The Return of Cougaress Ep. 06

Author's Notes: This is the beginning of the three-episode finale for this series. It's been a fun run, however I think that will be it for Cougaress unless I get some new inspiration about her I can't resist. Enjoy.

EPISODE SIX: Our Heroine Gets Severely Bugged By Some Thing

After you've had time to reflect on it, the incident with Thermo puts you off the idea of hooking up with villains for the time being. It's true you're still unsatisfied (both physically and emotionally) by your lack of a reliable partner, but after your bad experience with Paragon you definitely are not ready to jump into yet another long-term relationship with a guy you don't know all that well.

This isn't supposed to be a problem with heroine-villain encounters, which was one reason why you were interested in having them. But the way Thermo got all needy so quickly reminds you that a lot of villains don't exactly have stable personalities or much emotional resilience. Furthermore, having one of the bad guys become completely obsessed with a heroine when all she wanted out of the relationship was a little happy-fun-time isn't exactly an unknown phenomenon, so you're taking Thermo's reaction to you as a warning signal.

There's also the matter of the Watchman, who you're now convinced was the black-costumed guy who interrupted Thermo's proposal. In retrospect you're kind of relieved he did that, but on the other hand it means you've got an unknown quantity following you around. Maybe you've already got an obsessive super-something (since you still don't know if he's a villain, a hero, or what) who's fixated on you, one who is too shy to approach you directly? Whatever he is, the idea that he might follow you while you're going on a "date night" (which after all is what you thought you were doing when you went to meet Thermo) puts a damper on your enthusiasm about future trysts in abandoned locations.

There's a third reason as well, which is that Paragon is now being a son of a bitch about the divorce, and the constant simmering rage this makes you feel is suppressing your sex drive. Mostly, anyway.

* * * * * *

Initially the separation was amicable. The house was in your (secret identity) name and Paragon really had no interest in retaining any part of it anyway. Hell, he's got that giant secret lair in Antarctica, what would he need half a modest townhouse for? You suggested splitting the rest of the joint property down the middle and his lawyer agreed. But then Paragon blind-sides you by demanding full custody of Ryan!

Naturally you take him to court over this. His attorney argues that since Ryan's birth certificate was issued just about six years ago he is clearly still a minor child and therefore needs parental custody. Paragon, being Paragon, is clearly the superior custodian, QED.

Your lawyer counters with medical and dental records and testimony that show Ryan is not biologically five-to-six at this point. And while you don't like dragging your baby into this, your lawyer points out that having him testify in court will be more effective than any number of affidavits, so Ryan takes the stand to tell the judge about the dimension he grew up in and how long he spent there.

To drive the knife in, your lawyer next establishes that in taking Ryan to the new dimension and leaving him there, Paragon had without his spouse's permission or consent removed his underage son from home and transported him out of the country (way, way out of the country) to leave him in the care of unrelated persons. Furthermore, your lawyer presents recent media interviews showing how Paragon himself publically stated that he had done this to make sure that when he brought Ryan back the boy would be old enough to defend himself. Taken together, this demonstrates a) that Paragon had committed parental abduction, making him an unfit father in any event, also that b) Paragon himself has admitted his son is no longer a juvenile.

The judge doesn't want to make a ruling on Ryan's actual age, which would possibly open up a huge can of worms by setting a case law precedent involving travel to other dimensions. So he decides to just ask Ryan what he wants, and Ryan says he'd rather stay with his Mom. Which almost makes you cry right there in the courtroom.

Paragon's attorney makes some noises about joint custody at this point but the judge slaps him down, suggesting that any further exploration of the subject could only take place after an investigation of the parental abduction accusation.

And that's pretty much that. The papers won't be final for some time, but it's clear you've won in every way that matters. On the way out you hug Ryan tight and he turns all red and mutters, "Jeez, Mom, cut it out." You just laugh.

* * * * * *

You took time off patrolling due to the stress of the court case, but now that it's over you're eager to resume your duties after the long weeks of worry. As it turns out there's a particular mystery that recently came up which has caused the cops to ask for any available heroes to help.

