June Chen was probably the only person who could have been appointed as Sergeant at Arms of the United States Senate and seen it as a pleasant half-retirement. On the other hand, her previous employment had been as a field agent and then trainer of field agents at C.A.L.I.B.R.E., the Covert Actions, Liaisons, Infiltrations and Battle Recon Echelon, one of the United States’ alphabet soup of intelligence agencies.

C.A.L.I.B.R.E. held responsibility for investigating intelligence and counter-intelligence organisations connected in any way to metahumans, and Chen was the first of the agency’s alumni to enter into security within the Senate - a decade and change late, she would argue, considering Overshadow’s occupation of the house in 2001, to say nothing of the news a few years later that General Walters, the man behind a failed military coup, had not only been alive but had funnelled military funds into his own off-the-books organisation that for a time had ‘owned’ a squad of brainwashed heroines.

Walters hadn’t intended to stop there, either; once free of mental manipulation, one of the women - Foxtrot, in her costumed life - had revealed that they’d been intended as part of some Project Broodmare. Chen considered that a dark presentiment of the threats of the future, and it was this that had led her to seek out the Majority Leader and request she read Chen’s public record in consideration for the role.

It didn’t take much to upset a democracy. Chen had been present for too many attempts that had come far, far too close to success, and metahumans had the edge, whether it be teleporting the President out of the White House to hold him for ransom, mentally reprogramming voting machines simply by standing near them, or establishing control over the minds of even a handful of Senators or Representatives.

She took her new job very seriously, was glad that she had it, but still considered it nothing like the sheer adrenaline-driven action of her previous role. That suited her just fine; she wasn’t far off fifty, and if long-held habits meant she was still fitter than a lot of people half her age, she certainly didn’t have the patience for significant covert actions anymore.

If there was a part of her job that she hated, it was dealing with the various fixers who were clustered around the Senate, making it worse by their very existence. They always had something they wanted looked at, always had the plausible reason she had to listen to them of ‘working for a Senator’, and always, always, always wanted Chen to do something (or have the men and women under her do something, which came to the same thing) that wasn’t in their job description and that could put them in conflict with one of the other law enforcement agencies looking after Washington D.C.

“And all of those agencies, let me remind you,” Chen told the man sat across the desk from her after explaining this yet again, “are federal. Pissing contests aren’t what anyone signed up for around her.”

She looked him over, trying to read his reaction. He was modding thoughtfully.

“How about this, then,” he said. “I’ll lay out for you the problem as I understand it - inherited through my employer, of course-”

“Of course.”

“You can then tell me whether I’m in the right place. Or, of course, if I’m not but you’re interested.” He waggled his eyebrows, and it wasn’t entirely clear to Chen if he was trying to deliver a coded message or come on to her. Either way, she rolled her eyebrows.

“Sure,” she said. “But I warn you, we’re overstretched as it is.”

He produced a slim manila folder and set it on the desk. “A friend of a friend in the local PD got me printouts of their investigation, so I could bring someone up to speed faster,” he said. “A lobbyist has been kidnapped, right at the entrance to a fundraiser my employer and his wife threw.”

Chen sat back and studied him. “So you’re Raines’ man,” she said.

He nodded. “Or Roger, if that’s easier. I take it you’re already aware of the case?”

“You’re actually the second member of the Raines family’s staff to come to me with this,” Chen said. She reached out and picked up the folder. “Although at least you brought paperwork.”

“May I ask who else has approached you?” Roger looked, not angry, but definitely put out. Annoyed to be duplicating someone else’s effort? At not being first? Or did he think this was stepping on his authority?

Chen didn’t know, but even less did she care. “If I didn’t maintain confidentiality, nobody would come to me with anything,” she said. “You’re on the same team, so I’m sure you can figure it out. And yes, as it stands, I have someone looking into this. It could have been a Senator just as easily.” She gave him a thin smile. “Good enough?”

He clearly wanted to say no, but he knew well enough he was only a physical threat in the case of Senators and the usual Capitol Hill crowd, and he knew enough of her background that he wasn’t going to throw his weight around when a decision had been made. “It’ll have to be,” he said, and rose. “Your best people?”

