Elektra: Beaten by Typhoid (Part 2)

Elektra looked blearily up at her. Her convulsions were fading, but she felt utterly miserable. Her body was shaking with weakness, flushed and freezing at the same time, her head pounding, everything unsteady. The air itself weighed down on her, urging her to sink into the cool grass and lay still, even sleep.

But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

Wiping her mouth, releasing a few more small coughs, a pale, trembling Elektra forced herself to her feet and brought her weapon to bear. Her stance was shaky, breasts heaving beneath her satin bustier, but her green eyes burned with wrath. Her jaw was clenched tight, brow lowered beneath her bangs, her spirit only standing out more prominently now that she struggled.

“Definitely stubborn,” Typhoid narrowed her eyes, “I guess before I try again, I’ll just have to beat that out of you.”

“Enough… talk,” Elektra rasped and lunged at her.

To a pedestrian, the strike would have looked deadly fast, a blur of silver that leapt towards the villainess’s face. But to the trained eye, there was something missing. Not as fast as before, not as sure, not as precise.

Typhoid leaned to the side, letting the blow just miss her, and struck her attacker with the back of her knuckles in the same motion.

The blow snapped Elektra’s head back and she retreated, swiping defensively with her sai to turn aside the follow up attack.

But Typhoid made no attempt to follow up. She stood just where she was, head tilted insolently, grinning at her weakened opponent with her eyebrows raised. Her lips were pursed in a tart, teasing grin, dark eyes dancing with fun.

From around the edge of the hedge wall, Abby squinted. What was going on? Why didn’t Elektra finish her off?

“Come on, Elektra.” the villainess beckoned her with a crooked finger.

Still rasping for air, Elektra took a moment to collect herself. She wouldn’t allow herself to be angered by her opponent’s taunts. The woman was unarmed, overconfident, and taking foolish chances. She would simply press, wait for Typhoid to strike, then trade a punch or a kick for putting her sai through the villainess’s throat.

Expression cold, forcing her lips into a firm line, she advanced on Typhoid then lashed out with a probing strike. The villainess dodged it without counter attacking so she did it again, with the same results. So she did it again. And again and again…

The smirk never left Typhoid’s face as she deftly dodged or turned aside all of Elektra’s fastest blows.

“Nope… awww…” she taunted, effortlessly avoiding the attacks, “So slow now…”

Elektra ducked back, feinted, then struck again, but the villainess defended herself with ease. Frustrated with her opponent’s elusiveness, she threw herself harder into her next strike, trying to leave nowhere for Typhoid to retreat.

The villainess simply moved away again, handling her like she was a novice.

“You look tired, hon…” she hissed.

Elektra FELT tired. The poison was fatiguing her and she knew every attack she made was slower than the last. Her mouth now open, gasping, body shining with a clammy sweat, she wiped at her eyes in an attempt to clear the fog from her vision. Then she fixed an emerald glare on her opponent. She wouldn’t lose. She would ignore her fatigue, push herself beyond it.

Her fighting spirit redoubled, Elektra threw herself at her grinning opponent.

And right into a spinning kick that knocked her off her feet.

The blow itself all but clotheslined Elektra, while the nature of the spinning kick threw her into a pirouette even as she fell, her sai flying from her hand. There was a crack of foot to jaw, a pause as her curving, scarlet figure whirled around, then a thud and a grunt as she landed on the hard ground.

Abby gasped, jumping up, her eyes wide. Frozen in shock, she stared, gaping. That was impossible! No one could to that to Elektra!

Elektra herself had landed on her back, splayed out like a starfish, her eyes wide with shock and staring aimlessly, totally discombobulated. At that moment she didn’t know what had happened, where she was, or even who she was. Her breasts and stomach rose and fell heavily as she lay there, but other than a few confused turns of her head she made no other movement, her pouty lips gaping stupidly.

In any boxing, kickboxing, or mma match, the ref would have declared it a win by knockout and the fight would have been over. But this wasn’t that type of fight.

Typhoid smirked to herself and strolled over to the silver sai that had flown out of Elektra’s grasp. She bent down, plucked it up between thumb and forefinger, then turned back towards her dazed opponent. Twirling the weapon on her finger, she stopped to grin down at the athletic, satin-clad body.

“You want to know why I took this job, Elektra?”

Elektra blinked hard, seeing double, the world spinning madly around her head. She could see a face looming over her, pale and pretty, her ears ringing but picking up a taunting voice. It was muffled and echoed, like it was coming from a distance.

Typhoid flipped the sai up then caught it the point on the tip of her finger.

“Not the money,” she grinned, balancing the sai on her fingertip, “It’s nice, but no. The real reason is that cute little chosen one you’re protecting. So innocent, but such power inside her. I want… both.”

