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

Diana was starting to feel some of her old zeal the following night as she made her way across the city, leaping, vaulting, and running through the sheer joy of athletic exertion. It felt good. Like she was coming back to her old self, shaking off the cloud that had shadowed her mind. She didn't need any help, any validation. All she needed was to remember her own strength and her own drive. To remember what made her Wonder Woman. She pushed the remaining shreds of fear and doubt to the back of her mind. She perched above the amusement part, exactly where she had the previous night, looking over the abandoned rides and lifeless alleys. There wasn't any movement there, not that she had expected any. The police would clearly have swept the place after the previous night's adventure. She hoped that they hadn't found her sword. It wouldn't be that bad, but it would be a little embarrassing to have to ask for it back. She dropped the hundred or so feet to the ground and began to walk briskly towards the funhouse but forced herself back to a leisurely stroll. She wasn't nervous. She was just reclaiming what was hers. Perhaps it was her preoccupation with her own bravery but it didn't register as odd that there was no officer set to watch the crime scene, no gaudy orange tape blocking it off. It just seemed to her as if the police had come and gone. It didn't occur to her that they may not have come at all, caught in bureaucratic tape like flies in a web. She blithely walked towards the center of that web herself. She assiduously avoided pausing to steel her nerves and marched right over the threshold of the funhouse like she owned the place. The prickling at the back of her neck screamed a warning. She wasn't alone. She was being watched. But she knew that was just the nervous remnants of the previous night's battle. She forced herself over to where the Creep had fallen, inspecting the shattered remnants of the mirror. Gone. Hauled away by the police, no doubt. She would have to follow up on him in prison, perhaps to question him about his plans and motivations. Certainly not to make her self feel better with a safe confrontation. She suppressed a shudder. Her sense of nervousness refused to abate and one hand went to her other weapon, the mystical Lasso of Truth coiled at her waist. It wasn't as direct or offensive as a sword, but perhaps in its own way it was more powerful. Its presence comforted her, calmed her nerves. Deliberately she cast about the wrecked hall of mirrors, looking here and there for the mystical blade that had so carelessly slipped from her fingers. She retraced her steps over the tracks and past the now still bumper cars, their plastic visages painted with various grotesque caricatures. Ah, there it was. She saw the hilt of her golden short sword gleaming dully in the half darkness. She quickly moved over to it and picked it up, testing its heft and examining the blade before sliding it home into the sheath at her back. There was some odd residue on its hilt and she wiped a hand idly on the bare skin of her muscular thigh. She got about four steps towards the exit before she stopped short, a tiny gasp rising in her throat. Something was rising in her, something powerful and forbidden. For a panicked moment she thought the Creep was upon her but it was a wholly different sensation. The feeling wasn't fear. It was...yearning. An ache. An unassailable hunger that seemed to envelop her like an inferno. She stumbled and came to rest against one of the pillars. Her body felt like it was on fire. She could feel every tiny draft of air flowing over her skin. Suddenly, shamefully, she felt her nipples stiffen into diamond hard little nubs. Every motion seemed to drag them against the satiny fabric of her uniform, sending little shocks of unwanted pleasure racing through her. Nuh! A small moan squeaked from her lips. Her thighs squeezed together, clenching helplessly. Every tiny movement that she made seemed to drag the gusset of her high leg leotard over her steamy womanhood. She could feel the fabric pressing against the petals of her sex, soaking up the moisture that had begun to traitorously seep from her. One hand began to involuntarily creep towards that inferno but she forced it away, hugging her arms to herself with a blush. She would not! Her self control was iron. Was this some attack? Some trap? She had to escape. UUuuuuuhn! She moaned through gritted teeth as she pushed herself up, ignoring the tremor of pleasure that made her knees wobble and her head swim. She stumbled forward, one hand groping in front of her, the other clutched around her midsection as if she were afraid of what it might do if she gave it lease. Shadowy figures swam in front of her eyes and she swatted at them feebly, trying her best to stumble away into the darkness.