The echoes of the explosion died away, and the last bits of rubble fell and settled into place. For a long moment, the room was still.

Finally, a booted foot emerged from behind the tipped-over conveyor belt table. Slowly, awkwardly, the two heroines clambered out of the cramped space, tights-clad legs followed by naked buttocks followed by clothed torsos. The two women got to their feet, feeling a few twinges from muscles they’d pushed to the limit during their escape attempts and joints they’d maneuvered into odd positions during their tightly confined lovemaking.

Vindiatrix stepped across the room and bent down to retrieve her utility belt. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder and stared at Shield Lass. “Don’t you have something else to look at—look for? Where’s your belt?”

“I don’t know; it was gone when I woke up.” She stared at her partner, puzzled at the hostile tone in her voice.

“Well, don’t just stand there staring,” Vindiatrix said as she got up. She fastened the belt tight around her naked waist. She then shifted position rather awkwardly, first facing away from the younger heroine, then toward her, and finally presenting her with a profile view.

Meanwhile, Shield Lass took a close look at the walls and ceiling. “I don’t like the look of those cracks. I think we should get out of here.”

Vindiatrix nodded. “We can search the rest of the place and find some clothes.”

“I mean we should get out of the building, just in case. We can change when we get back—”

“We. Need. To. Find. Some. Clothes!” The subject was clearly not open to discussion.

Vindiatrix hurried out the door, and pulled open the next door down the hallway, and then the next. The one after that was locked. The heroine didn’t bother with her lockpicking tools; instead, she forced it open with a flying kick.

Shield Lass began searching in the opposite direction. That would let them cover more ground... and let her keep her distance from her partner until she got over whatever was bothering her. She’d expected Tracy to go into stoic professional mode—that was how she usually reacted.

As she took a quick look around another room, she realized that was exactly what she was doing. Well, it was probably the best way to deal with this situation until Tracy was ready to talk about it and clear the air.

“If she ever is....” She pushed that thought aside along with everything else and opened another door.

“Tr—Vindiatrix! Over here!” she called, cursing herself for momentarily forgetting one of the basic rules of superheroics. Luckily, she’d squelched Tracy’s name in time for it to sound like a minor verbal tic.

Her partner arrived and looked into the closet. “Not those,” she said in a flat voice.

“These are the only outfits we’re going to find here!” As she said it, Shield Lass realized that there probably was some place where the Leathergals kept ordinary street clothes. She kept that thought under wraps. They were already wasting enough time inside a possibly unstable building, with the extra risk that their foes might return and force them to fight on enemy turf on the enemy’s terms. “I’m not exactly thrilled about the idea either! This is what I would have ended up wearing if—”

“All right!” Vindiatrix cut her off. “Let’s just get a pair of bottoms that fit and get out of here.”

Shield Lass found an outfit that was a bit too large for her. That was a good thing; right now, she wouldn’t feel comfortable showing off her curves in Leathergal tights....

She suddenly realized why Tracy was on edge. Normally, sexuality wasn’t an issue in their partnership. Sometimes her mentor even joked about it, asking her if she was enjoying the view or copping a feel during their sparring sessions.

Now, however... after that attempt to turn her into a lesbian sex slave, Tracy was probably feeling a lot less secure about her sexuality. She wanted to cover up because giving Jenny a view of her naked ass and crotch was suddenly a much bigger issue than it had ever been back in their gym shower.

She looked down at the saggy tights. They looked... unthreatening. She extracted a clip from one boot to cinch the waistband and make them wearable.

Tracy—Vindiatrix, Shield Lass told herself, trying to get back into “professional” mode—grabbed a pair that she could barely squeeze into. Shield Lass thought that they actually showed off the curves of her butt even more blatantly than actual nudity, but kept her mouth shut. She wondered whether her mentor was in too much of a hurry to get herself covered up, or whether she was doing it deliberately as some sort of perverse test. She turned away, watching Vindiatrix out the corner of her eye and making very sure not to look directly toward her.

At last, they exited the lair and made it back to where they’d parked the Vindicar. The ride back to home base took about fifteen minutes, but the uncomfortable silence made it seem far longer.

-----

Everything seemed normal the next evening as they went out on patrol. What had happened to them as prisoners of Baroness Blackleather was pointedly ignored as they suited up and headed for the mean streets of the old train-station district, officially “Railston” but more commonly known as “Rumbletown”.

As usual, it wasn’t long before something caught their eye—a couple of punks chasing a woman down an alley, clearly intent on a mugging at least and possibly worse. They moved in quickly before the pursuers could catch up to the intended victim, hoping to intimidate them into surrender but ready for a fight if necessary.

One of the would-be assailants started blubbering at the sight of them. The other, a hulking bruiser with a broken nose and a wild look in his eye, was less accommodating.

“Fuck!” he shouted as the woman he’d been chasing reached her car. As the sound of squealing tires faded away, he yelled at Vindiatrix, “You fucking cockblocking bull-dyke! Maybe I oughta straighten you out!”