There have been a significant number of unexplained disappearances at night over the past few weeks, all of them happening within about a five-block radius of Founder's Park. Logical conclusion, whatever's causing the disappearances is based in or at least comes out of the park. So you're roaming around outside the park, hoping to catch the perp(s) on their way out or back.

Your patrol isn't a solo effort. Several other local heroes are also searching the park tonight, but it's so large you agree to split up to cover more area. And of course none of you was willing to admit any doubts about being able to handle whatever you find by yourself. (Another one of the occupations hazards of being a superhero is that you have a hard time confessing you might need help with such things.)

You volunteered to check out the streets along the western edge of the park, partly so that you don't have to go into the park itself. Despite having feline powers and naming yourself after a big cat, you're not an outdoorsy sort of person. You stick to urban areas for your patrols and never take missions that would send you out into the boonies if you can help it. But Founder's Park is the largest in the city, close to three thousand acres of lawns, woods, streams, picnic grounds, bandstands, etc. All of it managed to some extent, but with large areas left in a "wild-ish" state and certain parts (for instance the old, closed-down aquarium) pretty much abandoned. It's about as close to nature as you can get inside the city, and you feel much more comfortable stalking the streets and alleys beside the park instead of traipsing through the bushes inside.

It's your second night on this mission. The neighborhoods to the west of Founder's Park are pretty run-down, and except for the occasional insomniac, druggie, or homeless camper you run across, you're alone. Well, theoretically alone. You once again have the feeling that this "Watchman" person may be dogging your footsteps, though you never quite catch him at it. But it's past two AM and you're considering calling it a night when you hear the faint scream. As soon as it reaches your ears you're bounding in that direction.

About a block away and down a dark alley you find them. One is a scrawny young woman with hair that hasn't been washed or combed in weeks, probably a homeless meth user. The other is a freaking giant spider.

Or not exactly a spider, you assess as you charge in. It's got ten legs, for one thing, and the forward four appear to have hands of some sort. The head is held upright, unlike a spider's, and has big dish-like ears or maybe radar antennas on both sides. And the eyes look almost human, except that there are four of them and they sit on long, flexible stalks.

That's as much as you can analyze before you take a final leap right onto the thing's back, driving your feet down as you land and causing it to do a belly-flop to the street. You jump off in the next motion and reach the woman. She's not screaming now because she's got something that looks like webbing over her mouth, as well as binding her arms and legs. You extend your claws and slash through the stuff, which is tougher than nylon rope.

Rapidly freeing the woman you push her toward the alley entrance and yell, "Go, get out of here!" She does, with a jittery speed and energy that makes you assume she's taken something illegal and powerful recently. Meanwhile you face the spider-thing in a fighting crouch, ready to intercept if it chases her.

It doesn't try. Instead it seems far more interested in you. It's gotten back up on six of its ten legs, but then doesn't move except for the eye-stalks which wave around a bit as if sizing you up.

The spider-thing isn't as huge as you first thought. The fact that it's mostly a dull black causes it to blend with the shadows and obscure the real proportions. The legs also make it look bigger as the longest ones are a good nine feet long when they're not bent, but the main body is only the size of a Shetland pony's. The spherical head is more human in dimensions, though certainly not in looks.

"Okay, you're not attacking, that's good," you tell it. "What if we talk about this? Assuming that you talk."

The thing's eye-stalks move a bit farther apart, as if it's considering the proper response. Then one of the rearmost legs suddenly flicks forward as if the thing is kicking at you, except you're much too far away for it to reach.

You can't see the strand of webbing coming at you in the dark, but you feel it when it hits your ankle. Your claws are still out, so you rapidly slash through the strand and free yourself. However both the thing's back legs are now flicking forward rapidly and more strands come flying in, drawn from spinnerets and flung by the thing's back limbs. Some of these strike your legs, thighs, and torso. You slash and dodge, managing to keep yourself free of being tied down, but it's very clear this is a losing proposition in the long run.

