Operation: OnlyHeroes

Lenora's POV

Elsewhere in the Ascendants Tower...

The room they called the 'Quiet Room' was, in fact, never silent. It hummed with the low-frequency thrum of the tower's power core directly below and the faint, almost musical sigh of trapped shadows. It was my favorite office.

The man -striped down bare, chained to the steel table in the center of the room, circled by my loyal acolytes was making a pathetic attempt to disrupt its symphony. His name was Felix 'Flicker' Moran. A low-tier teleporter with a record of grand larceny and attempted murders. He'd been scooped up yesterday trying to use the chaos of the kaiju attack to loot a bank. Pitiful.

He was also, according to a whisper from a shadow that had curled under his doorway last night, briefly in the employ of a new player who valued discretion and a talent for quick getaways.

"I don't know anything, I swear!" he whined, pulling against the cuffs as I walked to my closet to fetch my cigar. The metal was cold-forged iron, etched with dampening runes. A little gift from our R&D department for "unconventional detainees." His teleportation was about as effective as a sputtering candle.

I signaled one of my acolytes to light my cigar, the tip glowing an orange hue as I inhale. I stood at the deepest pool of the shadows, fixing my gloves, letting the lighting from the cigar reflect the glow of my face. 

"Felix," I said, my voice a low, soothing murmur that seemed to absorb the light. He squirmed. Deliciously pathetic.

"The thing about shadows," I said, coming to stand before him, "is that they are so very... insistent. They find every crack. Every hollow place. They know all the things you try to hide in the light."

I leaned forward, placing my gloved hands on his should, trailing it to his torso, down to his crotch.

"My colleagues upstairs and I are having a very bad day," I purred. "A friend of ours is missing. A dear, foolish, expendable, yet mildly endearing friend. And a sweet, adorable, naïve little intern is having his life dissected on live television. It's putting everyone in a dreadful mood."

One of the shadowy tendrils crept up his leg. He gasped, his eyes wide with terror.

"And me?" I continued, I hugging him from behind, cupping his cheek. "I had a gala I wanted to attend to. The dress is Valentino. It's unforgiving. My night ruined by some man." Then, lowering my voice, leaning to his hear, I whispered. "Now, be a good boy for me and picture what'll happen to a man who thinks he has the shadow on his side, only for the shadow he hides in is eating him alive."

The tendrils crept up closer and closer, passing through his crotch. Suddenly, he screamed in agony. Possibly from testicular pain. "Mmm. Speak of the devil." I chuckled, then placed my gloved hands on both shoulders, messaging him. "Shh, shh. Try to relax, okay, my little boy toy?"

He writhed against the cuffs, body jerking like a puppet with tangled strings. My shadows tightened their caress, one sliding up his throat, another coiling around his wrists until the metal bit deeper into skin. His breath came in ragged bursts, somewhere between a sob and a moan.

"Oh, Felix..." I exhaled a plume of smoke, the ember of my cigar glowing like a patient star. "You thought you were clever, yes? Skimming the chaos, dipping into vaults while the rest of us were keeping this wretched little city from being eaten alive."

He tried to speak, but the tendril tightened across his mouth, muffling him. I let it slacken just enough.

"I—I don't know him!" he wailed. "This OptiksMaster guy? He's nobody! Just a name on a burner! I never even saw his face!"

"Mm," I purred, stepping around to crouch at eye-level with him. "A nobody who suddenly knows the full name of our intern. A nobody who hijacks livestreams without leaving a signal trace. A nobody whose coin purses seem bottomless enough to buy rats like you by the dozen." Then ran his hair as the tendril flogged him in the back, "Offering your services to customers you hardly know the detail of. That's bad practice in the world of merchants."

His face twisted. "I just—just moved some packages! That's it! He said they were... cameras. Broadcast rigs. I didn't ask—"

The shadows surged at that word: cameras. My lips curved into a slow, delighted smile. "That's better."

I flicked ash into the tray one of my acolytes held aloft, then leaned close enough that Felix could smell the wine still lingering on my breath. His pulse throbbed wildly at his throat.

One of my acolytes leaned over to show news footage from the tablet. On the screen, a particularly foolish news anchor was suggesting Trailblazer's capture was an elaborate stunt for a new reality show. The idiocy was staggering. It was also useful. Noise was a wonderful cloak.

Another came over to pass me my phone, which vibrated silently. A single message from Shanice:

Asset secured. Enigma played his part. 

Good.

"Now," I said, shifting my attention to Felix. "The packages. Where did you move them last?"

Felix's eyes darted left, right—like there was anywhere to run. The shadows rippled when he hesitated, brushing along his chest with an intimacy that promised far worse than chains.

"The... the old clock tower," he stammered finally, voice breaking. "At South Damen Avenue."

My laugh was low and smoky, filling the Quiet Room like incense, curling between the trembling man and the loyal silhouettes gathered around him.

"The old clock tower," I repeated, each word dropping like a pebble into a well. "How very... storybook. Criminals and their love for clichés—it's almost poetic."

Felix's breath hitched. "I'm not lying, I swear!"

I circled him, the click of my heels syncing with the faint hum of the core beneath us. The shadows followed, snaking across his body, caressing his shoulders, chest, thighs, until he looked less like a man and more like prey cocooned for later.

"Not lying," I murmured, tilting my head. "No, I don't believe you are. Not because you're brave—bravery is a stranger to you—but because you're too pathetic to invent anything worth my time. Or my... affection."

I leaned close, close enough that the heat of his fear brushed against my skin. The ember of my cigar flared as I took another drag, then exhaled slowly over his face. His eyes watered.

"The clock tower..." I whispered, fingers trailing up the iron cuffs until my glove rested against his trembling hand. "...is going to be very loud when it falls."

Felix whimpered, struggling against the bindings again. "Please, I told you everything. Please, I don't—"

A tendril slipped into his mouth, silencing him with a gag of living shadow. He gagged, eyes rolling back in panic.

"Shh," I soothed, brushing his damp hair back and kissing his forehead like a lover comforting a frightened child. "You've given me what I needed. That was all you were good for. All you needed to be a good boy."

The shadows released him all at once. He collapsed against the table, wheezing, half-sobbing, slick with sweat. I examined him from top to bottom, to find him leaking a... rather familiar creamy liquid between his legs. "Well, guess the truth's not the only thing that leaked from you, boy toy."

Wiping off the tip with my finger, licked my lips slightly before licking the trace of his remaining innocence.

I turned to my acolytes, snapping my fingers once. "Enjoy our new little toy. He has been a good boy today. Just... not worthy of my Grafenberg spot. And take turns sucking his cream dry this time."

"Yes, Mistress," they murmured in unison, shadows tightening obediently.

I smoothed my gloves and plucked a speck of ash from my lapel. My mood lightened, if only slightly. 

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