At five in the evening, he arrived at the steps of City Hall as promised. Driving there, he saw the crowds get thicker as he neared the steps. The gawkers had come as he knew they would. He got out of the black sedan and saw her at the top of the steps. She was, as always, dripping with sexual energy, wearing a tight black latex dress that zippered up the front and black heels. Her fit, but curvy body straining the stitching of the dress. Her long blonde hair was done up in a tight bun and in her right hand she held a riding crop.
He closed the door, looked up at her and silently climbed the stairs wearing the costume that had come to define identity, a suit of form-fitting elasticized chain mail. With every step, he felt more dread. He had been defeated. He would sacrifice his himself for the city, but he didn't know if she would hold up her end of the bargain. For him though, there was no choice, she held all the cards.
"I am here, as promised," he said as he reach the top, his eyes locked on hers.
"Yes, always a man of your word. Ever the hero," she snickered. Her eyes went up and down his body. "Now then ... strip."
His eyes narrowed. "That was not part of the deal. You simply said surrender."
"Yes. Surrender. That means you are in no position to make demands."
They stared at each other for a long minute.
"I will kill them all," she said. "You know I will. ... Strip."
He stood like a statue. Breathed in. And began to undress, reaching down to grab the bottom on his shirt.
As he pulled it off, he heard the clinking of the woven steel and felt the sun on his torso. His body was toned and scarred from a dozen years of his work. He had been in many difficult battles before, battles from which he thought he wouldn't return, but this was something different. It was defeat and being forced to shed his costume in front of the city was a level of exposure he had never felt. Over the years he had trained hard and honed his skills. He was proud of his body and, yes, to some extent, vain. But this level of physical familiarity was something between him and his girlfriend - and occasionally from villainesses like her. To be shirtless in front of the city, with cameras rolling, gave him a feeling of helplessness that was new.
"Now the lower-half," she said, eyes on his body. She was enjoying watching his unease.
He unclasped and lowered the pants, and stepped out of them. He stood before the crowd in just a pair of tight black trunk shorts. Unmoving. Staring at her.
"That's enough," he said with anger in his voice.
