A New Hero On the Scene! (Raz x Fate)

Razgriz

Razgriz

Shall we write beautiful stories together?
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Jan 27, 2011
It should have been a fairly peaceful day in Neotropolis. The streets should have buzzed smoothly with cars, buses, taxis and all the other sorts of transportation. Businesses should have been moderately busy with customers, the sounds of crumpled paper hitting the trash cans lost in the industrial noise of the city. Small doves would have flocked between buildings, the corvids occasionally stealing food or coin from the passerby and invariably upsetting their day for a few seconds. All encapsulated under a clean blue sky, the cool winds from the nearby ocean giving a sense of peace to the otherwise bustling streets.

It should have been....But now it wasn't. A crime surge had struck the once fair city, the department overwhelmed as an unknown syndicate began its operations here. It wasn't much at first: Smash and grabs mostly. Jewelry stores, quick-stop shops, small targets that the petty gangs usually went after. Some arrests were made of course, but then the volume escalated. Soon people were being robbed in broad daylight, and then came the bigger jobs. Police vehicles stolen, armaments too. Whatever was here was spreading quickly and heatedly. Gunfights began to break out, and it was all the police could do to hold the surge at bay.

The news agencies themselves had trouble keeping up with everything; even as they might air a segment related to one instance, they'd get a cut as another massive spree was committed. The city's infrastructure was unharmed for the most part, but its people were terrified. Some even killed, police officers too.

But then, like a beacon of light, a new hope had rolled in: Dressed in sleek black armor with green accents, this mountain of a man had seemed to come from nowhere, crashing down into their fair city. And with his arrival, the tide seemed to finally turn just a little bit. Modes of operation were slowly dismantled; it was hard to go after the Syndicate's leaders, as most of the boot-strapped thugs that did their dirty work had no idea who the heads even were. They got paid to do dirty work and that was it. Even so, the work had finally begun, and the once-overworked enforcement agencies had begun to contain the chaos.



"This is Treisha Owens with NCLN! We're here just a few miles south of the Neotropolis Gold Repository, where a robbery was just foiled by the Special Operations Division! There's been a firefight going on four hours now with no end in sight! The police are engaged and currently trying to contain the violence, but the thugs have holed up inside an abandoned facility after officers managed to disable their getaway vehicle!"

The woman speaking was in a helicopter, along with several others as they tried to get coverage of the incident; a practical squadron of heavily-armored enforcement vehicles had surrounded what appeared to be a warehouse, several of them seeming blown up. Rifles and handguns barked from and into the building; but then came a loud explosion as another one of the vehicles burst like a metal balloon, sending several of the responding officers flying. It was clear that whoever these guys were, they were packing serious firepower.

The entire event was being streamed live via the news services, shown on digital displays all over the city and in the houses of its citizens; but then came the announcement.

"Wait....I think I see him! Yes! Threadstorm has arrived!"

And just on cue, that massive armored juggernaut crash-landed from the sky, a massive cable of shining green threads held in his hands before it seemed to unravel and then reform around his body into supplemental armor. "Captain!" Threadstorm barked, rushing over to the command tent, asking "Situation?"

The Captain - a tall dark-skinned man of considerable talent, his body covered in the standard issue black-and-blue heavy assault gear - breathed a sigh of relief. "Threadstorm, thank gods...We've got a good dozen armed assailants from the Syndicate inside; they've got explosives on them this time, the crazy bastards. Rockets, grenades, the works. I don't know where they got this kind of firepower, but we can't get any closer." The massive man just then asked, "Hostages?" to which the Captain said, "None that we know of. But be careful."

Threadstorm then just said, "Tell your men to pull back, Captain; I'll disable them and see about getting anyone inside out, and make sure you get any wounded back as well."

The Captain was quick to give the orders; and with that Threadstorm rushed forward as the police began to pull back. Immediately, he was greeted by gunfire; he could feel each bullet hit him, but the threaded armor he was wearing was holding for now. However, the next big thing coming at him was something the Captain had warned him about: A rocket. Shoulder-fired. Likely a standard-issue RPG-10. The threads concentrated on his front as he raised his right, creating another 3 layers of shielding that intercepted the rocket and made him skid backward, a fireball enveloping him and emitting blinding light. Wooziness rushed over him as he braced against the force of the explosion, but he held steady and true, his iridescent green eyes glowing as more of the threads emerged and shifted once more, becoming a massive flail; and with a heavy rotation and swing, knocked down a significant portion of the wall. And in that same motion, three thick cables stretched outwards, wrapping around six of the assailants before he yanked back. Screams cut through the air as they slammed against the barricading police vehicles; they were all wearing heavy body armor complete with hermetically-sealed gas masks, but that didn't mean it would make the impacts hurt any less, all of them rendered unconscious.

Thankfully his shield was still up, as another rocket struck it, fire, light and sound surrounding him once more; he did stagger back as well, the successive explosions even a bit hard for him to handle entirely unflinchingly. Even so, he pressed on under a hail of bullets; another three threads emerged, a strike breaking away even more of the wall and causing a portion of the ceiling to collapse, a hard yank ensnaring and ripping out three more of the Syndicate thugs, their bodies ragdolling as they hit the ground. "COME OUT NOW! IT ONLY GETS WORSE FOR YOU!" Threadstorm shouted; however, one of them finally shouted, "OH!? WELL HAVE SOME OF THIS YOU FUCKING PRICK!"