As her mentor shook her head, trying to clear it, Abby set her jaw and tightened her grip on her string of golden beads. There was no doubt about it, Elektra was in trouble. She broke from her hiding place and sprinted to her idol’s aid, sneakers pounding the grass.

“She’s such a tasty little thing too, don’t you think?” Typhoid whispered, “I’ll have a lot of fun with her. Teach her lots of fun things. I might even make her my biggest fan.”

The words took a moment to sink into Elektra’s mind.

Abby. The witch was talking about Abby.

A jolt of anger cleared some of the cobwebs. She couldn’t yet remember how she had wound up on her back, but she knew she couldn’t stay there. Abby would be no match for this woman. She had to get up, kill this witch, stop her, protect Abby by any means.

“Unhh… nhhh…” Elektra gritted her teeth and struggled to sit up, though it felt like the whole world was on her shoulders.

Typhoid grinned, then tossed the sai up and caught it again.

“I thought that might wake you up a little…” she chirped.

As Elektra groaned and managed to turn over, crawling up to all fours, the villainess dropped the heroine’s silver weapon beside her. It landed point down, sticking up from the lawn.

“You’ll need this.” Typhoid grinned, stepping back to let the heroine recover.

“ELEKTRA!”

Abby lashed out with her whip-like weapon as soon as she was in range, driving the villainess away from her mentor, then skidding to a stop between them. In a well-practiced fighting stance, the teenager gave the dark witch the most furious glare she could manage, protecting Elektra while she got up.

“Back off, you Tim Burton reject!” she snapped.

Typhoid had stepped back from the stroke without even looking at it, absent mindedly dodging it while she eyed her young attacker with amusement.

Abby was trying her best to look fearsome, but she didn’t have the face for it. While there was a slightly angular side to Elektra’s beauty, Abby had a round, wholesome prettiness, with big blue eyes like a baby doll. The girl lowered her brow, wrinkled her button nose, screwed her pouty lips out tight, but to Typhoid the look was comical, a kitten trying to imitate the grown lioness’s snarl.

Despite her slightly melodramatic attempt at intimidation, the young warrioress held herself in a way that showed she knew what she was doing, her athletic figure a miniature of Elektra’s in some ways. Snug jeans hugged muscular little legs that coiled in a comfortable crouch, shoulders tight beneath her denim jacket. Her string of beads was glowing now with the eerie luminescence of lightning bugs, stretched taut between her fists, ready to parry or attack.

“Hello there, little treasure.” Typhoid cooed, hands seemingly defenseless at her sides, “I’ve been looking for you. Aren’t we a spunky thing…”

“And a-aren’t we creepy!” Abby flushed.

With that, the teenaged martial artist darted forwards, her glowing lanyard whistling around in a complicated pattern.

Typhoid welcomed the attack with a tart grin.

Young face hard and focused, Abby’s body moved in the same mesmerizing motion as the glowing line, like girl and weapon were one and the same. They flowed in a seamless dance, the constant motion making it almost impossible to discern what was a feint, what was an attack, and what was simply another step in the dance. A sneaker lashed out, trying to sweep Typhoid’s legs, even as the glowing line snapped at her face, then again at her wrist. It took skill far beyond the age of the young woman before her, that of a true master, to attack both so smoothly and with such speed.

But at the level the villainess was at, someone that was merely a master didn’t live very long. She stepped back from the sweep, leaned just enough to let the beads whistle by her nose, then caught the string neatly in her hand rather than letting it lash across her arm.

Abby gasped in surprise, then threw a kick to force the woman away. Typhoid courteously let go of the string and let her retreat, and Abby darted back into another fighting stance, but her eyes were wide. In three moves, the witch had snagged her weapon with ease, then let her have it back just as easily. A knot formed in her stomach; she’d just been shown she was laughably outmatched.

“Uh oh…” Typhoid purred, echoing the feeling that was painted across Abby’s face.

By the time Elektra finally got to her feet, Abby and the villainess were already in the midst of their duel and it was too late to call out a warning. All she could do was snatch her sai out of the dirt and hurry to join the fight as quickly as possible.

More cautious now, Abby circled around the grinning witch, whirling her glowing string to occasionally snap it out in probing strikes.

However, Typhoid wasn’t going to let the young heroine remain safe. Now that Abby wasn’t committing herself to her attacks, the villainess advanced on her quickly. She turned and folded herself exactly how she needed to avoid the girl’s whipping blows, until she managed to catch the girl’s wrist in mind swing. Before the girl could pull away, Typhoid twisted the arm then threw her into the ground, forcing a pained grunt from her young opponent.

