Paloma followed the Doctor, flanked by two of Overshadow’s soldiers, and she did so meekly, saying nothing, in case she made the wrong impression on these people.

Their guns were probably not terribly relevant; Paloma’s powers could only focus on one area at a time, but she could still fling guns from their owners’ hands in not much time. The little martial arts training she’d had just needed to knock any target off balance long enough for her to focus and fling them away.

But she would never do that; she didn’t even need to be under guard, and a small part of her was embarrassed and upset that anyone saw the need to have her under guard. She served Overshadow; she would obey Overshadow; she wanted only for Overshadow to be happy. There was no need to keep her under guard.

In point of fact, she was tremendously excited. She knew exactly where she was being led. She knew why she was being taken there. It represented a proper step beyond her silly superheroine phase into her proper, real adult life as a servant to Overshadow.

The base was large enough to house and train a regiment. It was also large enough to hold a quartermaster, who Paloma now met for the first time. He was tall, rake-thin, and glowered at all times, one eye bulging larger than the other; his beard was long and shot through with grey. He had been with Overshadow since her powers first activated in India.

“Hmp.” He made a complete circuit around her, staring at her the whole time, and Paloma stood as still as she could, hoping to make a good impression. “And the Mistress actually wants this one?” he demanded, but he was looking at the Doctor, so Paloma kept quiet. She thought it probably best; she was too low in the hierarchy to make decisions of her own.

“She has power,” was all the Doctor answered, an explanation rather than an assertion, and Paloma worried he might be doing the wrong thing as the quartermaster seemed somehow angrier than before. But he turned back to her with a scowl. “Right,” he said. “Strip then.”

“Yes,” Paloma said brightly. “Of course!” She kicked off her bright boots first, then took off the mask. Her yellow belly top followed and she reached behind, unsnapping her bra to let her firm breasts almost bounce free as something of an afterthought.

She had the unselfconsciousness of one who knows herself beautiful, as well as the self-assured quality of the brainwashed slave. Her tight yellow pants followed quickly but with a little more fumbling; the two solders who’d escorted her turned their faceless masks from her to each other regularly, and Paloma could imagine knowing smirks beneath.

As a gravity controller, Featherweight’s body would never show as much of the effects of time as others; the natural tendency of the superhuman body toward a certain type of physique gave her the rest of what she needed to stand out. After her panties were added to the pile she reached up to her hair, where a red-and-yellow hair tie was the last thing to be removed and discarded.

The quartermaster waited with an old cloth tape measure, used for so long it was worn to a sheen in places. He was quick, efficient, and impersonal in measuring her but, as he stood close, Paloma noticed for the first time the scar tissue of what must once have been a deep cut along the back of his forearm.

Most of Overshadow’s soldiers, she knew, weren’t slaves; they didn’t have the luxury and the privilege of their decisions being taken for them and programmed into them. Instead they’d have to make decisions for themselves like the common rabble the Doctor’s work had placed her above.

She could certainly imagine a time when someone like her might have been taken advantage of by this man; might have fought back herself and wounded him, or perhaps had vengeance taken for her by Overshadow, who was known to object most strongly to the status quo when it was at its most old-white-man.

Perhaps that was how he had learned respect. And yet a part of her she knew existed solely in the Doctor’s programming almost wished this man would grope her, would toy with her, would take liberties or even order her to perform for him.

Not because she had been made to fetishise it but simply because she was now programmed to consider that a service she should offer her superiors if it would bring them pleasure.

He finished his measurements and disappeared behind a row of heavily loaded metal shelving, muttering to himself. Paloma stood exactly as she had been left, waiting.

She felt a tentative prod against her bare buttock, and her recent thoughts led her to conclude she should reassure whoever was being so cautious that his attentions would not be frowned on; everyone in this room, even the guards, was her superior, at least until Overshadow saw fit to raise Paloma up in the organisation.

(Which she doubtless would - Paloma had powers and the others here did not - but she did feel a little uncomfortable about the idea of outranking the man who brainwashed her. If he saw an irregularity in her thoughts, how would he correct her?)

