Brightest Doom - Chapter 6

The Brightest Doom

Chapter 6

Edited by: Joe Lawyer

We had gotten out of the roller derby pretty late into the night and it was time to hit the bar. Pamela sat in the back while Harley took shotgun in the passenger seat. That was alright with me, right until she decided to stick her head out of the window and somehow still looking s.e.xy doing it.

“No, Harley come back inside,” Pamela yelled as she stretched from the back seat to grab hold of Harley’s jeans, pulling them down quite far. Honestly, I didn’t want to help because I was busy driving, but from the sensational view I was getting, I wouldn’t even if I wanted to. Then again, with the way they were going at it, I guess I had to intervene. I was getting the feeling that when you were with two powerful, deadly, strong-willed, and drop dead s.e.xy women like Harley and Pam, an even stronger presence was needed to keep them moving in the same direction. I suspected that I would need to be the center of gravity in this relationship to keep the peace, the sun around which they all orbited.

“Come on, Pammy, I just wanna get some fresh air is all,” Harley w.h.i.n.ed. Even her whining was getting me hard.

“You can get air without sticking your head outside,” Pamela replied smoothly.

“There is no such thing as fresh air within Gotham, unless we are at my home or turn the car’s air filters on,” I interrupted, stopping both of them mid-conversation. The look they both gave me said enough, but I was already a step ahead with the windows smoothly closing. Once that was complete, I activated the advanced electronic filters I had installed within the car and turned up the air conditioning. They both paused for a moment, a look of wonder on their faces, as they took in the fresh breeze that was coming out of the vents, like they were standing in an untouched valley, with a fresh spring breeze on their faces, besides a mirror-like mountain lake.

“Is this what you have installed back at the house?” Pamela asked as she waved a hand generally in the direction of the back seat’s air vent.

“Yes… and no,” I answered succinctly as I made a left turn.

“Wha da ya mean?” Harley asked from the side, still taking deep and exaggerated breaths through her nose, putting a small smile on my face at this beautiful and deadly woman’s silliness.

“The force field shielding that I have over our house does more than just protect us from nuclear explosions,” I began, as I mulled over how to answer, without giving away too many of my secrets. Harley’s mind was still an unknown to me, still likely angry over my killing of her paramour in the Joker, and had not yet made a commitment to me.

“The shield also filters out all the many artificial chemicals, toxins, pollutants and other particulates that float around the city, allowing us to have the best air quality in all of Gotham, even better than the old growth forest surrounding Wayne Manor. In fact, you’d have to travel to the heart of the rainforest in South America, or a pristine world untouched by sentient life to breath such clean air.”

“That’s some badass shit! Why haven’t you given this out to the world? Just breathing it in is invigorating and soothing,” Pamela asked from the back seat area, taking slow, deep breaths, with a dopey smile on her face. Her powers must make her particularly s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e to air quality. Going out into Gotham probably shocked her systems after spending so much time on my lands.

“Because I have not yet built my business empire, and I will give nothing valuable away for free. To give something desirable and wanted away for free is to imply it has no value, thereby making people distrust it and diminishing their d.e.s.i.r.e for it. Have we not spoken about this in the past?” I asked, looking in my rear view mirror to take a look at her. “That is human nature, my dear. No, they will have to pay for all my advancements and discoveries, one way or another.”

“Yea, Pammy, let them pay!” Harley chirped with a smile of her own, one that grew even wider when Pamela let out a very unladylike snort from the back. As batshit crazy as Harley acted sometimes, she still had a doctorate in psychology, and likely had an even better understanding of the psychology at work than I did.

The conversation came to a quick end since we had finally pulled into a parking space next to the bar. Getting out of the car, I went around and opened the door for Pamela while Harley was looking around and making various faces of disgust.

“You’re right, God, your car smells loads better.”

Laughing at her assessment, I activated the car’s ‘Active Defense System” from my key fob. With the system active anyone trying to steal my car would get hit with a non-lethal energy pulse from the neural shock emitters I had designed. The system could be set to discharge a lethal pulse, but American law looked very unfavorably on lethal defense measures to protect mere property. No, in the here and now it was too much trouble to set it to lethal.

The phasers of Star Trek, with their stun setting, had actually served as the inspiration for the development of this technology. In the future I had plans to sell this technology as a 100% safe, non-lethal weapon on the open market. It was decades more advanced than the current Tazers, since it had a much greater range and no wires were required. I had a strong suspicion civilian law enforcement would get on bended knees to buy this new technology from me as it would make their lives easier. That kind of goodwill from law enforcement was worth its weight in gold and would offer me many protections from the Justice League.

Harley walked in front while Pamela placed her arm within my own, as we walked the short distance to the front of the bar.

“AYE! HOW ARE YOU GUYS?!”

“DAMNIT, QUINN! NOT SO LOUD!”

Snorting in amus.e.m.e.nt, I held the door open for Pamela as she went through, gifting me a small smile in thanks for my good manners, and then followed in myself, only to find Harley crouching on the ground in front of the bar owner, Mary. Mary, in turn, had one of those scolding motherly looks on her face and a broken mug of beer on the ground. Getting down to her level, I helped Mary in gathering up the broken glasses while Harley had a sheepish smile on her face. The bar was suddenly silent, but I paid it no mind, even though I heard some mutterings in the background. With the broken glass all picked up, I gave her a nod before turning around. With that taken care of, I went to the booth where Pamela liked to sit.