*BOOM BOOM BOOM*

Threadstorm staggered back as repeated explosions struck his shield and armor; and with one more, he was actually knocked back as well, landing with a hard grunt on his back. Threadstorm just glared up as he pushed himself to his knees, a growl of frustration leaving him; the threaded armor was repairing itself fine, but the repeated concussive blasts were taking their toll on him. Even if he had dealt with most of them, these three were clearly packed to the gills, and he couldn't risk them targeting anyone but himself.

"Shit, what kind of name is Threadstorm anyway? I don't care who you are! You and all those pigs out there are done! This is just us getting started on payback!" one of the other crooks shouted. "Surrender now, and you might be conscious enough to stand trial!" Threadstorm shouted, the massive flail forming in his dominant hand once more. "We got plenty of ammo, Threadfucker! And we'll use every bit of it to kill you!"

Of course, none of them realized that the building they were in had a new roof skylight courtesy of their scuffle....One that could be easily exploited by someone stealthier.
 
Okay, Mal, you can do this. Just don't stand there and do the stupid Lightning McQueen speech to yourself. This jerks somehow got their hands on some heavy artillery, but Mr. Heavy Thread or whatever his name of the week is had them distracted. They'd so wrapped up in their macho chest pounding that they wouldn't even think about someone else.

A petite redhead told herself all this as she nervously paced on the room, feeling the gathering energy. It practically crackled within her, coursing up from the enhance shoes and perfectly channeling through her body. Malyna Thrush knew just enough about the science to realize the shoes probably worked in tandem with her own genetics, helped along by the teenager's insane healing factor. Between the ridiculous speed the shoes gave and her own natural regeneration and lightness, Mal, a.k.a. Peal should be able to handle this. It would be even better because she didn't actually have to take out any of the idiots. Not that most criminals were that hard. If you moved close enough to the speed of sound or light or whatever (nobody clocked her yet), most people couldn't handle it.

A slight pink showed even amidst Peal's tanned skin and freckles. Technically she couldn't test the speed because technically she wasn't some sort of registered hero or anything. That she was lucky that the skintight yellow uniform she'd cobbled together had been made of enough wind resistant materials that she didn't run out of her outfit every time. The shorts that covered it to prevent accidental camel toe or the showing of her cute little freckled buttcheeks, on the other hand, well, too fast and she could shred them. Not that being in a skimpy outfit would stop her from fighting, though she knew her thin frame didn't exactly inspire fear in the hearts of the criminal.

Peal adjusted her goggles, listening to the banter. The teen almost gave away her position as the crooks taunted "Threadstorm." God, what a try-hard name. But, ah, they were relying on the ammo (seriously, where were they getting the weapons anyway?). Peal's bright green eyes flicked across the bank, noting their positions, their distraction, and the fact that the idiots were just confidently sitting next to most of their ammo. Of course, you'd have to be an idiot to try and go in through the ceiling.

Good thing Peal didn't waste too much time thinking. The fit teen did a few stretches as she backed up, recalling the exact layout again. She took a runner's start position, bending over, and the moment she heard Threadborn get their attention, she took off. The girl became little more than a tan and yellow blur, legs pumping with enhanced energy, muscles screaming as she kicked it nearly into the fastest speed. One quick lap around the skylight, arc back, and then launch! Peal's sheer momentum sent her flying down toward the floor, her legs still moving, arms waving to balance, grateful that nobody would be able to see the oh so glorious entrance.

One blink and the speedster went from the roof to behind the crooks. Four more blinks later and Peal was awkwardly carrying armfuls of weaponry. Another set of blinks and the cops had a whole new set of weaponry, complete with a post card that had a quick little cartoony face of a teenager with messy red hair smiling and giving the "V for victory" sign. Peal darted back in for a quick next round, pausing, just barely breathing hard, to stop in front of the one who'd been yelling with Threadfucker. "Not bad dialogue, but you might wanna hold onto your stuff," she said, placing what would at first glance look like one of the grenades they'd been using in the guy's hand, using the same motion to pull the pin. She gave a few finger wiggles before taking off, hoping that she'd timed that right.

Of course, it actually happened to be a tear gas grenade Peal had lifted off one of the cops outside, but she was counting on the guy to freak out (and on her own goggles to help her from the worst of it, not to mention the gas). Still, Peal knew that as long as they were still armed, slowing down would be a bad idea. Sure, she'd recover from a bullet shot in a matter of seconds or minutes, but that didn't make them hurt any less. You know, if she actually stopped and let them hit her.
 
Indeed, Threadstorm was probably more of a try-hard name than anyone would care to admit; however, it wasn't exactly the man's choice. His 'handlers' changed their minds on a whim, always blathering on about metrics and optics and reception and shit that frankly didn't concern him. It was just a name; hell, he'd just use his own name fine if they'd let him! Not like he had any family...Well, not biological family anyway.

Besides, he just wanted to be a hero...You know, for fun! It was a thrill thrashing the bad guys, getting the glory, all that fun shit! And while some might think him a brutish oaf (which wasn't entirely wrong), he also made it a point to limit civilian casualties or get rid of them all together. He was built like a tank after all, and from the fact that his insides weren't scrambled mush from the repeated point-blank detonations, it wasn't really hard to imagine that he was made of some pretty sturdy stuff.

Regardless, however, the shouting match between the two had sufficiently distracted them all from the little yellow blur that was currently zipping around making a fool out of all of them. It wasn't until one of them felt something move in his hands that he looked down...And noticed his grenade launcher was missing! "Hey...What the fuck!?" he shouted, the thug that had been shouting at Threadstorm turning his head to look at his comrade, shouting "The fuck you on about, brother? Get your weapons ready; surely that armor Threadbitch wears can't handle much more!"

