Val jolted awake when she heard her phone go off.
She picked it up off her nightstand, expecting it to be the alarm she set for herself. But instead, it was a call from Reuben.
What the hell? He never calls me.
She tapped "accept" and held the phone up to her ear. "Hey?"
"Val," Reuben said, "we need you to talk to Sky Kennedy."
"Who?"
"The pop star. The one you tried to rescue, when..."
Val's drowsy mind took a second to make the connection. "Oh. Yeah, her. Why?"
"We're getting testimony against Blanc. Remember to take the tape recorder with you, get her on record."
"Fine. When's the interview?"
"In an hour."
"What?" Val sat up straight in her bed. "You've gotta be kidding me!"
"This is the only time I could get. I'm sorry."
Val groaned and rubbed her eyes. "But you're already up. Why can't you do it?"
"I figured it would make Sky more comfortable if she was opening up to someone who had the same experience. Anyway, you need to get ready. I'll text you a picture of her front gate. We're gonna have a group meeting at noon. See you later."
Reuben hung up. Val sighed and put her phone back on the nightstand.
Yeah, sounds like a great plan. Throw the victim and her attacker's new fuck-buddy together, what could go wrong?
She got out of bed and went into the bathroom, turning on the shower and stripping down while it heated up. She looked at herself in the mirror. Specifically one part of herself.
She remembered Weiss saying something about a hidden trigger last night. She thought it was just a ploy to get Val to take her top off, but now that she was actually naked, she realized she couldn't take her eyes off her breasts. She wasn't exactly obsessed with boobs, let alone her own, but for some reason she was completely fascinated with them right now. The way they caught the light, the way her erect nipples poked out of her supple flesh. She kept finding new things to admire about her tits. She was so focused on looking at them that she didn't realize she had stopped calling them breasts and started calling them tits, a word she normally thought was degrading and insulting. But she couldn't think of anything else to call them. Every other term for them was missing from her mind.
Suddenly, her hands reached up and grabbed her tits. She gasped, but then purred with delight at the way her tits felt. They felt so smooth, and round, and
perfect
in her hands. When she squeezed them, they sent pleasant tingles throughout her entire body. She closed her eyes and savored the sensation, swaying slightly as she groped and fondled her chest. She forgot about Reuben's call, she forgot about her interview with Sky, she forgot about the shower she was waiting on. She floated on a cloud of simple pleasures, her mind narrowed down to focus completely on her tits and how good they made her feel.
She barely registered the
click
sound. She opened her sleepy eyes and saw she was back in her bedroom, holding up her phone and taking a picture of herself massaging her tits. She saw her thumbs type out a message to someone, but paid it no mind. She felt too good to let something like that distract her.
It was only when her alarm finally went off that she snapped out of her reverie. She looked down at the floor, where her phone was blaring an electronic buzzer sound. She realized she'd spent half an hour fondling her breasts, and blushed profusely.
What the hell was that? That's not like me.
She looked at the time again and realized what else that signified.
Oh, shit! I need to get ready!
* * *
The intercom clicked to life when Violet pushed the button. A small video screen next to the camera turned on, and an ex-military-looking man showed up. "Who're you?"
"Violet Angel, from Team Rainbow. I have an appointment."
He squinted at her. "You're late."
"Only got the call an hour ago, sir. This was all very last-minute. Surely you can still buzz me in?"
"...Alright, fine."
The screen switched off. The gate leading to the driveway opened up, and Violet walked down the long path to Sky's house. She fidgeted with the shoulder strap on the bag she carried. When she finally saw it, her jaw dropped. It looked like the
Parasite
house on steroids, a giant slab of modernism jutting out of the perfectly-manicured lawn.
This place probably costs more than I'd make in 50 years of superhero work...
She got up to the front door and reached for the handle. Before she touched it, though, the man on the video screen opened it for her. "She's waiting in the sun room. Try to make it quick, she's pretty beat." He paused, looking at the bag Violet was carrying. "We need to search that."
"Fine." She handed him the bag.
As he searched through it, he frowned. "You really needed a bag just to carry this?"
"Do I
look
like I have pockets?"
"Hm. Alright." He handed her the bag. "You can go in."
The interior of the house was somehow even more impressive than the exterior. It reminded Violet of Raymond Hawthorne's apartment. That place was lavish, full of intricate detailing and furniture that gave an immediate impression of unimaginable wealth. But it also looked staid, a distinctly "old money" idea of affluence. Sky's house had none of that. The place was almost exclusively grey, the concrete walls left unpainted and raw. The only splashes of color were the light wood floors and small accents that looked like they were made from obsidian. Everything had hard, 90-degree angles, making the entire house look like it was made of boxes. There were almost no furnishings anywhere in the house from what Violet could see. It still looked like the house of someone with incalculable amounts of money, but also someone who wanted to look as modern as possible.
When Violet found her way to the sun room, she saw Sky lounging on a worn-looking couch. It was the one thing in the house that looked like something someone actually used. "Um, hello," Violet said.
Sky's head jerked upwards in surprise. "Huh? Oh, yeah, you're the hero lady. Come in, have a seat."
Violet looked around the room. The only things in it were the couch Sky was sitting on and a large TV attached to the far wall. "...where?"
Sky scooched down the couch a bit and patted the seat next to her. Violet shrugged and sat next to her, trying to keep a bit of distance so she didn't seem overly-friendly.
"Want anything?" Sky asked. "Coffee?"
"I'm good. Thanks. Sorry about how early this is, apparently this was the only time that worked with your schedule."
"For me, it's not early, it's late. I was out all night at a concert. I might pass out on you, so just poke me or something if that happens."
Violet nodded and pulled the tape recorder out of the bag. When she saw it, Sky snorted. "You guys still use those things?"
"PCPD uses them, so if we want them to use this as evidence-"
"Excuse me?" Sky looked concerned. "You're taking this to the cops?"
"Well, yes. We have to, if we want to actually prosecute Madame Blanc."
"Don't you hero-people just, like, throw criminals in jail?"
"It's not that simple. Technically, we're deputized private citizens. We can make arrests if we find someone committing a crime, and we can assist in investigations, but everything still has to go through the courts."
"Then this interview is over." Sky got up from the couch and started walking out of the room.
"Ms. Kennedy?"
"Eric will escort you out. Oh, wait, you're the teleporter, aren't you? Or are you the one with the zappy stuff?"
"I'm confused, don't you want Madame Blanc put away?"