“Let’s say yes and move on.” She offered her hand to be shook, and he took it. Chen always used any trick that would make someone feel better about not getting what they wanted.

Once she’d shown him out of her office, she passed the folder to her secretary Josie. “Do you know if Hawthorne and Bassett have left the building yet?”

“I don’t think so, ma’am.”

“Then run that over to them and tell them I’ve saved them the grunt work.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Josie watched her boss disappear back into the inner sanctum. As soon as the door closed, her eyes glazed over, all life falling out of her expression as her face went slack. She opened up the folder, reached down into her bag for a cellphone, and proceeded to systematically photograph every item in the folder.

These were then sent to a number saved as M in that phone. A casual observer might not notice Josie’s normal phone was already on her desk, being charged from her computer.

Her vision cleared and her expression returned to normal, and Josie picked up the folder (puzzled to see it closed) and walked into the larger bullpen where Hawthorne and Bassett were still at Bassett’s desk, the lanky former patrolman in the chair and his petite, surprisingly muscular partner sitting on the desk itself, legs crossed, examining the toe of one of her high heels.

“Sergeant wants you to have this,” Josie told them, passing the folder to Bassett. Hawthorne wasn’t going to bother reading it anyway, as everyone gathered there already knew; Josie left without waiting for any feedback. Her job was done, and if she’d been told anyone in the bullpen considered her stand-offish for the way she behaved, she wouldn’t have cared.

Her bag was vibrating on the floor when she got back to her office, and Josie’s eyes glazed over again, her face becoming an empty mask, void of emotion. She took out the phone and answered it.

“Yes, Master?”

“Yes, Master. It concerns an ongoing investigation.”

“An abduction, Master.”

“Yes, Master. I will keep you up to date with any developments.”

“Thank you, Master.” She stood, the phone still at her ear, her eyes still glassily vacant, and a buzzing sound began in the room. An observer, perhaps the same one who hadn’t noticed Josie’s other phone, might have been hard placed to say what the source of the buzzing was, unless of course they were standing close enough to Josie to realise it was coming from her crotch, where they would have to imagine a vibrator remained in place throughout her working day, one that was triggered by someone outside the room - presumably the mysterious ‘Master’ on the phone.

Josie stood unmoving, and then quivering, and finally and almost silently, a squeak escaped her lips and her empty eyes rolled briefly back in their head.

She turned, walked to her desk, and put the phone away, and then her eyes cleared. Josie went about the rest of her day, her cheeks flushed with excitement, feeling a wetness between her thighs, but with no idea what had just happened.

*

Darby had decided that she liked Melissa, but she wasn’t at all sure why or what Melissa had done to earn that. The blonde was just so friendly, so well-organised, and seemed to anticipate Darby’s thoughts; whenever she decided on a course of action she’d find Melissa asking questions about method that showed she was already working on it.

Besides, there was that cheerful smile and that confident, competent nature. Some people, she decided, are just born likable, and all you can really do is accept it.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” she offered, mid-morning on Melissa’s first full day there. The new arrival gave the impression of having been up all night, relying on an early-20s metabolism to keep her awake and active through the day.

“Not at all.”

“Obviously I’m having to show you how I work,” she said. “What if we made that an exchange?”

Melissa paused and closed the screen on her laptop, looking up and adjusting her reading glasses. Taking her time. “You wish to learn my methods, Watson?” She flashed that winning smile again.

“It sounds daft when you put it like that, huh?” Darby was flushing, but Melissa just laughed. “Not at all. I mean, believe me, I fell into this life by accident. Someone who’s actually interested has to be a positive, right?”

Emboldened, Darby stepped across and took a seat beside her. “So what are we doing?”

Melissa had tabbed away from whatever she’d been doing; that much Darby was sure of. On the other hand, on the screen now was a patchwork of notes and observations she’d made, so Darby didn’t see the need to chase after the other screen yet.

“Getting everything clear,” Melissa began. “Now, we only know a little bit about the point of contact. But it’s safe to say they were looking for her specifically-”

“Why?”

“Because she wasn’t the first to leave, or even the first to leave alone. If they just wanted to grab a bigwig from the party, say because the real target was Evelyn’s reputation, they could have grabbed the first out of the box and gotten away. That would have meant they were in place waiting for less time. And even if they knew they were outside the range of cameras, the longer you’re parked somewhere the bigger the chance you’ll stick in someone’s mind.”