However, as the third might then do the same thing, he felt something in his hand move as well; next thing he knew, his weapon was gone too! "Agh! What the hell!? I just had it!" he shouted, the third guy saying as he lowered the RPG-10 in his arms, "The fuck is..."

*Zoosh*

And just like that, he had lowered his guard enough to where his own weapon disappeared, gone and replaced with nothing. "Okay, what the fuck is going on!?" his subordinate shouted.


Threadstorm was a bit confused as the man seemed to retreat back inside the abandoned warehouse; granted he hadn't really come out. But he could hear....Shouting? He was still as can be, his senses finally recovered; he could....Only sense three of them. There was...strange blips, but nothing he could detect. Probably just bits of the warehouse that were creaking, he thought. Regardless, his weapon reformed, the giant flail materializing his hands as he neared the building.

Meanwhile outside, the police were currently trying to re-group to assist Threadstorm when they noticed a pile growing next to them. It was getting bigger by the second, the Captain looking as it grew...And grew...And grew! Until eventually he saw the last deposit being the very poorly drawn cartoon. "The hell, where'd all this come from?" one of the officers asked, the Captain replying "I don't know; I thought Threadstorm worked alone. He ever mention a partner to any of you?" All of his subordinates would shake their heads no, some even looking at each other and asking the same question; who the hell was it then? What the hell was it?



"Okay, just calm your tits fuckers; we still got the...." the apparent leader snarled, a hand going to his belt, then beginning to pat it worryingly; crap, where was the Sliqtech they brought? "Okay, funny guys! Hand it over! Fork the plastic!" the leader shouted, the two lower members looking at each other. "Boss...You had the Sliqtech."

But then it came time for the newcomer to make her appearance; standing in front of the armed goons, holding a grenade in their hand as she quipped about them needing to keep a better hold of their stuff. And when she put the grenade in his hand and pulled the pin? They all freaked out, just as she might have planned.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH" The leader shouted, running around as his goons just watched, the man shaking his arms with his hand comically closed. And when he stopped and feared the worst....The canister fizzled, white peppery smoke fumed from it in a geyser; thankfully their gas masks were meant to counter such a thing.

"Oooooh, that little bitch!" the leader shouted as he dropped the canister, unclipping a heavy sidearm from his waist and going outside. "Okay, you little shit! Whoever you are, you're gonna...."

BANG

He yelled as the wall of the dilapidated building gave in once more, another massive hole in its structure as he was blasted backwards. And as Threadstorm came through, the man tried to swing...But got launched by a backhand out and against another car, joining his comrades in a world of pain...Before long, the sounds of gunshots and then two heavy yells of fright as they were hoisted up.

"Alright....The police recovered the gold you fuckers tried to steal...Now the guns. Hand them over." The two dropped their sidearms, but Threadstorm tightened his grip, their body armor starting to strain from the tearing force of his fingers. "ALL....of them." One of the goons then shouted, "Th-That's all of them, we swear! Someone else swiped them already!"

The colossal man just blinked in shock, adding with a mean growl, "Bullshit; no one else was in or out of here besides you two!"
 
Yeah, Peal had been hoping the whole gas thing would've had more effect. Probably should've gone for something sonic, but she was fairly certain that something like that would throw off Threadmeiser. And, well, she was fast, but she wasn't sure she could quite outrun a high pitched sonic blast. Maybe if she hadn't dropped a quip first, she'd have made it ,but the whole point had been to throw them off balance, to get them to lose their whole united front thing and just start panicking. It proved hilarious enough that the teenager couldn't help but spare a giggle, putting both hands up to her mouth while they ran around. The bang had her dropping down faster than a blink, before realizing that it was the big guy himself.

Yet again Peal couldn't help but just take note of how... big the thread wielding super was. He towered over most of the thugs, and they weren't exactly petite little heroines. No, that was Peal, all five feet of her. Most fully grown men or other super strong supers would be afraid of this threaded hulk getting his mitts on them. Peal felt a cold shiver down her spine, swallowing hard. Their last meeting hadn't been... great. Peal had come out on top, but mostly because she'd figured out his whole vibration thing before he could figure out that he had to take off her sneakers (which was admittedly kind of out there, and why she didn't draw attention to them).

As the burly hero threatened, Peal took off again. Once more a blur of yellow and tan zipped about, as the heroine did another sweep to make sure there weren't any hidden explosives or other bombs. She lapped the gathered hoods twice to check, noting that one of them had tucked a piece into his waistband. She plucked it, stopping beside Threadinator, smiling up at him, trying to look like the fact that she barely came up to his chest wasn't intimidating as fuck. She held the gun out: "Missed one," she said, before pointing at the guy she'd lifted it from, "he had it tucked into the back. Probably forgot about it between the whole screaming about grenades and you making them pee their pants." she gave a quick wink to one of the guys the massive hero easily held in his hands. "He can't actually crush you if you're unarmed and not hostile. He gets a fine and the police get all upset."

Peal gave another quick bob, before looking around again, wanting to make sure they'd gotten everything. She could hear the police just outside, probably dealing with frantic people, civilians and the media. Peal would probably pop in just long enough to say hi before getting out of there. They frowned on the more unlicensed capes, particularly if they had just poked their cute freckled noses into legality. Peal's brow furrowed. "I'm counting... ten guys, I think? Seriously, no girls? You do know we can shoot guns and threaten innocent people with rockets too, right?" she pointed at them, but was mostly paying attention around them. They looked Syndicate, but Peal didn't know too much about how that group operated. Wasn't like she was part of some coordinated team effort or something. Ten guys was actually a pretty big crew, and they had some serious firepower. Like, why go through all this effort for a bank? Because it was there?
 
