How to Date a Superhero Ch. 01

...where earlier today a team of machine-gun toting bank-robbers were apprehended by Velocity and The Phazer. Authorities released a statement claiming the criminals were under the employ of Master Disaster, the arch-criminal assumed to be behind a recent outbreak of man-made Tsunami's which have leveled the South Pacific...

Reaching to his car's dashboard, Travis Adams changed the radio station for the fifth time in as many minutes. He hated listening to the news while driving; the two and a half hour trip from his parent's rural Missouri home back to Gateway City University was boring enough without making it worse by dull news-talk. He found a top 40 station and settled there despite not favoring the song, vowing to install a stereo with a compact disc player as soon as he could afford it. Fortunately for his boredom Travis had reached the outskirts of Gateway City and was nearly returned to school.

Unfortunately, his trip was about to grow suddenly exciting.

On the opposite side of the freeway, where traffic was oncoming, a car in the process of carelessly changing lanes had inadvertently cut-off a semi-truck and trailer. To avoid hitting the reckless driver the truck was forced to swerve and careen across the median directly into opposite traffic – directly towards Travis. He watched it all happen as though it were occurring in slow motion – the truck kicking up grass and dirt as it barreled over the median, its heavy trailer swaying dangerously behind it. The truck driver slammed on his brakes and cranked his steering wheel, attempting to steer the truck out of opposing traffic, but this simply jack-knifed the trailer so that it was sliding sideways across the freeway.

"Oh shit!" Travis yelled wide-eyed, seeing his own death sliding towards him. Driving the sixty-five mile-an-hour limit there was nowhere to go. No time to stop. No chance to steer his car out of the way. All he could do was duck and lay across his front seat to avoid being beheaded.

A thunderous crunch echoed all around him as the bottom of the semi-trailer swiped the top off of Travis' sedan, the sound of ripping metal and shattering glass causing him to clench his eyes shut and curl up the best he could. The car became wedged beneath the trailer, its momentum violently halted, throwing Travis against the dash and to the floor of his vehicle. He hadn't been wearing his seatbelt, a fact that saved Travis' life; had it been on he wouldn't have been able to lie across the seat and avoid losing his head.

With the bottom of the semi-trailer above him, pinning him inside the car, Travis reached for the passenger door handle and tried opening it, but the door was wrinkled by the impact and refused to open. He wouldn't have panicked save for the fact that smoke was pouring through the dash from a fire in his car's engine compartment. Something hot pressed against his foot and Travis glanced down to see flames licking at his sneaker from beneath the brake pedal. He yanked on the passenger door handle again, helplessly trying to escape the twisted wreckage that was his car.

"Help!" he screamed, "Can anyone hear me?!"

Travis was sure he was going to die. He'd either be burned alive, or his car would explode when the flames reached the gas tank. Travis hoped it would be the latter, assuming an explosion would be the quicker death. He found himself wondering if cars really did blow-up, or if that only happened in the movies.

"Help!" he yelled again, kicking at the flames in a futile attempt to quench them. He pulled at the door handle repeatedly, pulled it so hard that it snapped off and ended any hope he held for escape. He thought of his parents, whom he had seen only two hours prior, and his older sister, who was attending school a half-country away. He wanted to say goodbye to them. To tell them he loved them...

With thoughts consumed by his own doom, Travis suddenly heard the groan of metal above him. The semi-trailer began to rise off his car as though levitating. It was a miracle! Would he live? Could he escape?

Travis tried to scramble to freedom only to have his hopes dashed when he discovered the car's steering column had bent downward in the collision, pinning him at the hips.

He heard a confident feminine voice, "Stay calm, I'll have you out of there in a second."

Able to lift his head and look over the side of his mangled automobile, Travis saw that the trailer wasn't levitating. A girl, a young woman, was lifting it! The trailer had to weigh at least thirty tons but she held it above up-stretched arms as though it were no heavier than an empty cardboard box.

She tossed it to a clear ditch on the side of the highway, away from the multitude of stopped cars parked in the middle of the freeway. It landed with a thunderous sound and rolled twice into a field of marshy grass.

The girl wore the uniform of a superhero. It was a spandex outfit, like a one-piece swimsuit, except with long sleeves, colored in red and blue with black trim. A mask covered the top half of her face though her long, wavy blonde hair was unobscured. Black and blue boots rose up her ankles to just beneath the knee, baring the entirety of her golden-tan thighs. Travis recognized her instantly from the dozens of times he had seen her on television.

