Daughter, Lover, Superheroine Ch. 03

Barbara could not help noting how Cindy's eyes shone as she saw Michelle's huge biceps, even if it was just for a moment. "Well, my mom and I normally just give them a warning to disperse, and we try not to hurt them much unless they're hurting other people, but I don't think either of us could do what you did! Say... speaking of which... do you have, like, the same powers as your cousin? I'm sorry," she said apologetically, "I'm just curious! Is it ok for me to ask?"

"Why, of course! But we can do better than stand around jawing in a dump like this. What say we grab a coffee and get to know each other better?" Michelle jerked her thumb over her shoulder in an undefined direction, again causing her incredibly developed musculature to ripple in interesting ways. It was as if her muscles had to move out of the way of other muscles.

Well, there was nothing for it but to be social. Barbara met Cindy's eager, questioning gaze and nodded her assent. "Coffee sounds good."

***

The appointed time arrived, and, naturally, the promised Heroine did not appear.

As if that was any surprise, Debbie Dinh thought, her black-painted lips curling with contempt. These hypocritical heroes were all the same. Flying or jumping or running around in their laughably skimpy costumes, grabbing any excuse to show skin or to indulge in their penchant for violence. What else were Heroes and Villains, after all, but mirror images of each other, essentially the same: strong people doing strong things, never mind the weaker people they carelessly crushed underfoot?

The Heroes talked it up, of course, as a crusade for justice or some other ludicrous way of justifying what they did, but it really came down to something much more primal: the strong liked to feel strong. That was all that motivated them, really -- what else could drive a person to dress up and go around punching people in the face? Normal people didn't do that!

No, normal people died, as collateral damage in super-powered battles, and were quickly forgotten. People remembered and loved Heroes like Galaxy Girl -- there had been a huge statue of her, in Galaxy City, before that all went away with the recent Shivan invasion. Debbie had felt a quiet satisfaction, actually, at the news -- specifically, at the mention of the statue's destruction.

The Shivan meteors were worrying, of course, but well, this was Paragon City -- shit was always happening, somewhere, somehow, to someone. As for the statue, if Galaxy Girl deserved one, then what of the uncounted unsung heroes who had died in droves, but were now forgotten because they didn't wear sexy costumes and had no super powers?

Hadn't her father been a hero of sorts? A Vietnamese-born immigrant doctor, he had saved lives, and that qualified him to be a hero, didn't it? But some random forgettable Hero with a capital H, some All-American himbo with blond hair and blue eyes, with powers over electrical fields, had made a blunder while fighting some gang members, and sent an electromagnetic pulse through the immediate vicinity.

Dr. Dinh had been on a pacemaker. He wasn't taken to a hospital in time -- the vehicles around had been disabled. He died alone, on a pavement, unnoticed until it was too late -- the bystanders had been too engrossed in watching the electric power show.

And her mother... Debbie clenched her fists, her black-painted nails digging into her palms, as she remembered how they had been told the terrible news: Crey Pharmaceuticals had implemented revised pricing. The drugs that had kept Mrs. Dinh going were now too expensive to afford. During a press conference, the smarmy Crey spokesman had even explained that it was an initiative launched by the visionary Countess Crey to ultimately bring down medical costs and make the industry leaner and more competitive for everyone. That was in the long run, of course.

In the short run, though, Mrs. Dinh passed away in quiet pain. The cheaper alternatives to her life-sustaining medication had proved ineffectual.

Some wounds were not meant to heal, Debbie believed. They were meant to be nursed, the pain kept fresh, until the sweet day of vengeance.

What could she do to bring that day about? She had agonized over that question for so long. She had neither the physical gifts nor the technical knowhow to embark on her own personal quest for vengeance, like a Vigilante. She was an artist, an installation artist, but she no longer believed as she once did that art could speak truth to power. Art could do nothing to anybody. Poetry, as a famous poet had said, made nothing happen.

She had to have power, somehow. She had to have the power to hurt those who needed to be hurt.

So she was so, so fortunate that the Circle of Thorns had even deigned to speak to her, on that fateful day in the woods. For someone without wealth, genetic powers, or hyper-intelligence... what was left to balance the scales, except magic? But there had been so many false leads. Stupid New Age crystal stores, with their charlatan shopkeepers and fake relics... stupid disappointing Tibetan monks in their saffron robes and prayer wheels and silly pacifist philosophies... stupid, stupid "covens" of other similarly disaffected women playing around with their tarot cards and Ouija boards and Peruvian bone charms...