Attacking the villainess’s blind side, Elektra didn’t give herself away by crying out like Abby had, but it didn’t make any difference. Her sai flashed and Typhoid knocked it aside, then snapped the scarlet assassin’s head back with a sharp blow. Dazed by the attack, legs too wobbly to retreat, the heroine tried to attack again, only for her swipe to be easily avoided. A knee buried itself into her toned stomach.

“OOLF!” Elektra’s eyes buldged, doubled over by the blow.

“Oh, Elektra,” Typhoid cooed, “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

With the heroine doubled over, she threw a downward strike that drew another grunt of pain and dropped Elektra back to her stomach.

Clambering to her feet, Abby threw herself at Typhoid, trying to take the witch by surprise or at the very least distract her from Elektra. She snapped a kick at the villainess’s face, then her golden string slashed out. Plowing forward, her weapon became a whirlwind of constant strikes.

Typhoid flowed back at the exact pace the girl charged forward, avoiding each stroke with a wry grin.

Gasping for air, Elektra crawled up with great discomfort. She had to pause on all fours, shoulders and back heaving, before she pushed herself back to her feet with a groan of effort.

In the state she was in, she calculated it was unlikely she could beat Typhoid. She was operating far below optimal and to finish her off, the villainess would only have to give her another gust of poison. They were being toyed with. As she watched Abby attack with everything she had, she knew Typhoid could counter and knock the girl flat at any moment, but was allowing the strokes to keep coming, playing with her.

Fighting her now was a losing proposition. She would have to have a plan to defeat Typhoid, attack the villainess on chosen ground, when she was fresh, prepared. But to do that, they first had to escape.

Elektra took a deep breath, forcing her mind to calm, and closed her eyes. A course of action had come to mind, but for it to work she needed to peer through the veil of the present. She had to look farther than she had before.

Abby lunged, trying to surprise the villainess with sudden aggression, but Typhoid stepped to the side and tripped her as she went by. Abby squealed, staggering, barely managing to maintain her balance. She would have recovered if Typhoid hadn’t given her a smack on her small, jean-clad butt.

Knocked forward, Abby fell onto her elbows with a frustrated grunt.

“Whoopsies,” Typhoid purred, “Better watch that booty, little one…”

Her young face flushed pink, Abby struck the ground with a fist then rolled back to her feet.

Elektra’s brow furrowed, fists clenching at her sides. Looking into the future was a strain on her mind, akin to stretching a thick band. Doing it in a sudden burst was fairly easy but holding it for longer became agony. Yet she had no choice; for this ploy to work, she would have to see without her eyes.

Breathing sharply through her nose, fresh sweat beading on her forehead, Elektra reached to the sash on her waist. There were few people in the world that could match her in terms of sheer internal focus, and now she needed it all, to keep her eye on the future even as she told her body to withdraw a pair of pellets from a pocket beneath her sash. Then to bring her weapon up. Then to run.

“Such a cute blush…” Typhoid grinned as turned aside one of Abby’s kicks, “I hope you’re a squealer…”

“You are…!” the teenaged girl threw a punch, “So… GROSS!”

Elektra sprinted towards both of them, not seeing the girl or her strange opponent, but visions of them, and herself. She saw her vision-self drawing her arm back, then hurling the pellets, seconds before she actually did it. The pellets struck the grass between the two combatants and burst, thick gray smoke billowing out to engulf them.

Then, in the present, it happened as well.

“AA—KAFF KAFF KOFF!” she heard Abby cry out.

Typhoid hissed and cursed, swiping at the air, losing her prey in the fog.

Elektra rushed into the mist that was already beginning to cover the vast lawn and as she did, dozens of possible futures played out before her. In one she was clotheslined by Typhoid, left helplessly writhing while the villainess grinned down. In another, she bumped into Typhoid on accident and was run through by her own sai, the dark witch shaking her head regretfully as Elektra sank down and died. In another still, she tumbled into Abby and they both fell, only for Typhoid to clonk their heads together and knock them out cold.

Her mind and body cried out in agony, trying to distract her, but she plowed through them, finding the possible future where she grabbed Abby by the shoulder and pulled her away. The girl coughed, attempting to struggle, but Elektra got her moving, avoiding the future where they stumbled into Typhoid and were laid out by a gust of poisonous breath.

“Oh… koff koff…” the villainess hissed from somewhere in the gray smoke, “You want… to drag this out… a little longer, huh?”

After quickly realizing the woman gripping her jacket was her friend and mentor, Abby let Elektra pull her blindly, remaining quiet other than her faint coughing. The pair of them rushed past Typhoid, feet thundering across the grass, through the hole the villainess had made in the hedge wall, then vanished into the hedge maze.

Typhoid’s playful, breathy laughter rang out behind them.

