My muscle-bound arms were around Kate's slight figure, feeling the smooth intake of each of her breaths on my chest, her divine breasts jammed against me. They were clenched into unyielding little fists from the cold of the room, and dug into my ribs like small bullets. Her peach of a bottom completely filled each of my hands, like the one watermelon we have on a hot July afternoon. Her puckered, pinched asshole was peeking at me in the form of every breath she took.
"Who's that?" Kate's eyes grew wide as she heard the soft ping of my earpiece.
"A responsibility to fulfill," I whispered, my voice shaking with guilt and excitement. For me, the novelty of the forbidden never wore off — fucking and fighting went hand in hand.
Kate looked up at me, grey eyes questioning, full lips open in a soft O of protest. "But—
"I know," I whispered, pressing a kiss to her crown. "But the world needs saving more than we need eachselves."
Stepping into the tight white jumpsuit, it clings to my donkey dick. Kate still feels new. A tight little piece of snatch to fuck, to slide in and out of whenever the demands of the world are far from my mind. The rest of the Kates fade as I step back. The real Kate lies on the bed, her flesh illuminated in the faint light. Her skin is pink from our exertions. She follows after me, pouting. Her fingers make circles around her clit. Her plump, pink cunt is wet from our play.
"Can you call me on your next break?" she whispered.
"Always," I said, half-smiling. There were two other girls to keep an eye on, to begin with. "But you know how it is."
Thus the wind of the night enfolded me with its dark arms and I rose into the night. The lights of Utah grew dim beneath me and the weight of the earth on my shoulders once more seemed a counter-irritant to the softness of Kate.
"Zandale, I've got a problem," Cecil's voice was a snake in the ear, cold and insistent. "Angstrom Levy is at Invincible's home. He is threatening the lives of his family. Invincible is going to need your help."
I got a pounding in my chest faster then my flying. "Fuck," I said, hitting myself over the head with the fact. Levy was the guy, he was the one who was going to cause the Invincible War.
I flew over the quiet suburban houses, the wind blowing over my face, with a thousand whispers in my ear. I drew closer to the houses, and then I saw it. The outline of the house that I'd seen so many times in the comics. Invincible's house. The lights were out, and my heart pounded in my chest like a bass drum at a rap concert. This was no longer fantasy anymore. This was real.
I came through the window and into the silence. There, before me, was Debbie. All black ratty hair and wide white circles of fear and blood. She held Oliver, the purple-skinned baby, in the crook of her arm. Her breasts heaved and fell in fear, the spheres of the titties straining the fabric of the ripped shirt. Oliver had his tiny fists clenched, eyes closed, as if he could just wish it away.
"Where is he?" I said, looking around for the madman.
"Levy's in the other room," the woman's voice shook as she pointed down the hall. "He said if I made a noise, he was going to kill us both."
I clenched my jaw and nodded. "I'll take care of it," I said, my veins burning with super-strength nitrous oxide.
The next thing I knew I was standing in front of Levy again, those rat-like eyes sparkling with cruel intent. "Bastion Prime, your too late!" he cackled, the words their own lash in the charged air.
But I wasn't about to back down. I clenched my fist, the muscles flexing in my 7-foot body as I advanced on him. "You attacked the wrong family," I growled, running at him.
Levy's eyes went wide as he realized what was happening too late. With a single, swift motion I buried my hand into the middle of his chest and felt ribs crack and splinter, bones breaking beneath the inhuman force of my hand. He made a gurgling sound, the taste of his own blood in the back of his mouth as my hand pushed its way up to the wrist. I was faster than Invincible. Who knew? Turns out, he didn't. In that moment, at least.
"You… you can't," he croaked, his eyes bulging like a toad ready to lay eggs.
But before he could even say anything, I just went ahead and unloaded on him. One blast of my orange eye-beams, and his head just fucking disappeared. Like gone. Ended. Over. Nothing but the sweet taste of charred O2 and the metallic aftertaste of death filling the room.
Debbie shrieked and fell to the ground, but the baby didn't make a peep in her arms. She finally grasped what had occurred, her gaze darting wildly back and forth between the smoldering hole where Levy used to be and the me who was still perfectly fine. The only sound in the room was Debbie sobbing.
"What the hell was that for?" she sobbed. "We needed him! Mark is still inside!"
Damn, I hadn't thought that far. But damn, he had it coming. "I'll get him back," I tried to say, trying to sound braver than I was. "I can do what he did."
I stiffened as something within me began to shift and grow—a new strength. It was an animal, caged and now released. I felt that the world was a drumhead in my fist, vibrating like the ribcage of Levy before I'd dashed his brains upon the wall. I concentrated on this power, drawing it towards me.