In the interim she was lower than the guard, and so she turned her head, her long black hair flowing free, and favoured him with a smile somewhere between warm and sultry; encouraging at the very least. Then she returned her gaze to be directly in front of her, but not before she’d registered that the guard had used his rifle barrel that first time, just watching her soft skin dimple under pressure.

There was no further activity behind her for some time, but when it came, she felt a leather gloved hand on her ass, gripping and squeezing. She was unsure how to encourage him at first, but settled for grinding against him.

The hand was released guiltily when the quartermaster re-emerged. His hands were full with a bundle that he thrust on Paloma, startling her a little.

“Your costume will take time,” he said. “Soldiers get off-the-shelf. Supers need customisation. Leave your old one here; these are regulation, you can wear them.”

As there seemed no objection from her escort Paloma re-dressed there and then; crisp white bra and panties, black leather shin-high boots and the thick grey socks to go underneath, and a purple armband which, when she put it on, was the thing she most felt connected her to the guards as a part of Overshadow’s army.

“I know Overshadow wants to see her,” the Doctor told her guards. “If she objects to seeing her just dressed like this, bring her back to my lab.”

One of the guards saluted; Paloma wasn’t sure if it was the one who’d groped her or not. She gave the surly quartermaster a bouncy salute and a wink before she left with the guards, the Doctor making his way through the complex on his own.

*

Melissa was half-asleep, lying pillowed on Candace’s huge, soft tits, exhausted from her burst of titworship, when the right hip pocket on her utility belt began to vibrate.

That meant only one thing; an alert from the Rebelles. Her eyes opened slowly, sleepily, and she lay there a moment longer, reflexively kissing the nipple before her before she rose and tiptoed away. Candace, she was pretty sure, had passed out from the pleasure she and Chad had supplied some time before.

She paused under a papaya tree a few yards away, pulling her costume’s cowl back into place, and tapped the communicator button on her belt. “This is Swift Fox,” she said quietly. “I can’t talk for long, but go ahead.”

“Are you still out of the country?” Tanya asked. She was always abrupt but there was something in her tone Melissa usually didn’t expect to hear; a tension that Wayward almost never had, even in combat.

“I am,” she said softly. “But maybe I can pull some strings. What’s going on?”

“Overshadow hit Bayport,” Tanya said, and the light-hearted, giggly euphoria Melissa had been coasting in suddenly went away. “She’s taken Featherweight.”

“What do you mean, taken?” Melissa didn’t much like the level of alarm in her voice. These people weren’t slaves of the Master. Why should she feel so sympathetic to them?

“Good question.” Tanya’s voice was grim. “They raided our town, we came out to meet them, and the moment they grabbed one of us they left.”

A few years ago when the Rebelles were founded Melissa would probably have made some lightly-bowdlerised excuse for a swearword. Time had passed since then. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Melissa said softly. “Look. There’s only so much I can do while I’m here, and I’m not…” She glanced back at the pool, and realised Candace was now sitting up and watching her. She was going to have to explain this now, no matter what else happened. “I’m not sure how quickly I can do it. But as soon as I can I’ll start tracing her.”

“That’s… That’”s way better than nothing,” Tanya said. “Alright. Thanks, babe.” She paused, while Melissa was still worrying over how quickly Tanya accepted the offer. Things had to be serious if her friend wasn’t taking every opportunity to be dramatic about everything. “How’s your own investigation going?” she asked quietly.

For the first time, Melissa realised how much it would hurt sometimes to serve her Master. Her first instinct had been to say simply that she’d found Candace. But that would lead to conversations her friend was not ready to understand. “It’s… I mean, Featherweight has to take priority,” she deflected. “If I can, anyway. I’ll know one way or the other soon.”

“We’d love to have you with us,” Monsoon cut in, “but we all know how busy you get, and getting Featherweight back can’t wait long. Just keep us up to date and stay safe, alright?”

“Right,” she agreed, thankful as ever that Monsoon would act as the voice of reason.

“And hey,” Pyre chimed in, “at least we know Overshadow can’t grab you.”

“Uh, what?” Monsoon asked, and how disconcerted she was couldn’t have been clearer.

“Oh, I just figure, either she wants a gravity controller or this is the start of something about us,” Pyre said. “Why would you grab someone who’s part of a team when the rest of the team is around?”

