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Satanna, otherwise known as Sara Descarl. A brilliant, if somewhat deranged, biogeneticist of no small renown, whose recent life choices had put her in opposition to heroes the likes of Power Girl. Defeat, after defeat, after defeat had left her sour, and hungry for triumph. Such was what led her to these current experiments. 

Reclining on a plush, velvet chaise lounge within her office, she gazed out the observation window into the containment room below, ignoring her own reflection—that of a young, gorgeous woman with pallid skin, neat dark hair in a pixie cut, and a body with all the right curves—in favor of the young heroine bound on a metal slab some fifteen feet below.

“That's it, my dear,” she said, in a low, sultry tone. “Give in...”

With a soft chuckle, her ruby red lips curled into a smirk as she flipped a switch to commence the experiment—the first stage in her new plan. She had a simple goal: hurt Power Girl. While she could have started small and taken some random subject off the street to begin her testing, Satanna never thought small. Instead, she'd jumped right to kidnapping Power Girl's best friend and sidekick.

Atlee, otherwise known as Terra. A young, voluptuous heroine sporting a messy bob of black hair, a curvaceous figure, and a costume that consisted of little more than a black and white leotard with plunging cleavage. She lay on the slab in the room below, bound with security straps that could hold even a super powered individual like her, and suppress her powers. She would be the first subject.

In all her scientific experiments, Satanna had discovered a great many things, the most recent and groundbreaking of which had included discovery of another dimension. Or rather, a parallel universe might be a better way to describe it. Either way, in this other world, she had learned of the existence of organisms known as symbiotes—parasitic predators that bonded with a host to greatly increase their own power. While Satanna had yet to determine how exactly a symbiote bonded to a host, she had seen what such a host could accomplish.

Violence . Glorious, unrepentant violence. Violence that could be unleashed upon those she deemed most deserving.

Like Power Girl...

Thus was her plan.: take a symbiote, find it the perfect host with which to bond, and unleash it on her enemies. What better host to be her puppet than someone for whom Power Girl cared so deeply? Capturing Terra hadn't even been that difficult. For someone with such devastating geokinetic powers, she certainly was naive and easily tricked. Satanna had needed only to hire a couple experienced mercenaries to do the job. 

Lynx had proven a boon with her underworld contacts, not to mention her exceptional combat skill, while Scarab had become her muscle, with a cybernetically enhanced suit that had crushed Terra with its sonic disrupters. That, along with a mysterious agent providing secretive information, which had been vital in locating the young heroine when isolated and alone.

In truth, Satanna didn't know who this informant was, only that they wanted to aid her for whatever reason. Didn't matter, in any case. Satanna didn't care who the agent was. The only thing that mattered was the network they'd built, including a selection of alternate hosts should backups be needed. In the end, they'd been essential in capturing the first and most important subject. One single excursion, and Satanna's team had brought Terra back to the lab wrapped up in a nice, neat little bow. 

Now, the experiment could proceed. Corrupt Terra with a symbiote, and let nature take its course—so simple. Even if she didn't manage to defeat Power Girl, such a result would surely devastate the buxom bimbo. The thought of Power Girl suffering send a shiver down Satanna's spine. Within the confines of her seat, she let her legs open and traced her fingers down along the hem of her tight leather pants. 

So much work all coming together... She didn't need to worry herself with the minutia of potential mysteries. All she had to do was enjoy the moment at hand.

Down in the containment room, Atlee thrashed against her bonds in desperate attempt to break free. Oh, this wasn't good. Not at all. She had no idea where these villains had taken her, but they'd done their homework. The entire chamber was reinforced by so much artificial material that she felt no connection to the earth. No way to use her powers. Nope. Could only lie here, yanking in futility on the chains that shackled her to the metallic slab.

“Hey!” she called, staring up at the window that overlooked the chamber. “You'd better let me out! I'm best friends with Power Girl, you know! Once she finds out you've taken me, she'll fly in here and make you pay!”

Maybe that would have some effect. A little intimidation, perhaps? Granted, she'd never been any good at that. The times she'd gotten serious and vicious were few and far between, and usually when under mind control or something. Still, they had to be scared of Peej, right? After all, it was Power Girl! One of the strongest heroines in the world, and definitely not someone you wanted to piss off.

A liquidy shlop echoed somewhere in the chamber. Atlee blinked, lifting her head to peer around the room. What on earth was that? Some kind of viscous black slime had dropped in from the ceiling, little more than a blob on the floor. What could that possibly...?

And then it moved—crawling across the floor with stretching pseudopods towards her, each motion accompanied by what sounded like snapping rubber.

“Um, no, no, that's not—you stay over there!”

The slime didn't listen, of course. Why would it? Did it even have ears? Probably couldn't hear her. Instead, it pulled itself onto the metal slab Atlee lay upon. It tested her legs, the inky pseudopods reaching out to touch her bare skin. The touch was cold, and somewhat wet, causing her to flinch with a sharp gasp.

“Hey, no, stop that!” Terra squirmed in her restraints, attempting desperately to kick away the quivering pile of slop. “You shouldn't touch me like that!”

Her efforts only served to offer up her feet to the blob, onto which it eagerly latched. A cool, wet sensation enveloped her lower legs, seeping underneath her boots with the most uncomfortable squelching—like wearing wet socks, only a hundred times worse.

That would have been bad enough, but the goop crawled farther! Up her legs, towards her hips, until oh so purposefully slipping underneath her white and black leotard. That cold, wet sensation seeped against her bare skin beneath, bringing a shrill gasp into her throat. Oh, this was so not okay!

Her gasp cut out with a sudden, instinctive groan. The slime had discovered another area on the young heroine. A rather intimate area. Atlee squealed, legs quaking in response to the sudden stimulation between her legs.

“N-no, stop it, you!” Her hips bucked, and she stifled a moan, eyes scrunching shut in defiance. “Not theeere!”

Atlee had only ever touched herself a few times. Usually when thinking about Peej, home alone at night, wondering what it would be like to actually touch that exquisite body of hers. This human form was so much different than her Stratan form, and that was one peculiar difference she had been most surprised—and delighted—to discover.

But this thing should still definitely not be touching her there!

And then, pressure. A thrust, as something shoved its way inside her hole. Her eyes snapped open again, a startled yelp loosing from her lips. The black slime had penetrated her with some kind of tendril, now furiously pumping as far deep inside as it could go.

“Stop! That's not—you shouldn't be—oh!” Her hips lifted upward against the force of the thrust, an odd jolt of pleasure sizzling through her core.

That did feel... really weird... but also kind of nice? Oh, oh wow!

“Pleaaase... you should really... stop!” she squealed, through breathy moans she couldn't silence no matter how hard she tried. “This... isn't... very... nice!”

Still, her body reacted with fervent desire. Not out of any true willingness to give into this thing, but out of reaction to sheer, unbridled pleasure rushing through her loins. Is this what it felt like, then, to be fucked, as it was called? The way she'd seen in some of those strange videos on Peej's computer? Not at all like what she'd expected.

