storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2008-07-14 11:15 am
storypaint) wrote2008-07-14 11:15 am
Too (Dr. Girlfriend yuri)
Comm: International Day of Femslash 7/19/08
Prompt: Five female villains Dr. Girlfriend number-twoed for. Yuri undertones, please!
Length: 3223
Fandom: Venture Brothers
Title: Too: Five Female Villains Dr. Girlfriend Number-Twoed For
Author: rhap-chan
Pairing/Characters: Dr. Girlfriend/various OFCs
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Venture Brothers belongs to Jackson Publick, Doc Hammer, and [adult swim]. All fanfiction archived here is a derivative of canon material that is not my property. I do not profit from these writings. The opinions and actions expressed in these stories are not necessarily the views and beliefs of the original author or me.
Author's Notes: I really doubt that these ficlets would fit into canon timeline, so consider this AU. For the curious the villainesses are based on these real comic book villains: 1. Catwoman, 2. Typhoid Mary, 3. Emerald Empress, 4. Poison Ivy, and 5. Rogue.
Excerpt: Kitten picked at the ridiculously revealing decolletage of her number-two costume and nodded, making a mental note, while trying to seem smart and attentive, though not attentive enough to be a threat to Felinia's dominance. Things had seemed so complicated back then. She thought she had something to prove.
1. Felinia
If she'd really understood how attached most supervillains get to their supervillain namesakes, she never would have taken the position with Felinia. But she was a new villainess, just out of college, and she didn't know how this worked yet. She just wanted a job, and Felinia offered steady pay and a steady adversary as well.
"They switch him out every ten years or so," she told Kitten (the future Dr. Girlfriend) as they strode down the narrow halls of Felinia's lair. Her tail twitched. "They think I don't notice, but sexual tension is part of the deal. He kisses differently."
Kitten picked at the ridiculously revealing decolletage of her number-two costume and nodded, making a mental note, while trying to seem smart and attentive, though not attentive enough to be a threat to Felinia's dominance. Things had seemed so complicated back then. She thought she had something to prove.
At the end of the hallway, there was a gigantic door and Kitten looked up at it in awe, sure that the command center must lie behind it. Felinia grinned (ferally, of course), and pressed her claws into the fingerprint recognition system. The door swished.
"If it didn't pay so well, I'd ask for a different arch, really. But he prides himself on being retro, a traditionalist," she said, striding into the room. Kitten followed and was immediately assaulted by the smell of cat. Well, cats. There were at least fifty in the room, bumping her ankles, growling, fighting, sleeping. She stepped around a pregnant tabby and followed her boss to the center of the room. Felinia curled up on the plush cat bed and looked up at her employee thoughtfully.
"I just hate having to fabricate everything. You're a modern woman, right? Understanding?"
She lifted her leg up behind her head and began to groom her inner thigh. Kitten watched uncomfortably. Felinia paused, barely inches from her femininity, waiting for her answer.
"Yes?" Kitten replied.
"I'd love a female to arch. Wonderous Lady, or something. Now that's an attractive chick. And Amazon women are lesbians, right?"
Kitten sneezed. She was gone two weeks later, but not unscarred. The sexual harassment lawsuit fell through, but the kitten she'd managed to adopt lived with her for two more years. It hissed when she tried to pet it and ran away when she moved. All in all, not a bad work experience. Taught her something.
Kitten always checked the "do not call this employer" box when she filled out job applications, though.
*
2. Miss Ill
Miss Ill didn't care about the fact that Sick Sheila (formerly Kitten, the future Dr. Girlfriend) didn't want her to contact her former employer.
"I've heard stories about that one," she said in the interview, her hands crossed demurely in her lap. As a sign of friendship, she hadn't shaken Sick Sheila's hand. The place smelled like a doctor's office, but it seemed very clean. That couldn't be easy to manage.
"They say she's in love with her arch," she said, lowering her voice and licking her perfectly lipsticked lips. She leaned forward and gave Sick Sheila a look, studying for confirmation. Sick Sheila thought that that was rather a breach of employer-employee confidentiality regulations, and that she didn't want to talk about it in any case. She tried to keep her face neutral. After a tense moment, Miss Ill leaned back in her seat, seeming satisfied.
"I see you took a break from arching for a while," she said, holding up the resume. "Any particular reason?"