Darby nodded. “Especially using a vehicle like that.”

Melissa nodded. “Right. The van’s old, it’s battered, it’s distinctive. Odds are good it was stolen; if they were smart they took it from long-term parking at an airport nearby, where it won’t be reported stolen until they’ve done what they came to do.”

“That’s smart.”

The blonde shrugged. “It’s what I’d do.”

Darby looked at her again thoughtfully. “And, uh, have you?”

“No.” This with a laugh. “But if you can’t put yourself in the mind of your target you’re often going to end up struggling for direction.”

“Okay. So, we assume they wanted to grab Penelope, and we assume the van is stolen.”

Melissa nodded. “And from what Evelyn tells us, it was an easy grab. So they incapacitated her somehow. We don’t have eyewitness accounts close enough to know how, sadly.”

“Can we guess?”

“Stun gun of some sort would be my first guess,” Melissa said. “Not the electric shock sticks, something that muddies neural process. Supers tech.” Darby nodded, impressed. “If not that, some sort of aerosol knockout drug, or some kind of telepathic incapacitating effect.” She paused and looked the intern over. “Or - and maybe you can help me out here - the easiest solution of all.”

“Which is…?”

“A complicit victim.” Melissa raised a hand against objections before Darby could think of any. “This is why I’m asking you to help me out. Is our victim someone who could do with a little more attention? Is she trying to push anything, say, where her being abducted while she’s arguing for it would get her some sympathy votes that could actually tip the balance?”

Darby had to collect her thoughts before she answered. “You think she might have abducted herself?”

“We know they wanted her specifically, but not why. We have to answer the question of motive sooner or later. And Penelope Rutherford being behind the kidnapping could be what we need - if she benefits from it. So does she?”

Darby considered it properly. “I don’t know of anything she’s after where she doesn’t have a good chance of swinging the vote,” she said at last. “But then of course I don’t know everything she’s working on.”

“Besides her, is there anyone who does?”

Darby shook her head, and Melissa sighed. “In that case, my next step on that thought process is pretty clear.”

“It is?”

The blonde nodded. “I need access to her internal organisation. Hack her system or break into her office.” Darby’s jaw dropped, but Melissa seemed to consider this all in a day’s work. “Either way, that’s probably one for this evening. In the meantime - let’s go down the other avenue. If it’s not Ms Rutherford’s idea, someone chose to kidnap her. Most likely that’s to do with her work. Has she ever screwed anyone over?”

“…Well, sometimes she’s tried to get a deal and it’s fallen through,” Darby said, “and a couple of times I think one side thought it was locked in and did their part. I’d lay money some of them feel screwed, doing a favour and getting nothing back.”

“Any names you can give me will be greatly appreciated. But she doesn’t make a habit of messing with people, I’m hearing?”

Darby shook her head. “I’m not fully plugged into the gossip but Washington leaks like a sieve. I’d have heard something if it was more than about a one-off.”

“Okay. So we have a small field for revenge grabs. That leaves one more motive.”

“Personal life.”

“Afraid not - from what I’ve got so far, she doesn’t really have one. It’s possible that there’s something we’ve missed that someone - well, two people - are serious enough about to kidnap, but it’s a very low possibility. No - this is to take her off the board ahead of an upcoming bill. In this worldview, we assume someone with a vested interest who knows or expects her to work against them.”

“Right.”

“My working assumption is that that one’s most likely, which just makes internal records access even more important.” She sighed. “I’m also working with the assumption that a supertech stun gun is our method. So we’re looking at either criminals for hire or a professional dirty tricks squad.”

Darby shook her head. “Hold on a second. I need to diagram this.” She fetched her notepad and started sketching out all the different options Melissa had raised in a branching diagram. There were enough splits and questions that it looked a mess, but it was still easier now to hold the ideas in her head, by focusing on one branch at a time. She sighed. “Looking at this I kind of feel like we don’t really know anything.”

“Well, you’re not exactly wrong,” Melissa offered gently. “We’ve found out a lot, but it’s all about eliminating what doesn’t make sense right now.”