The slime spread farther beneath her costume, across her entire bod, like some kind of second skin. Down her legs, up her torso, over her breasts, along her arms, even working up towards her throat. Atlee shuddered, the cold sensation tightening just beneath her jaw. Like it was clenching tight holding her. Possessing her.

The slime enveloped her like a cold sheet of ice. Atlee attempted to scream, but her voice cut out when one of its pseudopods plunged down her throat. Oh, oh that was bad. Foul! It did not taste very good at all! She coughed and sputtered, attempting to suck in a breath of air, but there was nothing. She managed one last blink, one last glimpse of the metal ceiling above, before the goop fully engulfed her head, a dark sheet wrapping over her vision.

Still, her body continued to react, hips bucking up and down with each forceful thrust inside her pussy. Muffled squeals emanated out from beneath the blob-like coating, pleasure rapidly building. A deep, intense pressure tightening in her core, just above her loins. She felt a second slimy tendril grope her ass, seeking yet another hole. Didn't take long to find it, pushing between both plump cheeks in an instant. Atlee shrieked, back arching atop the metal table as she crashed over the edge.

A deep, dull grunt kicked into the back of her throat, as something long and squirming penetrated the tight pucker of her ass. The pressure released, and her body went into spasms. So much pleasure washing over her, like fire racing to warm the chill the slime had inflicted upon her. Her muffled voice shrieked in a constant, unending stream, until her throat turned raw. 

It all stopped in an instant. The pleasure faded, and her body went limp against the slab. She heaved, desperate for air, but none came. There was only the foul tasting slime filling her mouth. Smothering her. Enveloping her. Her mind started to go fuzzy, and her body jerked. No more pleasure to be had—whatever entity this was seemed to have had its fill of her in that regard.

That was bad, right? That had to be bad. If it had got what it wanted out of her, what would it do to her now? No longer groping her, or using her— simply engulfing her, and tightening around her form. Clinging tight to her skin. Like it was... fusing with her? And why was everything getting so cold? So... so dark...

Up within her office, Satanna leaned forward with widened eyes, enthralled at the sight. These symbiotes didn't look like much without a host—little more than a pile of black goop—but they still possessed a mind. Thoughts. Desires. And this one desired the young woman lying before it, like a slab of meat on a hook dangling for it to taste.

The slime raced forward, pouring into Terra's boots. It spread further, up her bare legs, coating the heroine's figure in a shimmering black sheen. Satanna stared through the reinforced glass, her own breathing heavy as the symbiote spread along the girl's legs towards the fabric of her costumed leotard. Oh, this thing craved more— so much more—and there wasn't a thing Terra could do to stop it. How exquisite.

So enraptured was she, Satanna didn't notice the nearby monitor that depicted the vulnerable heroine's vitals, as well as the progress of symbiosis.

Subject: Terra
Vitals: Normal
Symbiosis: 25%

Terra thrashed and yelled, pleading for the strange organism to leave her alone. Didn't work, of course, but that was all she could do. Satanna's lips coiled at the heroine's desperate reaction, helpless to resist as the slime began to seep beneath the fabric of her costume. With complete and utter focus, Satanna traced her fingers along the tight leather fabric of her pants, between her legs. Another shiver raced upwards, and she gasped.

“That's right... take her,” she cooed, as she popped the button of her pants. She slipped her fingers beneath the waistband now, rubbing along the thin fabric of her thong beneath. 

These symbiotes could also be quite perverted, it seemed, the way this one had now begun assaulting the young heroine. Beneath the tight fabric of Terra's  leotard, Satanna could plainly see the outline of some kind of tendril pumping deep within the heroine's cunt. And judging from the way she now moaned... she was enjoying it, wasn't she?

Satanna shuddered, stroking her fingers delicately along her own moist slit as she watched the viscous slime crawl farther along Terra's body—up her chest, smothering those luscious breasts of hers, stretching out to caress the entirety of her gorgeous body. At last, she chanced a look towards the monitor. Only a brief peek, though. While she had remembered to pay attention to the imminent results, she was nothing if not a woman of her own perversions, quick to return her attention once again to the titillating scene playing out before her.

Subject: Terra
Vitals: Aroused
Symbiosis: 47%

Vitals were stable so far. Good. That, and as evidenced by simply watching, Terra was greatly enjoying the symbiote's stimulating efforts. And she wasn't the only one. Satanna leaned forward in her chair, her free hand gliding beneath the buttoned blouse she wore to grope at one of her breasts—fingers slipping under the bra to pinch the stiff nub beyond. Down below, Terra shrieked once again, as the tendril beneath her leotard slammed harder between her legs. A delighted moan fluttered from Satanna's lips, and she plunged a finger inside her aching pussy. 

Satanna's hips jerked, as her fingers continued to feed into her own arousal. She watched with a hissing gasp, as a second tendril plunged down the heroine's throat, while a third thrust between her plump cheeks deep into her anus. Both tentacles slammed without relent between the heroine's legs, each thrust echoing with a metallic clang atop the slab.

Subject: Terra
Vitals: Climaxing
Symbiosis: 72%

So close now. Almost there. Soon, the symbiote would corrupt Terra, and revenge on Power Girl would be hers!

“Uh, Boss?”

Satanna's eyes flared, a jolt of surprise surging into her chest at the same moment she reached climax. With a grunting howl, her hips spasmed, and a warm wave of fluids gushed into the front of her pants. She made a weak attempt at stifling herself, but alas she could not prevent the moaning squeals that followed, as she thrashed back and forth in her seat. She didn't notice the readings on the monitor change.

Subject: Terra
Vitals: Critical
Symbiosis: 99%

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!” Satanna smacked a fist into the chaise lounge and glared over her shoulder at the woman who'd spoken. A woman who should not have been here in her office, but had evidently decided to barge in anyway. “ Yes , Lynx?”

The woman who stood in the now open doorway of the office wore a skin tight, armored bodysuit of blue and red that hugged every contour of her athletic figure beneath, as well as a white feline mask that covered the top half of her face, with a pair of long fangs framing either cheek. She was Chinese in descent, her long dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. A straight-edged ninja sword hung from her back, along with a shorter dagger sheathed at her thigh.

Lynx, real name unknown, leader of the Golden Dragons gang, and one of Satanna's hired swords. Well, the second Lynx, anyway, after the first had rather unceremoniously and accidentally died in rather embarrassing fashion while fighting Batgirl. This second Lynx, at least, had proven a far more effective gang leader in the criminal underworld—as though improving upon the woman who had gotten herself accidentally beheaded by one of her own men was a high bar to clear.

“Just, uh, checking in,” Lynx said, her own eyes rather wide behind her cat mask. Her eyes flicked nervously from Satanna to the observation window, back to Satanna, and then up towards the ceiling. “I heard shouts and thought you might be in trouble, and it's my job to protect you, so...”

Heat raced into Satanna's cheeks, as she pulled her hand out of her pants. “Do I look like I need protecting right now?”