It was Mega-Girl!

"Help!" he cried, suddenly remembering the flames licking at his feet.

Mega-Girl turned as soon as she had tossed the semi-trailer clear of the scene and saw flames rising from Travis' car's engine. Spreading her arms wide, she slammed her palms together in a massive clap sending a shockwave-burst of air towards the car, instantly snuffing out the fire. With her bare hands she bent the steering column off Travis and ripped the driver's side door open as though it was made of paper-mache.

Scrambling out of the wreckage, Travis heard dozens of onlookers suddenly start cheering. People were standing all around the highway next to their cars having witnessed the accident, raising their fists and clapping at Mega-Girl's heroic efforts. Some of them held their cell phones in the air filming the event on digital video.

"Are you all right?" she asked, ignoring the throng and examining Travis' person for signs of injury.

"I-I think so," he answered, somewhat in shock at the fact he was even alive. His shoulder was sore from the initial impact with the semi, but it wasn't severe. He sensed nothing was broken.

"The authorities are on their way," Mega-Girl told him, lifting a hand to a blue-tooth device attached to her ear. "But you better have the paramedics check you out just in case."

And then she abruptly turned.

"Wait!" Travis urged before she could fly away.

Mega-Girl paused to glance over her shoulder.

"Thanks for saving my life."

She smiled, "You're welcome."

The smile was radiant, Travis thought. And her blue eyes, visible through the openings in her mask, were nothing short of stunning. He didn't want her to leave, "Um, would you want to get some coffee, sometime?"

Mega-Girl giggled, unable to hide her amusement.

Travis winced as soon as he said it, hearing how cliché he sounded.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" she asked with a smile.

"No!" Travis blurted, realizing how out of place his offer was in that moment. "N-no, I just... I'd like to thank you properly. You know, by buying you a cup of... um, yeah. I guess that's kind of silly, huh? As though a cup of coffee is worth my life."

"Usually after I save someone they want an autograph, or to take a selfie with me on their cell phone. No one has ever asked me out before."

"I hate selfies," Travis replied, dusting some broken glass off his tee-shirt. "I just... I mean... if it wasn't for you I'd be dead. And... please, let me properly thank you."

"So you're not asking me out?" she teased.

Her smile was infectious and a goofy grin decorated Travis' dirt-scuffed face.

Mega-Girl heard the sound of sirens in the distance and sensed the crowd of on-lookers closing in. She didn't want to be mobbed by a crowd seeking a small piece of her fame and began to rise into the air. "I'd love to get some coffee with you," she laughed.

Watching her float upwards Travis was stunned at her answer, "Really? Uh, do you want my number? How will I find you?"

"Don't worry," she smiled in reply. "You're about to get your fifteen minutes of fame. I'll be able to find you."

And then she was gone, careening across the sky under her own power of flight. Travis watched her form until it was a speck on the horizon and he became surrounded by people.

"...that was Mega-Girl!"

"...what did she say?"

"...oh-my-gawd she's so awesome!"

"...I've never seen anything so amazing!"

"...she totally looks taller on television..."

Michael Blonsky had it good. He had risen from his days as a teenaged punk running scams in the back-alley mazes of Gateway City's warrens to become the personal bodyguard for Tony Cicero – Tony was one of the fastest rising stars in Gateway City's notorious criminal underworld. No longer would Blonsky have to sell fake jewelry from the trunk of a rusted-out sedan, or hire himself out as muscle for loan sharks who needed to give deadbeat clients a broken leg. Blonsky was somebody. He had a nice apartment, a nice car, and wore thousand-dollar suits every day. How many other ex-thugs from the warrens could say that? Not many, he knew. Few ever made it out of the warrens.

It was those proud thoughts of his elevated station that occupied Blonsky's thoughts as he stood guard outside Tony Cicero's penthouse suite at the Arches Hotel. Blonsky was on top of the world; he could handle anything that came his way. Or so he thought when the doors of Tony Cicero's private elevator slid open to reveal a woman.

Her figure was stunning and scantily clad. She was wearing lacy panties with an equally lacy corset that lifted her breasts into obscenely glorious bulges of flesh. Sheer thigh-high stockings and high heels did nothing to hide the perfection of the woman's legs. Everything was white, except a feathery masquerade mask concealing the top half of her face, which was black. The mask's color matched her long curly hair, which fell in bouncing rings just past the blades of her bared shoulders.

