallant Girl stepped in first. Lark followed. Bat Girl looked back at Brandi and winks, "I hope you can handle you mom's ghost watching you shower!" Brandi shrugs and says, "She saw me shower all my life up til she died.
She walks into her bedroom bathroom, turns on the shower and steps under the steaming water. The warmth soothed her aching muscles, but couldn't wash away the phantom sensations. fingers digging into her hips, the cold press of coins slotting above her head. She scrubbed until her skin turned pink, as if she could peel away the memory layers. The shampoo smelled like strawberries her mother's favorite. Brandi's breath hitched.
The bathroom door creaked open. Maria stood there clutching a towel, her collarbones sharp beneath bruises. "I...the other shower's leaking." Brandi watched water drip from Maria's elbow onto the tile. A droplet traced the same path it had when she was twelve and her mother found her sneaking vodka from the cabinet. The memory blurred with the present Maria's fingers tightening on the towel, her own hands pausing mid-scrub.
Outside, Gallant Girl's laughter echoed down the hall, followed by
Bat-girl's sharp "Language!" when Lark swore at the leaky faucet. Brandi exhaled. "C'mere." She stepped aside, letting the spray hit the wall. Maria hesitated, then dropped the towel.
Steam curled around her bony shoulders. Neither spoke as Maria grabbed the strawberry shampoo. Too thin for 18, ribs visible under peeling sunburn from some long-ago captivity. Brandi focused on rinsing soap from her own thighs, the silence broken only by water hitting porcelain.
Maria's fingers brushed her spine. "You're bleeding." A gash Brandi hadn't noticed ran along her hipbone, red tendrils swirling toward the drain. Maria pressed a washcloth to it, her breath hitching when Brandi flinched. "Sorry, I—" It's...okay, Brandi forced a smile. I've been dealing with hurt all my Vigilante life...Goes with the Job I guess...?
Steam thickened as Gallant Girl's voice carried down the hall—"Lark, quit hogging the damn water!"—followed by a wet slap and laughter. Maria's thumb traced Brandi's ribs. "These bruises..." Brandi turned, catching Maria's wrist. "Don't." The younger girl's eyelashes stuck together in clumps. Brandi exhaled. "Just...wash my back?"
The bathroom door burst open. Lark stood dripping, her hair plastered to angular collarbones. "Bat girl found your dad's bourbon." She tossed a towel at Maria. "We're drinking it." Brandi caught the threadbare fabric midair—her father's fishing towel, still smelling of lake water and Luckies. Maria wrapped it around herself like a shroud.
Gallant Girl appeared behind Lark, a dusty bottle in hand. "1968. Your old man had taste." She took a swig, wincing as it burned down her throat. Bat girl's silhouette filled the doorway, her borrowed sweatshirt riding up to reveal the fresh whip marks across her abdomen. "Safe house my ass," she muttered, grabbing the bottle. "That shower head's older than my mom."
Maria's fingers grazed Brandi's wrist. "I didn't mean—"
The bathroom light flickered—just like it had the night Brandi
came home to find her parents' bodies. Shadows pooled in the hollow of Maria's throat. Brandi grabbed the bourbon bottle, the glass slick under her fingers. She took a swig, the burn chasing away the phantom weight of handcuffs on her wrists.
Maria's towel slipped. Gallant Girl caught it, her knuckles brushing a fresh bruise on Maria's hip. "Jesus, kid," she muttered. Lark snatched the bottle back, her small breasts heaving as she coughed. Bat girl leaned against the door frame, the borrowed sweatshirt gaping to show Queen Pin's bite marks.
The bourbon burned like the ropes that had dug into Brandi's thighs. She blinked—The night lasted several more hours. By the 5th hour they all were sound asleep.
Hours later, Lark awoke. She was cold. She sat up, and reached
for a blanket, but realized she was still naked. She looked around,
and saw that Bat Girl was sleeping on her side, her fists clenched tight. Gallant Girl was curled up in a fetal position, her face buried
in a pillow. Maria lay sprawled out on her back, breathing softly.
And Brandi—Teen Shadow—was sitting upright in bed, staring blankly at the wall.Finally, she saluted the vision of her parents. "Love ya!"
Good night.....
The end.