“Um... no?” Lynx swallowed, allowing her attention to swivel yet again. This time, she settled on the window, and watched the scene below. Terra had gone still, while the slime encasing her undulated. With a curious squint, she glanced towards the monitor, and then back to the window. “Is that supposed to happen?”

Satanna's eye twitched, as she looked out the window again. Indeed, Terra had gone still. But the symbiosis should have completed by now. So, why was the symbiote pulling away from the host's body, and slinking back to the floor? With a frantic jerk of her head, she looked at the monitor.

Subject: Terra
Vitals:  Expired
Symbiosis: Failed

“Fuck,” Satanna groaned, with a heaving sigh. She should have been far more disappointed than she was, and yet she couldn't be bothered, still high off her recent orgasm.“Well, I suppose my revenge is postponed to another day.”

She pressed a button on the control panel next to the observation window, and waited as an ear splitting sonic screech erupted out of the speakers down in the containment room. The symbiote reacted with visceral agony, barely able to hold its form together as it melted into a quivering pile of goop on the floor. A cleanup crew would be in shortly to place it back into its isolation pod, where it would wait until another subject had been acquired.

“I suppose I'll have to take the consolation prize,” Satanna muttered, glancing towards the motionless heroine on the slab below. “Not the one I wanted, but I'll take it. She might not have been a suitable host, but Terra's death will undoubtedly cause Power Girl no small amount of distress regardless.”

Satanna hit another button. The metal slab below responded, releasing its restraints and tilting to the side. Terra crumpled to the floor. A short moment later, the door to the room whirred open, and the cleanup crew arrived.

Lynx stared through the window, as the men dressed in thick yellow HAZMAT suits began dragging Terra's body out of the room. Two others wrangled the incapacitated symbiote into a vacuum pod, and carried it away. In under a minute, the room was empty, and the sonic screeching silenced. She swallowed a hard knot in her throat, and let out a slow breath.

“Lynx, could you grab the folder on my desk?”

A hero was dead. This was bad. Lynx was no stranger to death, and certainly not to killing, but she knew the consequences. Dead heroes meant hero friends who'd come looking. Furious hero friends, who might overlook their whole 'no kill' policy if it meant getting revenge on the people responsible for the murder. 

“Lynx...” 

And this hadn't been just any hero. Terra had been Power Girl's friend. Her best friend. Power Girl, who could throw down with the likes of Superman and Wonder Woman, and who'd been known to have a bit of an aggressive streak when angered. 

Fuck, maybe taking this job to move up in the underworld hadn't been the best idea.

“Lynx!”

With a sharp blink, Lynx snapped out of her thoughts and looked to Satanna. Her current employer made a gesture towards the desk, and she marched over to grab the folder as instructed. “Right, sorry, Boss.”

Satanna rolled her eyes. “Just open the damn thing and let me know what our next options are.”

Lynx opened the folder and gave a quick scan at the files inside. Their mysterious informant had put together a comprehensive list of possible subjects for their choosing. Thorough, and detailed. “Should we try Nightwing?” 

“Tempting,” Satanna said, pacing behind her desk with a thoughtful hum. “But that would give me a Batman problem. I don't want a Batman problem. I already have a Power Girl problem, and that's enough as it is.”

Lynx grumbled, and flipped to the next file. How on Earth Batman was supposed to be a worse problem than Power Girl was beyond her. “What about Supergirl?”

“Absolutely not!” Satanna scoffed, turning a disbelieving glare. “I may be a mad scientist, but even I'm not that mad!

“Okay, well there's—”

“Don't bother, I'll look myself.” Satanna flopped into the seat at her desk and clicked on her computer, pulling up the digital files with a few clicks of the mouse. Deep violet eyes flicked across the screen, reading quickly. Her frown deepened the further down she scrolled. “No... No... Hell no... Wait a minute!”

Lynx closed the folder, and took a step closer to the desk. Satanna leaned close to the screen, a rather devilish grin spreading across her face. Oh, this couldn't be good.

“This is the one!” Satanna proclaimed, with an almost giddy chuckle. “Yes, she will be our next test subject.”

With a furrow of her brow, Lynx leaned across the desk to get a look at the screen. When she read the name, her heart jolted. “Ravager? As in, the daughter of Deathstroke the Terminator? You don't want a Batman problem, but you'll take a Deathstroke one?!”

Satanna waved off the comment. “Please, our notes say she has a healing factor like her dear old dad, so she's far more likely to survive the bonding process. But if she does happen to kick the bucket like poor Terra, I'll send Deathstroke some flowers and a few million as an apology.”

Lynx deadpanned behind her mask. If that had been a joke, it was a fucking bad one. Not that she was going to say as much, but perhaps her new employer had a few more screws loose than she'd thought.

With a curious hum, Satanna scrolled back up to the previous file. “But you're right, we should have a Plan C, in case Ravager doesn't work out. Let's grab Batgirl, as well.”

Lynx couldn't hold it in anymore. She sputtered, words bursting from her lips in absolute disbelief. “Literally the daughter of Lady Shiva, and the adopted daughter of Batman!”

“That's why she's Plan C,” Satanna assured, with a nonchalant shrug. “We'll worry about that bridge when we get there. Now, go find Scarab, and the two of you go nab our new subjects.”

Lynx stared at the woman, a dull knot forming in her throat. Maybe this job wasn't worth the half a million she was being paid after all. “You're actually serious?” 

Satanna's eye twitched, evidently reaching the end of her patience. Slamming a fist down on her desk, she glared at Lynx and pointed out the door. “I swear, if you don't go find Scarab right now, and do the job I am paying you to do, you'll be the next one on that slab!”

That was motivation enough for her. With her heart practically jumping into her throat, Lynx scurried out of the office and pulled out her phone. “Scarab, hey. Gear up, we got a job.”

Gotham was a real dump of a city. Assuming you weren't in one of the nicer parts of town, anyway. This definitely wasn't one of the nicer parts of town. Rundown, decrepit, and crawling with criminal activity, this place had bred so many bat-themed vigilantes there might as well be a whole-ass colony. If it weren't for her budding sentimentality, Rose Wilson wouldn't even be here.

The call had come in late a few nights ago. Oracle, of all people—the superhero information genius that she was—had contacted her. Batgirl had gone missing. Cassandra Cain. Someone Rose had a complicated history with, but who she also... kind of liked, even if she didn't want to admit it out loud. So, when Oracle had mentioned her Birds of Prey were out of town on a different mission, and the rest of the city's vigilantes were neck-deep in other villain activity, thereby unavailable, she should have guessed the following request.

Come to Gotham. Follow the leads. Find Cass. Yeah, so Oracle had guessed right in that Rose would agree. Maybe Cass had mentioned her. Mentioned that they'd been forming something of a, dare she say, friendship lately. Didn't mean Rose had to be thrilled about it. She was more than happy to keep any and all of her emotions buried deep where no one could find them.

But here she was, wandering through the shadows of a rundown, abandoned warehouse, where street-wide surveillance cameras had last seen Batgirl. A clue, some kind of evidence, anything that could help determine where they'd gone—that's what she was hoping to find here. She wouldn't hold her breath, though. After all, she'd never been any good at this detective crap. She preferred the tried and true 'beat them in the face until they stop moving' method.