Blonsky stepped in front of the door as the woman approached confidently, walking in her heels with a trained gait. "You one of Johnny Figgero's girls?" he asked jealously. Blonsky's boss often entertained escorts in his private suit, though none of them had ever wore masks. Cicero must be feeling kinky, Blonsky thought.

The woman smiled mischievously beneath her feathered mask and spoke a single word. "Fear," she said in a cold, throaty tone while looking Blonsky directly in the eye.

A look of absolute horror overcame the normally-unshakable bodyguard. He stumbled backwards and slumped to the floor in a corner of the hallway. "N-no..." he whimpered, curling into a fetal position. "N-no, p-please don't hurt me!"

The woman proceeded to ignore Blonsky, stepping past his shivering form, and entered the penthouse.

Tony Cicero was seated on a wide leather couch watching his favorite gangster movie. Dressed in a pair of black slacks and a buttoned silk shirt, he held the television's remote in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. "Goddammit," he cursed when he heard the door to his hotel suite open. "I thought I told you, Blonsky – I don't want to be disturbed!"

"Your man outside has developed a sudden and acute phobia."

Tony turned at the unexpected female voice and hit the mute button on his television remote, "Who the fuck are you? I didn't order any goddamn girls."

The woman rubbed her palms together, each of her hands clad in a white lacy glove, "My name is Rapture, Mistress of Emotion."

Tony's face wrinkled with confusion, "What kind of goddamn name is that?"

Rapture approached the mobster in her seductive gait until there was only a coffee table between them, "It's a name I chose. You see, I desire things - lots of things. The rapture is how I get them. I desire you, for example."

Tony was fond of sexually-forward women and smiled crookedly, "Oh yeah?" He looked at the bare expanse of her thighs, between the sheer material of Rapture's stockings and the lacy hem of her panties. "Did Johnny Figgero send you? I ain't never seen you in his brothel before. Why don't you come sit down, have some champagne?"

Rapture chuckled condescendingly, "I think you are mistaking what it is I desire from you."

Unable to conceal his disappointment, Tony asked, "Well, why the hell did you come here then?"

"I want you to worship me," Rapture stated calmly, "So that you will cater to my every whim. I want control of your criminal organization. I want your men, your guns, and all your resources."

Tony let out a sharp laugh, "You must have some gigantic balls hidden in those panties of yours, doll, to come in here and think you can take what's mine." He reached to his side, where a nickel-plated handgun was holstered beneath his armpit.

"Lust," Rapture said before he could draw the weapon, her voice throaty and seductive.

Overcome with a powerful sensation of longing, his eyes suddenly widened. Tony couldn't look away from her. A grenade could have gone off next to him and Tony wouldn't have cared – she was too beautiful to worry about anything else. "You're so goddamn gorgeous," he whispered calmly. "I want you more than anything."

Rapture's red lips curled into a smile beneath her mask, "Prove it."

"Anything," Tony declared, setting his champagne glass down on the coffee table's glass surface. "I'd do anything to have you!"

"Stand and remove your pants," Rapture commanded him with a lazy gesture of her gloved hand.

He did so without hesitation, his black slacks and the purple silk boxers beneath falling to Tony's ankles.

She looked to his penis and smiled confidently; it was fully erect, "Now sit back down and begin masturbating."

"Oh yeah," Tony sounded relieved as he sat, wrapping his hand around his engorged shaft. "I want to jerk-off to you so goddamn bad."

Rapture chuckled quietly as she stepped around the coffee table, "Let's see how fast you can orgasm. Stare at me while you masturbate. Stare at my beautiful body."

Tony began pumping his fist vigorously, his eyes glued to Rapture's enticing form. He watched as she sat down on the coffee table, his eyes travelling downward to her slowly parting thighs. The lace of her underwear was not quite sheer, but the panties were tight against her crotch and he could easily imagine the glories contained behind the thin stretch of material.

"Spit in your hand," she told him, leaning towards Tony so that her breasts spilled forward in the corset. "We don't want you rubbing yourself raw."

Pausing long enough to obey his new mistress' commands, Tony pushed a long bead of saliva into his palm before he resumed his frantic masturbation. His makeshift lubrication made slick noises between them. "Are we gonna fuck?" he asked anxiously. "I want to fuck you so bad."

