Every Rose Has Its Thorn

"My arm!" Mistressmind's voice had lost any of its seductive qualities. "You broke my arm!"

"No," WildRose corrected, "I dislocated your arm. They'll be able to pop that puppy right back into place in the prison infirmary. In fact, now you'll be able to pop it back out again whenever you want. It's a great party trick."

"I...I don't..." Mistressmind's panicky, whimpering tone was even better than the sex had been. "You were in my thrall!"

"In and out. I guess I'm just a cheap thrall-seeker." Of course, it hadn't actually been that easy. Even now, WildRose could feel the seductive undertow of Mistressmind's trance, telling her how good it would feel to just give in and obey the other woman's commands. But some part of her had realized that Mistressmind was escaping. She'd remembered another day, a different crime and a different criminal. He thought he'd escaped justice, too. But Penelope Powell had sworn an oath that day. Criminals might escape the law, but they couldn't escape justice. And they'd never escape WildRose.

"This can't be happening, this can't be happening..."

WildRose brought Mistressmind's ankle up, snapping the cuffs around it and around the wrist of her now-dislocated arm. "Oh, I can imagine you'd think that. I'm sure you're all full of theories about how it's psychologically impossible for me to resist you, how there's just no way I could break your hold on me. And for normal people," she gestured over to the blissed-out security guard, "that's probably true. But look at me, lady. I'm a woman who dresses up in a green spandex outfit and picks fights with guys who carry guns. What part of 'normal' did you really think I was?"

"But you, but I, you were begging, and..."

"And I'm a lesbian, and it's been a while, and I was absolutely gagging for it. The suggestions about hot lesbian D/S play, complete with bondage, those were easy to follow. You ever go legit, I'm definitely asking you out. But asking me to let a supervillain go with the loot? You might as well ask a cat not to catch a mouse. That's heroism at the sharp end, doll. We don't do this because we want to. We do it because we have to. I'm called WildRose because you touch me, and I'll draw blood."

The sound of sirens alerted her to the ensuing arrival of police. Remembering Sharpe's discussion of her problems with authority figures, she decided not to be around when they got there. She sprayed a quick whiff of anesthetic gas in Mistressmind's nostrils to keep her out of trouble until the cops showed up, pulled a single rose petal from a pouch on her belt and tossed it where it'd be found, and bolted.

Outside, she turned her microphone and earpiece back on. "--damn idiot," she heard, "probably going to wind up having to call in the whole damn Liberty Squad to get her out of this, and that's if she doesn't wind up dead in a ditch somewhere, oh, god, please don't let her wind up dead--"

"Oh ye of little faith," WildRose said. "I didn't know you cared."

"Of course I care!" Sharpe snapped. "Dammit, Rose, don't do that! I don't want to lose you!"

"To her?" WildRose snorted. "Frankly, I wish every supervillain was that much fun to defeat." She felt almost giddy with triumph, now that it was all over. More than giddy--she felt bold, reckless, like she could do anything. Mistressmind had tried her hardest, but she couldn't break WildRose.

"I'm serious, Rose. Knowing you're out there, in danger, and I can't help...it's hard sometimes."

WildRose listened to the tone in her voice, the tone no computer could disguise. "Sharpe," she said, "I think we should meet. No earphones. No secrets. Face to face." She paused, not quite sure how to say what she had to say, but letting that reckless excitement guide her words. "I think we have a lot to talk about."

THE END