The smoke percolated slowly through the hedge walls, allowing Abby’s vision to clear the further they went, but it was Elektra that guided them, knowing which turns to take to avoid dead ends.

“Hey… are your eyes closed?!” Abby hissed, “Wha… what’s going on?”

Elektra didn’t have the energy to tell the girl to hush. Her ears were ringing, the visions themselves starting to get fuzzy, like static was breaking in. She ignored the burning in her lungs, the weight pulling at her every limb. She had to get them both to safety. She had to.

“This is crazy…” Abby whispered, but grinned, impressed at yet another ability she hadn’t realized her mentor possessed.

In her vision, the pair of them came out the other side of the hedge maze. Across the yard at the front of the mansion was the Silver Daimyo’s town car. It was only 100 yards away, across the pavement of the vast driveway.

Seeing it, Abby redoubled her speed and Elektra drove herself onward, pushing, pushing, pushing…

And then she stumbled.

In her vision, her vision-self tripped, staggering and tottering to one side. Her present-self followed soon after, the vision and the present becoming closer to one another.

“I knew that weirdo couldn’t beat you…” Abby whispered, “Did you hear the stuff she was saying?”

Vision and present were bleeding together, Elektra simply unable to maintain her focus any longer. She tried valiantly to redouble her efforts, but that thick band she was struggling to stretch was stronger than her now, gradually forcing itself back to its original state. Present and future overlapped, then slowly became one.

“Elektra?” Abby frowned, the future and present versions of her speaking almost in unison.

Then the vision faded altogether.

Suddenly fully in the present once more, Elektra drew in a long, croaking gasp of air, her eyes snapping wide. With her focus partially on the future, she had more easily ignored the exhaustion and weakness in her mortal body, but now they came back with a vengeance. Her heart pounded, her legs jelly and tripping over each other, barely able to keep moving.

Yet it wasn’t only her body that was fatigued. Her mind moved through sludge, everything having a too-bright glint to it even in the night’s shadows, her vision warped like she was seeing the world through a fish tank. Even her thoughts seemed slurred, one trailing off into the next, not able to focus long enough to complete it.

“Are you okay?” Abby asked, “Why are we slowing down…?”

Elektra continued running out of pure instinct, the reason why she was running continuing to slip in and out of her mind.

She had to get to the car. She did. She and Abby did. They had to get away. Away from something bad. The car. Abby. Protect Abby. Escape with Abby. Had to get there. With Abby. Get Abby there…

“Elektra…” Abby said softly, “You look…”

Before she could finish, something struck the girl hard in the back of the neck. She let out a surprised ‘oof’, then fell, landing flat on her stomach. She bounced, limp, and then stayed still.

Elektra continued running several paces before she realized she had to stop. Too tired to slow herself and turn, she simply fell to one knee, banging it into the dirt. She had to fight not to collapse right there.

Abby lay face down in the grass, still panting, but entirely stunned. Her arms were splayed out on either side of her, one knee drawn towards her waist, caught in mid-run, making one side of jeans’ seat round up more than the other. Beside her, glistening in the moonlit grass, was an onyx stone, polished smooth as glass.

As Elektra gasped for breath, footsteps faintly crunched on the manicured grass, approaching them. She didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

Typhoid clucked her tongue, twirling a black leather sling lazily at her side.

“Oh, so close,” she cooed, “Almost a happy ending. So tragic…”

Grunting, trying not to groan in misery, Elektra pushed herself to her feet. Her balance immediately wavered and she staggered, hips swaying, but she stayed upright.

Typhoid laughed gently.

“You are one tired ninja girl,” she stopped a few paces from Abby, cocking her hip, “You can lie down if you want. Have a nice rest. The little Treasure and I have lots of innocence-taking to do…”

Elektra very, very much wanted to fall down, but the thought of Abby being at this twisted woman’s mercy galvanized every last ounce of focus she had. Turning, she faced the smirking villainess, her curving, whip-chord body sagging and pale, but a desperate fire in her eyes. Her breasts heaving, exposed skin shining with perspiration, she was spent, but unbowed.

And trying to ignore the voice in her head telling her this battle was utterly hopeless.

“Mmm…” Typhoid narrowed her eyes, “That a girl.”

Elektra twirled her sai in a slow, drunken mimicry of her usual grace, then charged.

But this time she was no threat at all. And Typhoid was no longer playing.

The red satin assassin lashed out with her silver blade and the villainess knocked the attack aside, then counterstruck with a blow that made Elektra see stars. She staggered a few paces, eyes unfocused, then had her legs neatly kicked out from under her.

“UNF!” she landed on her back, blinking, staring glazed at the night sky.

Standing over her, Typhoid watched the heroine for a moment, then held out her hand, fingers spread, to inspect her nails. She looked each one over in turn, then looked back to her fallen opponent, pursing her lips.