"Trauma" didn't seem like a good answer, so she mumbled something about grad school. Miss Ill nodded.
"And do you have any powers of your own? My number two and number three might get jealous." She lifted an eyebrow. Sick Sheila frowned in puzzlement.
"Isn't this an interview for a number two position?"
"Oh my yes," Miss Ill said, waving her hand, unconcerned. "I mean my other personalities, of course. Can't have a good villainess without some sort of personality disorder. Syphilis Sally is the only one you have to watch out for; she seems to understand that we share a body and she might try to touch you, just to be ornery. Gloves might be a good idea."
"Okay," Sick Sheila replied uneasily.
She stuck out her contract with Miss Ill-- six months on a trial basis. During that time she contracted enough diseases to raise her health plan costs considerably. Her voice grew harsh and dark and three times Syphilis Sally got out and attempted to raise hell (and get her into bed, that was something else Miss Ill had neglected to mention about her other personality).
"It was a great work experience," she said, trying to smile. She shook Miss Ill's hand and on the way out she threw the gloves in the trash, even though they were new.
*
3. Diamond Duchess
Nickel Knight (formerly Sick Sheila, the future Dr. Girlfriend) was pleased to discover that the Diamond Duchess had no powers of her own. "It's all in the gem," she said, cradling the large stone around her neck and presenting it for Nickel's inspection.
Nickel nodded, making her armor clank. She wasn't too thrilled about the limited mobility her costume gave her, but it had the benefits of covering her entire body. If she kept her hair short, spoke little, and didn't see the Diamond Duchess outside of work, this charade might work. It was a mark of her desperation that she'd even dropped the helmet shield to hide her blue eyes. She wouldn't have applied for this job if she hadn't really needed to pay rent. The Duchess paid well. She was a former member of the British aristocracy, exiled for stealing in order to improve her status. She was nearly as bitter about her former employers as Nickel was.
The Duchess strode down the hall, her heels making little sound on the plush carpet. She still lived in the style she'd grown accustomed to before her exile; murdering her husband had provided her with plenty of funds to decorate as she wished. There were gems everywhere-- fake and real. They glittered as though they were carefully polished every day. Nickel hoped that that wasn't part of the number-two job. It wouldn't be easy to do in armor.
The Duchess unlocked the heavy wooden door to her study and Nickel held it open for her mistress. She bowed slightly, wincing as the helmet clanked against the back of her head, and followed the Duchess in.
The room was lined with books-- thick ones with a variety of somber covers. Peering closely, Nickel noticed they were all about gemstones. Another arch with a one-track mind. She sighed inwardly and came as the Duchess beckoned her to the center of the room.
There was a square glass case there on display, with a plush blue velvet lining, but nothing was in it. The Duchess grinned at Nickel.
"This is where I keep my diamond when I'm not using it. Thought you should know. Not that it would work for a man, anyway. But in case I ever needed you to fetch it for me."
"Diamonds are a girl's best friend," Nickel said, her voice made metallic by the helmet. The Duchess looked at her and laughed.
"That's what they say," she replied, lifting her eyebrows. Then she leaned close to the knight and smiled. Nickel gulped. The Duchess picked at her shoulder delicately, revealing a pale shoulder and a lacy bra strap.
"I always think," she purred, "that men are a woman's best friend. Really. Diamonds are so... cold."
Nickel nodded and felt a hand press against the front of her armor in what might have been a disturbing place, had she the equipment the Duchess was seeking. She shook her head swiftly. What was it with all of these horny arches? Why couldn't they seek a significant other away from work?
"I'm a woman," she said desperately, pulling off her helmet. The Duchess looked at her with disappointment, and then shrugged.
"I'm equal-opportunity. Says it on the application," she said, smiling, and the diamond glowed. Nickel felt her armor starting to fall away. Her breastplate fell on her foot and she wasn't sure what to be more worried about-- the fact that her shirt was ridiculously thin cotton or the fact that her toes were probably broken.
She didn't show up for work the next day. Screw references.
*
4. Autumn
Autumn didn't ask Ivy (the former Nickel Knight, the future Dr. Girlfriend) for any references at all. Ivy was taking some time to be Sheila, waiting tables at an Ihop and hating her life. Here she was, two years out of college, and she couldn't find a job. All of her arches were crazy. She had a master's in assistant arching (with a minor in women's literature), and nothing to show for it beyond this stupid apron and the memorized specials.