Debbie looked down at the summoning circle she had drawn, and the book, the precious book that had given her the knowledge to draw it. The Circle of Thorns wizard -- she still remembered the aura of power he had exuded -- had called it the Tome of Blood's Desire. A fitting name for a grimoire of potent blood rituals, involving hexes and summonings.

She felt a thrill, as she gazed at the red, shimmering lettering and diagrams on the vellum pages. They held the secret that was now within reach -- once she finally figured out the correct way to perform the rituals within, she would have legions of demons at her command. The Circle of Thorns would accept her into their exalted ranks. She might even cast her eyes upon fabled Oranbega itself, that ancient city more than 14,000 years old!

Clearly, her first two attempts had failed because of her own carelessness -- that was only what she had deserved! She did not expect the path to power to be an easy, rose-strewn one. She had to be worthy of wielding such mystic might -- she knew it was just within her grasp! She'd been much more careful this time. It would succeed -- it had to!

The obsidian knife, with its jagged edges that seemed to drink light, was close to hand. Debbie picked it up, and stroked the flat of the blade with thumb and forefinger. The Circle of Thorns mage had gifted it to her, because she showed such "promise", he had said, as his eyes glowed green under his hood.

For her very first summoning, she had decided to enlist the service of a Succubus. This was not merely on account of her own sexual proclivities, though she would confess to having felt a rush of wetness in her loins while reading the description of the corresponding ritual and looking at the lurid accompanying illustrations. She was being smart about it -- a Succubus would allow her to enthrall others, and she could then use their blood in further summoning rituals, and eventually... she would have an army of fearsome minions at her command.

Also, from what she could tell, a Succubus was no slouch when it came to fighting. Yes, all in all it was the best first choice -- and a night of debauched sybaritic pleasure with her first summoned demoness was a well-earned prize she could really look forward to!

And soon... very soon, she could bring suffering and misery and death to all the people who so richly deserved it!

Her hand trembled with eagerness as she once again placed the knife to the barely-healed wounds on her wrist, ready to spill her blood once again into the waiting receptacle.

***

Cindy stepped out of the elevator. She suspected that jumping up the stairs would have been quicker, in her case.

She had lost track of time! Coffee with Michelle White had become dinner at Infront Steakhouse, the most famous steak place in all of Paragon City. Michelle had regaled them with stories of her own patrols in the streets of her hometown, her battles against the Sky Raiders in the African country of West Libertalia, even her clashes against Arachnos in Bloody Bay.

It was only after dinner, when her mother asked her what Genevieve Sanders had wanted with her at the hospital, that Cindy belatedly remembered her promise.

"I'll come straight home after I'm done, Mom -- it shouldn't take more than an hour! Maybe I'll just hear her out, give her a listening ear, try to see if I need to give any advice... but it shouldn't take long."

Bidding a hasty goodbye to Michelle and her mother, Cindy had leaped off into the night sky.

Now she was walking down the corridor. All was quiet. This was a bit unusual, for tenements like this -- normally, buildings like this would be buzzing with the hubbub of daily life in the evenings. People would be washing up after dinner, or cooking or having later dinners; kids would be running around, since not all of them would be glued to their computers or TVs; people with late shifts would be leaving for work and bumping into their neighbors in the corridors. Things would be... alive.

At the moment, though, there was a strange silence. Perhaps occupancy rate was low, for this block at least.

Cindy found the door number, knocked politely, and waited.

Nothing. Cindy knocked again. "Hello? Um... are you home, Debbie? It's me, Battleborn. Genevieve asked me to speak to you? I'm very sorry I'm late. Hello?"

Still there was no answer. Frowning, Cindy made to leave -- perhaps Debbie had grown impatient with the waiting and wasn't at home. It was Cindy's own fault, after all, for being tardy. She would have to try another time.

But something didn't feel right. The hair on the back of her neck was standing up. There was a strange feeling in the air. Cindy looked up and down the empty corridor. The lights flickered -- the landlord clearly stinted on basic maintenance -- giving the place an eerie vibe.