Rose strode forward down a corridor lined with offices on either side, her heavy bootsteps echoing off the tiled floor. She was, of course, dressed in her full Ravager gear—armored bodysuit beneath sturdy metal plating in a sleek, tactical design. Black and orange color scheme, of course. The helmet she wore featured the same colors, one half black to cover her missing eye, the other half orange. Along with the swords crossed over her back, and the guns holstered at her side, she was a walking tank. Definitely not someone you wanted to meet in a dark alley.

“Come on, Cass,” she muttered, her voice echoing with a metallic tang from beneath her helmet. “Where the hell did you go?”

The sound of something metallic clattering to the ground grabbed her attention. Ravager hurried down the hall, turning a corner into an empty room. Dead end, from the look of it. The door at the opposite side of the room had been sealed with metal plating, barring the way forward. She frowned, and glanced down to see a metal pipe rolling across the floor, no doubt the item that had made the sound. But to what end?

The door slammed shut behind her, as metal plating lowered from the ceiling to seal it shut. Ravager turned around and slammed her shoulder into the barricade—sturdy, unyielding.

“Shit!” she shouted, pounding a fist against the door. Metal creaked inward, leaving a clear dent, but little else. With a scowl, she turned a slow glare towards the rest of the room. Couldn't see anything, but her senses told her she wasn't alone here. “Who's there? I know you're watching me!”

Silence followed for several moments, until the shadows in the room began to swirl. The air shimmered, giving way to a figure that had been completely invisible to the naked eye, hidden by advanced cloaking technology. The figure was feminine, covered from head to toe in a thick armored suit of blue and yellow, with what looked like sonic emitters strapped to the forearms. The helmet featured round, bulbous lenses tinted yellow, giving the appearance of some sort of beetle.

“Not bad,” said a feminine voice, filtered through an electronic modulator so as to be audible from beneath the helmet. The voice carried a low, husky tone. “Not often I meet such an accomplished professional as yourself, Ravager. Your reputation precedes you.”

Ravager narrowed a glare behind her own helmet. “Who the hell are you supposed to be? And what is this? Were you expecting me?”

“You can call me Scarab,” said the woman. “And yeah, we've been tracking you for a while now. Made sure to lure you here by making Batgirl disappear first. See, you're worth a cool half million.”

“What, so there's a bounty on my head or something?” Ravager tensed, fingers twitching in preparation to reach for her swords. “And what the hell did you do with Batgirl?”

“A bounty? No. Our boss wants you specifically. For... reasons. As for Batgirl...” A mocking chuckle echoed out the voice modulator, as Scarab clicked a button on one of her gauntlets. The wall behind her whirled around, revealing another figure restrained by chains. “See for yourself.”

Ravager grit her teeth, staring at the unmoving woman strapped to the wall. Short, thin, but packed with lean, wiry muscle, her black combat suit tattered and torn, cape shredded. The yellow outline of a bat symbol on her chest had been cut away, like some kind of mockery, and her mask had been removed. The woman's rounded face hung limp, eyes closed, framed by an unkempt bob of dark hair. Unconscious.

“Cass...” she muttered, turning a slow glare back to Scarab. “If you think you're walking out of this room in one piece, you're in for a rude awakening.”

“You think I'd go through all this trouble, and reveal Batgirl to you like this in the same room, without a plan? Not a chance. See that collar around her neck?” Scarab scoffed, gesturing to a metal band wrapped tight around Cass' throat. “That'll fry her the moment I activate it. So, you can fight me, maybe win, and kiss your little girlfriend goodbye. Or, you drop all your weapons, surrender, and both you and Batgirl here take a trip to see my boss. Our file says you two have a bit of a history, so... I'm willing to put money on which option you'll take.”

Instinct drove Ravager's fingers to twitch again, almost reaching over her shoulders to draw her swords. But she paused. Stupid. It was stupid—feelings, emotions, letting a hostage affect her decision making. Especially Cassandra Cain of all people. But for the life of her, Rose couldn't bring herself to make a move.

“You're a real piece of work, you know that?” Ravager lowered her hands, curling them into fists. “Used to be standards in the merc biz. The real professionals don't need to go after others just to get to their target. But I guess that's why I've never heard of you.”

Scarab shrugged. “What's the saying? 'Work smarter, not harder.' Just being efficient, Babe.”

Ravager grumbled. She had a couple of options. One, she could charge the woman, try to take her out before she had a chance to do any real harm to Cass. No telling what that advanced tech of hers did, though; it was hardly standard issue body armor, and Rose probably wouldn’t be able to incapacitate her before she could activate the collar. That would be a risk. Two, she could give herself up. This woman's client, or boss, or whoever clearly wanted both her and Batgirl alive for some reason. They'd be captive, but at least they'd have a chance to later escape.

Again, her fingers twitched, one hand raising above her hips. A mental image flashed in her head, giving her a glimpse of what would happen if she went with the first option—a woman wearing a cat mask descending from the rafters above, blade in hand. So, they weren't alone—thank her precognition. No doubt, she could carve up the bitch waiting to blindside her, but that would give Scarab a chance to do god knows what to Cass in the meantime.

It shouldn't matter. She shouldn't care. She should think about herself, and only herself, the same way she always had.

And yet...

“Fine.” Rose unclasped the gun holsters at her hips, letting them drop to the floor. She drew her swords next, and tossed them at the woman's feet with a metallic clatter. Now fully disarmed, she held up her hands in surrender. “Take me to your boss, or whatever. Just hope that half a million is worth it.”

“A good choice,” Scarab said, with a pleased chuckle. “Trust me, Cutie, if I didn't have so much money riding on bagging your sweet ass, I'd love to tangle with you. But this is a job, and I make sure I complete my jobs.”

Holding one of her gauntlets forward, Scarab's wrist-mounted launcher fired a pair of bolas that wrapped around Ravager's raised arms. The cords coiled tight around her wrists, binding them together.

“Either way, I get to list this on my résumé,” Scarab added. “Taking down both Batgirl and Deathstroke's daughter on a single job? That'll help my rep.”

Ravager scoffed. “Except you didn't do it alone, did you? You can tell your friend to come out now.”

Scarab paused, head pulling back in surprise. After a lingering moment, she puffed out a pleasant laugh. “Oh, you are good. Lynx, you can come down now.”

A figure dropped out of the rafters. Exactly the same as Ravager had seen in her vision—cat mask, form fitting armored suit, ninja sword. No one she recognized, though. Same as this Scarab lady. Just a couple of dime a dozen costumed villains, no doubt. Ugh, a couple of D-list no-names taking her in? How embarrassing. Maybe she should just attack them both and be done with it. There was always the possibility Cass might come out alive...

“Gotta say, I'm disappointed,” Lynx chided, pacing in circles around their captive. Drawing her sword, she gave a little mocking tap to Rose's ass with the flat of the blade. “The infamous Ravager right in front of us, and she just... gave up.”

