Orion Origins

Sheila breathed in to be able to pull the hidden zipper up from her crotch to her neck and then ran her fingers over the spandex body suit that clung to every curve. She turned to look over her shoulder in the mirror at her ass to see how the suit neatly separated her cheeks.

She had made a modified version of the kind of outfit she wore to her modern dance classes, just having it go all the way down to cover her feet and higher on the neck to look a little more demure.

"Demure my ass!" she laughed at herself. Although completely covered, she never felt more on display with the spandex tightly outlining her breasts, hips, ass, and narrow waist. She checked, and no lines were visible from the thong, but she didn't dare try to wear a bra under this outfit. It would look ridiculous. Besides with such a tight costume, there was no need for any further support. Not that she needed support anyway.

She pulled on her low-heeled, ankle-length boots that blended perfectly in with her body suit, so they almost disappeared. Standing back up, she checked herself in the mirror again. High heels would have added an extra oomph to her look, but those would have been too formal. The lower ones were more practical, but the one-inch heels still added a little extra without making it harder to walk.

She snapped on her belt and slid it down to snug against her hips. The belt had a pouch attached to either side, so she had a place for her cell phone and ID, since the body suit left no room for anything, and carrying a purse would ruin the look. Lastly she pulled on a cowl that she had modeled after Batgirl's cowl. She'd watched a cosplayer's video online about how to make it. It was a full day's work, but it was perfect.

Sheila wasn't into the whole club scene like others her age, but her job as a university librarian and her computer skills gave her access to nearly everything going on in the university community, and the fraternity costume party was the coolest thing going on this weekend.

College men were all girly men trying hard to please the queen bee feminists they found on campus and didn't appeal to her at all. That didn't mean that she didn't want to be appreciated though, even if none of them could measure up to what she wanted, and there was always the possibility of a good man out there somewhere.

She looked one last time in the mirror and closed her eyes to fantasize. She wanted a man who would wrap his arm around her breasts from behind and use his other hand to pull her face around to meet his in a passionate kiss. Opening her eyes, she saw her fantasy had her nipples trying hard to poke their way out of her costume, and turned up one side of her lips in a sardonic smile.

Let 'em stare if they want to. Her cowl protected her identity, so she was free to be openly sexy. Of course, if there were such a man as she fantasized about around the university, he was probably in jail for rape. There was a fine line between being raped and being ravished, but the culture had blotted that line out entirely as if a man acting like a man with a woman he loved automatically meant he was out to rape every woman he saw.

She parked her motorcycle easily on the crowded block. Mostly she walked to her job and classes on campus, but if she needed to go farther or be out late, the motorcycle worked great without costing a lot. Also it was always convenient to park.

Getting into the party was no problem of course. Once inside she did a quick look around. There was an Alice in Wonderland and a female Robin Hood, a couple of slutty waitresses--one Hooters and one generic--even a Red Sonja who was drawing most of the male attention with her sequin imitation of a metal bikini.

It was the men, of course, who interested her more. At the bottom end were the "football players" whose costume consisted solely of a jersey and some eye black, and one Tarzan. There was a Thor who had a pretty good costume and hammer, but, unfortunately, he had a face that looked as dull as the actual mythical Thor was. At least he hadn't come as The Incredible Hulk, probably the green makeup was too much trouble, but she figured, "Hulk is the strongest there is," was probably the only dialog he was capable of. The only promising candidate she saw was dressed as Teddy Roosevelt. She went up next to him at the bar and got a red plastic cup filled from the keg.

"Been out rough riding?" she asked him.

"Sorry?"

"Your costume."

"Oh yeah, got the idea from an old movie. Figure after a few drinks, I can yell, 'Charge!" and head upstairs to the bathroom. And you're batgirl without the bat logo?"

She tried to hide her disappointment. "No, just another crime fighter, but then my secret identity wouldn't be secret if I told everybody, would it?"

"I always thought the one without the costume was the secret identity."