There was a brief period of quiet on the line as the team absorbed that. Melissa was mentally kicking herself for not seeing that angle immediately; she was still a little ditzy, she guessed, after that first burst of punchdrunk titsluttery. The rest of the team were probably just wondering how it was that Bobbi of all people asked an important question before the rest of them had acknowledged it and come up with answers.

“She thinks she’s out of our league,” Tanya offered, and while it was probably true, it didn’t exactly cure their worries that they might somehow be part of her latest plan.

It was only a few years since Overshadow had stolen the powers of the Task Force and given them to a bunch of random Americans to prove that heroes had something wrong with them, and most people, if given powers, would side with Overshadow for protection. That hadn’t gone the way she wanted, but the power-drain technology was presumably still out there somewhere.

“Be that as it may,” Monsoon said, “we’ll have to be careful. Over on the US side we move and act as a team until this is solved, okay?”

“Right.”

“And Swift Fox, if we miss a daily check-in, assume she has all of us. Handle the situation with your best judgement.”

Ask the Mistress what to do was how Melissa mentally translated that instruction, but what she said aloud was “You got it.”

“It won’t come to that,” Tanya said firmly.

“I still need to check in here,” Melissa said. “I’ll help however I can. If I can get back there…” She trailed off, not wanting to commit even that far when she hadn’t approval from her Mistress. But she could hardly use her team membership as part of her cover story if the team was all gone, could she?

Besides, it felt pretty good when Monsoon told her what to do. Not as good as the Mistress and she could only imagine how good it would feel to finally get her first order from Master, but her new submissive self quite liked that feeling.

“We understand,” Monsoon acknowledged. “Let us know when you know.”

And with that, the call ended. Melissa took down her cowl, feeling less like the heroine she’d been as she did so. She turned back to Candace and made her way over, head ducked slightly not out of guilt but out of deference, unwilling to make eye contact without being ordered to, and prepared to explain the situation.

*

When Overshadow next paid a call on Doctor Bimbeau he was in his lab. In fact, she walked in to find him lying on the bed he’d been using for the Tiara, with its electrodes in place and Sinner at the controls.

“What’s the meaning of this?” she demanded, and Bimbeau did not answer. His eyes closed, he didn’t even seem to respond.

Sinner looked up. “I am carrying out the Doctor’s instructions, Mistress Overshadow,” she reported, before looking back down to the display as her orders required.

“By brainwashing him?” The villainess’ voice was full of scorn.

“Yes, Mistress Overshadow.”

“Hmf.” She sniffed. “Why?”

“Because the Doctor instructed me to, Mistress Overshadow.”

“You know what I meant,” she snapped, before realising. “You don’t,” she said slowly. “Not really. What does he want brainwashing for?”

“He directed me to order him to think more quickly, Mistress,” Sinner said. “Also to make him more ruthless and determined. He had expressed some concerns that he was limiting his options by his current ethical standards, so he wanted to have them adjusted.”

Overshadow’s frown gave way to a puzzled expression and then a thoughtful look. “Hm,” she said slowly. “And he trusts you to do that?”

“Yes, Mistress Overshadow.”

“Can he hear what we’re saying?”

“Not unless I throw this switch, Mistress Overshadow.”

“Good.” She smiled. “Do you know everything about this system?”

“As it currently stands, Mistress Overshadow, I can use all functions but couldn’t maintain it. I know the Doctor has further plans.”

“Like what?”

“He’s talked about his previous design having physical modification capacity.” Sinner didn’t falter as Overshadow laughed dismissively; she kept talking. “Increased muscle development. Faster reflexes. Enhanced senses.”

Overshadow’s amusement slid back into that same thoughtful look. “Interesting… He might have some value yet.”

“Yes, Mistress Overshadow.”

“I’m still not happy that he’s looking to broaden his thinking, though,” she said. “I don’t want him to try anything stupid.”

“No, Mistress Overshadow. Nobody should defy you,” Sinner answered, and there was nothing but worshipful admiration in her tone. “We exist to make you happy.”

“You might,” she retorted. “He doesn’t.” And then she smiled. “Yet. You want to make me happy?”

“Oh, yes, Mistress Overshadow.”

“Then make sure he wants to make me happy, too. Program that into him.”