"Are you on the special?" Autumn asked, interrupting her spiel. Ivy wrinkled her nose in irritation. They got all sorts in the Ihop at this time of morning. Most of them weren't wearing green leotards and thigh-high boots wrapped around with autumn leaves, but she'd worked here for long enough not to be surprised anymore.
"What do you want to order?" Ivy asked, tapping her foot, her pen hovering above her pad. Autumn reached out and grabbed her hand. Ivy glared.
"Please let go of me, ma'am."
"How would you like to number-two for me, princess? I think you'd look adorable in leaf-green."
In retrospect, that was a warning sign. Sure, women told each other they were pretty sometimes, but not with such a leer. But all Ivy could think about was the opportunity to forget the pancake specials, to abandon the apron.
She took Autumn's hand. Their first job was inexplicable to authorities, but it sure felt great to raze that Ihop.
And to Autumn's credit, she took her number-two on four dates before she tried to get in Ivy's pants.
*
5. Stranger
Stranger was the first villainess that Lone (formerly Ivy, the future Dr. Girlfriend) had approached with a specific goal in mind. She'd been out of work for about three months and watching Montel Williams when a paternity test was interrupted by a news report. Lone sat up on the couch and listened.
The robbery was swift and succinct, the robber a young woman in clashing yellows and greens, who wore black gloves. She didn't look like anything special and wore a haircut from Lone's college days, but she was swift and when she removed those gloves--
Lone knew something special when she saw it. When the Stranger got out of prison, Lone was there to pick her up.
"I'm going to be your number-two," she said, offering a hand. The Stranger hesitated to take it. The moment she'd emerged from the building she'd put on the black gloves. Lone lifted her hands placatingly. She had on a pair of white gloves. The Stranger laughed, tossing her hair.
"You're serious, then?" she said. "You know what I do?"
"I don't have any powers," she replied, gratified to see the Stranger's swift intake of breath. Then she'd guessed right-- the Stranger absorbed the strengths of others. That was her power.
"I think it's the most valuable skill of all," she said, taking the Stranger's hands in-between hers. She looked up at the girl. "I'm going to make you a Guild member. I think I can do it. We can do it."
"But I'm just--" the other said, eyes widening. She dropped her gaze. "I'm no one special."
"When we're through, you'll have a whole team to chase after you," Lone said, and she wasn't alone anymore.
*
She had her doctorate in assistant henching before the Stranger was strong enough to apply for the Guild, but it had been worth the wait. The Stranger had washed the bleach out of her bangs, explained her harsh childhood, and been a gentlewoman with her number-two, never touching her without permission. It had been a skill she'd learned in the orphanage, she'd explained. Even normals got a small shock from her bare fingertips.
When they started, they were just two people working out of a one-bedroom apartment. Now they had a staff of fifty, dressed in the Stranger's characteristic yellows and greens. The only one Lone had eyes for was her number-one, her Stranger. The woman had blossomed under her gentle tutelage, even though she was barely four years younger than Lone was herself. She was swift, she was smart, and she was angry-- but intelligently angry. It was all the requirements of a good arch.
She was also a great friend. When Lone slipped into the compound after her last doctoral class, the Stranger was waiting in her bedroom, leaning back on the bed with her legs up in the air (doing stretches like Lone had advised she do in her free time, in order to remain in shape). She leapt up when Lone entered and wrapped her arms around her friend. She rarely hugged Lone without her permission, but Lone wasn't angry.
"You did it! You're going to graduate!" she said, and Lone let her friend's affection spill over her, grinning herself. She spun her number-one around and then settled onto the bed, the Stranger sitting down beside her. They were still holding hands; the Stranger blushed and let go.
"Give me a high-five," the Stranger said, and Lone's eyes widened. A bare-handed high-five was a gesture they used to celebrate their best successes. The shock always ran through her system with a delicious victorious tingle. She pulled off her gloves and watched as the Stranger carefully removed her own.
They high-fived; the shock made Lone gasp and fall back on the bed. The Stranger jumped on top of her, tickling with the gloved hand. Lone giggled and tried half-heartedly to break free. Breathing hard, they paused after a moment, looking at each other from only six inches apart.
