Disclaimer: If you are under age, not a fan of mind control, enslavement, and a bit of bimbofication, or otherwise not permitted to read ahead, this is your warning. All characters are 18 or older.
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I'd just like to say that the following story draws a lot of inspiration from the works of Handcuffgirl, Madam Kistulot, and Trilby Else, along with a slew of awesome authors I've read over the years. Thanks to all of them for all the great stories, and sorry in advance for what it's lead me to write. Thanks also to all the people who took the time to read it as it was a work in progress and gave feedback.
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"Now tell me what you're going to do next."
"Gonna go and get help for myself. To stop drinking."
"Good boy. And what will happen if you ever try and pull something like this again?"
"Gonna...stop, then go home and think about why rape and muggin' is wrong."
"Good boy."
Anna Quinn, the superheroine formerly known as the Empress sent the intoxicated thug on his way, stumbling out of the alley and back to his home to sleep off the worst hangover of his life. Hopefully this would mark a turning point for the man, but that was up to him. She turned her attention back to the alley's other occupant, a young woman standing silently at attention with a vacant look and parted lips, running mascara at odds with her placid face.
"And what are you going to do next?"
"Go home...sleep..."
"Good girl. And in the morning, what will you remember about tonight?"
"Went drinking with friends...went home alone...saw a scary man..." Her face tensed up a little, "...but he didn't do anything. But made me scared...so need to be more careful in the city..."
"Good girl." Anna focused for a second, spreading her consciousness outward with a brief sonar-like pulse to take stock of the nearby minds in the area. As she picked out the safest route, she cleaned up the woman's face a little with a fresh hand wipe, "Now go left at the alley and you'll reach the subway. Get out of her and go take it."
The girl stumbled out of the alley, leaving Anna alone. She let out a well-earned sigh. This kind of crimefighting wasn't at all very flashy, but it was less traumatic for the victims and until the politicians did something about reforming the prisons, she didn't want to send anyone else behind bars if it could be avoided. Ten minutes of light brainwashing to make sure that both walked away in better condition was worth the effort.
Not that all the other superheroes saw it her way. In their view, invading someone's mind and tinkering with everything was even worse than anything that man might have been planning to do, that the ends did not justify the means. There were some things she'd been allowed to do--make people freeze, drop their guns, go to sleep--but that kind of direct control was ten times harder than the "wrong" way of doing things. Making someone scared to move, feel that their gun was hot, that they were sleepy...or even that they just wanted to surrender and be a good person from that point on. But no, that somehow made her the same as the villains. And she didn't even want to think about how insensitive they were to blame her for reading their minds, as if it was something she could just turn off and on like a lightswitch.
Ridiculous.
The whole situation made her nostrils flare just thinking about it as she began to head back towards her apartment, feet a bit sore from the long patrol. If they didn't want her as a superheroine, that was fine. The Empress would stay out of the limelight. But that didn't mean that Anna Quinn was going to stop helping people.
If there was one advantage to doing these patrols, it was that she could go out in her civilian clothing. Her old costume had been horrible. Purple to go along with her "royal" theme, and with a latex-like material that clung even tighter than a second skin. She'd been told it was bulletproof at least, but if that was the case, she didn't think it needed to show off quite so much skin.
No, this was definitely the way to go. An old, comfortable pair of sneakers, snug but not uncomfortable jeans, and a roomy turtleneck sweater. She still looked good. Every Gifted person tended to either look like models and celebrities, or wildly exotic with leafy green hair or scales, or downright monstrous with bodies of stone or shapes more animal than man. She was one of the normal looking ones, and she stuck to a workout and diet that made her look exceptionally nice. She looked ten years younger than her actual thirty-one years of age, and even with the glasses and simple blonde ponytail, the soft but striking lines of her face and her piercing eyes gave her an intimidating aura to even those who didn't know who she was.
She took out her phone and checked the city's online paper for the Heroes and Crimes section. She'd been doing this for a while now, and she felt it was past time someone noticed that crime in a two mile radius was at an all-time low. But no, nothing. Just stories of how Paragon had saved the city from aliens again and then a dozen articles on the newest outfits and wardrobe malfunctions.
Typical.
On her way back, she noticed something new. Where before there had been a greasy fast food place, there was now
Capes and Crepes.