“Yes, Mistress Overshadow.”

“And when you’re done with him, tell him he’ll dine with me tonight for further planning.”

“Yes, Mistress Overshadow.”

And with that, the villainess swept back out.

*

Melissa settled back into the chair where she’d so painstakingly updated the Master’s database with information on her team. Instead, she had been granted access to the system’s internet connection.

“See if you can help,” the Mistress has told her, “and then I’ll decide whether to let you and what you can do. But find Overshadow first, if you can.”

Every member of the Rebelles had their own specialisations as well as their powers. While all five were college graduates now, that didn’t necessarily mean the others were good at putting clues together, and Overshadow hadn’t been active for some time previous - so wherever they were operating from was going to be a nightmare to find unless you knew what you were doing.

Melissa spent some time carefully linking into her own Foxconsole, a gift from her mentor - but one very thoroughly protected by all manner of computer security. With that access, though, she had more tools and access to more databases, so her training had the maximum chance to find what she was hunting.

It was satisfying to put the pieces together. The more she worked on it - identifying the helicopter used, putting an estimated maximum range on it, checking purchase orders in that radius for construction gear, researching thefts, hunting out the fuel that might be needed for generators, even reviewing satellite heat maps of different regions - the more she wondered how she’d ever let her intellect go as completely as she had while worshipping Candace’s tits.

Yet she had, and eagerly; it seemed that both aspects, the genius and the ditz, were part of her now. She’d have to make more time to actually enjoy herself in future. Maybe she could record videos of herself in partial costume to send to Mistress and Master…

She shook her head. Even with serious work ahead, she was distractable now in a way she’d never worried about being before. She’d have to make sure her team didn’t notice once she did finally rejoin them.

Little by little a picture emerged; it wasn’t that site, because that site was actually being turned into a hotel, and it wasn’t there, because Safeguard had busted a Families operation there just three weeks ago, and that one didn’t fit with Overshadow’s known MO. But the other one…

Well, for one thing, it would explain the missing jetliner in the area a week or so earlier too. Although that meant Overshadow was gathering a lot of captives. She keyed her comm back on, this time on the direct private channel she used with Tanya.

“You good, Melissa?”

“Did Overshadow grab anyone else?”

“Huh?”

“In Bayport. Did Overshadow grab anyone else?”

“Uh.” Tanya sounded taken aback, which meant she hadn’t thought about it, which probably meant- “No. I’m pretty sure we’d have heard by now. Officially, even.” It seemed Tanya still hadn’t got over the fact they now had an approved and known tap into the Bayport PD computers. Melissa had had to hide her unofficial one quite carefully hen that had been added.

“Alright. That rules out one theory.” Melissa was smiling despite herself. “Tell the others I’m getting closer.”

“Yeah, but are you coming b-”

Melissa cut the communication before she might have to lie to her friend.

She was definitely more conflicted over all this than Mistress would expect of her. It was going to be trouble if she didn’t get a handle on it.

Her old loyalties hadn’t been erased, that was the trouble. She’d acquired a Mistress and (to her mind more importantly) been given a Master, but while Mistress was her role model, she still had mentors and friends who would doubtless be deeply opposed to her new duties.

She wanted to confess this to Mistress, and surely she would; but she also wanted to sit down with Tanya and talk it through, and that probably wasn’t advisable…

She blinked several times. Woolgathering again! She’d have to watch herself against that…

She knew where to send the team, and it was even close enough to the East Coast that if Mistress decided to send her home early she could get involved…

…assuming she could adjust her costume in time or get it replaced; if it still seemed to fit, the team probably wouldn’t comment on her curvier form, but if it was still ripped they definitely would…

She could have just tipped the team off. But if she could get some sense of Overshadow’s plan, she could give them a better edge. And that definitely fitted with the order Mistress had given her.

Melissa realised with a sinking feeling that so long as her loyalties were divided she’d often have to push specific interpretations of her orders. That felt like it wasn’t living up to the example set by her role model and Mistress.

*

Paloma ached. There was a dull pain across her shoulder blades, but she considered it a good pain. It had been Overshadow’s test to ensure Paloma was truly what she promised herself to be, and rather than wield the lash herself, Overshadow had instead had a drone-soldier, one of the few as loyal to her as Paloma herself, carry it out.