"So should I call you Dr. Lone?" the Stranger asked softly, her breath tickling Lone's ear. "I think you've earned it."
"No, no," Lone replied. "You don't have to do something like that. You... you can call me Sheila, you know. If you want. If it's just us."
She was staring at the Stranger's red-lipsticked lips, her head feeling light as air. There was something strange in the air tonight. The Stranger noticed her gaze but said nothing.
"Sheila," she breathed, and she was unsurprised when Sheila learned up and kissed her softly. A shock ran through her body. When they broke the kiss, Sheila squirmed up and away, as though she hadn't been the one to initiate their contact. She seemed embarrassed.
"It's not a big deal," the Stranger said softly. She could still feel Sheila's lips on hers. She licked them and saw the traces of lipstick around Sheila's lips. She sighed heavily.
"I'm sorry," Sheila said desperately. "Stranger--"
"My name is Kelly," she said, leaning forward, and their lips met again.
*
They dated for six months, trying to keep it a secret from the henchmen, as if it mattered. Kelly had been with women before, and now it was she who was mentoring. She could make Sheila make the most amazing sounds, her back arched against the bed. They held hands as they watched themselves on the television after a big heist, sighing with the joy of a job well done.
Sheila was beginning to wonder what she'd missed with her other female arches. She'd never been loved like this.
*
Sheila came in late one evening from planning their next job. They'd moved the office wing far from their bedroom wing and she hated walking the distance at night, her heels the only sound in the deserted office. She wondered if she could talk Kelly into some night security. Her arch might get it in his head one day to attack at night, and then they'd be really screwed.
She leaned down and removed her shoes, walking in her pantyhose. They already had a run in them, anyway. It made her feel less exposed to walk quietly.
She slipped into their apartments, unsurprised that the door was unlocked, because Kelly usually left it open for her. She was surprised to hear loud noises from their bedroom. Kelly was usually in bed by this point.
Had the unthinkable happened? Had their arch really broken in? Why hadn't she called to check in?
She rushed to the door and threw it open. Four horrified eyes (two hidden by ridiculous sunglasses) lifted to see her interruption. Lasereyed wilted and he pulled himself out of Kelly, absurdly trying to hide his nakedness with his hands. Kelly stared at her girlfriend like she was a foreign being.
"Your-- your-- your arch!" Sheila said accusingly. She pointed as though Kelly hadn't realized who it was she was having sex with. Lasereyed wilted further. He began to look around on the floor for his pants.
"Sheila..." Kelly said breathlessly.
"Lone!" Lone interrupted. "I am Lone, Stranger! We can't let him have our real names!"
"The thing is, Lone..." Kelly mumbled, pulling the covers over her nakedness, "I was thinking about going straight. I have been, for a while. Lay off the arching, try the Guild of Superlatives... just expand the horizons..."
The double entendre hurt Lone more than she had expected. She staggered in the doorway as if she'd been shot. "You're going... good?" she whispered. Lasereyed pulled his pants on, grabbed his t-shirt, and tried to edge past Lone without touching her. Lone reached out and shoved his head against the doorframe without looking away from the Stranger. She squeezed his temples, making sure he couldn't pull his glasses off.
The Stranger scratched at her neck in a nervous gesture. "I was going to try... You see, um, Lasereyed, he thinks he can get me off any charges if I do the reform thing, and I have to think about the future, you know..."
Lone shoved Lasereyed into the doorframe again and then whirled around and left the compound. She took the old Lumina neither of them really drove anymore because the keys were in the ignition.
She drove for three hours before she had to stop for gas. At the gas station, she dialed a familiar number. The person who answered seemed chipper, like he'd been up for hours. He rarely slept, Phantom Limb.
"Another one?" he said when she explained the situation (leaving out the explosive break-up and the fact that she'd torched a good portion of the compound before fleeing into the night). "You just seem to go through these ladies, my dear. Are you sure you don't want a male number-one? I happen to know a vacancy coming up."
"With whom?" she asked, wrapping the phone cord nervously around her finger. There was no one here in the middle of the night, but the wind was harsh, rustling her dress, and the brightly-lit station store seemed too far from the pay phone.
"With me," he said smoothly. "I'm going to give up the desk job for a while. Are you in?"