Harley slotted herself in the middle, while I took the outer right side of the U-shaped booth. A hockey game was playing on one TV, while on another was the current football game. Ignoring this, I took a look around for the other frequent patrons of this fine establishment. The Scarecrow wasn’t here, and neither were a few other notable villains. With Arkham empty, I knew it was only a matter of time before this place was full of newly escaped villains eager for their first real drink in months/years, but I was not going to say anything about it.

The bar’s current customers were not very high on the totem pole of Gotham criminality. Polka-Dot man, Kite Man, (I shit you not, those were there real villain names in the comics and here) and a few others were here, but it was the Penguin himself that really caught my attention in this group. The Penguin had more connections than anyone truly realized, and I could use one or two contacts right now. He was also one of those ultra-rare villains with a sense of decorum, restraint, self-control and someone who understood the value of subtlety. That made him worthy of some respect.

Mary came around with our orders soon after we took our seats. Pamela got something organic, while Harley went for a large nacho platter dripping in artificial nacho cheese, while I just went for something in between. While Mary took our orders, I had her deliver a note and placed whatever Penguin was ordering on my tab to be paid at the end of the night. Mary left with a good word, and we settled back into the booth with our drinks. Before we could settle into a real conversation, Harley vanished beneath the table like a spider monkey on a sugar rush and shot off towards the nearest pool table. The smile at the corners of Pamela’s lips said it all, so instead of complaining, I relaxed back in my seat and put my arm around her shoulders.

Before long, Pamela snuggled into my side as we waited for the food to arrive, but then a ‘thug’ walked up to us. And that was seriously the best way to describe this guy, as he seriously looked like a stereotypical, almost cliche, depiction of a thug. This thug was walking like he was a 70s era pimp, and the ladies should fall before him and his sheer masculinity. The thug made it within ten steps of our booth before he tripped on the rug and went down face first. And no, I had nothing to do with that.

“Bloody fool,” Pamela scoffed at my side, before taking a sip of whatever vegan-thing she had ordered.

Chuckling at the man, I silently agreed with Pamela as we both waited for the buffoon to pick himself up off the ground and salvage whatever tiny shred of dignity he had left. The bar had burst into a roar of laughter at his failure to look cool. I did notice the look of sheer incredulity on Cobblepot’s face from his location. The look on his face was truly something to behold, and I was trying hard not to follow along with everyone else and laugh out loud; I had an image to maintain after all. The thug pulled himself up and dusted himself off with embarrassment clear on his face.

Taking in his features, I saw that he stood at approximately five feet ten inches with an oversized build, and the way his hands were shaped like ham chops, told me he was likely a brawler in style. It was sandy blond hair with pale skin on the face of a pug; damn, was this f.u.c.k.i.n.g guy ugly. He finished what he was doing then came forward the rest of the way to our booth.

“I would like to extend an invitation from my boss to join him at his table,” the thug spoke in a gravelly voice that sounded like it came from someone who had chain smoked for years.

“Please send my regrets to your boss, but I must respectfully decline,” I answered instantly, before the thug could carry on further. “Please also pass this message along, though, I am looking for the man that’s known to never miss.”

The thug took a menacing step forward, obviously far, far too used to resorting to violence when his boss’ ‘invitations’ weren’t instantly agreed to. Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t your garden variety mark, nor in the mood to get my night interrupted, so I had to impress upon him the error of his ways by pressing on his mind for a moment with my killing intent, while staring at him hard, something I had shamelessly ripped off from Naruto.

When that message sent, the thug positively scurried back to his boss to convey my message. Pamela and I watched as Cobblepot’s thug whispered in his ear, causing the man to turn in our direction for a moment, meeting my eyes without condemnation. Then he raised his glass towards us and gave a small nod, while I regally inclined my head in his direction in turn.

“YARGGHHH! YOU BITCH! YOU CHEATED!”

“AYE, NO FIGHTING IN THE BAR!”

“NAHH! UHH, YOU JUST SUCK!”

“CRAZY F.U.C.K.I.N.G CLOWN!”

One of those C-words was obviously a trigger for Harley, as she instantly reared back and broke her pool cue over the guy’s head in response. Before Pamela and I could both get up to stop the fiasco in progress. Mary came running from behind the counter with a cattle prod, of all things, in her hands. The first to get jabbed with the thing was the large irate man that was currently hunched over after Harley had smacked him, looking like he wanted to continue the fight. The cattle prod was jabbed right into the men’s left b.u.t.t cheek, and it was ultra-effective at ending any thoughts of further violence.

“YAICK!”

The man squealed as he jumped three feet in the air. The broken pool stick that was in Harley’s hand, still raised above her head to whack the guy again, was instantly dropped. Before anyone could figure out what was what, Mary turned towards Harley with the cattle prod in hand. Before she could make contact Harley leaped over the pool table and ran directly towards our booth. This won’t be good, I thought to myself as Harley positively dove under the table and came up between Pamela and myself. With Harley now slotted between us, I was given a reminder on why Mary was feared, even by stone cold killers and villains, and why those same people considered her bar a neutral zone of sorts.