Then I did it. It appeared in the palm of my hand, a shimmering, orange whirl of nothingness. "Fuck!" I exclaimed, staring in shock. It expanded, its edges fuzzy, like a badly tuned television. It was more intense than anything I'd ever experienced before.
"What's going on?" Debbie whispered, yet I couldn't tear my eyes from the widening funnel.
"I'll go look for Mark," I said, and walked out into the storm. Everything was curved and twisted, and worlds rode on worlds, dimensions layered over dimensions, the weirdnesses piling on one another. I saw worlds where men were caged animals for giant alien prostitutes, and worlds where the skies were made of molten lava. I did not see any that felt like Mark's fear and desperation.
I was transported to some kind of barren wasteland, with the sky having turned some weird shade of yellow-green. Sitting there was Invincible, hunched over, in a worn-out costume.
"Mark!" I hollered across the empty wasteland. He paused and looked up at me with bloodshot and weary eyes, but on seeing me, his anger was replaced by a combination of relief and annoyance.
"What happened to him?" he asked, his voice a mixture of accusation and defeat.
"I had no other choice," I spoke, the words weighting my mouth like a dollop of wet cement.
Invincible stared hard at me, as though to read my soul for its veracity. The wind wailed around us like a bereaved spirit mourning for what we had lost.
"Has he been killed?" he exclaimed, the strong emotions in his voice shuddering.
I nodded my head, gravely. "He's dead."
Time froze for a split second to see what Mark would do next. Then Mark punched the ground and caused a ripple in the barren landscape. "You had no right!"
"I did what I had to do," I replied, feeling like a ton of bricks had been dumped on my head. "He was going to hurt your Mom and Brother. I had to act."
Mark's eyes were still angry, but I saw a trace of comprehension there as well. He knew what kind of monster Levy was. He knew what kind of monster he had built. "Take me home," he snarled, his hands still clenched at his sides.
I did, and the portal grew large enough to encircle us. The borders churned, billowing in waves like rain falling from a storm. It settled, and we stood in the living room of the Grayson home. The same one where it all started. Mark's mother, Debbie, and little brother, Oliver, sat on the couch and locked eyes with us for one motionless instant.
As soon as Mark spotted them, he rushed over and hugged both of them with a strength he probably didn't know he still had. "Mom," he tried to speak, relief evident in every word.
"Mark," Debbie sobbed, holding her son even more tightly, her arms, her heart pounding with joy in her chest like a runaway stampede of wild mustangs. She felt the tension in his arms, his embrace. Her face was a mess, but she was alive, all because of Bastion Prime.
Cecil stepped through the door, his sharp gaze scanning the room. With teleportation, he was only a shadowy form until he materialized into his typically stern form. He still wore that same blue suit, that same perfectly-tied tie, and had every hair combed in place, as he stepped through the door and glared at the slumped form of Levy sitting in the corner with that horrible expression.
"Mark," he ordered in a gentle but commanding voice. "Your mother is sick. She will be taken to the Pentagon. She will have the best medical care."
Mark nodded and slightly loosened his hold on Debbie and Oliver. He knew that Cecil was right. His mother's condition was priority. He took one last questioning glance at them and released them, his eyes never leaving them as he back away.
She gazed up at me, and her eyes welled up with gratitude. "Thank you," she breathed, barely audible. "Thank you for saving us."
I nodded, finally feeling it settle in my ribcage. "It's my job," I said, attempting nonchalance. I had killed a man, even if he was a twisted asshole, it simply shouldn't have been me, like I'd stolen something from Mark. An opportunity to finish it himself.
I gave Mark a final pat on the back and on my way out I cast a last glance at the quivering form of Debbie. Her breasts was still covered by what was left of her shirt, but I could make out the nipples jutting out due to fear and chill. She gazed up at me with a horrified expression of gratitude, eyes fixed to the back of me until I reached the door.
The sky was black, the stars peeking at me conspiratorially like so many mysteries untold. I sprang upward, my cape billowing behind me in protest. My nipples were rock-hard from the wind pounding against the flesh my costume left exposed and my suit rubbing against me like a caress. My skin was tingling with the electricity of the adrenaline that had recently been released, a whirling buzzing that made me giddy.
Soaring through the empty city streets, with the skyscrapers nothing more than dark outlines against the sky. I was buzzing with the idea of all the things I could do, all the places I could go. This new ability I had was liquid fire, a shot of whiskey that scorched going down the throat, but smoothed out into a pleasant tingling aftertaste.
Then I was standing in the middle of the Mojave Desert, the moon and stars my only light. I was floating, with the energy of a thousand worlds coursing through my body, with a pulse pounding in my wrist like the very rhythm of creation. I held up the hand that had opened a thousand doors, and I just couldn't help myself.