“Maybe I'm just getting sentimental,” Ravager said, glancing at the cat-themed woman. “And just an FYI, if you'd have dropped down to attack me, you'd have been dead before your body hit the floor. And your head would have landed a couple seconds later.”

Lynx snarled, taking an aggressive step forward. “That's rich, coming from the one who threw down her swords like a coward.”

“Quiet,” Scarab said, glancing towards her partner. “She surrendered, let's leave it at that. Try to show her some dignity. She deserves as much.”

“You're only saying that because you want to bang her,” Lynx muttered, rolling her eyes behind her mask. “The whole way here it was all 'oh Ravager is sooo hot.' She's our target, for fuck's sake.”

Scarab's voice filtered through her helmet with a simmering annoyance. “Shut up! Just go secure Batgirl for transport, got it?”

Lynx scoffed, and marched across the room. After removing Cassandra from the wall, she bound both her arms and legs, and detached the utility belt from around her waist. Taking the utility belt—smart. Always the possibility Cass would wake up, slip her bonds, and deliver an unholy beatdown on these two goons. But then, maybe that was wishful thinking. If they were actually smart, they'd have sedated Cassandra, ensuring she wouldn't wake up until they wanted her to.

“You know, Lynx wasn't totally wrong,” Scarab said, pushing a hand on Ravager's back to lead her towards the exit. With a press of a button, the metal slab over the door lifted back into the ceiling, clearing the way. “When this job is done, I plan on taking a nice vacation to somewhere tropical, and the only thing I'll regret is that none of the women there will be as good looking as you.”

Ravager did her best to ignore the come-ons. Not that she blamed the attraction—Rose was damn hot, and she knew that. Of course, one could hardly tell through her own uniform and helmet, which meant they'd obviously done their homework and studied her ahead of time. Props for that, and all. Still, not her preference to be ogled while taken into custody. Whatever, let them have their moment—they'd get their karma soon enough, certainly.

“So, are you two supposed to be important?” Ravager kept pace with the other two women, allowing Scarab to lead her down the corridor. She counted about seven different openings she could have exploited to cripple the bitch, but then... there was that sentimentality again. Couldn't take the risk. “Wasn't kidding when I said I've never heard of you before. Which, quite frankly, tells me everything I need to know. And is your boss close by, or is this gonna be a long trip? Because I gotta say, not looking forward to being stuck on an hours-long drive with a couple of low-level thugs.”

After a brief pause, she added, “Oh, and of the two of you, which one would you say is the superior merc? I mean, one of you has to be higher up on the pecking order, right? My bet's on you, Beetle-Girl.”

Maybe a little ribbing would get on their nerves. Judging from their earlier banter, they didn't fully get along, which meant they'd probably been hired to work together, and didn't typically pal around with each other. Chances were, she wouldn't get them to turn on each other, but if nothing else she'd get under their skin enough to annoy the hell out of them.

Lynx let out a hiss of irritation, idly glancing in her direction. Didn't say anything, though. Just kept walking, with Batgirl slung over her shoulder.

Scarab, on the other hand, offered a chuckle. “Whether you've heard of us or not, we're the ones who've captured you. So, you might do well to remember our names from here on. But especially mine—I am the better, after all.”

Lynx snapped a glare. “The hell you are!”

Scarab turned her head, and one of the lenses of her helmet briefly flickered dark—an attempt at a wink, maybe? “Just calling it like I see it. Now, let's get these pretty ladies to the hovercraft and get out of here.”

Ravager smirked. Maybe this wouldn't be such a boring trip after all.

Chapter Text

The hover craft was an advanced piece of machinery, no doubt. Wasn't like most people had access to personal dropships that could hover in place and land on warehouse rooftops, without being a plain old helicopter. But this thing looked military grade, large enough to comfortably transport maybe a dozen individuals in the main hold, with a cockpit up front. Whoever was bankrolling this operation definitely had money. That, or influence. Either way.

Lynx again smacked Ravager's ass with the flat of her sword, urging their captive to enter the open door on the side of the craft. Hardly needed, as Scarab was already guiding her inside, but the bitch undoubtedly had some frustrations to work out, after the constant chiding the entire walk up to the roof.

“Take a seat,” Lynx said, with a low grumble. “And for the love of god, shut the fuck up.”

Easy to set off, this one. Every little jab, digging under her skin like a scalpel. If only Ravager had more of an opportunity to pry at her, she could make something happen. Probably not enough time for that, though.

“Whatever you say, Bobcat,” she said, with a roll of her eye behind her helmet.

Lynx seethed, but restrained herself from reacting to being called the very-obviously-not-a-Lynx feline often mistaken for one.

Once aboard, Ravager took a close look around. Mostly empty, save for a row of seats along each wall with full body straps to keep passengers snugly in place. Plenty reinforced, too—thick steel walls, armored to withstand gunfire and explosives. Certainly wouldn't be easy to break out of once the doors locked, and even if she did decide to overpower both of these bimbos, she doubted she'd be able to figure out how to fly the damn thing. If anything, she'd only succeed in locking herself inside.

Scarab pointed to one of the seats along the wall. “If you please.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, sitting down.

Scarab quickly latched her in place with the harness, and backed off to stand in the center of the craft. Lynx followed inside, and swiftly strapped Cassandra into one of the other seats. With everyone set, she turned to the panel on the wall and pressed a sequence of buttons. An electronic ding followed, and the raised door of the hover craft lowered, sealing shut with an audible hiss of air, and metallic click.

“Finally, we can get out of this dump,” Lynx muttered, as the dropship hummed to life. A loud whirring followed, and the vessel lifted airborne. “I hate Gotham.”

An echoing chuckle emanated from behind Scarab's helmet. “No need to sound so testy. Our pretty little captive hasn't gotten under your skin already, has she?”

“Oh shut up.” Lynx grumbled, and glanced back at her partner. “The both of you. Can we just have a nice, quiet ride back to base?”

Ravager tilted her head, a contemplative hum easing out her throat. “So, who is this boss of yours, anyway? And how far away are they?”

“Sorry, Rosie dear,” Scarab chided, with a slow glance toward her. Could practically sense the grin spreading beneath that helmet. “Not getting anything out of my lips. Not information, anyway.”

Ravager stared curiously at the armored woman. A tougher nut to crack, this one. Verbal barbs didn't work, but she was flirtatious as hell. Perhaps Rose could play into that. “Well, maybe sometime I can get something else out of those lips of yours.”

Scarab straightened, as though not expecting the reciprocal flirtation, but managed to puff out a pleasant laugh. “Oh, I'd love to get something out of yours, too.”

“Oh for fuck's sake,” Lynx groaned, with a roll of her eyes. “Could you please stop flirting with our captive?”

“Can you blame me?” Scarab said, offering a shrug. “Can't help it if I'm weak for a woman who could kill a man with her bare hands.”

“Oh please, you're weak for anything with tits.”