Within mere milliseconds, Mary was at our table with the cattle prod sparking, but that wasn’t all. Mary had multiplied. Mary wasn’t only a speedster, but she also had duplication powers and wasn’t afraid to hurt people. Now I know why the whispers called her the ‘one-woman army.’

“My apologies,” I offered, holding up my hands to stop her from attacking. The cattle prod was inches from Harleys c.h.e.s.t and the electricity was crackling fiercely. “How about a deal?”

“No f.u.c.k.i.n.g deal, there is no fighting in my bar,” Mary hissed out as she stared us down.

“How about a new employee so you can take some weekends off?” I asked with a roguish grin on my face as I gently pushed the cattle prod away from us. “And we will throw in all-natural shampoo that will help with split ends and bring out the gloss with no grease.”

Instantly two of the dupes of Mary took a step back. Did they somehow have slightly different personalities? Unfortunately, Mary, the one in front of us, did not take a step back at all.

“I don’t want your deal. I want you to hand her over for punishment,” Mary seethed from her location at the head of our booth.

“Can’t we be civilized, Mary? Harley, apologize please,” Pamela spoke up quickly from the other side of the booth. The look of defiance on Harley’s face said it all, which meant that this could turn into a really long night. I sighed and worked my way out of the booth. As I got out, all three ‘Marys’ turned to me threateningly, having to look down due to our height differences.

“I don’t like your kind,” Mary stated as she looked into my eyes. “You think because you flash me a roguish smile I’ll just drop my p.a.n.t.i.e.s and do as you want?”

“My lady, I admit that you are a beauty, and compliments are always your rightful due. That is not my purpose at the moment, as I already have two exceedingly lovely companions with me tonight in Pamela and Harley,” I answered with a smirk on the corner of my lips.

“Ha! As if, everyone knows that she belongs to the Joker,” Mary snorted before readying the cattle prod to be used, this time on me.

“Not anymore, Mary, he went to visit Aunt Daisy,” Harley sniffed from beside Pamela, while Mary caught me rolling my eyes at the euphemism. Villain culture obviously had their own little code phrases and terminology.

With that statement, the bar had gone truly silent, you could even hear the room’s air vents blowing, as everyone was shocked into silence at this unbelievable news, and were now desperately trying to listen in on our conversation and hopefully hear more. The Joker was a legendary/notorious figure in this town, seemingly immortal, it must have been like someone saying the President had just been assassinated, a shocking, improbable, and unbelievable event.

“What?” Mary whispered.

Sniff, sniff. “You heard me. Mistah J went to visit Aunt Daisy,” Harley was able to get out before breaking down into fresh tears. Pamela went to comfort her while Mary had an unreadable look in her eye as she looked me over.

“Damn.”

“My lady wanted Harley back in her life. I don’t share with other men,” I replied ambiguously, with a shrug at the look Mary was giving me. Mary gave me one last assessing look, obviously reevaluating my threat level and everything she thought she knew about me, before growling and turning around to return to the bar.

Admitting to killing the Joker, even in this ambiguous way, was a calculated risk. It was a virtual certainty that this information would get back to the Batman at some point, and it would undoubtedly raise my threat profile in the man’s mind, confirming many of his fears, but that ship had already sailed. Thankfully, I had been extremely careful to ensure that there was little to no evidence actually proving I did it.

Of the two supervillains that most needed to die in this new world I found myself in, the Joker was the lesser of two evils, and the one that would bring much less reprisal from the Justice League and the world upon myself. Many in law enforcement might even secretly thank me for ending the psycho that had taken or ruined so many lives. Killing him would also raise my profile and leave my mark on the underworld, leaving a power vacuum that I could ruthlessly exploit to make more money and increase my influence in this cesspool of a city. It would also send a clear message that I wasn’t above permanently removing those who impeded my goals, or had what I wanted.

I was strongly considered getting involved in the drug trade in the future, specifically selling marijuana. The drug cartels in my old world were a multi-billion dollar a year business, a group that didn’t even count their drug proceeds normally. No, they counted their money by the weight of the tractor trailer. Selling marijuana was currently illegal in the United States, of course, but just like with my old world, a well crafted public relations campaign and bribes in the right pockets, could easily see marijuana legalized in this country, just like it was in much of Europe already. Pam’s powers meant that she could grow some truly epic shit in a wide variety of types and flavors. That would be a multi-billion dollar a year enterprise if done right, something perfectly suited for her powers. But these were plans for the future. I had another idea to use her powers, something more immediately useful, as it was already legal and part of the culture, but that was a plan that still required refinement.

“I want that shampoo ASAP, and it better be a year’s supply,” Mary huffed as she turned around. “Also, she starts Monday.”

The quiet mutterings started back up as Mary walked away. Once she walked far enough, I turned around and gave Harley a look that said more than enough. With a sigh of exasperation, I took my seat back in the booth. I was positive, now that more than a few days had passed, that whatever was left of the Joker’s corpse should be gone, in the bellies of many fish now. Maybe I should send something into the bay to confirm that there was nothing left and if there was anything, to destroy it utterly via some other means. With a sigh, I placed those macabre thoughts out of my mind for the moment.

