When Trinity woke up, everything hurt. Her muscles ached like she’d run a marathon, and she could feel a dozen bruises welling up on her ass and her legs. But as she stretched out, eyes still too bleary to see, she was met with softness and comfort. The supervillain rubbed her face into the pillow underneath her head, and arched her back as she stretched against the bedsheets like a sleepy cat. It wasn’t luxury, not by any means, but the bed she’d found herself on was far more comfortable than the cold ground or a hard pool table. Trinity was seriously tempted to roll over and go back to sleep. She sure needed the rest.

“You’re awake?”

Radiance’s voice, now horribly familiar, brought Trinity crashing back to reality. She blinked her eyes open as wide as they would go, and the room around her resolved into view. They were back in Radiance’s depressingly spartan safehouse, and she was laid out on the superhero’s bed. Judging from the darkness she could see out of the skylight Radiance used as an entrance and exit, it was the middle of the night. The woman in question, her captor, was sitting next to her on the one single chair in the entire place.

And that fucking chain of hers was still there, binding her wrist to Trinity’s.

Trinity sighed, even though she hadn’t been expecting anything better. She didn’t really have it in her to put up more resistance than that. She was exhausted and aching, and it had been one hell of a long day. She wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week. Preferably alone, without her rival staring at her like she was some kind of dangerous, caged animal.

“How do you feel?” Radiance asked softly.

The question almost made Trinity laugh. It was just a little too precious, after everything Radiance had put her through. But then she noticed the sincere concern in the hero’s voice, and the lines of worry on her brow.

“How do you think?” Trinity answered wearily, slumping on her back. “I’m fucking tired.”

Radiance nodded sympathetically. It wasn’t much of an answer, but the fact that Trinity was conscious and talking seemed to be setting her at ease.

“I…” Radiance began, with rare uncertainty. She seemed like she’d been working up to something. “I owe you an apology.”

That was big enough to make Trinity sit upright. “You do?” She was so surprised to hear it, she momentarily forgot how wholeheartedly she agreed.

“Yes.” Radiance hung her head. “I went too far. I should never have taken you out to that bar. It was a mistake, and it put you in an unacceptable position. I’m sorry.”

“Damn,” Trinity breathed. It was oddly humbling to hear that, and the supervillain was filled with the absurd urge to disagree. Somehow, she still hadn’t quite managed to shake the feeling that Radiance was something more than human. Heroes weren’t supposed to apologize. Or were they? The urge passed, however, when she thought a little more about Radiance’s phrasing. “Wait, so… you’re sorry for the bar?”

Radiance nodded solemnly. “Yes.”

Trinity squinted suspiciously. “But… not for anything else?”

The look on Radiance’s face reflected a certain amount of inner conflict. Trinity was heartened to see that. But in the end, the superhero met her gaze squarely, and settled on: “No.”

Trinity rubbed her face with both hands, not bothering to hide her exasperation. “So, is all this over, or not?”

It felt like a long time before she heard Radiance’s answer. “I can’t just let you go.”

“God damn it.” Trinity couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Then take me to the fucking cops.”

“So you can enchant them and slip away, just like all the other times?” Radiance’s voice was turning to stone. “No.”

Trinity snorted, a little of her sarcasm and vitriol returning to her. “A superhero who doesn’t trust the cops? Rich. I thought you were all about the rule of law.”

“Of course I don’t trust the cops!” Radiance snapped. “They can’t deal with someone like you. And frankly, they don’t even care enough to properly try. All they really care about is sweeping the crime out of downtown and into the suburbs, away from all their rich-” She broke off and sighed.

Trinity cocked an eyebrow.

“The point is,” Radiance continued slowly. “I can’t take you to the cops. I can’t let you go. So, no. This isn’t over.”

“Then what,” Trinity said, glaring at her, “is the point of apologizing?”

Radiance turned her head from side to side. She seemed to be grappling with the question. “I did something wrong,” she replied eventually. “I ought to apologize. I’m hoping to teach you things like that.”

That, more than anything else, set Trinity’s temper ablaze. “Oh, yes,” she sneered. “You’re setting such a good example, aren’t you? By… what? Kidnapping me? Stripping me? Spanking me?”

“You’re a supervillain!” Radiance retorted. “What do you expect? Don’t play innocent. This is how the game is played. You hit. We hit back.”