Ravager scoffed, staring at the feline-coded villain. “What's the problem, Bobcat? Jealous? Sorry I'm stealing all the attention.”

That did it. With a sudden hiss of frustration, Lynx turned on a dime and swung a vicious roundhouse kick to the side of Rose's head. The impact lurched her skull to the side with a flash of color, but didn't hurt much; her helmet was plenty armored, absorbing the force with little damage. Oh, this was good. She'd really riled up Lynx now.

“That's it,” Scarab muttered, raising her arm. With a squeeze of her fingers, the launcher at her wrist fired a projectile with a shrill hiss of air. “I'm putting you in timeout.”

A small dart embedded into the meat of Lynx's left ass cheek. With a sharp yelp, she glanced down at herself, ripped out the dart, and shot a glare at Scarab. “Oh, you bi...”

Before she even finished her words, Lynx collapsed to the floor of the hover craft, fully sedated and unconscious. Her lungs raised and lowered with steady, even breaths, accompanied by the occasional errant snore.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Ravager said, resting her head back against the wall. “Her voice was really starting to grate on my nerves.”

“You and me both, Cutie.” Scarab folded her arms, head tilting to the side with a stern stare. “But don't get the wrong idea, just because one of us is taking a nap. We're locked in an aircraft traveling at high speeds thousands of feet above the ground. I know you're good, but I doubt you can hack the tech in this vessel, and the door to the cockpit could withstand a bomb. Even if you managed to take me out, you'd still be trapped until we get back to our base.”

True enough. That wasn't anything Rose could refute, and going through all the effort just to end up at the same destination regardless hardly seemed worth it. Even if it would provide her with some satisfaction, to take out her stress.

With a musing hum, she said, “Don't suppose I can just seduce you, instead?”

“Please, we both know that would end in heartbreak,” Scarab said, making her way towards one of the walls to open a mounted container. “Even if it probably would feel great.”

The woman retrieved a small red and white cardboard box from within—a pack of cigarettes, from the look of it. Flipping open the top, she pulled one of the sticks halfway out and made her way over to Ravager, extending her hand forward as though an offering.

“Here,” Scarab insisted, shaking the box. “Our intel says you smoke, and a professional like you deserves a little something. Personally, if it were my last request, I'd rather have a moment alone with a beautiful woman, and pray the end came quick.”

Now that was news. Rose raised an eyebrow behind her mask, eye narrowed. “Last request, huh? So your boss wants you to collect me, but doesn't plan to keep me around?”

Scarab shrugged. “Call it a hunch.”

Strange. Why on Earth would this mystery boss go through all the trouble of capturing both her and Batgirl, just to kill them anyway? Raising her bound hands, Rose clicked a button on the side of her helmet, allowing the front plate to slide upwards and reveal her face—young, but stern, of Cambodian descent with light brown skin, and one singular eye of deep blue; a black leather patch crossed over where her other eye used to be.

“Your intel's outdated,” she said, with a shrug of her own. “Gave up smoking years ago—bad for the lungs, and all. Even if it probably wouldn't do anything to me with my enhancements.”

“Suit yourself.” Pulling back her hand, Scarab returned the box to the wall-mounted case. A musing hum left her lips, as she closed it. “You know, not many in this line of work live to a ripe old age and retires. I'll probably die young. Who knows how many days until I'm in the same position as you are now? That's just how business is. Survival of the fittest, and all. Which is why when this job is done, I'm gonna party. Live a little, before my time comes.”

Rose narrowed her eye in close study of the other woman. Not that she could make anything out beyond that full body armored suit, but the tone... Was Scarab getting all sentimental now? Go figure.

“You got that right. Sooner or later, someone better always comes along. Hell, look at me, captured by a couple of no-name nobodies, on my way to my own apparent end.” Ravager pursed her lips, letting her thoughts linger. How much did she want to play this through? Was it just to get a rise out of this other woman, or did she really want to see what happened? Only one way to be sure. “You know, you were right before: if I had to make a last request, it sure wouldn't be a lousy cigarette. I'd much rather one last fuck with a woman who has her shit together. Someone professional, and in charge. Now that's what really gets me going. Don't suppose you know anyone like that?”

Scarab went quiet, giving a slow turn of her head to stare in Ravager's direction. No doubt thinking, considering, playing out the scenarios in her mind. Was that a serious suggestion, or just something to throw her off guard? Even if it were serious, did she want to even remotely entertain the idea? If she did entertain it, how much risk would she be in? Would Rose just kill her, and try to escape? All that and more, revealed by her silence.

“That's one hell of a last request,” Scarab said at last, a fluttering waver in her electronically garbled voice. “But not... a bad one.”

Rose couldn't keep herself from smirking. So, that had been the right play after all. If nothing else, she'd managed to rattle this one, if not get her to give in. Question was, what would be the right play next? Would be easy to get a hold of Scarab and kill her in any of a dozen different ways, but where would that leave Rose? Stuck in a hovercraft flying on its way to whoever had hired these two goons to capture her and Batgirl.

Could just go with the flow, in that case. A lot of what this woman said was true—not many in their line of work ended their careers at a ripe old age to die peacefully in their sleep. Not as a merc, and certainly not as a vigilante. Maybe this was just Rose's time? Offering herself up to the potential slaughter all because she got a little too attached to a certain Bat-themed heroine. Would sure suck, but hey, might as well go out with a bang, so to speak.

A metallic clang echoed in the hold, as Scarab undid one of the armored shoulder pads of her uniform and let it drop to the floor. The second followed soon after, and then the chest plate. Arm guards, leg guards, elbow pads, steel plated boots—one by one, they all scattered to the floor, leaving Scarab stripped down to the black, skin-tight bodysuit she wore underneath that highlighted every sensual curve of her toned figure. That, and the beetle-shaped helmet over her head.

Silence lingered, as Scarab strode forward. Raising one of her legs, she pushed Rose's open, and stood between them. Leaning in close, she spoke, “I don't normally do this while on a job. But with you... I think I'm willing to risk an exception.”

Ravager grinned. “Lucky me.”

“You know, this isn't necessarily your last request,” Scarab stated, as she gradually pressed her knee into her captive's groin. “There's always the chance you and your girlfriend over there will escape, once we're back at base. You're Batgirl and Ravager, after all. It's what you do—survive.”

Reaching forward, she gripped the bottom of Ravager's helmet and tugged upward to remove it. Long white hair spilled out around Rose's shoulders, now free from within the stifling headgear. Scarab gave the helmet a meager glance, before tossing it behind her to the floor. No doubt now where this was headed.

Rose let her gaze wander over the woman's figure, exquisitely defined by a skin-tight bodysuit. “Well, Batgirl isn't my girlfriend, lucky you. And as great as she is... she's not the one in charge right now, is she? I'd much rather fuck the girl running the show. Because hey, maybe we will escape. Maybe we'll kill you and Bobcat over there on the way out. Maybe you'll never get another chance at this. Might as well rock your world before that happens, wouldn't you say?”

“Well, shit,” Scarab muttered, with a heady breath. “When you put it like that...”