Soon after our little confrontation the food came, but before it was placed before us, Mary gave a fierce glare that cowed Harley. The glare lasted only for a moment, before Harley returned a cheeky smile in turn. That broke the dam and mellowed Mary enough to serve us.

The meal was delicious, as I had come to expect at Mary’s bar, but the topic of conversation was what really drew my attention. Harley mentioned something like ‘if her old teacher could see her now, Dr. Harleen Quinzel is about to become a serving wench.’ That drew a hearty laugh from me, then Pamela had to point out that serving wenches were supposed to be carried off by Viking Lords in the old days. Harley, in turn, pointed out that she had already been stolen away, but that I hadn’t held up my end of the deal by ravishing her body to within an inch of her life. She almost got me to spit take with that one, as I was about to take a drink from my mug.

Placing the mug back onto the table, I took a look at her. I took a long, hard look at Harleen. Fair, clean skin, long silky locks with a face people would call extremely beautiful. Her body had rich, full curves in all the right places, and the look she was giving me spoke of her hunger, but it was more than that. The fact that Harley was a submissive, either by being turned into one by the Joker’s actions or had always been one, was blindingly clear to me. I saw in her eyes the offer of a most precious gift, her submission, and her desperate d.e.s.i.r.e for me to accept that submission as her new master, to own her and care for her in all the ways the Joker had never done.

Honestly, part of me was hesitant to take on the role simply because I had been the one to kill the Joker, her last master. Another part of me was terribly excited by it. I knew myself, my mind and personality. My future was to rule. To be a King. I would never accept another person’s power over me. I was an extreme dominant at heart, with a d.e.s.i.r.e to rule all before me, though only a select few women would ever get to experience my s.e.x.u.a.l dominance. Harley was beautiful and deadly, yet extremely intelligent, riding that fine line between insanity and brilliance. She also had a darkness in her heart that drew me in like a moth to a flame. Pamela too had that darkness. Any woman who stood at my side would need that darkness to accept me and my actions. A King needed his queens.

With these thoughts, I made a decision to accept her submission and it must have shone in my eyes because of the dark blush on Harley’s cheeks, the unshed tears of happiness in her eyes, and the way she leaned towards me as if to beg for me to pet her. Perhaps, it was time to head home.

Pamela gave me a sultry look of happy acceptance as well, from over Harley’s shoulder, a look that said she recognized the unspoken contract that had just been struck between Harley and me. We all got up within moments preparing to leave the bar. Turning around, I dropped a large stack of hundreds onto the table to cover the food and all the other unpleasantness tonight. I had no problems leaving five grand on the table within this place because no one wants to cross Mary and get banned from the only establishment in Gotham that would take them. I had many other options for drinks and food, of course, but the bar was an excellent place to get information and contact people that were otherwise very hard to get ahold of. With a wave of goodnight to the bar owner, we hustled out of there quickly.

Pamela was doing her s.e.xy predatory catwalk while Harley ran off to the parking lot. I guess Harley was really excited to formalize our new relationship and get some d.i.c.k tonight. I can’t really blame her since I too was eager to bed her. Taking Pamela’s hand in my own, we made our way after Harley when we heard a loud exclamation.

“WHAT THE F.U.C.K?!”

Sharing a look with Pamela, I picked us both up with my telekinetic abilities and flew the half-block distance, our feet a few inches off the ground. What greeted us was a small ring of bodies lying around my car. For a moment I was stunned at the sheer number of unconscious idiots who had obviously tried and failed to steal my car, before shaking my head at how stupid people could be. Ignoring the lot, I quickly looted the bodies of all their cash and valuables, and even picked up all of their bats and other tools to place them within my truck. Waste not, want not. I was certain that Harley could use the extra bats for something or other.

With that complete, I created a telekinetic net to move the bodies of the thugs to the sidewalk, allowing my vehicle space to drive away without running them over. I held the door open for both ladies this time, unlike earlier in the night when only Pamela received such treatment. This was a clear indicator that I now considered Harley mine to cherish and care for, and then got in the driver’s seat myself. Harley, being the brilliant study of human behavior she was, recognized my action for what it was, giving me a brilliant smile in once I was behind the wheel did I notice the folded note that was held under my windshield wipers.

Rolling down the driver’s side window, I used my telekinetic abilities to summon the note within the car and into my hand. With the note in hand, I saw there was a double fold with a black-suited penguin on the outside of this high quality paper. Noticing the little insignia, I couldn’t help quirking an eyebrow at just how quickly he’d gotten me the information I requested.

Inside, I found information on the person I was looking for with a phone number and address included. The number and address were interesting, alright. I was certain the only reason this information was ‘free’ was because he heard about me offing the Joker tonight. Undoubtedly the Penguin was already moving in on the Joker’s former territory now, likely smelling an opportunity to expand his operations and influence. That was likely valuable enough on its own to pay for this information in his mind. Still, even if the information had been indirectly paid for, it was probably best to pay the man something direct as well for his work. This way I can maintain a respectful business relationship with the man. Paying him also shows that Doom always pays his debts.

The note read: ‘Deadshot is located in BlackGates’ triple secure cell block four, cell five. He is now part of Waller’s Suicide Squad.’