The first thing she noticed was the bright pink curtains that had been hung up to frame the large windows. But the second thing she noticed was the absolutely hilarious drawings of Amazon and Steel Sentinel on the posters. They were highly stylized in the japanese manga/anime way, but rather than the full-plate and robot suits, each was wearing an adorable if highly inappropriate maid uniform.
Curiously, they'd gotten Steel Sentinel's--Mandy's--electric blue hair down correctly in the picture. The last time she'd checked, she was sure that most people weren't even sure the Sentinel was a female, let alone what color her hair was. She must have had the helmet damaged in a battle.
Anna's stomach grumbled. She wasn't sure what kind of cafe was open at two in the morning, but there was a sweet smell coming from the crack in the doors. And a cream filled crepe sounded amazing right now, the establishment's taste in decor notwithstanding.
Her mind made up, she pulled the door open, a tinkling bell going off overhead, then the click of high heels as a young woman tottered over. A young woman not just in ridiculous knee-high platform heels, but in the same scandalous style of maid uniform from the posters outside. It was pink, with puffy shoulders and a low neckline, a supportive top pushing her modest chest up. Her entire skinny belly was naked, and the skirt rode so low on her hips that it seemed ready to fall off at any moment, so low that it was more than clear that she kept her most private parts hairless. As low as the skirt was, if she even bent over Anna would get an eyeful. She was pretty, with pale skin and mix of asian and caucasian features. She must have been wearing colored contacts to color her eyes the same cotton candy pink as her hair, done up as it was in fat pigtails.
"Good evening, Mistress! How may I serve you?"
Oh. This is the kind of place that's open past two.
"I'm guessing this place doesn't serve normal food, does it?" Anna was tempted to simply walk out the door without another word, but as bizarre as the sight in front of her was, being a mindreader had made her sensitive to even perceived rudeness.
The waitress (maid?) giggled with a look that showed that she'd heard that one before, "Don't be silly! We have all kinds of things here. There are crepes, waffles, omelets, cakes...just all kinds of yummy things!"
She pursed her lips. She knew the woman wasn't lying--her passive telepathy meant she knew at least that much, if not more, whether she wanted to or not--but the whole thing was a bit surreal. And she was hungry, "Okay, I'm game then."
She let the maid escort her over to a booth, then was left alone with the menu. She very nearly snorted when she saw the names of the items. Everything was named after a different superheroine or villainess. Amazon's Chocolate Pancakes, Sentinel's Silver Sundae, the Kismet Candy Bouquet. The menu was decorated with more of those stylized drawings like from the posters, helpfully labeled. She noticed that the maid who had welcomed was there too. Miss Strawberry. According to the tiny little biography next to her picture, she was a young new villain just getting started, mixing in nonviolent environmental terrorism with petty heists.
And she was for sale! Two hundred dollars an hour, with a half dozen additional options. Fellatio, S/M, Roleplay, Penetration...the whole thing was making her blush.
She looked at the others, and they were all for sale too. Of course. She'd had a feeling when she'd come in here just what kind of place this was. But how could they put the cost of a blowjob right next to the waffles?!
As she was looking at the menu, there was a slight cough meant to get her attention, "Excuse me, Mistress, are you ready to order?"
She looked up from the menu and saw a familiar face. Amazon. Not a cosplayer pretending to be Amazon. Amazon. She had the same towering height (made moreso by the platform heels), the same hard body with the powerful muscles, the same dark skin contrasting sharply with her shock white hair, the same unreasonably large bust that was now threatening to spill out of that woefully insufficient top, and her mind had the same unique 'sound' to it. Even so, it was impossible to believe.
Amazon did NOT wear skirts. She did not wear heels. She claimed to have been a virgin for all of three hundred years of her life. Nothing about this made sense. Except that in this city, it made perfect sense. Some people thought that Gifted people being so likely to be perverted deviants was a side-effect of their powers, but she'd read enough minds to know that it was more a matter of people in general all being perverted deviants on the inside. And it looked like there was one such villainous Gifted somewhere nearby.
"Is that...you're Amazon, aren't you? It's me. The Empress." She lowered her voice, eyes and mind scanning for anything sinister within a mile radius.
"The one and only!" Amazon did