"Yes, well it's all about your perspective, isn't it? In my case, the costumed crimefighter is my secret identity."

She moved away to discontinue the conversation with someone who's only knowledge of Teddy Roosevelt apparently came from Arsenic and Old Lace. She found a place to sit and people watch, making up stories in her head about the interactions she saw.

After fending off a few more totally inappropriate suitors, she headed upstairs to find the bathrooms that "Teddy Roosevelt" had mentioned. The first door she tried turned out to be a bedroom with "Robin Hood" passed out on the bed, and one of the "football players" trying to remove her tights.

"Whoa, what do you think you're doing?"

"Butt out babe!"

"Hey, she's obviously passed out, and not only shouldn't you be here trying to 'make her more comfortable' by taking her clothes off, but if you're the guy who roofied her, then you wouldn't want the police to find you here."

"I said, butt out babe!" he exclaimed, coming towards her, and raising his open hand. She grabbed his middle finger and bent it painfully backward, pushing his arm behind his back and giving him a push to encourage him to leave.

"I'm not going to call the police unless you come back, 'Joe Montana', but I'll be here until she comes around. Go use the bathroom to get your rocks off and count yourself lucky."

As the adrenaline wore off, she found a chair to sit in, and waited. After 5 minutes, she was pretty sure he wasn't coming back, but she took out her cell phone and set it to flash dial 911 just in case.

He had been about 5 inches taller than her and had probably had a hundred pounds on her, but she had just instinctively used a trick her Aikido teacher had taught for self-defense, and it actually worked! She wasn't very sure she could take him without surprise on her side though. Despite her costume, she was no superheroine, so the anxiety kept her alert for the couple of hours until 'Robin Hood' groggily awakened.

"Do you have a roommate? What's her number? Let me call her and have her drive you home. I think somebody slipped something in one of your drinks, but I think you'll be OK if we can get you home safely."

'Teddy Roosevelt' actually helped her get 'Robin Hood' downstairs and into her roommate's car as the party had mostly broken up by then, so he wasn't completely useless. He made one last feeble pass at her, but she mounted her motorcycle and headed home.

"Who was that masked woman?" she found herself saying in parody of the Lone Ranger in her head on the way home. Still, it felt good. She felt she had actually saved someone from a real tragedy, and probably saved the asshole from committing a serious crime for that matter.

It was 3 weeks before Sheila thought about that night again. Since her personal life continued to go nowhere, she pushed herself, continuing to catalog new entries into the Eaton SF collection at the university library.

The Eaton Collection had started as a grant and donation of thousands of pulp books and magazines from the early 20th century and had grown to quite the collection of popular fiction, including comic books and, more recently, graphic novels of course. Sheila kept it all up to date, controlled access to the somewhat fragile and mostly irreplaceable collection.

She had just added a unique program that automatically tracked the prices that items matching those in the collection had recently sold for. That would make the collection look increasingly valuable and therefore important to the board and the dean. She was thinking about putting in for a paid trip to Comic-Con, so she could make contacts with collectors who might be potential donors. After all, the early giants in the field like Stan Lee were getting older and might want to donate their personal collections. Even better maybe she could apply to be a pro to present a panel on the Eaton Collection. That led her into thinking about enhancing her costume into something presentable for Comic-Con.

She was distracted by an article in the university paper about a rape on campus last night. As part of her job she was also responsible for the newspaper collections since they shared the fragility of the Eaton Collection until their digital versions were appropriately stored, and she was glancing through the paper before putting it out for the reading room and archiving the previous week's edition.

The article mentioned that another rape had occurred on campus 10 days earlier, but it was maddeningly short on specifics. She knew it wasn't the reporter's fault. The police were always tight-lipped about crimes until nobody cared anymore about them months or years later.

2 rapes on campus in 10 days made it her business however. The campus was generally safe, but she usually walked home each night, and she was not content with sketchy reports. The same eidetic memory that made school a breeze for her allowed her to catch passwords she saw only fleetingly, even in reflection.