The note was short and to the point, but that name raised many red flags for me. Removing Batman’s rogue gallery was one thing, sticking my hand within Waller’s piggy bank was quite another. For my plans, only Doom can absolve him of his crimes. Placing the note within the center console, it was time to head home.

o.O.o

When we pulled into the driveway of the house we felt the invisible force field wash over us. Harley couldn’t keep it in her pants even a moment longer, working her way from the backseat to the front. Harley placed herself right in Pamela’s l.a.p. Lips mingled as deep kisses were shared. The look that Pamela gave me as Harley kissed down the nape of her neck made me hard as steel, the show they were putting on was all that was needed to get me in the mood. I gunned the engine in impatience to fly up the driveway and drifted into the empty space in front of the house like a stunt driver, coming to a quick stop. Within moments we were out of the vehicle and in the greenhouse. There was no time to take my shirt off as Pamela just ripped it open from the front, exposing my chiseled musculature. She was already completely n.a.k.e.d and waiting for me and Harley. Taking a moment to look back, I noticed the trail of discarded plant life trailing our steps into the bedroom. My attention was brought back to the girls, with the kisses that they both worked down my smooth c.h.e.s.t.

Noticing that Harley was still wearing her shirt, I divested her of it by also ripping it from her body. While showing Harley my appreciation of her perky t.i.t.s with my lips and tongue, Pamela trailed her hands down my c.h.e.s.t to my waist and removed my pants. My long and thick shaft sprang forth, smacking hard into Harley’s t.h.i.g.h as I ravaged her c.h.e.s.t, switching from one plump b.r.e.a.s.t to the other. Levitating Harley up, I placed her gently on the bed while using my other arm to bring Pamela to my front so that she could have her turn.

Her passion dripped down her inner t.h.i.g.h, so it was time for a night snack. The dexterity and skill of my tongue lit a fire within her. With Pamela levitated by my power before me, my left palm was open and supported her lower back, keeping her steady in the air while my right worked her c.l.i.t as my tongue sought out all her tender spots. Mere moments after my tongue dragged up across her outer lips, I worked her c.l.i.t over, and Pamela experienced an intense o.r.g.a.s.m. A genius-level intellect like mine was good for more than just designing new technology.

There was no stopping the smile on my face as I watched her huff and puff from my ministrations. Laying Pamela down, it was Harley’s turn. With my attention turned to her, I smiled as she also climaxed from my telekinetic ministrations. Both hands were held apart along with both her legs. Using my abilities in such delicate ways tested my fine control to their limits, but it was worth it to see the dopey grin on her face. With Pamela on the bottom, I flipped Harley and placed her on top, so they were pressed together face-to-face and tits-to-tits. With them in position, I spread both of their legs and allowed my tongue to freely roam from one c.l.i.t to the other. As I worked them up that way, I partitioned a portion of my mind to work four sets of n.i.p.p.l.es until they fired off another set of o.r.g.a.s.ms each.

The m.o.a.ns and gasps they released at this treatment told me exactly how they viewed being placed in such a l.e.w.d and e.r.o.t.i.c manner, being orally p.l.e.a.s.u.r.ed simultaneously by me. They were panting, hot, wet, and ready for me as I lined up my shaft. The look Pamela gave me said it all as I slid deeply inside of her in one firm thrust. Harley ground herself down against Pamela as I brought them both climbing past more intense climaxes. Shifting Harley to the side, I sandwiched her between myself and Pamela as I stole a kiss of my own. Each thrust was powerful, yet not painful in its intensity. Each thrust drove home that she was mine, mine to do with as I pleased, each thrust telling her that no one would ever be able to reach the same spots and give her this p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e.

Pamela’s legs wrapped around my own as she clamped down, attempting to milk me dry. Pamela was bleary eyed with a wide smile on her lips as her legs loosened from how tight she had held on during her climax. Yet, that was when I struck. When she had climaxed, I telekinetically placed a free pillow beneath her while she was slightly lifted off the bed. While her silky walls slowly uncontracted from her vice-like grip on my c.o.c.k, I pushed in deep, grinding hard on her c.l.i.t, and released my control, forcing her body into overdrive as I painted her w.o.m.b with my seed.

There was no stopping the rapid flutter of her eyelids as her body rocked with multiple o.r.g.a.s.ms.

“Pammy! Pamm..?” Harley whispered as she placed gentle kisses around Pamela’s face. My grin was straight up predatory as I leaned forward over Harley’s shoulder. Slowly I pulled out of Pamela before lining up behind Harley.

“This King takes care of those those he owns,” I whispered within Harley’s ear, a shudder running through her, before sheathing myself within her from behind in one long, slow, deep stroke. The sharp gasp Harley released was pure music to my ears. Ohhh, damn, was Harley tight. Hell, when I looked down, I was half expecting to see some blood. Yet, there was none. So I leaned back onto my hunches, taking Harley with me. I held her legs up and open as I pumped up into her with powerful thrusts, a position that a normal man would have been extremely hard pressed to maintain. Again and again, I gave Harley exactly what she wanted, demonstrating my ownership of her body, taking my p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e from it. Before long, Pamela woke out of her stupor, but at this point, I already had Harley in a semi-drooling state, her head lolled back on my shoulder, as I held her up against my c.h.e.s.t while attacking her weak points, my powers stimulating her nippes.