She paused for three heartbeats. Then Queen Etheria (formerly Lone, the future Dr. Girlfriend) said, "Yes." Maybe, just maybe, this one would work out.
Prompt: Five female villains Dr. Girlfriend number-twoed for. Yuri undertones, please!
Length: 3223
Fandom: Venture Brothers
Title: Too: Five Female Villains Dr. Girlfriend Number-Twoed For
Author: rhap-chan
Pairing/Characters: Dr. Girlfriend/various OFCs
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Venture Brothers belongs to Jackson Publick, Doc Hammer, and [adult swim]. All fanfiction archived here is a derivative of canon material that is not my property. I do not profit from these writings. The opinions and actions expressed in these stories are not necessarily the views and beliefs of the original author or me.
Author's Notes: I really doubt that these ficlets would fit into canon timeline, so consider this AU. For the curious the villainesses are based on these real comic book villains: 1. Catwoman, 2. Typhoid Mary, 3. Emerald Empress, 4. Poison Ivy, and 5. Rogue.
Excerpt: Kitten picked at the ridiculously revealing decolletage of her number-two costume and nodded, making a mental note, while trying to seem smart and attentive, though not attentive enough to be a threat to Felinia's dominance. Things had seemed so complicated back then. She thought she had something to prove.
1. Felinia
If she'd really understood how attached most supervillains get to their supervillain namesakes, she never would have taken the position with Felinia. But she was a new villainess, just out of college, and she didn't know how this worked yet. She just wanted a job, and Felinia offered steady pay and a steady adversary as well.
"They switch him out every ten years or so," she told Kitten (the future Dr. Girlfriend) as they strode down the narrow halls of Felinia's lair. Her tail twitched. "They think I don't notice, but sexual tension is part of the deal. He kisses differently."
Kitten picked at the ridiculously revealing decolletage of her number-two costume and nodded, making a mental note, while trying to seem smart and attentive, though not attentive enough to be a threat to Felinia's dominance. Things had seemed so complicated back then. She thought she had something to prove.
At the end of the hallway, there was a gigantic door and Kitten looked up at it in awe, sure that the command center must lie behind it. Felinia grinned (ferally, of course), and pressed her claws into the fingerprint recognition system. The door swished.
"If it didn't pay so well, I'd ask for a different arch, really. But he prides himself on being retro, a traditionalist," she said, striding into the room. Kitten followed and was immediately assaulted by the smell of cat. Well, cats. There were at least fifty in the room, bumping her ankles, growling, fighting, sleeping. She stepped around a pregnant tabby and followed her boss to the center of the room. Felinia curled up on the plush cat bed and looked up at her employee thoughtfully.
"I just hate having to fabricate everything. You're a modern woman, right? Understanding?"
She lifted her leg up behind her head and began to groom her inner thigh. Kitten watched uncomfortably. Felinia paused, barely inches from her femininity, waiting for her answer.
"Yes?" Kitten replied.
"I'd love a female to arch. Wonderous Lady, or something. Now that's an attractive chick. And Amazon women are lesbians, right?"
Kitten sneezed. She was gone two weeks later, but not unscarred. The sexual harassment lawsuit fell through, but the kitten she'd managed to adopt lived with her for two more years. It hissed when she tried to pet it and ran away when she moved. All in all, not a bad work experience. Taught her something.
Kitten always checked the "do not call this employer" box when she filled out job applications, though.
*
2. Miss Ill
Miss Ill didn't care about the fact that Sick Sheila (formerly Kitten, the future Dr. Girlfriend) didn't want her to contact her former employer.
"I've heard stories about that one," she said in the interview, her hands crossed demurely in her lap. As a sign of friendship, she hadn't shaken Sick Sheila's hand. The place smelled like a doctor's office, but it seemed very clean. That couldn't be easy to manage.
"They say she's in love with her arch," she said, lowering her voice and licking her perfectly lipsticked lips. She leaned forward and gave Sick Sheila a look, studying for confirmation. Sick Sheila thought that that was rather a breach of employer-employee confidentiality regulations, and that she didn't want to talk about it in any case. She tried to keep her face neutral. After a tense moment, Miss Ill leaned back in her seat, seeming satisfied.
"I see you took a break from arching for a while," she said, holding up the resume. "Any particular reason?"
"Trauma" didn't seem like a good answer, so she mumbled something about grad school. Miss Ill nodded.