Elektra blinked, gasping through an open mouth, then began to sit up. Her head came up, then fell back down. With a grunt of effort, she tried again, this time managing to lift her shoulders from the grass and struggle up.

Typhoid stood back, dark eyes glinting with a cruel curiosity as she watched the heroine get back to her feet. She didn’t attack, she didn’t move to hamper the heroine in any way. She simply waited

“Soooo driven…” she whispered, grinning faintly, “Soooo much spirit. No wonder you’re number one.”

Elektra stumbled once she was back on her feet, weaving drunkenly. She tried to use her own clumsy staggering to mask a sudden attack, but Typhoid easily saw it coming. The exhausted heroine was dodged like a matador and struck behind the head as she went by. Stunned, her legs immediately buckled and she fell onto her face, rasping into the dirt.

Boots whispered through the grass. Typhoid strode around the prone figure, tapping a finger to her lips, musing to herself. Her eyes glided over the shining red satin, the creamy skin, the turns and swells of an exquisitely trained body.

“Elektra Natchios, the deadliest assassin in the world,” the villainess purred.

The world was spinning madly, her body shaking and weak. Despite this, Elektra bit her lip and pushed herself up, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. As she slowly struggled, Typhoid continued speaking to her in a low, intimate voice.

“You know… the Treasure wasn’t the only reason I decided to take this job…”

Before Elektra could lock her arms out, the villainess planted her foot between the heroine’s shoulders and pushed with assertive force.

Elektra let out a faint cry of despair as she thumped right back down into the grass, pinned beneath her opponent’s boot.

“You were the other reason,” Typhoid said, “I wanted to see you, face you…”

She leaned into Elektra’s back, drawing a faint groan.

“Drain you… beat you… break you…”

She pressed for another moment, enough to make her rival moan, then stepped back with a twisted grin.

“I wanted to see just how good you are,” the villainess said, “And then… take it all from you. Make you use every trick, every ounce of energy, every speck of willpower. Until the beautiful, dangerous Elektra was just… empty.”

The grass felt so cool and soft, the darkness of unconsciousness beckoning to her, but Elektra had to get up. Had to beat this woman. She grunted and slowly pushed herself up once more, the shining seat of her satin leggings shifting as she got to all fours.

On the ground nearby, Abby groaned as well, stirring, reaching back to paw at the throbbing welt on the back of her neck. She blinked her eyes, the scene before her blurry.

It would have been easy for Typhoid to stomp Elektra back to the ground, but she stood back and let the heroine rise, eyes narrowed, cruel, knowing.

“Come on, Elektra,” she cooed, “Get up. Get up and try to kill me. You’ve still got some energy left…”

Elektra got up partway, then crumpled to her knees with a gasp of surprise. Her legs had simply buckled underneath her, so weak they’d given way without warning. She had to rest there for a moment, bosom heaving beneath her satin bustier, before groaning and pushing herself back to unsteady feet.

Abby shook her head, trying to clear her vision, but it was still warped. Her arms and legs were clumsy from the blow to her head, making it difficult to rise, but her thoughts were clear enough to understand that her idol was rising from the ground to defeat their attacker.

“Guh… g-get her, Elektra!” she cheered on the older woman.

Her vision was still too cloudy to see the soft, slack expression on the heroine’s usually hard face, her hair damp and sticking to her forehead. She was too dazed to notice how her idol was swaying like a sleepwalker, sai barely held from a limp wrist, the deep, billowing breaths she was taking. All the girl knew for sure was that though she might look like she was in trouble, nobody could beat Elektra. Not when it mattered.

Elektra herself was beyond comprehending the situation. Almost any other person would have simply passed out, but the assassin’s preternatural willpower kept her upright, fixed on her objective with almost robotic persistence: beat this woman. She barely even heard Abby’s cheers, didn’t understand that her persistence is exactly what Typhoid wanted. Her mission was the only thing keeping her up, and therefore it’s all that mattered.

Stumbling forward, the somnambulant assassin swung for the villainess with her sai.

The stroke fell short, not even reaching its intended target.

Off balanced by the missed blow, Elektra dropped to her knees at Typhoid’s feet, the fall almost jarring the sai from her weak fingers. It took several moments for her exhausted mind to process that information. She remained on bent knee, wavering, blinking in confusion.

Abby blinked as well, not understanding what she was seeing. It looked like Elektra had missed and just… fell. Typhoid was standing right in front of her, but her idol was doing nothing to attack. All the scarlet assassin had to do was stab the villainess with her sai, but instead she just knelt there, wobbling like she was drunk.

Abby tried to push up to all fours, but the world spun wildly and she sank back down with a groan.