Since your opponent has all the advantage at this range you charge forward to close the distance. You strike, but the spider-thing is fast and blocks with one of its manipulating arms. Over the next few moments you unleash a variety of swings, punches and kicks, as well as using flips and jumps to try to get either behind or on top of your opponent. Unfortunately it's nearly as fast as you, and with its multiple limbs and the fact it can turn an eye to see in any direction it's simply impossible for you to blindside the thing. You land a couple of partly-deflected blows and think it winces when you connect, but most of your strikes aren't hitting home and none of them seems to inconvenience the thing all that much.

You notice that the spider-thing isn't launching any retaliatory attacks, even on those occasions when you deliberately leave an opening in the hopes it will make a move you can then exploit. Instead it just keeps flicking it's webbing at you, forcing you to cut yourself free again and again. Possibly this means it's merely defending itself against your "attack," even if it did start it by trying to web you. You suspect however it's much more likely Spider-thing wants you alive, since after all it apparently was trying to capture the other woman.

You decide it's time to honor Shakespeare's quote about discretion being the better part of valor, meaning to cut and run like hell. It's too bad the creature will get away this time but once you get away you can inform the other heroes about what's causing the disappearances. A group will have a much better chance of dealing with the problem, but you can't be part of the solution if you're a cocoon hanging in a giant spiderweb.

You feint an aggressive punch but don't carrying through, rather you leap over the thing's parry and land behind it. You could spin and try to attack from the rear yet again but since that hasn't worked so far you instead dash for the exit. At which point you run straight into a web that you didn't see in the darkness, one stretching entirely across the alley which definitely wasn't there before!

Apparently this thing is great at multi-tasking, not only was it defending itself from your attacks and flinging webbing at you, at the same time it was also weaving a barrier to prevent your escape. You curse and start slashing your way through the barrier, but it's too late. Strand after stand of new webbing is falling all over you, binding your limbs faster than you can free them. You fight it the best you can, but eventually you're reduced to slowly struggling against the thickening bondage.

The spider-thing comes close and you feel a hot, sharp pain in one buttock. After that you fall unconscious.

* * * * * *

You wake up, and it's not in the alley. You can't move your arms or legs. "Shit, this is happening to me far too much these days," you groan.

You assess the situation. You're inside a large, mostly-empty concrete structure with industrial-type lighting. Probably the boat-storage facility, where they keep all the park's paddle-boats and canoes and racing shells during winter. This time of year it would be locked up and unfrequented, making it the perfect lair for, say, a giant spider-thing.

You're hanging face down, torso a little lower than your limbs, the latter being spread apart with each one anchored. Attempts to struggle show that all parts of you are suspended by webbing (which, now that there's enough light, you can see does look similar to spider silk), also that you can't simply break it because you can't move your limbs very far or get leverage. Your left butt cheek still stings a bit from where the thing presumably bit you.

There's more of the webbing stretching from floor to ceiling in various places near you, but importantly, there's no spider-thing in sight. You extend your claws and start sawing at the nearest webbing, trying to free your hands.

"You: awake. Good."

Startled, you stop your efforts and look around. Nobody and nothing. Except that in the next second the spider-thing appears out of nowhere. He's hanging from some of the webbing in front of you, and apparently has been the whole time.

"You're invisible?" you blurt.

The thing's eye-stalks bend down as if to inspect himself. "Stealth field: off. I am completely visible. Why do you say this?"

"I meant that you can... never mind, I suppose it's not important, considering. Let's cut to the chase. Who are you, and what do you want?"

He focuses back on you. "Exchange: information. Agreed?"

You have to admit this offer is better than him sucking your blood, which was your first assumption for why he wanted you alive. "Sure thing, I'll go first. Who and what are you?"

"You ask my designated identity and species?"

"If you want to put it that way, yes."

"This individual termed Beta-T-dwisq-9370-nirnorirn-atalizaproygimrst. Note: this is cursory form. Full designation far longer."

"Oookay," you drawl. "How about I just call you Betty, for short?"