Instantly Pamela leaned forward and ran her tongue from my scrotum all the way up my shaft and attacked Harley’s c.l.i.t. Pulling back slightly, I was surprised to feel a finger wrap around me, forcing my shaft to pop out of Harley’s lovely p.u.s.s.y. Looking down in surprise, I was greeted with a wink as green-tinged lips wrapped around hard c.o.c.k. Since Pamela decided to give Harley a rest, I thrust forward into her mouth. Pamela gobbled me down her throat with little to no resistance, only a smile playing at the corner of her lips at my rough treatment of her throat. While allowing Pamela to have her wicked ways with my c.o.c.k, I set my mind to something new.

Keeping Harley in a free-floating position, I worked my hands up her body, roughly grasping and squeezing her t.i.t.s in particular, feeling her shiver from my pleasant ministrations. With increased focus, purple telekinetic hands appeared in the air. More and more appeared, some moving down to Pamela’s body, and some coming to help me with my game of bringing Harley to the very edge, but no further. The squeak and gasp from Pamela allowed me to escape her lips and return to Harley’s grasping c.u.n.t.

“Who do you belong to, Harley?!” I demanded, mid-thrust.

“You my Lord, my King, my master! I belong to you now and always!” she shouted, delirious with p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e.

“You are mine now, Harley, my woman, my queen, my slave, my enforcer, whatever I want you to be, remember that!”

Two of the hands transformed into silken ropes that flipped and helped her up in the air, allowing me to push their bodies together once more. N.i.p.p.l.es were pinched, bodies stroked, and I was continuing to punish Harley’s body with powerful thrusts. I kept up the use of my abilities as I closed in on my own powerful o.r.g.a.s.m. It had taken a while, but I had gotten my powers refined to a point where I was able to directly manipulate the physical bundles of nerves to induce p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e. I tweaked the nerves and glands within Harley’s t.i.t.s. Harley clenched down tightly around my shaft as I gave her one last thrust before releasing my seed deep within her depths, sealing the contract.

“This was a good night,” I breathed, as I lowered both of my lovers onto the bed and taking in the sight of both blissed out, f.u.c.k addled, beautiful and deadly women. They both dozed as I settled in behind Harley and pulled her tightly into my c.h.e.s.t, the big spoon, as Pamela pressed her t.i.t.s into Harleys, while throwing a leg over us both. One of the two let out a little m.o.a.n, not sure which, before I allowed myself to drift off to sleep.

o.O.o

CRASH!

The sound of destruction startled me, and the urge to do great violence to protect myself rose within me. My eyes snapped open, and I was greeted with darkness. My heart thrummed and pounded within my c.h.e.s.t as I felt panic, the memory of the total darkness of the void encroaching upon me once more. Doom refuses to be imprisoned once more like this. There was no stopping the fury that burst forth as I unleashed a blast of telekinetic and telepathic violence around myself as I took to the air in this dark void.

“Wahh!”

The sound of a scream came from my side as I shot up into the air. My head hit something, but I ignored it and kept going. I went up and up, the air whipping around me as I rose higher and higher. I broke through the clouds, but still, I kept going. Darkness, too much darkness, just like the void I fell into before I came to this world. I came to a stop and floated as the first rays of the sun touched my face. I lost track of how long it took me to calm down before I raised my head to look in the direction of the rising sun.

Breathe in…

Breathe out…

Breathe in…

Breathe out…

With one more breath, I held it for several long moments before slowly letting it back out. Now that my mind and heart were finally calm, I took one last look around before deciding to head back down. Sighing, I took a look at my hands and was relieved to notice that they no longer shook. With a nod of grim determination, I flipped over in the air before heading back home. Taking a look at my wrist, I followed the direction of the arrow as it directed me back to my house. The beauty of the Earth never ceases to amaze, the view from this height was a wonder, to say the least.

Soon after, I made my way down through the clouds. The smell of pollution hit me first, and before long, I could see the sun shone between distant skyscr.a.p.ers. Eventually, I came upon my home. One of the first things I noticed was the gaping hole within the roof of the greenhouse, a hole that I had obviously made in my panicked escape. The second thing to catch my attention was that more than half of all the large windows were broken, with glass littered all over the ground. With a sigh at this testament to my weakness, I forcefully exerted my powers across the building, feeling out all the broken bits and pieces with my telekinesis.

Hundreds of shards of glass, of all sizes, brightened within my mind’s eye, as if filled with sunlight. With a mental exertion and a twirl of my hands to help focus my powers better, all of the broken bits sprang to life, lifting into the air and rotating on a thousand different axes trying to find where they once belonged. Eventually, I had the glass shards fly in reverse right back into the panes they had once come from. Closing my eyes to further focus, I reached out and into the shards with my telekinesis, now only being held in a glass pane by my powers. I felt all the curves and sharp edges, each piece having a unique mental taste within my mind, yet there was no way to describe such a taste.

Fresh with an earthy zing, perhaps? Alas, that wasn’t why I was peering into the nature of the glass. With my power I was looking at the molecular structure of the few unbroken solid panes of glass in this room, then I compared them to the jagged edges of the thousands of broken shards. Understanding the difference in the molecule lattice structure, I began to repair the glass. Minutes passed, my body still like a statue, as sweat beaded down my forehead from engaging in such fine molecular control. I watched as small wisps of steam rose from the glass as the broken seams melded together and the broken glass mended, producing heat/steam in an exothermic reaction.