Trinity knew that well enough, but she wasn’t buying it. Not here. “And whoring me out at a dyke bar? That’s hitting back, huh? Yeah, Radiance, you’re fucking spotless. Definitely not some kind of sick freak on a power trip.”

“Then what would that make you?” Radiance shot back at once, her temper flaring. “How many people have you done something like that to? Hm? And worse, I’ll bet. And I know for a fact you didn’t always restrict yourself to people who deserved it.”

“I… that’s…” Trinity shook her head furiously. She was too tired for this. “That’s not the point!”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Because you’re supposed to be better. That was what Trinity wanted to say. Because you had a real chance to be better. “Because you’re the one flying around in a pretty little cape and calling yourself a hero.”

“I’m a hero because I help people. That’s all it is. What do you do?”

“God, fuck you!” Trinity was quickly remembering all the reasons she hated speaking with Radiance. Taking her back here hadn’t been a kindness. Just another way to keep her prisoner. And now the hero was going to keep talking her around in circles, knowing full well that she had all the power. And she was going to accuse Trinity of being some kind of monster? “Who do you help, huh? Eleanor Quinn? You should be thanking me for trying to fuck over that corrupt bitch.”

Radiance sighed. Trinity was getting really, really tired of that. “Not this again. Eleanor Quinn is a good person. You don’t know her. I do.”

At that, Trinity just laughed. She was done. She was done with all of this.

Her captor seemed to sense as much. But with the two of them shackled together, Radiance could do nothing but sit there next to the supervillain, lips pursed, and wait for something to break the awkward, horrible silence that lay over the room.

The shrill, demanding whine of a cell phone ringing was, somehow, even more unpleasant than silence.

“Radiance here.” The superhero answered it at once, perhaps grateful for the distraction. She turned away and sat with her back to Trinity, as if that could provide some measure of privacy.

Pissed and feigning disengagement though she was, Trinity wasn’t above eavesdropping. She couldn’t hear whoever Radiance was talking to, but she could make out their tone, all stern and stressed, and from that and Radiance’s half of the conversation, she could get a pretty good picture of things.

“Yes,” Radiance said, and then: “Yes. Yes. I know.” There was a pause. “I’m still working on it. Don’t have a full account yet. Must have slipped away.” Another pause. “Yes, I know. Madam president, I told you, I already know that. Yes, I know, and I-” Another pause. “Very well. I’ll be on it. Get some rest.”

She hung up.

Trinity waited just long enough that she could try - and fail - to seem idly curious. “So, who was that, huh?”

At first, she wasn’t sure Radiance was going to reply. But then, eventually: “If you must know, it was Eleanor Quinn.”

Trinity snorted. “Oh, of course the illustrious ‘Madam President’ Quinn has Radiance’s personal number.” Then, she thought a little harder about what had been said. “Wait… she was asking about me. Wasn’t she?”

Radiance didn’t say anything, but her face gave it all away.

“Which means,” the supervillain continued slowly, “she doesn’t know I’m here, does she? She doesn’t know I’m with you.”

“There’s no reason for her to know anything,” Radiance said, looking at the wall.

At that, Trinity let out an explosive, ugly laugh. “Great. Fucking great. Not a single person in the entire world knows I’m here. You’re lying to Quinn and to the cops. You’ve gone completely rogue and completely off-script, and you have no idea what you’re going to do with me.”

Radiance had the decency to actually look ashamed of herself. To Trinity, that felt like a monumental moral victory.

“I gotta admit though,” Trinity added unpleasantly. “Seeing you lie? It’s just a little bit delicious. It tarnishes that lovely immaculate glow of yours just a little bit.”

When Radiance said nothing at all, and just kept staring adamantly straight ahead, Trinity started to feel a little foolish, like a child who didn’t know when to let a joke die.

“And she just… calls you on a cell phone?” Trinity asked awkwardly. “I always figured you big-shot heroes had some special way of communicating. Something nice and private, just between you and people like Eleanor Quinn. I know how your type loves your gadgets.”

Radiance finally looked back at her, eyebrows raised in incredulity. “We do have communication gadgets,” she replied slowly. “They’re called cell phones.”

What could Trinity say to that? She laughed, slightly hysterically. She wasn’t sure if she was comforted or pissed when she heard Radiance start to laugh with her.