By this point, the police had noticed things had quieted down; getting into their squad formations, they brought up their weapons and moved out. Quickly approaching the scene, they were astonished to find a large number of them on the ground, their bodies moving but still badly injured from being tossed like wadded tissue. "Command, this is Captain Anthony Bourne! I need EMTs at the old Borox warehouse just south of the Gold Repository! As many as you can send! We have injured police and suspects! Repeat as many as you can send!"

And with that, the officers began restraining all of the downed suspects; he'd need to talk to Threadstorm about who he was working with...Or if this was an unlicensed Super interfering. It wouldn't be the first time; there was some young upstart that had foiled an attack by The Elephant, a Super even larger than Threadstorm himself and twice as mean; however, the rampaging beastman was even slower, allowing this new 'heroine' to trip him up and send him careening into a power line.

And no one knew it, but her interfering had left a rather sour taste in Threadstorm's mouth; that was supposed to be a huge collar for him according to his handlers, and instead he was reprimanded and stricken for allowing their company image to be tarnished. He was to be the first perfected Super; couldn't have some unknown stealing his thunder! And she had gotten some fame herself, even if few might not really know who she was yet.

And as if to complicate matters, it seemed like the media was on the scene as well; already reporters were swarming to the location. "Ah hell....Belowski! Eddie! Get a perimeter set up! Keep those vultures out of here!" Immediately, the two he mentioned grabbed their comrades that were still mobile and starting to establish boundaries, the area quickly taped off.


"I...Said...Talk!" The giant snarled, tightening his grip even further, the collars of the criminals' armor starting to give, the green threads that made up the extra armor layers on his massive form seeming to shift and flex in time with his own body's movements, truly as if it were a living thing itself...But then came a familiar voice. One that made Threadstorm look down and instantly regret doing so.

"You...."

And naturally her words seemed to embolden the attackers. "Hey...yeah, she's right! We're unarmed and surrender! You hurt us and YOU GET IN TROUBLE!" Both of them laughed, Threadstorm's teeth baring, his eyes glowing brightly more and more as he looked back, the threads around his body quickly ensnared their necks. Not tight enough to do any damage, but enough to make them shut up....Before knocking their heads together and rendering them unconscious, their bodies dropping to the floor. Still alive, but out of commission.

"Did you....stop to think I was maybe trying to scare them? Tell me where they got these weapons so no more people might get caught in the crossfire?" Threadstorm said rather venomously, clearly directed at Peal even if his eyes were still focused on the two downed men. And if she were quick enough, she might see that his own threads were going for her now! And if they succeeded in ensnaring her, she'd be pinned against the wall just behind her.
 
Peal could hear what sounded like gathering voices in the distance, which probably meant everything was more or less under control. That meant she should probably get out of there before things got too hairy. It wasn't like she wanted a bad relationship with the police or anything; it was just that they frowned on the whole "unlicensed" thing. Peal got being official and all, but they required a corporate sponsor or some sort of test that you couldn't legally take until you were eighteen (and they really wanted you to be older than that). Hence this whole mess Peal had gotten herself in.

The quips had been meant to diffuse the situation, like they usually did. That and sometimes the big guy got just a bit angry. Peal didn't fully blame him: they'd clearly messed with his head and the whole artificial powers thing usually didn't work out perfectly. Too often you got weird side effects or weirdly specific items like her shoes. The teen still couldn't help but find it funny when the thugs blurted, particularly because she could see what was about to happen moments before they did. Peal leaned over to look down at them, carefully scanning to make sure that nothing serious had happened. That didn't stop her from hearing the other super.

"Right, because coercing info from the bad guys is---" she'd been too focused on the guys, just starting to turn to the other super. Something hit her ankles before she could move, and just as she was about to swivel again, she felt something else grab onto her wrists. The good news for Peal was that her light body meant that she didn't get nearly as much impact as a normal person would against a wall or something. It also meant that the Angry Thread pinned her against the wall without much trouble. Peal squirmed for a bit, writhing in a way that probably showcased how tightly her costume contorted to her body. She winced feeling something shift below, but at least she was pretty sure she could wriggle out of this.

Though she hoped she wouldn't need to: "Seriously? I help you and you decide to pin me to a wall?" she asked, gesturing toward him as best she could with her bound hands. "You do know the cops are, like, right outside and are just waiting to come in?" Though they both knew that the cops were probably waiting for a signal. You didn't want to get in the crossfire of any attack involving metas if you could help it, supers or no. "Not exactly gonna be great for your PR if you've got a girl trussed up. 'specially not one who disarmed all the bad guys and helped create a distraction so you could do some more property damage," she pointed toward the hole he'd made, which had admittedly stunned the guys. Honestly Peal didn't care too much about property damage if people were safe. Adrenaline still pumped through her, and she couldn't quite help but needle guys like this big lug. Obviously she had a bit of a danger junkie thing going, and what was more dangerous than taunting a guy who literally busted through walls?
 