She had also taught herself to understand what people were typing by watching their fingers move on the keyboard. It was kind of a parlor trick she had mastered once when she was bored. Her one trip to the police station had been when she briefly dated a cop, and he had taken her to the precinct to impress her. She had managed to collect 3 passwords, including that of his boss just because she could.

It was just a matter of minutes for her to access the police records. Both rapes had taken place between 10:30 and midnight. The young women weren't exact with the time, but they had both left the library a little after closing and gotten delayed talking to friends who went in the opposite direction. Both rapes had taken place along the same path that Sheila knew well.

They had a serial rapist on campus, and it obviously called for a stakeout, but the cops didn't have the manpower or the motivation to do that, and if they did, the guy would probably just move on to someplace else. But one lone costumed crimefighter who knew where to conceal herself could do a stakeout without spooking the rapist. Was she crazy? Maybe, but this was her library, and she was going to be damned if any other woman got raped from staying late studying. That asshole was going to pay.

She checked herself in the mirror. She had added several more pouches to her belt, and a trip to the hardware store had added a stash of zip ties. She had also picked up a burner cell phone. If she was going to be a vigilante, she didn't want any blowback on her real identity. The next night she changed into her costume after she closed up the library and went out through the lawns, away from the lights to set up behind some bushes with a good view of the path.

The first night nothing happened except for her nearly freezing to death from sitting on her haunches for 2 hours in the November cold. That led to another addition. A cape long enough to wrap around her like a teepee with her head sticking out not only helped to keep her warm, but served to conceal her almost totally in the dark away from the path lights even without being behind a bush. In fact, she looked like a bush herself in the dark.

After about a half-hour, she saw a young woman walking by herself along the path. A man she hadn't seen before was coming the other way. She internally shifted from patient to alert. There was no good reason for anyone to be walking towards the library now that it was closed for the night. When the woman went to pass the man, he reached over to grab her then lunged at her, forcing her onto her back on the grass next to the path with him on top of her.

Sheila was still in the process of rising when she heard the ripping of clothes. Then came the screaming. Sheila's adrenalin was pumping hard, but she forced herself to walk slowly and deliberately. With the victim's screaming and Sheila coming up from behind him, she figured she could get close enough to act before he noticed that they weren't alone. She was within striking range, but couldn't think of any martial arts move to quickly disable a man in that position.

Instead she leaped on his back, wrapped her arm around his neck and used her other hand to push the first towards her shoulder, quickly squeezing the air, and, she hoped, the circulation, out of him with the pincer movement. He was too shocked to have a counter move, and her action was quickly rewarded with him collapsing uselessly on top of the young woman, knocking the breath out of her scream as the weight of both of them pushed down on her. Sheila quickly rolled over until she was on top of the miscreant's back, and pulled out her zip ties, binding him by the wrists and ankles.

"Are you all right, Miss?"

"I think so," she replied attempting to pull her blouse back together.

"Someone's raping a woman near the university library," Sheila was telling 911 on her burner phone, "Hurry!"

"They'll take their sweet time getting here if they think the situation is already handled," Sheila explained. She was rewarded with the sound of a distant siren. "Sorry I can't stay. There would be too many questions. I need you to stay to give your statement to the police, so they can put him away. He won't be any trouble now. He's not going anywhere and from the sound of that siren, the police will be here rather shortly."

With that she was off before the would-be victim could get in another word. Sheila quickly and silently made her way back to the library, where she donned her normal clothes. It hadn't made sense to go home to get into her costume and then come back to the library path afterwards, so she had taken to switching after locking up, then exiting via a side door and letting herself back in with one of her keys.

By the time she was walking back up the path in her civilian clothes, the police had already carted the rapist off but were still getting the full story from the victim. After showing her driver's license and explaining that she was the one who locked up the library, the police let her continue on.