“So what’s the next step?”

“Ideally, you pick out anything from our records and your memories that might point at people carrying a grudge from the past, while I work on the other leads - which is basically what criminal groups are active and might do this, plus who has their own dirty tricks squad. Then this evening I try to get her internal records.”

Darby nodded and crossed back to her own computer, thinking through how she was going to pull the list together.

*

Penny woke, slowly, and later than usual. She opened her eyes to find herself in a strange bed, in a strange room, and she had a moment of absolute confusion before the previous day came back to her.

She rolled over and came face to face with her dozing owner, and she felt her cheeks flush. She had such a strange, conflicting emotional response to him; at once aroused by him, submissive to him, yet sometimes fearful of him, and conscious throughout that her immediate, instinctive reaction on seeing him had been revulsion, his clear way of life so at odds with her own. Yet she could no more disobey him than she could fly; could not even want him to suffer harm, because property could not wish harm on its owner.

At least he was still sleeping. She crept out of bed and to the bedroom door, keenly aware she didn’t know where the loose floorboards might be or if the door squeaked. Everything she did was in extreme slow motion, as careful and gentle and quiet as she could be, and even this created an unpleasant, oily feeling of guilt, as she made herself less available to her owner.

Once she was out of the room she took just as long shutting the door again, tense the whole time that it would make enough of a sound to wake him. She didn’t think she let her breath out until it hadn’t, so she turned around and started to explore the place.

It wasn’t big; a two-bedroom apartment with the living room and kitchen combined and a very cramped bathroom. The views out of the window weren’t brilliant either; she was staring across the street at an out-of-business liquor store when it occurred to her to wonder: Why hasn’t my owner improved his quality of life?

If she had his powers, if she could bend people to her will by waving her fingers in the air, she wouldn’t accept a place like this. Even if it was temporary. There had to be places in town where you could have anonymity and better comforts, she thought.

He hadn’t exactly done much to his wardrobe, either. There wasn’t even much in the apartment for him to entertain himself with, unless you counted the three living pieces of his property, which she assumed he must do. Apart from them there was a stack of ratty, dog-eared old books - thick academic paperbacks, most of them on political theory - and the various phones held by people who lived there. She’d been too worried when she first arrived in the apartment to even register the lack of a TV.

The other bedroom door opened and the other woman who was her owner’s property emerged from it. Their eyes met, and where on their first encounter the other woman had glowered at Penny, this time the look was almost kind; there was an empathy to it that said much.

She gave Penny a nod and walked into the kitchen portion of the main room, past the restraints that had been used to keep Penny in place for her enchantment, where she started running hot water for the sink. Not really knowing what else to do, Penny walked in beside her and took up a dishtowel.

They stood together in silence for a few moments before the other woman mumbled something, then cleared a throat unused to speaking without prompting and said it again, a little more clearly. “Welcome to the madhouse,” she said.

“You don’t approve?” Penny asked, shooting a look back toward the closed door of their owner’s bedroom. Mercifully, it was still shut.

“I wish I’d never got into this,” she said quietly. “Especially wish I’d never found the fucking spell.”

There was, Penny discovered, a surprising amount of difference between knowing what had happened to you had to be magic and hearing actual confirmation that it was. She found herself twice as nervous, was certain that if she saw her reflection it would have paled.

“You know about that?”

“I know more than he does. But he was willing to do it, and I wasn’t, and he saw in my eyes that I wasn’t comfortable.” She sighed. “I mostly am, now, but…”

Penny nodded. “I know what you mean. I love that he owns me. It’s just that part of me wishes I wasn’t owned at all.”

“The word is free.”

She swallowed and tried it for herself. “Free.” Yes, that was a word that definitely provoked contradictory reactions. Her own, and the ones that were imposed on her by the spell. “I’m Penelope, by the way.”

“Oh, I know.” The other woman laughed bitterly, but relented enough to admit “Kelly.”

“Well, Kelly, pleased to meet you,” Penny said. “Although I wish it was under other circumstances.”

The two of them were silent for a while, Penny accepting each cleaned item from Kelly, drying it carefully and stacking it neatly.