In truth, Threadstorm hadn't tried to slam her too hard; but then, given his body's design, fine motor control was still something he was being 'upgraded' with. A laundry list of items in truth that needed maintenance, observation, updating and even repair. Thankfully, she was quite light so the force of the impact would be lessened, even if he had tied her up to deal with her. His green eyes shone like emeralds, swirling radiance dancing in the irises as she pecked at him with her quips. Being playful? Probably, but in truth he was still peeved at her because of the trouble she had landed him in by stealing his glory in their previous fight.

And it wasn't so much that she had done so; it was more the fallout that came after it that irritated him. He might not have the noblest heart, but even he knew better than to turn down help; and plus, his handlers were not the greatest people. Even he knew that much.

"Help me...Feh. They could have thrown everything they had at me and I would have shrugged it off." he spoke, looking up as she pointed with her tied-up hands at the ceiling. "You've caused me quite a bit of trouble, young lady. Super or no, I won't have you disrespect me. And you didn't disarm them, they probably destroyed their weapo...."

"THREADSTORM! EVERYTHING ALRIGHT IN THERE?! ARE WE CLEAR!? WE GOT THE WEAPONS!"

As if he needed yet another reminder of his failure....Now it seemed she had cornered him in THAT respect. "Fine...You disarmed them, I'll give you that much." he grumbled, adding as he shouted back at the Captain, "Aye, Captain...We're all good in here! But I have another emergency to attend to!" His eyes then looked back to Peal; another thick cable snaked down his arm, his gaze going back to the hole in the ceiling as he whipped it with expert marksmanship, the end latching onto a fairly distant building. He then contracted the fibers from both ends, their bodies being launched skywards to the ceiling at a rapid clip; Peal would feel herself pulled in, his bulk shielding her as they busted through the roof, fragments of rock and metal rolling off his suit as his body glowed green. The rocking motions of his swinging surprisingly gentle despite his bulk, the loud cheers of the people below giving him something of a boost.

She might be able to run, but here she'd be able to sense what it might be like to fly; thankfully, none of the choppers chased after him as he swung from structure to structure, soon the pair in another industrial park on the opposite side of town. The pair alone; she was quite correct that being caught with her like this was not good press. But here...He could take his time.

"Now....Where were we?" he sneered, looking upon her as he said, "It's a shame you're such a nuisance; you're actually quite pretty up close. But I have to know: Why do you keep interfering?" Naturally her limbs were still bound this entire time, doing their best to the keep the little speedster from darting off.
 
Peal snorted as the bigger hero bragged about his durability. "We get it, you've got stamina for days," she drawled, mostly keeping it under her breath. However, as he insisted that she hadn't disarmed them, she started sputtering, likely would've launched right into telling him off, had it not been for the almost perfect timing of the officers of the law. As they shouted, Peal smiled, the expression making her look very much like the cat who'd managed to sneak the creme. When the big guy looked back at her, she raised her brows, fighting a laugh as he at least admittedly it.

"That's big of you," she said, struggling to keep a straight face. Peal flexed her wrists again, tempted to suggest that he should let her down now, but apparently he'd decided he wanted to take care of her before the cops showed up. The teenager froze for a few seconds, watching the larger man carefully. While Peal clearly loved this whole thing, she wasn't quite stupid enough to realize there weren't risks. Generally she wouldn't wind up in a situation like this, but literally every female who went through superheroine training had at least one seminar talking about what would happen should they wind up in the whole damsel in distress situation. Usually that just meant laying low until the captor lowered his guard.

At least she was braced as he blasted them upward, her stomach leaving itself somewhere several feet down from the rest of her. Peal felt that rush of vertigo and actually had to fight from making a whoop of excitement. Technically she could about emulate this with a good run and a ramp (see earlier), but that didn't mean it didn't feel kind of cool to swing through the city. Yeah, he could still do something to her, but Peal was betting on him still being at least a decent enough person deep down. Most of the capes were. That and she'd literally just seen him bust a bank robbery.

"You were being wrong about me not helping," she clarified as she got settled down, rolling her wrists a few times to see how well they'd handled the journey and what sort of leeway she had now. "That's the word you should've used there: helping. I help people," she pointed at him again, before rolling her wrists. "Just like you do. Most of the time. When you're not kidnapping girls and leaping through the city after blowing holes in the walls and ceiling of a bank," she flashed him a smile. Peal rolled her wrists again. "You know if you just wanted to talk you could untie me? I know you've got your corporate masters to think of and all, but we're both still capes fighting the good fight here. I'm just..." a slight shrug, "faster?"
 
Threadstorm looked upon the young woman almost in an evaluatory fashion; small she might, but anyone would be an idiot to think that she didn't have heart. Even so...What she said was also not a lie: His corporation, Titan Pharmaceutical, nearly decided everything for him. His costume, what crimes he was allowed to fight, his name, even his meal plan. Granted that last one was about as close as one could get to actual care; he was their top product, in a way, and received the best medical and dietary care money could buy. And it was no secret who owned him: They were the ones who also had their shell corporations of toys, movie production and cable networks.

"I kidnapped because I don't need you getting me in trouble like you did last time." he would say, finally dropping the hint about why it was he was particularly upset with her. The board wasn't happy, not one bit, with this speedster's interruption. "But...I suppose I can say thank you for getting those weapons into police possession. Better in their armory than in criminal hands."

And with that, she'd feel her position altered ever so slightly: His threads anchored themselves into the wall and around her middle, taking some of the strain off her wrists and ankles while keeping them secured. At the very least she'd wouldn't feel like her wrists were about to be rubbed raw....Well, too much, but at least now she had protection for her joints!