This was an excellent reminder of how useful this type of molecular manipulation could be. The practical applications were myriad. Materials that were beyond current science were suddenly possible if I could hone this power even further, and that was only the tip of a very large iceberg. In the hands of a creative genius, telekinesis was an Omega-level power, to borrow a term from the X-Men universe.

With a job well done, I floated back into the air and then over the roof of the greenhouse. Finding the location I flew out of, I removed a section of the glass temporarily to allow myself back inside. Once inside, I was greeted with devastation. The bed was crushed, walls were broken down, even the reinforced floor was slightly cratered in. With another sigh and a wave of my hand, the walls rebuilt themselves, and the floor rose with the cracks closing seamlessly. The bed was another issue altogether; I would have to place an order for it to be replaced. The door to the room burst open as Pamela came running in with Harley following closely behind her.

The look I shot their way had both of them freezing mid-stride, stopping them from asking about the obvious. I had shone quite enough weakness and lack of control this morning. This weakness needed to be purged, to be destroyed utterly. With a regal nod, I turned back around to finish fixing what could be fixed, then I was off to the shower. Halfway through my shower, the curtains opened up with a nude Harley and Pamela joining me to get clean. Neither said anything about the events of the morning, something that I was very grateful for, as they worked to knead the knots of tension out of my shoulder from my reaction to the void situation.

Once our shower was complete, we got dressed and made our way to the lab section of the greenhouse. Pamela was back in her favorite lab coat. The surprise came with Harley donning what I could only describe as a s.e.xy nurse outfit. The garb came down to t.h.i.g.h length, but bending over (and she bent over far more than was strictly necessary), gave me a clear view of purple lace p.a.n.t.i.e.s. Two of the front buttons were also undone so I could get a face full of perfectly formed cleavage that I just wanted to bury my face in. With the way the shirt strained at her bust, I was sure it was more to give her relief than to give me a view.

The lab was the location where the crash sound had come from, but with everything still together, it was safe to say that it wasn’t an enemy attack.

Walking into the lab, I found a very large man standing in front of a full length mirror with one of his hands repeatedly going over his smooth, bald head. I looked to the right and found the lotus pod open and empty, with the monitoring equipment gone from its side. I was putting the puzzle pieces together and I was coming to a likely conclusion. Waylon had finished his procedure sometime during the night and had knocked over the monitors in his haste, or excitement. A twitch of my brows had a chair zoom near my location with two more right behind it. These physical movements were a crutch, a method of triggering my telekinetic powers, but it was beneath me and something I was working on first, minimizing, and finally, eliminating entirely.

“Waylon,” I rumbled from my seat as I take a look at the larger man. He was no longer eight feet tall, but he was still pushing the larger side of six feet. His skin was now smooth, but when he turned around I still noticed the inhuman gracefulness of his movements. Waylon’s body was no longer overly muscled, but he still had the fitness level of an apex predator.

I watched Waylon turn and then pause at the look that I was giving him. Without another word, Waylon took the seat and awaited my orders. Good, he still recognized who the alpha was here.

“Now answer me this seriously, do you still feel the call of the wild?” I asked Waylon as I summoned over a scanner and a datapad. Waylon was obviously thinking over how to answer while I was scanning both his body, with my technology, and his mind, with my telepathy. Pamela had the datapad, while Harley was using the scanner in her capacity as nurse and assistant to scan his body.

The surface thoughts I picked up had a lot less of the animalistic rage that had previously colored all his thoughts and actions. That was a great sign that the procedure had worked in controlling and changing what the military had placed in him during their experiments.

“His vitals are steady, with no sign of rejection as far as we can tell,” Pamela stated from my side as she looked over the information the datapad was receiving from the scanner.

“That’s good,” I replied as I continued to feel out the rest of Waylon’s mind. There was a beep from the scanner in Harley’s hand, letting us know that the scan was complete.

“Ta-da! All done,” Harley chirped as she did a twirl before coming over to stand behind me. I was still waiting on Waylon’s reaction as he had his eyes closed, paying close attention to his emotions. An animal did not experience the depth and breadth of complex emotions like a human did. I was scanning him so thoroughly, I could even feel the bio-organic nature of the vibranium nanites that I placed within his body at the start of this process. Still, I wanted him to elaborate on how he was feeling verbally.

“I can still feel the crocodile at the edges of my thoughts, but it’s no longer so overwhelming,” Waylon answered slowly as he opened his eyes. “It’s almost as good as being able to see my old face again, feel my old skin again. Thank you for keeping your word. I don’t even know how to begin to repay this debt.”

“We can have that discussion at a later date,” I replied as I looked over the next datapad that Pamela handed me. “Let’s talk about these upgrades that you have. With my nanites still in your system you’re a lot stronger than you used to be. I would put you above Bane on venom, but with the grace of a dancer. With some retraining and physical therapy, of a sort, we can get you back up to the precision you had before the military experiments. Harley will be helping with that since her fighting style relies far more heavily on agility and grace than brute strength.”

“I would like to suggest we also get him a new alias so that he could rejoin the workforce publicly,” Pamela spoke up from my side with her hand on her chin in a thinking position.

