Thread: Empire - City of Wonder (Black_Out and The Supple Nail)

She retreated. She refused to cower. What of it if every move looked like a cringe? It was a tactical withdrawal, not a flight. She backed away from the looming horror before her, only for the clattering, shrieking carts of the funhouse ride to come barreling down on her from behind. She whirled, eyes wide, and barely managed to fling herself out of the way. She landed heavily, on knees and elbows, and scrambled forwards looking for purchase. Her weapon was nowhere to be found. And there was something there in the darkness with her. It swirled through the shadows, weaving in and out of the mirrors and grotesque statuary displayed in cheap latex and red paint. Every false monster, every animatronic scarecrow was magnified in Wonder Woman's mind into a savage threat. And then the something reached out and touched her. She wouldn't have believed that it was real if not for the stinging line of fire that it drew down one powerful arm. A thin trickle of blood dripped from the tiny gash. But the touch was just a catalyst. Abruptly everything shifted on her. Contracting, rearranging, her vision darkening and blurring. It was only for an instant, but when she came back to herself it had returned. She dangled above the funhouse. The tableau looked fleetingly familiar, if only she could focus on anything but her fear. With a jerk she tilted forward and shot a hand out to catch herself only to find her self wrapped in chains. Panic began to overtake her as she struggled. She should be able to burst them with ease but her strength had failed. The thick links tangled her limbs, twisting her shapely arms behind her back. Her legs were ensnared. But her weight wasn't resting on the chains binding her, it was on the slick links that ran between her legs. Every wriggling motion dragged the chain across the gusset of her uniform and she clenched involuntarily, shaking her head as it slid against her. Her vision cleared, the shadowy walls of the funhouse resolving before her. She could do nothing but flee. It touched her again, and again she was transported. This time there was no private shame. Jeering crowds looked down at her. She was chained by wrist and ankle, spreadeagled, her arms held high above her and her ankles chained lewdly apart. The very ruffians that she had just dispatched crowded around her, leering, running their filthy hands over her body. One fat twin moved behind her, his breath hot on her neck. The other stood in front of her. She shook and twisted to get away as he filled his palms with twin handfuls of her luscious breasts, grinning lasciviously, almost slavering. He hooked two fingers into her low neckline and began to rip. She stumbled back against a straw stuffed figurine in a hockey mask, knocking it over. She was back in the funhouse. She scrambled to her feet just as something furtive moved past her, aiming a low slash at her thighs. She fell to her knees again and rough hands pinned her arms behind her, pushing her down onto her face. There were figures all around her, just out of her sight, laughing and taunting her. She was helpless against the great weight that pressed her shoulders down, her cheek to the floor, but rough hands dragged her hips up. There was the sound of tearing fabric and then she could feel cool air on the exposed lips of her sex. She tried to buck and escape but her strength was gone. A tiny whimper escaped her proud throat. She leapt to her feet. Enough! She roared, her voice tremulous. She could see the pattern. Some rational part of her brain recognized her foes tactics. With each touch he drained away her courage, her strength, funneled it into these nightmare visions. There was nothing there but the fears inside her. Master the fears, and she would master this foe. And yet...her heart quailed. That rational part of her brain told her that it was simply the ensorcelment of her foe. But it didn't calm the clawing terror in the rest of her mind one whit. That didn't matter. Focus on the next moment, the next instant. Do what you must to fight. To win. You can get through this, you know that. Nightmares? Psha. Your nightmares are no more than parlor tricks. I'll show you the true might of an Amazon. She called into the darkness defiantly. And then she closed her eyes. The dim light, the darkness, the shifting shadows, they tricked the eye and deceived the mind. Diana had trained in every condition to hunt and bring down her foe. Including blindfolded. Trying to quell her tremulous nerves she dropped into a ready fighting stance. And listened.