"As for 'just talking'....Well, I'm thinking something a bit more 'personal' is warranted~"

It seemed the big lug had other ideas in mind, his iridescent emerald irises appearing to look her over; and she'd definitely sense he liked what he saw. His hand coming to between her lissome legs, his middle finger alone enough to part her lips through her shorts as he started to rub. Being gentle as can be...For now.
 
Getting him in trouble? Peal nearly started laughing again at that, far too many quips firing through her brain at once. It felt like a mental pile up, making her lapse into silence at least long enough for him to actually thank her. While she'd definitely been stunned into silence before, now she found herself staring up at the big guy with something like appreciation in her dark green eyes. She blinked several times, not entirely sure that she'd heard him right. Probably didn't hurt that he was thinking more or less along the same lines as her: better the police got those weapons than just about anyone else. The corporations definitely didn't need more fire power.

Which meant she'd been quite still while he'd adjusted the bindings. Peal couldn't help but note that while he'd helped her wrists some, he'd also cinched her around the waist. A quick experimental tug told her that it would be a lot trickier to deal with that than the others. Sure, it took some of the pressure off the other spots, but he'd even more securely pinned her. "Did you miss the bit about us being on---" she started, pausing as he mentioned something more 'personal'. Peal's brow furrowed, her head tilting slightly, not even starting to comprehend what he could mean.

So when his hand grazed between her legs she reacted almost like a cat who'd been startled. Her eyes opened wide and she rose up on her toes, letting out a little noise of surprise. "Wh--what are you doing?" she demanded, squirming again, finding the threads he'd put into place keeping her locked. Peal really didn't want to think about the fact that she could feel a little twisting in her lower abdomen. That whole heroine training thing had included tying yourself up and figuring out ways of getting out of it and dealing with it. Turned out that if you squirmed a lot while bound in a skintight outfit, certain things rubbed in certain places. It didn't hurt that Master Thread or whatever his name was at the moment happened to be this big, fit, hulking guy, which flipped some sort of primal trigger in Peal's brain.

"Seriously," she said all the same, twisting again, trying to move away from him, "you don't even know how old I am! You could totally be molesting a minor right now!" she tried another teasing, almost taunting, smile. "Unless you like that sort of thing," she all but purred. Part of it was Peal mouthing off to help calm the nerves at being pinned by a way bigger guy who clearly had some issues. Part of it was that she wanted to see if she could catch him off guard, make him shift the bindings or do something truly stupid. A hit would probably put her though a wall, which hopefully wouldn't kill her. Enough space and she should be able to dash to hiding long enough for the regen to kick in.

Really though, it just came down to Peal not quite able to stop teasing people or being just a bit of a smart mouth.
 
Threadstorms fingers didn't stop their motions, seeing her start to squirm beneath his touch. His thick muscles seemed to flex, the threaded lines around her waist, wrists and ankles shifting and twitching, almost like they were alive. She'd likely feel that they were also quite warm, their color the same as his eyes. A light chuckle left him as she gave her protest.

"Even if I was - which I'm not - what can you do about it? All that speed and you let yourself get caught by someone like me." he replied lowly, his fingers starting to press and rub against her a bit more forcefully. Making the fabric of her shorts slide against her womanly lips; how interesting, he thought. Who did she work for? Definitely wasn't with Titan, and no way Phoenix Medical would touch her with that kind of outfit, even with their lower standards.

"And I already explained what I'm doing: I'm thanking you."

And with that, a few more thinner threads would start to snake up her front and around her lithe thighs. Sliding up her shirt and down her shorts, coiling around her ass and smaller breasts. The remarkably soft, warm and pulsing lengths beginning to caress her underneath her attire. Even if she was on the smaller side, well, even this big lug seemed to have an affinity for her type.
 
The weird warmth that started emanating from the bindings made Peal squirm just a bit more. It felt... not quite fleshy or anything, and certainly not molten or hot, which was her initial reaction and concern. It felt almost like the same temperature you'd expect a person to feel, as if the big guy had "threaded" part of himself into it. Unfortunately that little image immediately made Peal think of tentacles, which she'd seen molest heroines both in oh so fun fiction and sometimes in real life. It was one of those things that some girls dreaded, and other girls... "dreaded." Peal fought the urge to more actively squirm, feeling like that would just entice this "hero" to go further.

Apparently he needed no enticement. His fingers shifted, going from almost carelessly rubbing to going at it with a force. Her thin leotard did little to protect Peal from the touch. If anything, the damn thing helped him out. The fabric slid and twisted, and Peal's unconscious lower shifting and squirming nearly got it twisted. The pressure pulled the already skintight fabric taut, and Peal couldn't help but let out a little hitching breath as she felt it start to part her nether lips. Not like she had a lot of room down there to begin with: the slender body extended to all of her. While she wasn't quite a virgin (she'd actually popped herself on toys long before a boy got there), Peal still didn't exactly have a lot of partners. Most of those weren't even as big as this guy's fingers, let alone...

...the heroine tore her green eyes up, realizing they'd started to drift to his waist, maybe a bit below. "Uh, I thought we were on the same side, remember?" she managed, but despite her quips and projected attitude, the heroine was actively squirming, particularly down below. Peal didn't know if she was trying to pull away from the fingers or grind on them or what. Fuck, this was awkward. Heroing always got her horny; from what Peal understood it got nearly everyone horny. It fucking involved adrenaline rushes, defying death, looking hot in tight clothing, and sometimes seeing other people looking hot in tight clothing. Those green eyes couldn't help but roam Thread's body, though the armor meant she'd have to use her imagination.