With no further hesitation, Scarab mounted Ravager's lap, legs draped over either side of her hips. With hands pressed to shoulders to brace herself, she then began to grind forward, slow but firm. Testing the waters, so to speak, in preparation for what would follow. Rose made sure to offer a little in return, humping her own hips forward in response, along with a low, husky groan. Leaning forward, she pressed her face against the woman's chest and sucked in a deep breath, glancing up at the yellow-lensed helmet she wore.

“You know, you're gonna need to strip me to fuck me,” Rose said, with a subtle grin. “Not gonna be very exciting if I'm still in full armor. And while I can understand wanting to keep on the helmet for anonymity's sake... you're not gonna be able to taste me like that.”

Scarab paused, reaching up to the collar around her masked face. Her fingers ran across the edges of the helmet before finding the tabs to press inward. Air released from inside the helmet with a shrill hiss, as she finally removed the insect-shaped headgear and let it fall to the floor. She had sharp, stern features, with medium brown skin and a straight bob of black hair that fell down to her lower jaw. Piercing, hazel eyes stared forward, discerning and critical.

“That better?” Scarab said, with the slightest of smirks.

“Oh, you are cute,” Rose said, instinctively biting her bottom lip in satisfaction. Maybe giving herself over to this woman for the next twenty or so minutes had been the right call after all. “That's good... I like cute.”

Leaning forward, Rose gripped the zipper on the front of the woman's bodysuit with her teeth, and pulled it all the way down past her breasts. The suit parted, allowing a decent view of the fit, toned body beneath. Shapely breasts, decent abs, skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Pretty damn hot, admittedly.

“Now, do you have an actual name?” Rose added, with a curious raise of her brow. “Because I'm gonna be honest... I really don't want to be shouting 'Scarab' when I'm cumming.”

The briefest moments of hesitation, before the other woman lunged forward and planted a needy, hungry kiss, their lips mashing together with a feral invasion of her tongue into Rose's mouth. After several moments of tasting, she pulled back with a breathless gasp, chest heaving.

“Maat,” she uttered, licking the flavor from her lips. “Maat Shadid.”

Rose took in another eyeful of the woman's body, up and down—yeah, definitely the right call. If nothing else, they would have a hell of a good time on this flight. That just might make up for being taken captive in such a degrading fashion. She licked her lips in preparation, parting them ever so slightly as the woman leaned in once more. A carnal hunger fueled her, sucking on the other woman's tongue with fervor.

How long had it been, since Rose had been with anyone? Too long. She was no stranger to the odd one night stand, but those were few and far between. And as for actual relationships? Well, she'd never been able to hold together anything even resembling one. Must have been six months or so now since the last time she'd been in bed with another woman. Something like that.

Perhaps she'd been hoping to build up towards Cassandra, but then she never would have admitted it, even to herself. That might have taken years to accomplish, if only because she was too damn stubborn to actually make a move.

But right now? Right now, it was just her and her captor. Maat, as she had called herself. Maat Shadid. Definitely a real name—her actual name, one that she definitely wouldn't be giving out to her clients, or anyone she wasn't close to. And yet, she'd gone and given it to Rose... Now that was telling.

Maat's hands moved in, exploring Rose's body with eager desire. Fingers began fiddling with straps to remove the armored plating of the Ravager uniform. Now, they were getting somewhere. Rose hissed out a sharp breath, as Maat nibbled at her earlobe. Keeping up the stimulation even while stripping her out of her armor, good. This girl definitely knew what she was doing.

Shoulder pads fell free, joining the Scarab armor on the floor. The seat strap unbuckled next, allowing Maat to remove the chest plate. The pile grew, soon followed by her leg guards and boots, which left her in little more than her own Kevlar bodysuit, which hugged her figure in the same manner as Maat's own, and her arm guards. To get any further, though, Maat would have to be a little giving.

“Gonna be difficult to get the rest off while I'm all tied up like this.” Rose lifted her bound wrists. “You might be able to get the gloves off, but the suit? I'm gonna need my hands. Or, since I can understand the restraint in removing your captive's bonds, I'll tell you what. There's a knife in the back of my right boot I didn't hand over when you disarmed me. Take it, cut the rest of my clothes from my body, and keep me bound.”

Rose waited patiently, grinning up at the other woman with expectant intrigue. Maat would do one of two things—either cut the bodysuit away from Rose's figure as suggested, or simply cut the bola cables and take off the suit the old fashioned way. Either option was fine with Rose, but she was curious how much Maat was willing to let her guard drop. Already, the flicker of contemplation sparked in the other woman's eyes. No decision yet, though. Maybe she needed a little more convincing.

“But if you need a reason to trust I won't do anything funny, well...” Draping her bound arms over Maat's shoulders, Rose pulled inward, tightening her elbows and forearms against the side of the other woman's head. She gave a firm jerk, but not enough to cause any severe pain or discomfort—just enough to indicate that she could. Leaning forward, she pressed their lips together, allowing them to brush against each other as she spoke. “It would be so simple right now to snap your neck. I could have done it a dozen times already and not even blinked. But I haven't... because I find you interesting. And I want to have some fun. With you. Maat.”

A fluttering breath rushed out of Maat's lungs, as though the mere notion of all the ways Rose could potentially kill her made her heart race. “I know... I've lost count of how many. I don't care.”

A lingering moment of silence followed, as Maat glanced down at the floor, locating Rose's discarded boot. She gave another glance at Rose, then again to the boot. Wriggling out of Rose's grasp, she scurried over to the boot, removed the sheathed knife on the back of it, and returned to her newfound partner.

“Fuck it,” Maat said, cutting the cords of the bolas in a single motion. “I'm doing this for the same reason: I find you fascinating. So, let's have some fun. Rose.”

Rose couldn't help but smirk. Unafraid in the face of giving herself to the mercy of her supposed captive, or perhaps even aroused by the simple fact that Rose could squeeze the life out of her on a whim, all when she had been the one in control moments ago? Either way, it was thrilling. For all the bullshit that had brought her here, Rose was actually starting to like this girl.

“I do love a girl who cares more about getting off than she does her own self preservation,” Rose said, with a low chuckle. “Tells me you got your priorities right.”

With her hands free, Rose wasted no time. She reached down and took a firm hold on Maat's ass, squeezing both cheeks through the bodysuit to pull her closer. Firm, toned—this girl was in shape. That was good. She kissed the other woman with eager hunger, their tongues entwining to invade each other's mouth. Suckling, tasting her saliva, absolutely feasting—delicious. She retracted her hands soon after, gave them to Maat, and allowed her to pull off the gloves. Skin against skin now, their fingers interlacing momentarily.

Had to move on, though. Still more clothing to get rid of. The click of her belt echoed moments later, which meant there was nothing else holding together her own bodysuit. Would be easy to peel it off from there, and Rose only assisted by shimmying the top half up over her head so Maat could remove it. Nothing else on underneath—just bare, naked flesh.