On an impulse, Cindy pressed her ear to the door and listened hard. The door was not a thick one, and was not very soundproof. She could hear something that sounded like... chanting? Perhaps the TV was on, and Debbie had fallen asleep, or was in the bathroom, or...

Then some reddish light flashed, visible around the doorframe, and Cindy knew instinctively that something was not right.

"Debbie!" she called, pounding the door. "Debbie, are you in there? Are you all right? Answer me please!"

And now from within, the chanting increased in volume, until Cindy could hear indistinctly that there were words being spoken.

Filled with a sense of foreboding, Cindy decided to smash the door in -- something bad was going on, she could feel it! And if it turned out to be nothing, well, she'd just have to apologize later!

A single shoulder barge was enough to gain her entry. The hallway was dark, and so was the living room -- but the door to what was presumably Debbie's bedroom was wide open, and it was from within that the red light was being emitted. Cindy stood, rooted in place by shock and growing horror.

The naked, skinny girl with the multi-colored hair and the Goth makeup and the nipple piercings -- yes, they went through her nipples -- had to be Debbie Dinh... and she had blood streaming out of an open vein on her wrist into a bowl in front of her. A complex circular sigil of some kind had been drawn with some powdery substance, but this symbol now glowed with an unearthly red light. And hovering in the air, right above the sigil...

... was a demoness.

There was no other word Cindy knew that could describe such a being. The creature looked like something straight out of a history book describing superstitions in the Middle Ages -- a female humanoid with pink-red skin and glowing ember eyes, inhumanly voluptuous, with a triangular patch of pubic hair so red that it seemed to be afire, and a long barbed tail. She was only missing horns, wings and a pitchfork, though she seemed to defy the laws of gravity even without wings. Her black hair was shaped in a style suggestive of horns, however.

Debbie's eyes flashed with annoyance at Cindy's arrival, but she raised her arms and cried out exultantly. "Daughter of Lilitu! I thank you for showing yourself to me! Grant me my heart's desires -- let my blood be the seal of our contract!"

Cindy recoiled, even as the succubus lazily stretched itself in mid-air, as if waking up from a nap. It raised its clawed hands and gazed at them curiously. Then she spoke.

"You have done well, Initiate," she purred, her voice a silky contralto. "My Mother and I thank you for giving your blood so I can be made flesh in your world. I shall serve you as you desire. You may call on me when you wish. Now... how shall I serve you, Mistress?"

The look of unholy joy on Debbie's face was frightening to behold. Cindy's mind reeled. She had never had any experience with the occult before, though of course everyone knew they existed. Her mother would know what to do, since she had tangled with supernatural enemies before -- but she was here, alone! What could she do?"

Debbie was speaking again. "I desire justice -- no, not that... vengeance on my enemies! All those people who've wronged me..." She clenched her fists, heedless of the blood flowing all over her hand. "They will pay!"

"It shall be done, Mistress."

Cindy found her voice. "Debbie! What are you doing? You have to stop this... this madness! This creature isn't something you can mess with! Whatever your problems are, you can fix them without summoning demons! We can help you... let us help you!"

But her earnest entreaty fell on deaf ears. "Shut it, Heroine!" Debbie snapped angrily. "I was hoping you wouldn't come anyway -- Genevieve means well but she's such a bothersome nag sometimes. Tonight is the first time I've succeeded at this ritual, and you're not going to ruin it for me!"

Then she swayed a little. "My... my blood... I feel weak... Succubus, help me!"

"With pleasure, dear Mistress," the demoness answered, her voice a sibilant rasp. "Oh... you may address me as Salacia, Mistress."

She bent down, took hold of the bleeding arm, and began licking the bloodied gash. Before their eyes, the wound closed. Debbie gazed in wonder at her healed wrist -- there was not even the hint of a wound on it.

"This is only the tiny tip of the iceberg, Mistress, when it comes to what I can do for you!" Salacia laughed. "Now, do you have a task for me? Perhaps one involving this... pesky witness?"

Debbie found her voice. "Yes... Salacia, defeat this Heroine!" she cried shrilly, pointing straight at Cindy. "Don't kill her... but put her out of the picture for a while!"