The threads teasing her weren't helping the squirming. "I never gave you consent," she insisted, her voice strained, breathy. Peal flushed then, realizing that she hadn't exactly explicitly told him to fuck off either. Her toes curled in her sneakers, pulling in. Maybe if she kept putting up a front he somehow wouldn't notice the raw heat pounding between her legs. Or how her lips had already started to puff and become damp. Maybe she should hit him where it hurts, before this got too far: "I don't do this to be thanked," her voice sounded only a little strained, probably because she was drawing on her own inner reserves. "Real heroes don't---" she paused, swallowing as she felt a slight spike in her own arousal, upper thighs quivering, "we don't need it!" she nearly spat, as if desperate to get the words out before a moan or something worse came out.

Not that Peal didn't like the thanks or attention. She'd granted a quick interview or two, mostly answering questions and assuring everyone she was on the right side. That and she had to get her name out before they called her something stupid (see: the guy doing a surprisingly good job feeling her up). Most of the time she just jetted off, looking for something else to fix (or, let's be real, having to go to practice or do homework...).
 
In some ways, these threads of his were like tentacles; though they had no real desire of their own, only responding to his own thoughts, wants and needs. And right now it was getting some satisfaction vicariously through her; his thick burly digits rubbing her parted sex, feeling her heat spilling onto his hand as he pressed a bit more insistently against her clothed pussy. His threads too began to ramp up their motions, going a bit harder in their squeezing and teasing. The ones at her chest coiled a bit more around her breasts, the ends pressing against her tiny nipples and flicking the little buds.

She was right in one respect: The tension of being a Hero was enough to make even the best just want to explode. After all, they took on the most dangerous threats, the highest risk assignments. And with his augments in particular? His more masculine traits were due to his sheer potency as it were, his own life essence brimming with potential. It was why he was Titan's star prospect, the first of what would hopefully be many.

"Dont exactly hear you saying to stop either~" he quipped right back, verbally confirming her own self-realization just moments after she had made it. "And besides...You seem to be enjoying it~"

Though as she then went on to make her remarks, she'd feel everything just...Stop. No motions, no witty retorts, nothing. It seemed that she had indeed hit something in him, something that gave him pause. Was it guilt? Shame? Anger? The only thing left was the bright green threads still holding her hostage, still possessing that human-like warmth. That comforting series of shifts and pulses as they held her in place.

"You're right...Perhaps real Heroes don't. I don't know your deal or how your powers work. Mine are granted to me, that's no secret...But that means I can use them how I please."

It was here the motions resumed, upping in intensity, those tendril-like threads rubbing along all over her as his fingers then slipped beneath her shorts, the fabric bulging from the sheer size of his hand, two fingers stretching her pussy a good bit as they started to plunge inside of her. "Maybe we don't need thanks like we need food or water, but we all crave some recognition. Some form of acknowledgement...This is mine to you."

It was clear he wasn't going to stop until she went over the edge, his fingers and threads rubbing, squirming and prodding anywhere and everywhere that got a nice hearty reaction from her.
 
Peal needed to say stop. She knew that. Knew that technically this was wrong on some level or something. Yet he kept working her body over in ways that felt all too good, with her insides already starting to show that inner tension. She could feel it coiling in her lower belly, a building arousal that reminded her of just how stressful this whole heroine gig actually was. She'd just been zipping around people shooting bullets, not to mention the higher level ordinance they'd had on hand. Her entire body thrummed with leftover adrenaline, feeding into this whole pinned molestation thing. And, if Peal were being fully honest, some part of her was getting off on how she hadn't given him permission: he'd just decided to play with her body. Usually guys looked more toward the busty heroines, not the taut, toned ones like Peal. She nearly couldn't believe how desperate Thread's touch felt, teasing her nipples into stiff peaks against the fabric, pulling her leotard until it perfectly bisected her nether lips, with only the baggy shorts and Thread's hand to stop it.

Still, she breathed a sigh of relief as it all stopped, nearly panting. The heroine could feel the heat gathering, a little touch of sweat starting to glisten on her tanned body. She looked up at him, a touch of sympathy in her deep green eyes, even as she struggled to get her head above the drowning lust. The mention of using them as he pleased had her almost barking a laugh though, the urge to toss out another quip rising. Just as her mouth opened to do that, she found herself letting out a sharp gasp, body jerking hard against the bindings. He'd all but shoved her leotard into her, and she felt two fingers practically stretching her tight sex. Slick nether lips offered little resistance, practically letting even the thick fingers glide inside her. The warm wet of Peal's pussy welcome them, internal muscles squeezing hard. Sheer pressure built up in her lower body, as she definitely wasn't used to much beyond her own fingers up there; certainly nothing like what Thread was doing to her.

The speedster jerked violently against the bindings, feeling them pinning her all the more. she arched, almost looking like she'd crack something, a roll of pleasure shooting through her nearly as fast as she would. Toes curled again, and she couldn't believe he'd even left her shoes on for this. Her body thrashed for a few moments against the bindings, the arousal seeming to try and arch out of her only to be pushed back in, stoked further by fingers and tendrils.

"What---trying---to tell me---I'm a good girl---or something?" Peal rasped, swallowing as she desperately tried to push down her arousal. She could recall discussing exes with a few fellow heroines, with one even admitting that there was always something kind of hot in being pinned down by someone stronger. It feels good to let someone else take control, right? Peal remembered experimenting just a bit, enough to feel the strange pleasure spikes, to pull back before she tumbled over some sort of ledge. She felt like she danced on it now.
 