Meanwhile, Typhoid sadly shook her head at her wilted rival.

“Poor Elektra,” she sighed, “The smart thing to do would be to just lie down. But you can’t, can you? Not until you have nothing left…”

Elektra managed to lift her head and look at her taunting enemy, expression hanging, eyes confused and doe-like. Even her willpower was wavering now, her body and mind reaching their absolute limits. She knew she couldn’t stop until she’d won, but she was starting to forget what winning even was.

Her thoughts were now baby-like and simple. Winning meant… taking the pointy end of her sai… sticking it in the bad person. Yes. That’s what it meant.

With that as her goal, Elektra reached out with her sai, trying to put it into the black-dressed woman in front of her. It was slow, her arm wavering merely from the effort of holding the weapon up, the attempt looking more like a game of pin the tail on the donkey. The sai waved about, slowly finding its way towards the villainess.

Typhoid simply took the heroine’s wrist. The sai was held limply in Elektra’s hand, almost dangling. The villainess didn’t even need to prize it away, she simply took the shining weapon from soft, unresisting fingers, like she was taking a toy from a sleepy child.

Panting, eyelids drooping, Elektra let her arm drop when Typhoid let go of it. She only saw blurs, couldn’t move her legs, couldn’t lift her arms. Only the smallest glimmer of stubbornness kept her kneeling, but her gaze was directionless, no longer remembering why she didn’t lie down.

Typhoid patted her head.

“Thank you, Elektra,” she cooed, “Thank you for the present. And thank you for trying so, so hard…”

Grinning, Typhoid twirled the blade in the exact same manner Elektra had. She spun it around her finger, then caught it, holding the shining weapon in front of the heroine’s face.

Abby shook her head, “Elektra… wh-what are you doing? Get up!”

Typhoid put the tip of the blade just under the heroine’s chin, tilting it up.

“Mmmm… all but empty…” she purred, “I think you’re ready now…”

Typhoid leaned down to be level with Elektra’s gaze. Her black eyes penetrated, staring with unblinking intensity. The heroine wasn’t looking back at her, had little clue of what was happening, but that didn’t matter. In fact, that made it better.

“Look into my eyes, Elektra,” she whispered.

Grunting, Abby struggled to get up, her eyes crossing as everything spun around her head. Her arms and legs felt glitchy, not doing what she told them to do.

“Elektra…” Typhoid whispered again, “Look into my eyes.”

Elektra heard the voice calling to her. Something about it drew her attention, luring her dazed mind like a moth to a flame. She blinked several times, brow furrowing as she struggled to focus her eyes, to see the source of the sound.

“Find my eyes…” the villainess smiled gently, “Find them… so dark, cool inside them… so close…”

Elektra’s vision was blurry, but she saw two small black holes. Her green eyes big and bewildered, she looked at the deep, dark wells in front of her and slowly they came into focus. She didn’t fully understand what they were, but she knew they were beautiful… and dangerous. Looking into them was like staring into primordial darkness, the emptiness before the universe was formed, even infinity.

Slowly, the exhausted assassin went from bleary, near unconsciousness, to staring fixedly, intent and curious.

“That’s it, Elektra,” Typhoid cooed, “Deep, deep, deep into my eyes…”

Elektra was fascinated by the shining black eyes. Her drunken swaying began to fade as her sense of balance fixed on Typhoid’s commanding stare like a north star. It called to her, promising sweet things. Comfort, safety, a release from all her troubles; a firm, loving dominance. It was a siren song that Elektra was too befuddled and spent to resist. She could do nothing but follow it.

“Let go of everything,” the villainess whispered, “My eyes are all that matter… all you need…”

Elektra gradually grew still, the furrow in her brow melting away, relaxed. All that mattered were those eyes. Those dark, deep eyes. Everything she needed was inside them. Her breathing grew deep and even, peaceful. There was no reason to struggle. No reason to do anything but listen and gaze.

No vision came to the heroine’s mind this time and if it had she wouldn’t have noticed. She had an almost unbreakable will, but even her strength had its limits. After so much effort, so much exhaustion, overcoming the cries and complaints of her body, there was simply nothing left to fight the seductive lure of Typhoid’s voice and deep stare. She was defenseless.

Slowly her eyes widened, pouty lips parting. The dangerous, stern, calculating assassin looked into Typhoid’s eyes with the innocent awe of a child, soft, pretty and completely open.

“Fall into my eyes, Elektra,” the villainess cooed, “So beautiful… no will of your own… only my words.”

Elektra stared, enraptured. There was no chime of a bell when her mind surrendered to the darkness, no flash of light, her eyes didn’t suddenly turn into spirals. The only indication was a small release of breath, the tiniest sigh as the deadly heroine gave away all her worries.