“I will eventually need an official Chief of Security for my company, but for now, we can have him oversee the initial plans for the roller derby team. He can do that while he is going through his retraining,” I replied, looking at her with a nod. “Mary might like to sponsor the team. Her bar is filled nightly with female villains.”

At least that’s what people often called them, whether that was an earned title or not. Many so called ‘villains’ were just people who had been forced into crime because of an unwanted physical change or transformation, leaving them with few options to survive day-to-day besides a life of crime. A legal source of pay that didn’t discriminate because of past actions or physical looks would be greatly appreciated, I’m sure, and engender extreme loyalty to me.

“Legit jobs and we get to bust asses?! Sign me up!” Harley yelled as she dr.a.p.ed herself over Pamela’s back.

Shaking my head fondly at her manner, I turned back to the large man before me.

“Waylon, hold up your hand, then think of transforming them into the claws you had before,” I instructed, as I looked him in the eye. “Don’t freak out, this is to show you the new capabilities of your body.

The grimace on his face said more than enough, but he did as I instructed. Slowly, Waylon’s left hand came up before his fist loosened into a rough claw shape. Seconds went by as I watched his hands tense again and again. Before he had the chance to give up, I worked my way into his mind then triggered the semi-transformation manually to show him he could do it and how. Instantly the nanites and his body responded to the transformation commands. Waylon’s forearms thickened, followed by his fingers, before his nails became sharp pointed claws. His hands went from human to the deadly tools of an apex predator, within near moments.

The scrunching of his eyebrows and the surface thoughts I picked up from him told me enough.

“You now have control over a partial transformation. The things you will have to worry about is getting your head cut off and getting your heart shredded. Aside from those things, you will be a very hard man to kill. I expect you to practice with your new abilities until they are second nature,” I said as I got up from my set.

“Once you get everything under control, we have some more shopping to do.”

o.O.o

After leaving Waylon to it, I changed for my noon classes. I wanted that doctorate, the respect it would grant me, the doors it would open, and the title itself, of course, but more and more I thought I should pull a classic Doom move. That was to finish creating my nation and then just give myself the doctorate. I was reluctant to do that as my enemies would have a much easier time discounting its validity and thus acknowledging it if I simply granted it to myself.

Harley didn’t want a driver, so she was going to go to the library to check on a few things and run her own errands, which I was fine with. Pamela was more than fine with staying home to test out the effects that vibranium had on her plants.

Honestly, it was far more interesting and valuable to me to finish learning the language of Apocalypse then attending classes, but thankfully I could multitask. Learning that language would allow me greater access to the universe at large, instead of asking the Justice League for passage. My pride refused to ask anyone for such a boon, though, which would become a weakness my enemy’s eyes and a debt I couldn’t stomach. No, I would achieve that myself.

I zipped up my bomber jacket, which was sporting my personal symbol on the back, a roaring black dragon on a green field. One day it might even fly on my nation’s flag. I threw a leg over my motorcycle before pulling on my helm. The helmet was on, the visor was up, but once I closed the visor, the sound canceling technology kicked in as the augmented reality visor turned on as well. It was time to deal with my daily dose of the super annoying and nosy Bat-Clan, but once that was over with, I had some plans to set into motion.

With a sharp rev, I shot down the driveway heading to class. The life of a future King was filled with unpleasant tasks.

o.O.o

Somewhere in the Tibet Mountain range…

“You called for me, father?” A smooth and sultry voice asked, as the one it belonged to stepped out of the shadows.

“We have had news from our contacts in Gotham,” stated Ra’s al Ghul as he looked up from his paperwork. “The Jester is dead.”

For a moment, there was silence between the two as Ra’s looked his daughter in the eyes.

“Did he do it?” Talia asked with a whisper as she looked at her father with astonishment.

“No. He did not die at the hands of the Detective,” Ra’s stated emphatically, his features stern, his mouth a thin line. “It would seem that the Jester had someone that the new piece on the board wanted, so he removed him. Permanently.”

Talia just stood there, stunned at the news she was hearing from her father. The madman had something someone wanted, so they killed him for it. It sounded so simple…and so crazy. How was it possible that this relative unknown had done it? Somehow succeeding where so many others had failed over the years? The Jester was an extremely dangerous madman, unpredictable in the extreme, yet he always survived and invariably killed whoever came after him. Many of the League’s best assassins had even failed.

“Does the detective know?” Talia heard someone ask, breaking her out of her thoughts, before she registered that it was she herself who had just asked the question aloud.

“No, but I want you to go to Gotham to test this ‘Doom,’ the man who finally ended the Jester,” Ra’s said as he moved the papers he had just signed to the other side of his desk in the outbound box. “You will let slip to the detective that he was the one to kill the Jester. This shall be the test between the two. Return with Doom if he is the victor.”

“And Damian?” Talia asked her father, the Demon’s Head.

“He shall stay with his nursemaid, they have said he is advanced for his age and is learning the pressure points well,” Ra’s replied, showing no hint of familial connection to his grandson and would-be heir.

“Thank you, father,” Talia replied before turning to leave and carry out her orders.

“Do not return without Doom, if he is the victor,” Ra’s voice carried with it a hint of danger as Talia closed the door behind herself.

O.O.O

Please leave your thoughts in the comments section, I do try to keep up with the first 50.