Threadstorm's burly fingers plunged in and out of her damp sex, feeling moisture coating his hand as he worked her body. He could feel her lower lips pulsing, practically sucking on his fingers as they worked her insides. Feeling her hips giving little humps against nothing except his palm, the fabric of her shorts keeping his hand pressed tight to her sex. True enough, most would likely go for the bustier heroines like Starburst or Pyroara, but something about this mouthy little lass just got his blood going. It wasn't so much her appearance; no, it was the fact that she was so small and willing to challenge him.

She was like a fly and he an elephant; and yet she did not hesitate to prod him. He was starting to see it now: Few so far had been able to match his strength, and she was challenging him in a new way.

Evidenced as such as she mouthed off to him yet again, a low chuckle leaving him as she seemed to stare into his eyes with determination, even as the lust might build up inside of her. Slowly growing and growing, making her body tiptoe just near the edge.

"Maybe I am. You're fighting so hard, I can feel you squirm against every inch of my restraints. I've never had...someone like you challenge me quite like this before. Its...entertaining."

And with that statement, his fingers reached and rubbed even more inside of her; his armor didn't show it, but her resistance was exciting him immensely. And though his own mental programming was stopping him from going through with the actual act of penetration, even if he could, he was getting plenty of satisfaction right now of feeling her body twist and writhe.

Without warning, he leaned down...And pressed his lips to hers, his tongue forcing his way into her mouth. And...she'd distinctly notice nothing from him. Nothing foul, nothing sweet, just...plain. Almost inhumanly so, even as his tongue might coil with hers. And he held that for a few moments, letting both of their breath start to get shallow before he pulled away, a string of saliva present for a moment before it broke, his voice then commanding "Now, lets see you be a real good girl...And let yourself go, you know you want to."
 
Peal felt another flush even as her body arched, fighting back the arousal. It wasn't just the fact that her insides had started twisting themselves into knots. She'd very quickly moved from resisting the pleasure to outright clamping down on her insides, flexing internal muscles to stop herself from cumming too soon or too hard. Those toes had curled so hard she'd almost be worried about busting out of her shoes. That was nothing compared to the strain she put on the bindings holding her in place, or how her poor yellow leotard had been twisted and warped to almost obscene levels. The top practically wrapped about her small breasts, yellow crinkling around two aching nipples. Her lower parts now bisected her almost perfectly. A giant wet spot showed on the white shorts, even with the hand there to collect most of it.

No, it was his acknowledgment of her fighting, her challenge that had the teen heroine flush. While clearly this whole weird, erotic situation tainted every word, she could feel the pride in there, the respect he'd actually layered in there. Peal had been fighting for what felt like forever for one of these stupid assholes to acknowledge her, and here she had one doing it in the weirdest moment possible. "That's me---" she said, voice still noticeably strained, "not knowing when to qui--" before she finished the word, lips took hers. Peal's green eyes shot enormously wide as Thread all but swallowed a very loud noise of aroused protest, a near shriek as the girl again rose on her toes, sliding.

A tongue worked into her mouth, and Peal found herself yielding. She could again hear her mental screams, insisting that she keep fighting back, that she not give in. But her overheated body had started melting her resistances. It wasn't like she hadn't kissed guys before, but guys didn't generally bind her, tell her she was an actual challenge, and then do this weird, almost claiming kiss. Worse, Peal's inexperience started to show, as her tongue seemed to barely know what to do. Didn't help that her body kept rolling, undulating up and down against the bonds like some sort of trapped snake. As Thread parted, Peal let out an almost needy gasp, her tongue lolling for a moment, as if limp from effort, feeling and seeing the string of saliva stretching.

The almost purred command very nearly triggered something in Peal's brain. she felt her insides quiver, thighs snapping together as she tried desperately to suppress it. Her body jerked upward, again tugging against the bounds, but her eyes shot another challenge. Panting, very obviously dangling at the edge of orgasm, Peal still somehow managed to resist. It was taking everything she had, and most of her body screamed for release. The heroine took shuddering breaths, trying to gather herself up to form words, but she just couldn't. Her body trembled again, feeling him still teasing, still working every bit of her. Finally, she almost panted the words, shooting them out like bullet: "Make me."
 
Threadstorm's teasing never relented, even as she squirmed and writhed in the grip of his binds. She was definitely giving him a good deal of enjoyment; most girls would have broken by this point, but not her. She was defiant, spunky. Admirable qualities for someone he could crush like an ant. Yeah, this was most certainly one of the more fun encounters he had. And despite her now stealing two spotlights from him...well, this was worth it.


"You know, despite you being a pain in my ass, you're a lot of fun. Hopefully this won't be the last time we meet like this." Threadstorm commented, his fingers and threads stepping it up even more, tightening their grip and increasing their depth even more. But then she issued her own challenge: Make her, she said.

"Gladly~"

She'd then feel his threads thicken, several combining together into even thicker appendages. One slid up her tight little pussy as it coiled around his hand inside her, the other went in through the back door. Either way, she'd feel her belly bulge as he used his threads as makeshift dildos, the one in her slit ramming painlessly against her cervix. The constantly changing textures and wriggling would make sure to strike every sensitive spot it could, plunging in and out as he finger and thread-blasted her with every ounce he could muster.

"How's that, you little brat~" he then whispered to her teasingly, his wrist practically against her groin as his thick thread-covered digits plunged in and out of her pussy over and over, feeling just how tight she was wound.
 
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