Rapture parted her mouth and licked her upper lip teasingly, "That all depends. What would you do to get inside me?"

"Anything," Tony promised.

"Would you help kill someone for me?"

The speed of Tony's jacking fist increased until his hand was a blur, "Anyone. I'd kill anyone to be with you. I know a dozen assassins for hire, or I'd stick a fucking knife in their heart myself. Just let me fuck you, please, let me fuck you."

Rapture forced an expression of displeasure towards Tony with pouty lips, "But you haven't cum for me yet. You must not want me that bad..."

"Fuck," Tony grunted. "I want you. I fucking want you so goddamn bad."

His body tensed as he stared at her lips, imagining their pouty curve wrapped around his erection. Tony couldn't have contained himself any longer even if had wanted to. His desire overcame him and an orgasm sprang forth from the tip of his cock, shooting high into the air above his lap. A gasp escaped his lips from the power of lust overcoming his body.

"Oh my," Rapture feigned how impressed she was, watching spurt after spurt of his liquid pleasure decorate Tony's wrist, thighs, and pubic hair. He grunted like an animal throughout the event; like a lust-filled beast. She waited only a moment, not even letting him catch a breath, before ordering, "Eat it."

Tony seemed confused, his brain still addled by the powerful orgasm.

"Eat it," she repeated, testing her new plaything. "I want you to lick up your pleasure."

Looking down at the beads of seminal fluid on his wrist, Tony lifted his arm.

Rapture smiled victoriously as she watched the mobster lap his own cum off his hand and swallow it. He did it without disgust or complaint, making sure to get every drop. When he was done, he scooped up the stringy strands decorating his thighs, licking that off his fingers as well.

"Can we fuck now?" Tony asked after finishing his lust-fueled snack.

"Not until you help me kill someone," she replied, standing from the coffee table. She felt confident Tony Cicero was firmly under her power.

Tony rose as well, pulling his pants up, "I swear - I'll kill anyone for you. Who do you want dead?"

"Our task will not be so easily accomplished." Desire cast a seductive glance over her bare shoulder as her heels clicked on the hardwood floor towards the door, "Our target is the most powerful woman in the world."

Tony followed her like a lost puppy, "Who is this broad?"

Rapture led her new mobster puppet out of the hotel suite, past Michael Blonsky who was still curled in the hallway quivering in fear.

"I want to kill a superhero," Rapture declared confidently. "But we're going to need more help. Call a meeting of your associates and I will take care of the rest."

As Travis strolled through the campus quads, a grassy park-like area in the center of Gateway City University, he noticed many of his peers watching and staring at him. It wasn't surprising given that he had been a lead topic on the news the evening prior. Cell phone footage of his freeway accident taken by one of the bystanders had gone fully viral on the internet as well; the popularity of Mega-Girl had that effect.

Superheroes had been around since the first World War - they were nothing new. Travis and every other kid across the country read about Commander Constitution, the first known costumed superhero, in comic books and classroom textbooks. Some heroes had flashy powers, or powerful technologies; others simply wore garish costumes and relied on their skill or intellect. But Mega-Girl was different. She was widely considered the most powerful superhero of them all (save perhaps mighty Apollo) and her celebrity had grown to equally epic proportions. Though Mega-Girl had only become famous short of a year before Travis' accident, every girl in America quickly aspired to be her and every boy was in love with her.

Being rescued by her on camera did similar things to one's fame. Travis had been bombarded with emails and texts from his friends and family. Calls from newspapers across the country, along with television networks, had forced him to turn off his cell phone. They all wanted to know exactly what Mega-Girl was like, what she said, or how she looked. Travis' mother hadn't even asked if he was injured when she called, instead she wanted to know if Mega-Girl had nice breath. Travis' older sister was furious that he hadn't gotten Mega-Girl's autograph for her and vowed never to speak to him again (Travis' sister tended to be overly dramatic). His father asked if Mega-Girl's legs looked as sexy in person as they did on television.

Uncomfortable from all the attention, Travis was wondering how long his fifteen minutes of fame would last. He was also wondering if he'd ever see Mega-Girl again. She said she would find him. Did she mean it? Or was she simply being friendly? Was Travis crazy for considering that the world-famous Mega-Girl would want to do something as mundane as get coffee?