###

For the next few months, she took on the identity of a crime-fighter for real. She sewed the stars for the constellation Orion on the chest of her costume. It seemed fitting to model her new persona after Orion the Hunter. The university region was not exactly a high crime area, but it became even less so. Crimefighting gave her more thrills than going alone to parties, and she was actually doing something she felt good about.

"Excuse me Miss," said a deep voice that caused her to look up from her desk. "I asked where I could find old issues of the campus news, and they told me you were the one to see."

"They're not wrong. How can I help you?"

"I'm researching Orion," he said, and Sheila managed to conceal her reaction to just a blink, but that did lead her to size him up. Tall, wavy black hair, blue eyes, or maybe a little green, decent slacks and a neat button-up shirt with sunglasses and a phone in his shirt pocket.

"You should start with last October to be thorough, but you won't find much, certainly not much more than what's in the city paper."

"You don't miss much, do you?"

"No, I don't," she replied, handing him a small checkout card, "Fill out the dates you want and bring it back with ID. The paper's a weekly, published on Thursdays. Two weeks into October should make sure you don't miss anything. You can request 3 papers at a time, and read them at that table to the right."

The newspapers had picked up on her secret identity's name after a few stopped crimes. It gave them something to say other than a mysterious woman seemed to be stopping criminals. She discreetly watched the young man fill out the form, consulting his phone to get the dates right. He pulled his wallet out of his front pants pocket as he returned to the desk. Most men were worried about bulges showing in their front pockets and kept their wallets in their back pocket where it was easy prey for pickpockets. A careful man. She scanned the checkout card and ID and summoned a "stacker" to go to retrieve the 3 requested issues.

"I'll hold your license until you're through Mr. Taylor."

"It's Jason, but you can't keep an eye on me from where you are Miss Hansen? You seemed to be doing a pretty good job of it while I filled out the card."

"You don't miss much either, Jason," she replied, thinking she must not have been as careful as she thought she was being and realizing he had gotten her name from the business card stack sitting inconspicuously on the far edge of the desk, "but it's library policy. And you can call me Sheila, since we're now on a first name basis, and you're likely to be here for several hours if you're serious."

"Pleased to meet you Sheila," he said, holding out his hand. His big hand gently enveloped hers. She smiled. She had a thing about hands, and his were perfect. She could feel the strength he was deliberately holding back. After he released her hand, he just stood casually with his arms loose by his sides as if it were the most relaxing position in the world and kept looking at her.

"It may take a few minutes," she said, returning his gaze.

"I've got all I want right here," he said, not breaking eye contact. She lifted her chin slightly and tried to see what was behind those eyes. She wasn't exactly used to being sized up by men, but it had happened enough that she was disconcerted that his eyes never left hers to wander down to her chest. This one was different.

"And why the interest in Orion?" she finally asked. She wasn't going to be the first to break the stare, but she felt less uncomfortable at least engaging in conversation.

"I pursue what catches my interest."

"A man of leisure?"

"I prefer independent scholar. An uncle I never met made me beneficiary of his estate, and he had a generous insurance policy and quite a book collection. I publish occasionally, but the joy is in the pursuit of knowledge. I like researching things to find out what others have missed. It's like being a detective. Sharing it is good too, but my papers don't exactly enjoy a large audience. A bachelor's in History doesn't serve as a great credential for scholarly journals, and my interests are broad, rather than tightly focused. I can occasionally get an old professor to co-publish with me when I write something that intrigues them. As I said, I pursue what catches my interest."

"And Orion catches your interest?"

"A real-life masked crimefighter appearing from nowhere and pursuing justice when others won't? She's only missing the silver bullet. How could she not interest me?"

Sheila couldn't stop her eyes from widening, remembering what she'd said to herself on the motorcycle ride home from the first crime she had thwarted. There was something about this man that made her...nervous. Well, maybe that wasn't the right word, but she was unsettled by the way he acted, how he looked at her. It took an effort to keep herself from fidgeting.

"Well, it hardly seems historic."