But soon enough, the laughter died, and both of them were once again faced with the fact that they were shackled together.

“I… I just…” Trinity sighed. Her weariness made all the sarcasm and scorn drop out of her voice. “How can you trust someone like her? Like Eleanor Quinn?”

Radiance took a moment to weigh the question. But infuriating as always, she answered with another question. “Why do you hate her so much?”

Trinity didn’t even know where to begin with that one. “Because she’s fucking rich!”

The superhero just looked at her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” her captive huffed. She tried to fold her arms, although it proved awkward with a chain around her wrist. “That’s a perfectly good reason to hate someone. At least, where I come from. Besides, she’s not just any rich person. Eleanor Quinn and her Quinncorp buddies built this city, as they’re so fond of telling everybody. The way I see it, that means they’re responsible for the whole thing. The good parts, and the bad parts. And they’re doing a piss-poor job with the bad parts.”

“That’s a very socially conscious outlook.”

Trinity couldn’t tell if Radiance was being sarcastic or not, so she glared at her anyway. “Yeah, I think it is, actually!” Warming to her theme, Trinity started to deliver the rant many of her friends had already heard over a beer or something stronger - at least, the acquaintances she passed off as friends.

“Look, I know you might not be able to tell, seeing as how you spend all your time keeping rich people safe from purse-snatchers, but things actually fucking suck right now. For, like, a lot of people.” Trinity’s voice kept growing in volume. It felt good to finally be able to throw this in someone’s face. Someone who deserved it. “And not because of crime or supervillains. Because rent sucks, jobs suck, and life sucks. There’s a lot of people to blame for that, and none of them are the people getting hurt by it. Eleanor Quinn deserves more blame than most. Her companies are buying up apartment blocks and businesses left and right. No-one gets to fucking live anymore. Not unless she says so.”

The look on Radiance’s face was unreadable, but since she didn’t interrupt, Trinity kept going.

“Some people want more out of life than that!” the impassioned supervillain shouted. “And everyone deserves more out of life than that. But who’s fixing that injustice? Nobody. Certainly not you, and all your Apex League superhero friends. It’s funny, isn’t it? You can steal from everyone in the city all day long, and as long as you make it legal first, you’ll have useful idiots in capes lining up to protect you and call you a civic leader. But I know, you don’t care. You don’t care what I have to say. Your type never does. You haven’t seen this. You don’t know. You grew up in some downtown skyscraper, and when your powers manifested, you realized you could descend from the skies to smack around us little people whenever we get out of line. So, nothing I saw matters, no matter how right I am. You’re not listening.”

For a long moment, Radiance didn’t say a word, and Trinity started to hope she might have actually gotten through to her, somehow. But then her face twisted up with fury, and when she spoke again, her voice was dripping with the self-assured contempt Trinity hadn’t heard since waking up.

“What did I expect?” Radiance snarled. “You think you know it all. Don’t you? That must be nice. It lets you go around doing anything you want to anyone you want, all day long. But now I’ve got you here, I can make you listen to someone else for once. And first of all, what you need to hear is: you don’t know even one tiny thing about me.”

As hard as she tried not to, Trinity paled in the face of the angelic heroine’s rage.

“Where do you think I’m from?” Radiance demanded, and Trinity’s eyes went wide as the superhero let her usual, formal accent drop. “Drop the bullshit. Listen. Where do you think I’m actually from?”

Trinity wanted the ground to open up beneath her and swallow her whole. She’d have recognized that accent anywhere. “Shit,” she replied miserably. She thought about Radiance’s commends about cops. She should have figured something was up.

“Yeah, that’s right, asshole,” her captor continued furiously. “I’m from Castron.”

Castron. The poor, outer city, working-class neighborhood Trinity had grown up in, and the very place Radiance had captured her.

She couldn’t believe this. She couldn’t believe that she and her stuck-up rival were from the same neighborhood.

“Oh, now you don’t have anything to say,” Radiance snorted derisively. Her accent returned. “You don’t feel like calling me a class traitor or something?”

Trinity really didn’t.

She turned away from Radiance and stared resolutely at the barren wall on the opposite side of the bed. What else could she do? She knew it was a petulant gesture. Frankly, she wasn’t sure if she was embarrassed or furious. But she knew one thing: she was not going to apologize. No way. Not ever. Radiance had kidnapped her. Tortured her. Humiliated her. So, there was no way she would ever, ever feel bad.