Shield Lass began moving in cautiously. This guy was clearly drunk or high or crazy. He wasn’t going to react rationally.

And, at the moment, neither was her partner. Normally, she would ignore the rantings of a hopped-up thug and concentrate on getting him under control before somebody got hurt. Now, she charged in at full speed, delivering a flying kick to the man’s chest.

Reflexively, Shield Lass rushed in to cover Vindiatrix’s back. Charging in like that, she’d left herself wide open to several nasty countermoves. Fortunately, her opponent didn’t know any of them. He fell with a thud. His buddy was taking advantage of the distraction to flee. The younger heroine turned to pursue but stopped when she saw Vindiatrix picking the fallen thug up with one hand and making a fist with the other.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shield Lass cried.

For a moment, there was no response. Then, Vindiatrix let the unconscious criminal drop, snarling something her partner couldn’t quite hear.

“We need to call the cops in to collect the perp,” the younger heroine said, keeping her voice level. Invoking their standard operating procedure after stopping a crime was the best way she could think of to defuse the situation.

They stared at each other, eyes locked, each waiting for the other to back down.

Finally, Vindiatrix nodded. “I overreacted,” she muttered. She wrapped flexcuffs around the prisoner’s wrists and ankles, brusquely shrugging off her partner’s offer to assist.

When the squad car arrived, Shield Lass told the officers that the prisoner had been acting belligerent and seemed to be under the influence. It was true, as far as it went. It suggested a legitimate reason for hitting him hard enough to break three ribs and focusing on him while letting his partner get away.

It neatly avoided the real issue.

-----

Jenny made her tenth pass through the obstacle course, running and jumping and flipping through the lasers and traps. As usual, she had no trouble up to Level Four, had a few close calls at Levels Five and Six, and never quite made it through Level Seven.

Tracy could usually make it through Level Eight without a misstep. Today, however, she had fumbled twice at Level Five and stalked off, leaving the course to her partner while she pounded on a punching bag.

“Tracy!” Jenny stood next to the “booby trap” she’d tripped, watching as Tracy delivered one last punch, took a deep breath, and turned toward her.

“Shouldn’t we save something for sparring practice? I’m starting to get winded.” Their usual regimen was four or five obstacle runs followed by martial-arts practice and then some cooldown exercises.

“I think we need more basic physical conditioning. And you need some practice at spotting traps.” She winced a bit as she finished the latter statement.

The younger heroine stared back at her. She didn’t want to bring up the subject, but it was becoming inescapable. She paused a moment and took off her mask. Maybe that would make it easier... maybe not... but it was something to fill the moment until she worked up the nerve to break the ice.

“That’s not what this is about, Tracy.”

“You screwed up that mission, Jenny!”

“Yes I did!” she snapped back. “If you want to blame me for what happened, go right ahead... but don’t try to bottle it up like this!”

Tracy scowled behind her mask. Jenny recognized it as the look of Vindiatrix trying to intimidate an opponent into surrendering without a fight.

“Just what do you think I’m ‘bottling up’?” she asked, in her this-is-your-last-warning voice.

Jenny tried to think of an answer that was honest enough to help and tactful enough to avoid being rejected out of hand. “I think you’re trying to bottle up your feelings about what Baroness Blackleather tried to do to us.” There. That ought to work. Tracy projected a fearless image as Vindiatrix, but she wasn’t stupid enough to pretend she wasn’t actually afraid of anything. She could admit fear, when only her partner was there to hear.

“‘Us’?”

Jenny blinked until she recognized the implications of that word spoken in that tone. Then she wanted to scream. She couldn’t believe Tracy was thinking of it that way.

“Yes, ‘us’! The fact that I’m gay doesn’t mean I want to be a sex slave to Baroness Blackleather! It doesn’t mean I want her whole crew of Leathergals sticking their tongues down my throat and up my cunt!” She was a bit surprised at her raw crudity, but judging from her partner’s stunned expression it might have been just the thing to shock some sense into her.

“I didn’t mean it that way...” Tracy finally replied. Her voice sounded uncertain, and she looked like she was trying to say something else but wasn’t sure what.

The silence stretched on as Jenny also tried to figure out what to say. Despite Tracy’s denial, it seemed clear that the attempt to turn her into a lesbian was disturbing her even more than the attempt to turn her into a thrall. It had dredged up uncomfortable buried questions about her partner: Did Jenny wish they could be a couple? Did Jenny harbor fantasies about her?

The fact was, Jenny was attracted to Tracy, and did have the occasional wet dream where a sparring session somehow ended with their costumes peeled away piece by piece until their naked bodies intertwined. She was honest enough with herself to accept that. She was also realistic enough to know that the fantasy would never become reality.

“But if Baroness Blackleather had brainwashed us....” She tried to squelch the unwanted thought, but it insisted on moving on to its logical conclusion. “The Leathergals are more like a big poly group than a harem—the Baroness just has first dibs. The Baroness encourages it so they’ll watch each other’s backs. If both of us were part of that....”