"And do you have any powers of your own? My number two and number three might get jealous." She lifted an eyebrow. Sick Sheila frowned in puzzlement.
"Isn't this an interview for a number two position?"
"Oh my yes," Miss Ill said, waving her hand, unconcerned. "I mean my other personalities, of course. Can't have a good villainess without some sort of personality disorder. Syphilis Sally is the only one you have to watch out for; she seems to understand that we share a body and she might try to touch you, just to be ornery. Gloves might be a good idea."
"Okay," Sick Sheila replied uneasily.
She stuck out her contract with Miss Ill-- six months on a trial basis. During that time she contracted enough diseases to raise her health plan costs considerably. Her voice grew harsh and dark and three times Syphilis Sally got out and attempted to raise hell (and get her into bed, that was something else Miss Ill had neglected to mention about her other personality).
"It was a great work experience," she said, trying to smile. She shook Miss Ill's hand and on the way out she threw the gloves in the trash, even though they were new.
*
3. Diamond Duchess
Nickel Knight (formerly Sick Sheila, the future Dr. Girlfriend) was pleased to discover that the Diamond Duchess had no powers of her own. "It's all in the gem," she said, cradling the large stone around her neck and presenting it for Nickel's inspection.
Nickel nodded, making her armor clank. She wasn't too thrilled about the limited mobility her costume gave her, but it had the benefits of covering her entire body. If she kept her hair short, spoke little, and didn't see the Diamond Duchess outside of work, this charade might work. It was a mark of her desperation that she'd even dropped the helmet shield to hide her blue eyes. She wouldn't have applied for this job if she hadn't really needed to pay rent. The Duchess paid well. She was a former member of the British aristocracy, exiled for stealing in order to improve her status. She was nearly as bitter about her former employers as Nickel was.
The Duchess strode down the hall, her heels making little sound on the plush carpet. She still lived in the style she'd grown accustomed to before her exile; murdering her husband had provided her with plenty of funds to decorate as she wished. There were gems everywhere-- fake and real. They glittered as though they were carefully polished every day. Nickel hoped that that wasn't part of the number-two job. It wouldn't be easy to do in armor.
The Duchess unlocked the heavy wooden door to her study and Nickel held it open for her mistress. She bowed slightly, wincing as the helmet clanked against the back of her head, and followed the Duchess in.
The room was lined with books-- thick ones with a variety of somber covers. Peering closely, Nickel noticed they were all about gemstones. Another arch with a one-track mind. She sighed inwardly and came as the Duchess beckoned her to the center of the room.
There was a square glass case there on display, with a plush blue velvet lining, but nothing was in it. The Duchess grinned at Nickel.
"This is where I keep my diamond when I'm not using it. Thought you should know. Not that it would work for a man, anyway. But in case I ever needed you to fetch it for me."
"Diamonds are a girl's best friend," Nickel said, her voice made metallic by the helmet. The Duchess looked at her and laughed.
"That's what they say," she replied, lifting her eyebrows. Then she leaned close to the knight and smiled. Nickel gulped. The Duchess picked at her shoulder delicately, revealing a pale shoulder and a lacy bra strap.
"I always think," she purred, "that men are a woman's best friend. Really. Diamonds are so... cold."
Nickel nodded and felt a hand press against the front of her armor in what might have been a disturbing place, had she the equipment the Duchess was seeking. She shook her head swiftly. What was it with all of these horny arches? Why couldn't they seek a significant other away from work?
"I'm a woman," she said desperately, pulling off her helmet. The Duchess looked at her with disappointment, and then shrugged.
"I'm equal-opportunity. Says it on the application," she said, smiling, and the diamond glowed. Nickel felt her armor starting to fall away. Her breastplate fell on her foot and she wasn't sure what to be more worried about-- the fact that her shirt was ridiculously thin cotton or the fact that her toes were probably broken.
She didn't show up for work the next day. Screw references.
*
4. Autumn
Autumn didn't ask Ivy (the former Nickel Knight, the future Dr. Girlfriend) for any references at all. Ivy was taking some time to be Sheila, waiting tables at an Ihop and hating her life. Here she was, two years out of college, and she couldn't find a job. All of her arches were crazy. She had a master's in assistant arching (with a minor in women's literature), and nothing to show for it beyond this stupid apron and the memorized specials.