The alien doesn't perceptibly react. "If you feel the need to do so: acceptable. As to my species: Egioneelan."

"I'm guessing you're not from around here, Betty."

Now you could swear he looks puzzled. "I am unaware of any species native to the local planetary collection that could be mistaken for an Egioneelan. If your conclusion is that I am from a different stellar region: correct."

"I'd say welcome to Earth, but I'm not sure you are. Are you behind the people who've been vanishing recently?"

"People: members of the local sapient population?"

"That would be them, yeah."

"No 'people' have vanished to my knowledge," the alien states. "I have collected several specimens of 'people' that proved inadequate. These had their life functions terminated using a method which will allow further analysis of the physical remains at a future time. Therefore, nothing: vanished."

Great, a complete literalist. "Inadequate? What does that mean?"

"I have answered several questions: you will now answer questions. You appear to be a member of the same species as the other specimens: you are different. Your physical potential: much greater. Why?"

"Well, the simplest answer is that I'm a superhero, and the others weren't."

"Wait: brief pause." Betty closes all four of his eyes for a few minutes. You surreptitiously start sawing at the webs again, stopping when the alien's eyes open.

"Local information network examined on topic: superhero. You have powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men?"

"Umm, that's a fancy way of putting it, but yeah."

"Understood. This: good news. You are possibly an adequate specimen. Next question. Are you female?"

You can't help feeling a little insulted. "Of course I am. Isn't it obvious?"

"External gender characteristics in your species: confusing. One collected specimen wore female-type garments and visibly had large mammary glands consistent with female gender: anatomically had male genitalia and no uterus."

You recall that one of the vanished victims was a transsexual. "Yes, I'm female."

"Excellent. Have you borne young?'

"Excuse me???"

"Restatements: clarifications. Are you the birth mother of at least one offspring? Have you ever brought a pregnancy to term? Are you some banger's baby-momma? Did you ever have a bun in the oven and popped it out? Is..."

"Okay, okay, I got it the first time," you interrupt. "I was just surprised by you asking that particular question. Yes, I've had a baby."

"That is: good."

"Why is it good?" you ask. "For that matter, it seems to me that I've answered more questions than you did now, it should be my turn to ask some."

"Answers from specimen: no longer needed. Exchange: information now irrelevant," Betty announces. "However, I will provide this answer. It is preferable that specimen has borne young in past, because such specimens prove to be more capacious."

Betty begins to move higher through the webbing, heading above the level where you hang. At the same time something starts sprouting out of a slit in the undersurface of his lower body. It's not black like the rest of him, it's green, slimy, warty, and placed about where you assume a male organ would be.

It's also the size of a stallion's dong. Well, at least a Shetland pony's.

You yelp. "Oh, fuck. Is that your cock?"

"Fuck: sexual intercourse. Not accurate description of process," Betty intones. "Primary reason: sexual organ is not 'cock' meaning penis. Sexual organ: ovipositor. I am female."

You're not about to become the host for a fucking alien spider's eggs without a fight. Though considering your situation there's not a lot you can do aside from thrash about while trying desperately to cut your hands free.

Betty ignores this as she proceeds to slice off your costume, four of her "hands" wielding blades which must be awfully sharp to shear through the tough material so easily. The alien works slowly and carefully, and despite your frantic struggles the razor edges never touch your skin. Betty doesn't bother with your boots or mask, but in time every bit of your high-tech leotard is removed. She carefully applies webbing to your newly bared flanks and legs as she works, replacing the strands formerly attached only to your clothing. Meaning you're just as trapped when she finishes as when she started.

At this point however Betty apparently decides she's had enough of your struggles, futile though they are. She moves to another part of the web where there's a bundle of some sort, retrieves a faintly glowing blue object from it, and returns to where you're still writhing around. You feel the exact same sting on your butt cheek as before, but this time instead of going unconscious you start feeling warm and cozy. Your movements slow as your muscles relax. It occurs to you that Betty never bit you earlier, she must have used the same sort of medical injector. Clearly this time it's a different drug, though.