"As you command!" The succubus's feet alighted on the floor, in front of the sigil, and she faced Cindy with a haughty look of contempt. "I have faced many like you before, warrior women stronger than you... and I have overcome them many times. You're just a juicy morsel for me to savor, little one!"

Cindy swallowed hard. She had never faced such a foe before. This night was supposed to have been a little counseling session for a troubled young woman about her age... but in the blink of an eye it had turned into a nightmare. Debbie seemed unreceptive to any attempt to reach out to her. And as for the dark forces she had unleashed... it was one thing to hear that occasionally, Heroes fought Circle of Thorns cultists within the city environs, but it was quite another to be facing off against an actual demoness.

Of course, most people knew that there was an actual honest-to-goodness demon lord working with Ms. Liberty, as a member of the Vindicators, but there was apparently some complex backstory there, so that was a completely different matter.

She squared her shoulders, and took a deep breath, adopting the superheroine stance of resolve: hands on hips, chest thrust out. She could not retreat -- if she did, Debbie and her new minion would escape and would possibly be difficult to track down. They'd be long gone before any help could arrive. And moreover, if she fled...

Wasn't her original purpose in coming tonight to restore hope to someone in despair? A fine showing she would make, if she were to flee just like that! No... she had to stay, and fight. More than that, she had to win, to show Debbie that good could still prevail over evil. Maybe Debbie believed she was going to use her newfound magical powers for righteous purposes... but surely such power would corrupt her quickly. Cindy could not allow a new Villainess to arise, not out of negligence, not on her watch!

Besides, she felt a little guilty -- if she had arrived on time, as she had promised, perhaps she could've talked Debbie out of this ritual before she began it. Now it was up to her to fix this and make it right.

"Begone, foul creature!" she yelled, feeling vaguely like some kind of exorcist in a horror movie. "Leave this woman alone, and trouble her no more! Your evil ways are not wanted here! Leave now, or face me, Battleborn, in battle!"

"Very well, little Heroine." Salacia's harsh laughter rang throughout the room, somehow carrying reverberations that made Cindy wince. "If it's battle you want, battle you shall have!"

"Remember, don't kill her," Debbie urged. "Just... just make it so she doesn't stop me from doing what I want to."

"Have no fear, Mistress. I live to serve. I shall render her a willing mortal slave for you, to serve you as I do."

"You... you can do that? Perfect!" Debbie looked Cindy up and down, and her lips parted involuntarily. Despite herself, she was impressed. This superheroine was everything Genevieve said she would be... she was strong and pretty, with such muscles...! If Salacia could make her serve willingly... then she had an even better chance at taking down her foes, starting with Crey!

"That... that'll never happen!" Cindy asserted. She bunched up her fists, dropping into a stance of readiness. "Prepare to be sent back wherever you came from, demoness!"

Salacia the Succubus languidly spread her arms, and Cindy noticed for the first time that her fingers and even toes resembled animal claws, rather than human appendages. Her barbed tail swished and flicked as she stood, torso fully exposed. Was she inviting Cindy to take a swing?

Then Salacia's flesh began to tremble all over. Before Cindy's shocked eyes, a transformation occurred. Something seemed to be undulating under the skin -- then swelling it from within. Within moments, the succubus's body had increased in girth, and her limbs had thickened considerably. Then the muscle striations began to appear. Cords of sinew went taut across the upper chest and along the arms. The abdomen became ridged with perfectly chiseled abdominal muscles. Thigh muscles bulged like a picture from an anatomy textbook, the triple teardrops visible above each knee.

In the space of a few moments, the demoness had gone from a pneumatic seductress to a fearsomely muscled monster! Yet, for all that, she retained her curvy charms somehow, her overall contours still conveying lush fullness, her bosom still round mounds with bounce, her butt two globes of firm flesh.

She was both taller and more heavily-muscled than Cindy now. The superheroine could not suppress a shiver of apprehension as Salacia also adopted a posture of combat-readiness, raising her clawed hands in front of her.

Then she glanced to the side and saw Debbie watching raptly, looking at Cindy and Salacia in turn. Debbie's eyes seemed to drink in the sight of Salacia's manifest power greedily, as her gaze roved appraisingly over her physique. Then she looked at Cindy, and Cindy could see how Debbie was calculating the odds of victory in Salacia's favor.