“What’s he doing?” Penny asked, out of the blue.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s digging into politics, or he wouldn’t have me. He’s got some kind of agenda. He’s OK with owning people. But this isn’t a great place to be, and he hasn’t just stolen a lot of money. Which is the way you protect yourself from laws, really. So… I don’t get it.”

Kelly pursed her lips in thought and nodded. “I guess that’s kind of fair.”

“I’m just looking for information. I’m not going to use it against him.”

“I know,” she said. “You can’t. Nor can I.”

“Right. But you’ve known him longer. You might have some idea what he really wants, because what he’s taken me for almost certainly isn’t it. Ad I can’t give him what he wants unless he knows.” It was a strange feeling, and not a little frustrating, to want to make someone happy, want to please them, want to fuck them, when a part of you was also struggling to despise them, struggling against the sincere, if artificial, belief that they didn’t have the right to a negative opinion.

Kelly’s dishwashing had slowed, and she turned to look at the other property thoughtfully. “You know,” she said quietly, “you might be on to something there. But I’m not sure he can get back what he wants.”

“Go on…”

*

At around the time Penny was trying to make sense of her life, Gigi was hanging upside down outside her window, clad in a dark red version of her usual bright red bodysuit, purposefully dulled from its usual leather shine, and her usual dark blue utility belt. She wasn’t, after all, here on official business.

The right glove could extend a ‘thumbnail’ made from an advanced polymer, easily sharp enough to cut glass. She etched a circle in place by the window’s fastening, quickly removing it so she could reach inside and undo the lock. The window swung open and she let herself inside, unclipping the grapple that had allowed her to make her way down to it. The window was closed and the removed section put back in place with a strong epoxy around the edge.

Gigi worked every day with people capable of mindblowing superhuman feats. What she had was her wits, her training, her fitness regimen and her gadgets, but she felt pretty confident putting her successes up against theirs. More so now she’d been brainwashed in a way that let her think for herself; she had a purpose, a direction, and a Master she always wished to impress. There were no days when she just wasn’t feeling it, no days where she couldn’t bring herself to care. She always cared, and she always achieved, because that would please her Master when her team leader reported to him.

She took a moment to get her bearings before realising this apartment had no office, no clear place for records, not even a visible computer station.

A few moments of reflection were enough to tell her this was an obviously incorrect state of affairs; a smooth operator might use only her phone when out and about but she’d want a secure record store, and that didn’t describe a phone hard drive and it certainly didn’t describe cloud storage.

Gigi turned a slow circle in the centre of the living room, looking for something that didn’t need to be there. Nothing out of place, but all the same, something that stood out. Something unnecessary and bulky.

She walked toward the sink, which was next to a compact washer-dryer, presumably so they could both be plumbed in from the same source.

Except that the washer-dryer showed no signs of use. Stopping in front of it, Gigi squatted down on her haunches and looked through the glass door at the empty insides. She leaned slightly to one side, still looking, and then the other, and then she smiled.

The view of the inside adjusted as she leaned, but it did so too far, too fast. Trick glass with a different refractory index and a fake tumbler inside, a smaller one, hiding… what?

Gigi opened one of the pouches in the slim belt at her waist and attached it just to the left of the door. She punched a button, powering it on, and waited until its small display lit up.

Combination safe, then. Not a key, thankfully, and not often-complex biometrics.

She took hold of the settings dial for the washing machine which was, instead, the combination dial for its lock, and based on the feedback from her gadget, slowly turned the lock, reversing direction several times, until the lock clunked open. She grasped the door handle and tried to swing it open, which failed; after a couple more experiments she took hold of a small imprint at the base of the door and pulled rather than swung, and as soon as there wasn’t any sideways torque it slid out easily, the entire central section concealing a deep filing-cabinet-style drawer.

Gigi went to work methodically, taking folder by folder and photographing the contents of each. As she did so, she requested a file transfer to Melissa’s computer station.

This, she’d decided, was how she could help out best; by listening to Melissa’s requirements through her monitoring gear and picking and choosing which of her more illegal goals she could handle for her. That was going to be especially important now Darby seemed hell-bent on becoming the woman’s apprentice.