Typhoid’s eyes grew wide with glee. She knew what she was seeing.

“Mmmm… no fight at all.” she stroked the mesmerized heroine’s cheek, “Good girl.”

Propped up on her elbows, Abby gaped in utter shock, not believing what she was seeing. Elektra was kneeling before the woman that attacked them, looking up at her with absolute trust, even a yearning. The villainess was teasing the unbeatable assassin with her own weapon, cooing to her playfully, like she was a puppy, and Elektra simply continued to stare.

This… this had to be some kind of trick. Elektra was just lulling the creepy witch, waiting for an opportunity to strike. That had to be what was happening.

With another pleased ‘hmm’, Typhoid slipped the sai away from the heroine’s chin. She twirled it again then tucked the weapon into the back of her belt.

“Stand up, Elektra.”

Elektra felt deliciously warm, soft, and safe. The voice was gentle but commanding, echoing in her mind, the only thing that mattered. Nothing cried out against it, no part of her rebelled against what was clearly an order. She trusted the voice, the dark eyes that owned her. She would do anything for them, everything for them, and they would keep her comfortable, cozy, and protected.

She didn’t care about or notice how difficult it was to stand. Her legs trembled, knees knocking a few times, but her expression remained fascinated and open as she rose up. Her eyes never broke their compelled stare, soft and trusting as a lamb’s.

Typhoid couldn’t help but chuckle at the almost cartoonishly doe-eyed look on the face of who many had considered the angel of death. It was a laugh of amusement, but also pleasure and self-satisfaction. She had overcome Elektra in the most profound way imaginable.

Reaching out, she cupped the beautiful assassin’s cheek, then slide her hand down to the graceful, wiry neck. Elektra didn’t mind, or even seem to notice the touch.

Once she’d managed to hit Elektra with the poison, Typhoid could have easily killed the lovely brunette. She would have beaten Elektra, proved she was superior, even been paid for her troubles. Her reputation would have swelled; the woman who had killed the devil herself.

But this was a far more complete victory. Many could conceivably kill her, but Typhoid had vanquished Elektra’s willpower. She had taken the assassin’s very spirit and forced it to its knees, fitted it with shackles that would never come off, and compelled her mind to submit with the sheer force of her own. She had defeated her on a seminal level most didn’t even know was possible.

In some ways, death would have been merciful. Now, this woman who had spent her life training, honing her will and body to its peak, would never not belong to the villainess standing before her.

Typhoid purred, stepping intimately close and staring into the unresisting green eyes. Her other hand smoothed under Elektra’s bustier, feeling the bare skin of her taut stomach.

“I think we can officially say you’ve been dethroned, Elektra,” the villainess’s eyes twinkled, her grin lazy and playful.

Abby shook her head, snapping out of her shock. Part of her still desperately hoped her idol was faking it, but the more practical part of her knew she had to act. Her balance was still unsteady, her arms and legs shaky but she scrambled up to her feet.

“But…” Typhoid whispered, drawing closer, “There’s a delicious consolation prize…”

One hand slid over Elektra’s bare waist, while the other cupped gently behind the heroine’s head. The villainess’s mouth drew closer, lips parted with anticipation.

Overcompensation and dizziness dropped Abby on her butt almost immediately, her eyes crossing. She immediately continued the struggle regardless, grunting and gasping with effort.

“Elektra!” the girl cried out as she wobbled, “Snap out of it!”

Typhoid stopped with her mouth only centimeters away. She whispered softly so only Elektra could hear, the words pattering off the heroine’s soft lips.

“You’re mine now.”

Then she lunged, capturing Elektra’s unresisting mouth.

“ELEKTRA!” Abby screamed.

Neither heroine nor villainess noticed her. They were locked together, irretrievably entangled, lioness and lamb, predator and prey.

At first it was simply a kiss. Typhoid nuzzled her lips into Elektra’s, her tongue slipping in to explore the slack mouth and tangle with its slippery counterpart. Their bodies pressed, breasts to breasts, Typhoid cupping the back of her victim’s head to manipulate it, angling it how she wanted. The villainess was clearly in charge of the engagement, pushing into the mesmerized assassin, forcing her to lean back and controlling her body with her hands, while Elektra’s hung limp at her sides.

“Mmmm…” Typhoid purred, closing her eyes and enjoying the body of the former world’s deadliest assassin. Her hand pushed its way across the small of Elektra’s back, feeling the curve of the spine and soft skin, groping one direction, then drawing back to reexplore. The lips were soft and moist and she captured them with her own, sucking firmly, feeling, tasting.

