The Museum of Super Menaces

"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to officially welcome you to our newest exhibit. The Museum of Super Menaces is pleased to present

Meet the Menace

. No longer is your museum experience limited to the viewing of historical gear and gadgets. Don't just read about the Elemental War: see the scars and burns for yourself! Stand next to superhumans that brought nations to their knees! Are you taller than Wonder Woman? Shorter than Wolverine? History is yours to discover!"

The museum guide threw open the doors and an excited crowd rushed past. As he watched them pour into the exhibit hall he added, "Please remember that due to the nature of this exhibit no minors are permitted past this point."

A young woman dragged her partner over to a display where a neon-green glow emanated. "Look!" she exclaimed, pointing to the familiar shield and colours.

Within the glass case a short girl stood motionless, eyes closed as if sleeping. Beside her, a mannequin was garbed in a costume of vibrant red and blue with a large S embroidered on the front. The mannequin was posed in a typical power stance: feet apart, hands on hips. The girl herself stood ramrod-straight, her flowing blonde hair draped loosely over her shoulders. She possessed a beauty and elegance perfectly preserved by the display, and an air of power only slightly undermined by the wide metal bands encircling her nude form. The green glow originated from a chunk of rock sitting on a pedestal beside her.

"Supergirl!" grinned the woman, her partner looking decidedly more interested now that he saw what was in the display.

"You're looking at the reason all of us are here," explained the tour guide, walking up beside them. "Kara Zor-El, or

Supergirl

as the public took to calling her, was the very first Super Menace donated to the museum. You see, after Lex Luthor published his research on Kryptonian weaknesses, for the first time law enforcement agencies around the world were able to apprehend beings previously revered as gods. With Superman behind bars the brave people of Metropolis breathed a slight of relief - no longer would they have to endure spontaneous demolitions caused by super-brawls in the streets, or pay exorbitant taxes for constant repairs. His sprightly cousin - the girl you see before you - was detained soon afterwards. Since the government already had one Kryptonian for scientific research, she was donated to this establishment for the purposes of historical preservation."

"Wow," breathed the woman. She opened her mouth as if to make a further observation, then closed it again, shaking her head. "She looks so... lifelike."

The guide smiled and continued his narrative. "Now, you must understand, in those days the so-called superheroes and supervillains had free reign across our fragile planet. Their powers were astounding and, in many cases, unstoppable. Supergirl here was such an individual - one of the more well-intentioned ones, perhaps, but nonetheless fighting fire with fire tends to burn everyone in the middle."

This was not merely an expression, either. In several places Supergirl's skin had the slight shine of an old burn injury - which was impressive given how the Girl of Steel's impervious skin was well-renowned.

The guide continued. "Yet it was a mere rock that proved to be her undoing." He gestured to the glowing green rock beside her. "So the thinking was: if one as powerful as Supergirl had such a debilitating weakness, perhaps other Super Menaces had similar weaknesses. Which, for the most part, proved to be a sound observation. Over time, those weaknesses were found, exploited, and eventually Earth was won back from the Super Menaces. Furthermore, it was studying the effects of Kryptonite on Kryptonian cells that led to the development of memory gas, which we use to keep our exhibits docile and ageless. So you see: Supergirl, and that rock there, were heralds of the freedom we enjoy today and of this fine exhibit the museum has assembled in memory of harsher times."

The woman listened respectfully until the mention of memory gas, at which point her jaw dropped slightly.

"You mean... She's alive? All of these people are alive?" She touched her fingertips to the glass in awe, noticing for the first time a slight shimmer in the air within.

"But of course! My dear, even had the death penalty not been outlawed years ago, it would be inhumane to assemble this exhibit any other way. A taxidermic display might require less maintenance, but the paperwork alone..." he shook his head, more out of duty than any real conviction.

The couple eyed the sleeping blonde behind the glass with a renewed interest, examining her closely for any activity that suggested awareness.

"Memory gas, you say?" said the woman's partner, speaking for the first time.

"Yes. Mostly harmless in average quantities, but high concentrations produce a soporific effect, slowing the body's processes to a infinitesimally slow crawl, effectively putting one into stasis - preserved as though with perfect memory. I'm told it smells slightly of peaches," the guide added thoughtfully.

"So she doesn't feel anything then?" the man asked.

"I wouldn't think so sir, but a guess is the best I can give you. I understand the gas wouldn't affect her at all were it not for that rock there. And with her abilities... I suppose it's possible she can hear every word we say, but I wouldn't dwell on it. This is all speculation; her days of being a Super Menace are long past."

The man certainly seemed to be dwelling on it, so intense was his stare at the former superhero. The museum guide decided to leave them and move to another display.

A large crowd was gathering around one display. "This one's awake!" cried a lady just joining the group, straining to see into the glass box.

The guide approached and ordered the visitors back from the glass. He walked around in front of them, examining the display. A petite purple-haired beauty squirmed within, her buxom curves bulging around the ropes that bound her. Her eyes were blindfolded, her ears plugged, and she seemed entirely unaware of the crowd of gawkers outside her glass box.

"An astute observation, madam," he smiled at the woman who'd spoken. "This little minx was known as Raven, and her powers included telepathy, teleportation, and illusion. It's said she could subdue any military detachment by the power of her mind alone." A collective

ooooohhh

echoed around the group.

"What stops her from simply wishing herself out of there now?" asked another woman.

"Ah, I'm glad you asked, madam. You see, Raven's powers require an extreme level of concentration to perform even the slightest of spectacles. Imagine building a tower of cards, or balancing a house of eggs, and you have but an inkling of the mental focus she needs. So we at the Museum of Super Menaces developed a machine that, well, deprives her of the opportunity to muster such focus." He gestured to the saddle on which she perched, bow-legged. "The machine induces a constant state of sexual arousal, keeping her at the height of arousal while denying its climactic release. This proves an ample distraction to occupy her senses and prevents her from marshalling her brainpower into any meaningful ability."

A masculine chuckle echoed quietly around the group while some women frowned and elbowed their partners in the ribs.

Like Kara, Raven was flanked by a mannequin sporting her full costume and accoutrements. The outfit took the form of a rich purple gown which was cut off below the hips like a leotard, left the shoulders bare, and shrouded the mannequin's eyes in shadow with a wide hood. Gold jewellery dangled from its ears and a matching gold belt girded its ivory waist. The arms were clad in sleek black latex from fingers to elbows, and likewise the legs were rooted in black thigh-length boots. A purple cape draped around the mannequin's shoulders, completing the iconic superhero image.

The juxtaposition of costumed elegance and bound nudity was almost comical: the mannequin standing proud in a stance of power while the costume's former wearer struggled in wanton lust. Undoubtedly this played a part in the display's current popularity.

The guide left the gawkers to gawk and continued his patrol of the exhibit. The museum had really outdone itself with this one - far better than the

Feel the Burn

exhibit it replaced, which had allowed visitors to subject themselves to a miniature discharge of a Super Menace's favourite weapon. Some of the furniture still had scorch marks, and the plasmic residue had been a nightmare to clean.

Admittedly, he sometimes felt like a zookeeper with this new exhibit, but many of his subjects were near-immortal anyway, so the museum didn't need to budget much for sustenance. And it was always fun when they received a new donation.

He smiled and looked proudly around the hall, wondering whom the next display would feature.