And clearly, the one apology Radiance had given was the only one she herself was going to get.

Bravely, though, Radiance was the first one to break the long, awkward silence that followed.

“Come on,” Radiance said wearily. “None of that matters. Let’s just… get some rest. It’s late.”

Trinity acceded with a stiff nod. Then, she looked around. “Fine. So, where are you going to sleep.”

Radiance, likewise, cast her eyes around the room. The floor was hard, and there was no couch, just the single, uncomfortable chair she was already occupying.

“Well,” the superheroine replied, with utmost reluctance. “There’s only one bed, so…”

Trinity was dumbstruck. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Let me put this another way,” Radiance said firmly. “I’m sleeping in that bed. It’s mine, and I’m not giving it up for a supervillain. You can do whatever you want.”

That wasn’t fair! That was totally unfair! Trinity looked over at the floor. Just the thought of spending all night on it, with her already sore body, made her wince. She was a prisoner! Wasn’t she entitled to some basic comfort? “Well, let me put it this way.” She folded her arms. “I’m staying right here.”

“Suit yourself,” Radiance shrugged. “Bed’s big enough for the both of us.”

Which was how Trinity ended up spending the night in the same bed as her hated rival.

***

The process of the two of them settling in to sleep was perhaps the single most awkward thing Trinity had ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

She quickly decided, in fact, that nothing could be worse. Not even the hard, wooden floor of Radiance’s safehouse. But she wasn’t going to back down. She simply wasn’t. And so, clinging to the dying hope that Radiance would chicken out at the last moment, Trinity started undressing herself, and watched Radiance do the same.

Frankly, it pissed her off that Radiance was able to strip in front of her so easily and shamelessly. It would have soothed Trinity to know that, at the very least, they were both equally mortified by the situation. No such luck. Radiance had risen to her feet and started removing her clothes without any hesitation, disrobing quickly and efficiently, removing her golden, mind-controlling chain from Trinity for only as long as necessary. She stared into space as she did so, neither posturing nor hiding herself as she gradually revealed toned muscles and perfectly sculpted curves. She was obnoxiously hot, and she didn’t even have the good grace to act like it.

And why the hell was she folding her clothes neatly as she took them off? It was inhuman.

Trinity, meanwhile, was stripping off underneath the blankets, trying to preserve some tiny, inconsequential fragment of her modesty. She wasn’t ashamed of her body and she didn’t care what Radiance saw, but in the contest of will between them, nudity had been used as a weapon against her. It made her feel vulnerable, now. She wasn’t going to let Radiance see her that way. Not without a struggle.

Still, though, Trinity pondered, maybe she should try to get to the gym once in a while. Those muscles looked good.

“Move over a little,” Radiance grunted, as she turned out the light and slipped into bed with Trinity.

“I’m already moved over,” Trinity retorted mutinously, but she nonetheless pressed herself up tight against the wall in the hopes of avoiding the existential superhero-supervillain lesbian horror of feeling her naked body touch up against her rivals.

It was a pretty small bed, so she lost that challenge right away.

She was hoping Radiance would flinch away as soon as their skin touched, but when she didn’t, Trinity was forced to accept the uncomfortably intimate sensation of Radiance’s shoulder against hers.

At least the superhero was warm. Really, really warm.

The sheer, monumental awkwardness of the situation had managed to smother their earlier animosity, at least for the moment. Suddenly, silence seemed like the absolute worst thing. Maybe casual conversation would make it feel a bit less like they were lovers.

“This, uh,” Trinity began, feeling every bit as awkward as the atmosphere in the room. “This bed is pretty small. Must get real cosy, between you and the girls you bring back here.”

When Radiance didn’t reply, Trinity wondered if she’d already fallen asleep. But then: “I wouldn’t know.”

“What does that mean?” Trinity asked.

“Your assumption is mistaken,” Radiance told her. “Again,” she added pointedly. “I’ve never brought a girl back here before.”

Trinity blinked, and looked over. In the twilight, she couldn’t really see Radiance’s face. “But I thought…”

“Always their place,” Radiance replied abruptly. “Not mine. No-one else has ever slept here before.”

Trinity didn’t have a single clue how to feel about that.