Then, the kiss gradually faded, the villainess’s lips went still, and something strange happened. Typhoid opened her mouth wide, pressed it to Elektra’s, and she was no longer nuzzling, maneuvering, or exploring. It was more like she was preparing to give the heroine a resuscitating breath; she even inhaled as if preparing to do just that.

What happened was the opposite. Typhoid’s eyes opened, glittering wickedly and locking onto the trusting, guileless gaze before her. Even with her mouth open, her lips turned up slightly at the corners, grinning at how completely helpless her victim had become.

Then, rather than breathing into Elektra, it was Elektra that was compelled to breathe into her. Only what left the heroine’s body was more precious than a bit of oxygen.

Frantic, knowing she had to do something, Abby got to her feet and managed to stay up, putting her feet wide apart to stabilize herself. She wobbled, eyes wide with horror as she watched what was happening to her mentor. The girl ran a few steps, then tripped and fell.

The sound of one long breath rasped from Elektra’s open mouth in an eerie, ghostly yawn. Her lips were pressed close to her conqueror’s, but golden light found its way out of the small nooks where they weren’t sealed together. It looked like the two women were trying to swallow the same, small light bulb, sharing it between their open mouths, until Typhoid drew back and it became clear something else was happening.

As the villainess pulled a few inches away from Elektra’s mouth, the golden light stretched out into a slender stream. It flowed from Elektra into her captor, an energy being siphoned away from somewhere deep inside her.

Typhoid moaned in ecstasy. Elektra’s chi, spirit, inner power (whatever you wanted to call it) was potent and delicious, just as she’d thought it would be. All those years of intense training made it like a fine wine, sweet and decadent. She drank deep and though it was difficult, she didn’t do it too fast. She wanted to relish every drop.

Elektra herself continued to stare innocently into the dark witch’s eyes, oblivious of what was happening to her, but she began to wilt regardless. Her lashes fluttered, her hips wobbled, and her shoulders slumped as the source of her strength was leeched away. The dark gaze commanded her to stay standing, but there was nothing left in her legs. The heroine began to sink down, slowly collapsing like a deflating balloon.

Before her prey could fall, Typhoid’s hand shot down and caught Elektra beneath her red satin butt. Clasping a firm swell, her fingers sank in and gripped like claws, then jerked the helpless heroine back upright. Squeezing the tight round shape, she pulled the drooped woman back up, pressing into her with passionate intensity.

Abby got back to her feet again, but then her eyes widened and she went rigidly still, frozen by what she was seeing. Her eyes widened, mouth falling open.

The creepy villainess was holding up her idol, slumped, helpless, and conquered. The woman who always had the answers, who could overcome any obstacle, was not just in trouble, not momentarily on the ropes, but completely and unarguably beaten. It was not a trick, not an attempt to lull the opponent into a false sense of security. Elektra, THE Elektra, was defeated.

Abby took a fearful step back. Part of her innocence was shattered. That Elektra was almost a goddess had been a simple fact to her, something she could rely on no matter how scary things got. But now a villainess had not only trounced the silk-clad heroine, she was having her way, draining her life force and even squeezing her butt. And as these indignities happened, Elektra’s arms dangled lifeless at her sides, no longer strong, no longer dangerous. Nothing but captured prey.

Abby stared, her heart clenched with fear. She had no idea what to do now.

Once Typhoid had her fill, she let go of Elektra’s hair so her victim’s head could flop down onto her shoulder. Fingers still clamped on the heroine’s backside, she enjoyed a possessive squeeze and let out a long, satisfied sigh.

“Mmmm…” she purred, “That was… exquisite.”

Her cheek resting against the victor’s shoulder, Elektra had finally passed out, only a limp weight in the villainess’s arms. With her free hand, Typhoid rubbed her drained prey’s bare back and shoulders, warm and even affectionate, as if soothing a baby to sleep.

“Thank you…” she whispered against Elektra’s neck.

Then she relaxed her grip. She didn’t let Elektra fall flat, but allowed the firm body slip through her fingers, sliding slowly down her chest. The slumped figure melted down gently until she crumpled on her knees, sagging forward. Kneeling, she rested against the shins of the woman who had just sucked her dry.

Typhoid grinned down at the slumped heroine, amused at how she’d managed to stay somewhat upright.

A little nudge with the knee fixed that. Elektra didn’t make a sound as she flopped onto her back, breasts bouncing gently from the impact.

Licking her lips, Typhoid released a long, pleased breath, smoothing her hands down the curves her body. She felt warm, full, even slightly sleepy, her hunger sated in the most satisfying way.

“Such a marvelous meal…”

The villainess let out another soft sigh.

Then her gaze turned and locked onto Abby, a snake-like grin curling her lips.

“And now… I think I want dessert.”

Abby’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. She backed up another pace, all but quivering with fear.