"Are you on the special?" Autumn asked, interrupting her spiel. Ivy wrinkled her nose in irritation. They got all sorts in the Ihop at this time of morning. Most of them weren't wearing green leotards and thigh-high boots wrapped around with autumn leaves, but she'd worked here for long enough not to be surprised anymore.
"What do you want to order?" Ivy asked, tapping her foot, her pen hovering above her pad. Autumn reached out and grabbed her hand. Ivy glared.
"Please let go of me, ma'am."
"How would you like to number-two for me, princess? I think you'd look adorable in leaf-green."
In retrospect, that was a warning sign. Sure, women told each other they were pretty sometimes, but not with such a leer. But all Ivy could think about was the opportunity to forget the pancake specials, to abandon the apron.
She took Autumn's hand. Their first job was inexplicable to authorities, but it sure felt great to raze that Ihop.
And to Autumn's credit, she took her number-two on four dates before she tried to get in Ivy's pants.
*
5. Stranger
Stranger was the first villainess that Lone (formerly Ivy, the future Dr. Girlfriend) had approached with a specific goal in mind. She'd been out of work for about three months and watching Montel Williams when a paternity test was interrupted by a news report. Lone sat up on the couch and listened.
The robbery was swift and succinct, the robber a young woman in clashing yellows and greens, who wore black gloves. She didn't look like anything special and wore a haircut from Lone's college days, but she was swift and when she removed those gloves--
Lone knew something special when she saw it. When the Stranger got out of prison, Lone was there to pick her up.
"I'm going to be your number-two," she said, offering a hand. The Stranger hesitated to take it. The moment she'd emerged from the building she'd put on the black gloves. Lone lifted her hands placatingly. She had on a pair of white gloves. The Stranger laughed, tossing her hair.
"You're serious, then?" she said. "You know what I do?"
"I don't have any powers," she replied, gratified to see the Stranger's swift intake of breath. Then she'd guessed right-- the Stranger absorbed the strengths of others. That was her power.
"I think it's the most valuable skill of all," she said, taking the Stranger's hands in-between hers. She looked up at the girl. "I'm going to make you a Guild member. I think I can do it. We can do it."
"But I'm just--" the other said, eyes widening. She dropped her gaze. "I'm no one special."
"When we're through, you'll have a whole team to chase after you," Lone said, and she wasn't alone anymore.
*
She had her doctorate in assistant henching before the Stranger was strong enough to apply for the Guild, but it had been worth the wait. The Stranger had washed the bleach out of her bangs, explained her harsh childhood, and been a gentlewoman with her number-two, never touching her without permission. It had been a skill she'd learned in the orphanage, she'd explained. Even normals got a small shock from her bare fingertips.
When they started, they were just two people working out of a one-bedroom apartment. Now they had a staff of fifty, dressed in the Stranger's characteristic yellows and greens. The only one Lone had eyes for was her number-one, her Stranger. The woman had blossomed under her gentle tutelage, even though she was barely four years younger than Lone was herself. She was swift, she was smart, and she was angry-- but intelligently angry. It was all the requirements of a good arch.
She was also a great friend. When Lone slipped into the compound after her last doctoral class, the Stranger was waiting in her bedroom, leaning back on the bed with her legs up in the air (doing stretches like Lone had advised she do in her free time, in order to remain in shape). She leapt up when Lone entered and wrapped her arms around her friend. She rarely hugged Lone without her permission, but Lone wasn't angry.
"You did it! You're going to graduate!" she said, and Lone let her friend's affection spill over her, grinning herself. She spun her number-one around and then settled onto the bed, the Stranger sitting down beside her. They were still holding hands; the Stranger blushed and let go.
"Give me a high-five," the Stranger said, and Lone's eyes widened. A bare-handed high-five was a gesture they used to celebrate their best successes. The shock always ran through her system with a delicious victorious tingle. She pulled off her gloves and watched as the Stranger carefully removed her own.
They high-fived; the shock made Lone gasp and fall back on the bed. The Stranger jumped on top of her, tickling with the gloved hand. Lone giggled and tried half-heartedly to break free. Breathing hard, they paused after a moment, looking at each other from only six inches apart.
"So should I call you Dr. Lone?" the Stranger asked softly, her breath tickling Lone's ear. "I think you've earned it."