“I guess it’s not much to show off,” she commented lightly. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything.

“Can’t risk anyone knowing,” Radiance said. “Anyone seeing. It could put me in danger. Or worse, them.”

Trinity nodded. “Well, that explains why it’s, yknow, like this.” She gestured vaguely at the blank walls. “Wherever you’re from, a hero like you probably has some fancy apartment downtown. Am I right?”

“You’re right,” Radiance conceded. That could have been the end of the conversation, but after a whole minute had passed, she said: “I spent most nights here, though.”

That was really, truly appalling to hear. In spite of everything, Trinity immediately found herself thinking about how it would feel, spending night after night in a small, empty room like this, all alone.

“Sounds lonely.” She couldn’t help saying it.

“It is,” Radiance agreed. There was a shifting motion under the covers that Trinity took for a shrug. “But that’s the life. Right?” 

“I guess,” Trinity replied. But then she thought for another moment, and propped herself up on one arm. “Wait. No, it isn’t. Not for most heroes, anyway. Plenty of them are more public about it than you, and even if they don’t give their identities away, they clearly don’t live in holes like these. They date. They have fun. What’s up with that?”

“I…” The superhero seemed to be taking a few moments to compose her words. “Look. Being a hero is a hard job, at the best of times. It can be pretty thankless. I don’t begrudge anyone for seeking whatever comforts they need to make it bearable.”

“But not you?” Sincere curiosity was getting the better of the villain.

“No.”

“You’ve gotta be perfect, huh?” Trinity baited.

“That’s right.”

Trinity was floored by how serious Radiance sounded. There was no irony to her words. She thought about the room they were sleeping in. Radiance was determined to be perfect, and it had taken over her entire life. No wonder she was going off the rails.

“Don’t you think that’s a little…” Trinity couldn’t find the right words. Why was she even trying? She shouldn’t care.

“It’s my life,” Radiance replied tersely. “Look, Shimmer, maybe we shouldn’t-” She broke off, and laughed ruefully. “God. I know your name now, don’t I? It’s Trinity. I have absolutely no idea if I should call you that, or Shimmer.”

“God, just ‘Trinity’, please,” Trinity snorted. “I’m not like you. Not wedded to any cool codename. ‘Shimmer’ is just a lame moniker from the media.”

“You got it, Trinity.”

Hearing that felt very, very weird.

“Do I get to know your name?” Trinity ventured.

“Nope,” Radiance told her. And that was that, clearly.

Trinity could have left it there, but there was just one more pressing question on her mind, and in the quiet, oddly intimate atmosphere that lay across them, she felt like Radiance might actually answer it.

“So… you’re done this before, right?” she asked slowly. “Not exactly like this, I mean. Not with a villain. But, um. You know. Kink. Domination.”

There was a pause. For once, Radiance actually seemed embarrassed. “Yes.”

“You’ve done this a lot.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes,” Radiance repeated.

With that bridge crossed, Trinity was a little unsure what she wanted to ask. “How does that work? For a superhero, it seems a little… I don’t know, dark?”

“Dark?” Radiance seemed bemused by that. “I wouldn’t say so. Neither would the people I play with. They always enjoy themselves. I make sure of that.”

A few butterflies danced in Trinity’s stomach.

“But, since you ask,” the hero continued, “I… I like control. It feels good. Out there? In the streets? I’m not in control. Not really. There’s always too much going on. Too many people. I’m just one woman, trying to make some kind of order out of it all. It gets confusing, sometimes. But I can control just one person. I’m good at that. When I’m in control, it’s all very, very clear.”

There was a long pause as Trinity digested what Radiance had said.

“I don’t know why I told you that,” Radiance added quietly

Trinity didn’t know either. But she got it, intimately. She often felt something similar. Future City, so big and busy, had a way of making her feel small sometimes. Domination was the perfect antidote. Who knew if she was ever going to be able to taste that again?

“Goodnight,” Radiance said abruptly, and rolled over onto her side, facing away. Trinity decided that was a clear sign the conversation was over.

“Goodnight,” she replied, and started making herself comfortable.

Trinity did her best to ignore it, when she heard the clear sounds of Radiance touching herself.

And the next morning, she tried to pretend she hadn’t woken up to find the superheroine, her rival, the idol of Future City, clinging to her arm.