Melissa sounded like she was pretty thorough, too. Gigi had no idea who she was, and hoped to exchange notes with her soon. She made a mental note to ask if there was any reason not to brainwash Darby when they met; it would be much easier to go about their investigation if they didn’t have to keep a colleague in the dark, and there was every chance she could be resculpted afterwards to suit her Master’s tastes.

She skimmed over the contents of the folders as she documented each, but not in any detail; there would be time for that when she wasn’t committing criminal trespass any longer. Still, she was able to read up enough to know that Penny kept extensive files on a number of her prior employers as well as the projects she’d been hired for.

*

Kelly was cooking now, or frying bacon on a griddle anyway. Penny, who had been helping, was a little at a loss; then she decided to check the fridge. Turning up some eggs, she sourced a frying pan and went hunting for butter and herbs.

What she found did not impress her, but she started work on scrambled eggs anyway. It wouldn’t be as good as if she could add fresh-chopped chives on top, but anything she could do that would please her owner she should do. She’d decided on a strategy to try and solve her owner’s frustrations, and this was only the first step.

The door to his bedroom opened while they were both busy, and their owner sauntered out, clad only in the boxer shorts he’d fallen asleep in. Penny glanced over her shoulder; a warm smile emerged on her lips, to her partial surprise. Perhaps it was that she’d been working in his service, but she felt better disposed to her owner than she had been.

“Wondered where you’d got to,” he said as he sauntered across the room toward them.

Penny flushed. “I… wanted to be useful,” she said, and realised with some surprise that it was true. “I could do more for you up and about than I could lying there awake.”

“Oh? And what do you want to do for me?” He was smirking.

“I want to improve your life,” she said. The toaster popped up, and Kelly began plating his breakfast; she hastened to add the eggs, reluctantly topping them with a sprinkle of out-of-date mixed herbs from a small jar. It wasn’t what he deserved, she thought; what he deserved was either much less or much more.

“You know what I want you for,” he said. He was close behind her at that point, and while Kelly turned he took the plate from her and set it down beside the stove. His other hand had found Penny’s hip, which held her in place as securely as if he were physically trying to stop her from moving. “You’re going to get a law passed for me.”

“To hear is to obey,” she replied. “But if you will pardon me… you need to think bigger.”

She felt his light touch on her hip become a firm grip; wasn’t sure he realised he was gripping her more tightly. It seemed like he wasn’t used to his property offering opinions.

“Explain,” he said, and his voice was cold. Kelly had fallen back a step, was watching quietly, head bowed just far enough she was in no danger of meeting his eye. The message was clear; she wasn’t going to get into trouble if Penny did.

Solidarity, she supposed, was a thing that only people could have, not property.

“Your property is good for more than it’s being used for,” she said. “And so is your own ability. Your spell. I know this law must be important to you but don’t you want more?”

He planted a foot between hers, nudged her feet wider apart. “Oh I can get more from you,” he told her.

“I give it willingly,” she said. “I hear and I obey. But… can I hear more?”

His hand rested halfway up her back and pushed her forward, bending her over the stove not quite low enough to be in danger from the hotplates - but close. “Like… fuck me?”

A question it might be but it was also an order, and her hips jerked backward in obedience to it, thrusting her backward onto his bock. Once in position she began to pump, rocking back and forth, milking his cock with a passion still vaguely at conflict with her knowledge that only a spell was making this happen. “To hear is to obey,” she gasped, and, once she had her breathing back under control, she found more words. “Like ‘raise my quality of life’. Like ‘make me a multimillionaire,” she said. “Like ‘get me a Lamborghini’.”

He didn’t say anything, but she could tell in the way his cock excitedly jerked that he was interested. She dropped her trump card, the one Kelly had given her. “Like ‘get me into the political elite where my family belongs’.”

“Fuck,” he grunted. “You… you two’ve been talking, huh?”

“We want only to obey,” Penny replied, stretching the truth but feeling it become more true for her saying it. “But true obedience is your pleasure.”

He said nothing for a little while, instead focusing on fucking her over the kitchen counter. Penny reached out with both hands to brace herself against the wall. Her owner reached out with one hand. Grabbed a slice of the toast with bacon and egg, and lifted it up.

As he started to eat his breakfast directly over her ass while fucking her, Penny told herself that he might not have agreed yet but just by doing that she knew he was about to.