Did Tracy secretly, perhaps even subconsciously, suspect that she’d gotten them caught on purpose? That was ridiculous—she’d had no idea what the Baroness was planning, and even if she did she would never betray her partner like that! Just the thought was making her angry, and she told herself that she was being unfair, assuming the worst with no evidence whatsoever.

Tracy continued to stare at her, apparently still trying to figure out what she did mean and how to explain it.

The tension was suddenly interrupted by a beep from the speakers. They had an incoming call from police headquarters.

The two women glanced at the door to the main operations room, and then back at each other, and reached an unspoken agreement to put this matter aside—for now.

-----

Shield Lass put her mask on as she approached the commscreen, then thumbed the pickup button. Behind her, Vindiatrix composed herself, presenting the picture of calm determination as Commissioner Rearden’s face appeared.

“Vindiatrix, Shield Lass, we have a situation.” When the Commissioner started a call with that phrase, it wasn’t just a case where the police were a bit out of their depth and needed a bit of caped assistance. This was going to be one of the odder cases. It might be easier than simply providing support. It might be harder. It would definitely be more complicated.

“We’ve received a message from Baroness Blackleather. The subject line says the message is meant for you, but for some reason multiple copies were sent out, one to us and the rest to various news outlets and gossip magazines.”

Shield Lass turned to her partner. Vindiatrix’s eyes were narrowed, and her jaw was clenched tight. Someone who didn’t know about her latest encounter with her nemesis—and neither of them had spoken of it to anyone else, or even to each other until just now—might see only determination. Shield Lass saw anger and desire for payback.

The Commissioner tapped at a keyboard. “I’m forwarding it to you now.”

As the heroines waited, the Commissoner continued, “The message contains a brief text header with an encrypted ZIP file attachment. Our computer forensics people are trying to crack it, but they say it could take days, maybe even weeks, unless we can figure out the password some other way. We’re hoping the cover message is some sort of clue.”

After a few seconds that seemed to stretch on interminably, the malware scan programs declared the incoming file clean and safe. Vindiatrix leaned over Shield Lass’s shoulder and opened the e-mail window.

The subject line read:

Dear Goody-Two-Shoes Vindiatrix: ****** ******* ******** *********

Lie Back And Think...

Vindiatrix maintained a steady expression, though Shield Lass could practically feel her radiating anger. Only a sharp intake of breath betrayed Vindiatrix’s reaction as the memory flashed through her mind....

“Tsk-tsk! I would have pegged...” She snickered. “...I mean, figured, a straight...” She laughed again. “...that is, righteous, goody-two-shoes like you as more the ‘lie back and think of England’ type.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

Vindiatrix blinked as the Commissioner’s voice interrupted her reverie. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She then cut the connection. That in itself wasn’t unusual; she was never one to waste time with pleasantries when there was work to be done. However, Shield Lass could tell that she simply didn’t want to talk to the Commissioner or anyone else. Not about anything to do with Baroness Blackleather.

Vindiatrix stepped up to the console and ran another virus scan on the file attachment. It was clean. Of course it was; it would have already been filtered from the forwarded message otherwise.

“Look at those asterisks,” Shield Lass said. “Six, then seven, then eight, then nine. That can’t be just a coincidence.”

“It’s not.” She took a deep breath. “It fits.”

She opened the ZIP file. When the password prompt appeared, she typed “PEGGED FIGURED STRAIGHT RIGHTEOUS”.

The ZIP archive opened. It contained a short video clip. Vindiatrix ran another virus scan on it, knowing that it would find nothing. She glanced at Shield Lass for a moment, turned back to the screen, and opened the file.

The screen showed Baroness Blackleather sitting in a folding director’s chair. “Hello, Vindiatrix, Shield Lass!” she began in an unctuously friendly tone. “Judging from what I saw last time we met, the sexual tension between you two must be close to boiling over!”

Vindiatrix ground her teeth.

“If you’d like me to help you resolve it once and for all, meet me at the VaVaVidd Studio at ten o’clock. It’s the perfect place to release those bottled-up cravings.”

Vindiatrix’s fingers twitched as if she wanted to reach through the screen and throttle her foe.

The Baroness smirked and blew a kiss at her—at the camera, she reminded herself. “Ta-ta!” The picture faded to black.

“Bitch!” Vindiatrix growled. Glancing at the clock, she declared, “Two hours.”

“You’re not actually going after her? It’s obviously a trap!”

“And we both know that a trap can work both ways. She’ll be there in person, expecting to humiliate us again. We’re not walking into her trap—we’re springing our trap on her!”

It was true enough that they’d caught quite a few villains using that very stratagem. Even so, Shield Lass had a bad feeling about it this time. Her instincts told her that there was little chance of outmaneuvering the Baroness this time... and no chance at all of dissuading her partner from trying.