"No, no," Lone replied. "You don't have to do something like that. You... you can call me Sheila, you know. If you want. If it's just us."
She was staring at the Stranger's red-lipsticked lips, her head feeling light as air. There was something strange in the air tonight. The Stranger noticed her gaze but said nothing.
"Sheila," she breathed, and she was unsurprised when Sheila learned up and kissed her softly. A shock ran through her body. When they broke the kiss, Sheila squirmed up and away, as though she hadn't been the one to initiate their contact. She seemed embarrassed.
"It's not a big deal," the Stranger said softly. She could still feel Sheila's lips on hers. She licked them and saw the traces of lipstick around Sheila's lips. She sighed heavily.
"I'm sorry," Sheila said desperately. "Stranger--"
"My name is Kelly," she said, leaning forward, and their lips met again.
*
They dated for six months, trying to keep it a secret from the henchmen, as if it mattered. Kelly had been with women before, and now it was she who was mentoring. She could make Sheila make the most amazing sounds, her back arched against the bed. They held hands as they watched themselves on the television after a big heist, sighing with the joy of a job well done.
Sheila was beginning to wonder what she'd missed with her other female arches. She'd never been loved like this.
*
Sheila came in late one evening from planning their next job. They'd moved the office wing far from their bedroom wing and she hated walking the distance at night, her heels the only sound in the deserted office. She wondered if she could talk Kelly into some night security. Her arch might get it in his head one day to attack at night, and then they'd be really screwed.
She leaned down and removed her shoes, walking in her pantyhose. They already had a run in them, anyway. It made her feel less exposed to walk quietly.
She slipped into their apartments, unsurprised that the door was unlocked, because Kelly usually left it open for her. She was surprised to hear loud noises from their bedroom. Kelly was usually in bed by this point.
Had the unthinkable happened? Had their arch really broken in? Why hadn't she called to check in?
She rushed to the door and threw it open. Four horrified eyes (two hidden by ridiculous sunglasses) lifted to see her interruption. Lasereyed wilted and he pulled himself out of Kelly, absurdly trying to hide his nakedness with his hands. Kelly stared at her girlfriend like she was a foreign being.
"Your-- your-- your arch!" Sheila said accusingly. She pointed as though Kelly hadn't realized who it was she was having sex with. Lasereyed wilted further. He began to look around on the floor for his pants.
"Sheila..." Kelly said breathlessly.
"Lone!" Lone interrupted. "I am Lone, Stranger! We can't let him have our real names!"
"The thing is, Lone..." Kelly mumbled, pulling the covers over her nakedness, "I was thinking about going straight. I have been, for a while. Lay off the arching, try the Guild of Superlatives... just expand the horizons..."
The double entendre hurt Lone more than she had expected. She staggered in the doorway as if she'd been shot. "You're going... good?" she whispered. Lasereyed pulled his pants on, grabbed his t-shirt, and tried to edge past Lone without touching her. Lone reached out and shoved his head against the doorframe without looking away from the Stranger. She squeezed his temples, making sure he couldn't pull his glasses off.
The Stranger scratched at her neck in a nervous gesture. "I was going to try... You see, um, Lasereyed, he thinks he can get me off any charges if I do the reform thing, and I have to think about the future, you know..."
Lone shoved Lasereyed into the doorframe again and then whirled around and left the compound. She took the old Lumina neither of them really drove anymore because the keys were in the ignition.
She drove for three hours before she had to stop for gas. At the gas station, she dialed a familiar number. The person who answered seemed chipper, like he'd been up for hours. He rarely slept, Phantom Limb.
"Another one?" he said when she explained the situation (leaving out the explosive break-up and the fact that she'd torched a good portion of the compound before fleeing into the night). "You just seem to go through these ladies, my dear. Are you sure you don't want a male number-one? I happen to know a vacancy coming up."
"With whom?" she asked, wrapping the phone cord nervously around her finger. There was no one here in the middle of the night, but the wind was harsh, rustling her dress, and the brightly-lit station store seemed too far from the pay phone.
"With me," he said smoothly. "I'm going to give up the desk job for a while. Are you in?"
She paused for three heartbeats. Then Queen Etheria (formerly Lone, the future Dr. Girlfriend) said, "Yes." Maybe, just maybe, this one would work out.