Rose had always been in exquisite shape. Athletic, muscular, toned, with a set of abs you could grate cheese on, and fairly bulky arms—built like an MMA fighter, primarily for power but still with a noticeably feminine curve to her figure. Her own skin tone was similar to Maat's, light brown in color thanks to her Cambodian heritage, and with her breasts out in the open now those perky dark nipples of hers were on clear display, already starting to stiffen.

Not to be outdone, Rose reached up and grabbed the top of Maat's open bodysuit. With a firm tug, she yanked the fabric down around the girl's hips, now leaving them both naked from the waist upward. Lunging forward, she wrapped her lips around one of the other girl's nipples and eagerly suckled the stiff bud, tongue rolling around it in an even pattern. All the while, she continued pulling at the bodysuit, trying to peel it past Maat's rear end.

Popping her lips off the perky bud, Rose glanced up at the girl sitting in her lap and grinned. “We don't have a lot of time. How about we stop this messy struggle and just get naked already? I want to taste your other lips.”

“Maybe half an hour at most,” Maat affirmed, with a gasping sigh. “So yeah, not much time. Wish we had more.”

Without any further pause, Maat stood up and stripped off the remainder of her bodysuit. The tight fabric peeled away down her toned thighs, over her calves, and off her feet. When the garment was at last free, she tossed it to the floor in a heap. Rose drank in the view, her gaze traveling from Maat's shapely tits down her abdomen, and settling on her plump, wet pussy.

More time would have been great. They could take it slow, drag out the pleasure, enjoy themselves for ages on end. Alas, they had to make it quick. Just as well—Rose could get a woman off fast enough if she had to, and she damn sure would do that now. This Maat deserved it, for such a job well done in capturing her.

Maat lunged, diving in at Rose's chest to suckle at her perky nipples. An instinctive groan fluttered from Rose's lips, as she reached up to entangle her fingers in Maat's dark brown locks. Lower now, licking down her chiseled abdomen, and lower still. Rose raised her hips off the seat, allowing Maat to yank down her bottoms with a single motion. Although the rest of her bodysuit was quite tight, especially against her muscular thighs, they came off with little difficulty. Rose kicked at the fabric when it reached her ankles, allowing the other girl to pull it free and discard it.

Before Maat could straighten herself, Rose lifted one of her legs and planted her foot against the center of the woman's chest. With a firm shove, she sent Maat tumbling to the floor of the hovercraft. Now, it was Rose's turn to lunge, as she dove out of her seat onto her knees. Her face now hovered just inches above Maat's wet, leaking folds. She took a deep breath, feasting her senses upon the sweet scent of sex that tickled her nose. Her own loins tingled in response, with a gradual drip of arousal easing between her legs.

Shifting position, Rose crawled over the top of the other woman and turned around, so she could straddle her hips around Maat's shoulders, her own drooling cunt now hovering above her partner's face. A gentle gasp lifted into her throat, as firm fingers squeezed both of her toned ass cheeks; good, this girl was hungry, and so was she. Hooking her arms underneath Maat's thighs, she dove forward and gave a long, firm lick across the entire length of the wet slit, from top to bottom.

Sweet, honeyed nectar pooled onto Rose's tongue. She licked again, and a third time, before trailing up to wrap her lips around the sensitive nub at the top, sucking at it beneath its hood. With the tip of her tongue gliding in circles around the bud, she hummed outward with steady, gentle vibrations. Moaning filled the interior of the hovercraft.

The feedback fueled Rose, as she reached further around Maat's thigh with one of her hands so she could prod a finger inside the leaking entrance. Two fingers, in fact, followed swiftly by a third, curling upward to rub against the top of her inner walls. Meanwhile, she lowered on her knees, practically sitting on Maat's face now so the other girl could have her own feast. Steady, tingling jolts of bliss quivered through her loins, lifting husky, low moans into her own throat, and thereby adding to the vibrating hum she delivered to Maat's clit.

The whole time, Rose made sure to squeeze her knees together around Maat's head. Not too tight—didn't want to actually hurt her—but just enough to remind that, at any time, Rose could pop the girl's skull like a melon if she truly wanted to. Even a normally muscular person could crush someone's skull if their thighs were strong enough, but a super soldier? Would be like taking a nutcracker to an almond.

Maat squealed, her hips bucking with a fierce jolt. Something that sounded like “oh fuck” emanated from her lips, but any words were muffled beneath the suffocating pressure of Rose's pussy against her mouth. Rose sucked harder, now grinding her slit back across the other woman's face with eager need, each thrust of her hips accompanied by a warm tingle that rippled through her core.

And then Maat's finger rammed between her cheeks, shoving straight through the tight pucker of her ass with a firm push, down to the second knuckle. Rose screeched, lifting her face long enough to let out an echoing cry of surprise. Not that it felt bad by any means—on the contrary, as Maat worked into a steady pumping of her finger, Rose pushed back against the pressure in her ass for additional stimulation. Grinning in mad delight, she dove back in and latched onto Maat's clit, while pumping her own fingers deeper.

Didn't take much longer. Maat added a second finger inside Rose's ass and shoved all the way down to the back knuckles. Rose squealed, her lower body writhing in spasms as the pressure in her core released in a tidal wave, spraying a river of honeyed juices over the other woman's face. Maat came moments later, releasing a gushing spray of fluids between her legs. Rose attempted to gulp down as much of the sweet girlcum as she could, although her position made that more difficult than she would have liked. Still, she slurped up a good few mouthfuls, dribbles of fluid now streaking down her chin.

“Fucking fuck,” Rose gasped, lifting her hips from the other woman's face. “You really know how to eat pussy.”

Maat sputtered, sucking in a deep gulp of air. “Not... too bad... yourself. Holy shit.”

Rose patted Maat's wet cunt with the palm of her hand. “How much time we got? Enough for a little more?”

Maat chuckled, grinning. “Oh, we got plenty.”

Cassandra Cain awoke to the sounds of grunting and moaning. The sedative should have lasted a while longer, but she'd always been resistant to such drugs. Her father, David Cain, had ensured she build up a tolerance to sedatives during the course of her training, among other things. So, it it was only natural that her eyes fluttered open well ahead of when she was due.

Blurred images filtered into focus, as she lifted her head. She was strapped into a seat aboard some kind of vessel—felt like they were flying, maybe? Probably on her way to wherever that armored woman had mentioned earlier, when capturing her. To her boss. Kidnapped, but for what purpose? Why had they taken her? And Rose, too, their next target the woman had mentioned. What could they—

Her thoughts cut out in a sudden flash, when her vision cleared, and she saw the scene playing out before her at the center of the craft. Her eyes widened, and heat rushed into her cheeks. There was Rose, lying atop another woman—the same woman that had captured her, judging from the scattered armor—both of them with their faces buried between each other's legs, and writhing in obvious climax.

What was going on?! Rose was here—and being intimate with their captor? The heat in her face burned hotter, followed by a rather noticeable tingle between her legs. Cass let out a heavy gasp, but where she should be shouting out in shock, or at least letting them know she was awake to see them, she instead said nothing.

Said nothing, and watched.