The sting was a mark that she had obeyed her Mistress and given her pleasure even at her own pain. It was a reminder of how completely she had given of herself.

It was a good thing.

She opened the door to the Doctor’s lab still in no more than bra, panties, armband, and boots, beaming visibly. “Hello again, Doctor,” she said quietly.

The Doctor seemed a lot happier than she’d seen him before. She’d wondered at the time why he seemed so irritated, but things were clearly better. That was good. She liked it when her superiors were happy. “Hello, Paloma,” he said evenly. “I take it Overshadow approves of you?”

“Yes, Doctor,” she said with a smile. “I have my serial number.”

The Doctor answered her smile with his own. “That’s excellent. I’m sure you’ll be just the first of many.”

“Oh, yes, Doctor.”

“Good.” He nodded and turned back to his computer readout without so much as looking over her near-nude body. Paloma noted that and was happy; this was what Mistress had told her to look for. She had been worried about something to do with the Doctor, which also meant that Paloma now had no concern over coming to outrank him - even as she continued to view him as her superior.

“Is there anything you want with me?”

“Mm?” He glanced back to her, blinking a couple of times, and Paloma wondered if he actually had forgotten about her in the meantime. If so, what must he have been thinking about that held his attention so firmly? “Oh. No, not at the moment. I may call for you if we need you.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

She turned to leave, and she was torn between wishing he’d had reason to use her, to take his pleasure of her as was one of her purposes, and glad she could report to her Mistress immediately and confirm the threat under her roof had been securely neutralised. Behind her, the Doctor was humming at his work.

*

“I think you may want to see this, Mistress,” Melissa said dubiously. She wasn’t at all sure she had this right…

Candace met her eyes coolly, which seemed like quite the achievement to Melissa as Mistress was straddling Chad’s face, eager moans and grunts emerging from between thick thighs. Apparently, though, Mistress had the practice - and Chad had more stamina than she’d thought. “Is it urgent?” Candace asked. “I’m quite busy right now.”

“Uh.” Melissa had diverted herself down a mental track involving taking advantage of Chad being under the same control she was. Perhaps Mistress would allow her to make the man her lover; he wouldn’t be able to give away her secrets and he’d be the perfect alibi, programmed to back up anything she said.

The only downside would be her father’s disapproval, but that hadn’t meant much since she put on the cowl. Now she had a Master it meant nothing at all.

“I can’t say for sure, Mistress. I think it is, but I need you to confirm that.”

Candace continued to look back steadily. “Are you jealous, little fox?”

“No, Mistress?” Melissa wasn’t sure, at first, what Candace was talking about. Then she realised; was Melissa pushing her programming and her orders to be able to interfere with her Mistress’ casual use of her fellow slave? The only reason she might was jealousy.

Yet as much as some of Chad’s friends had been sure of it, Melissa wasn’t saving herself for him. He’d just been a convenient way for her to hide her costumed activity. She blushed. “Not at all, Mistress. He’s yours, just as I am.”

That won her an approving nod. “Chad?” she asked aloud. “Freeze.”

His latest moan died midway through, just an abrupt silence. Candace clambered off him, leaving Melissa to see clearly that his tongue protruded unmoving from his open mouth, lips, cheeks, and chin stained with his Mistress’ juices.

She’d honestly never been prouder of him.

Candace’s composure was perfect as she looked back at Melissa steadily. “He’ll be there when I get back,” she said, and then “Show me this matter, little fox. We’ll soon find out if you understand urgency.”

“Yes, Mistress.” And with that she turned and fled back into the Doctor’s control room, Candace strolling behind. Showing exactly who was in control and who set the pace.

Her expression faltered when she saw the name Melissa had highlighted on the passenger manifest.

“Is that our Master, Mistress?” Melissa asked quietly.

“Where did you find this?” Candace asked. And, her voice now critical, if only to hide that worried tone, “Why were you looking?”

“I wanted to understand what Overshadow is doing.” Luckily, Melissa had clear answers. “I looked into unexplained incidents and major crimes within a radius of her base, and a missing passenger aircraft came up. And considering he’d abducted one of my friends, I thought I should check the manifest.

“I didn’t realise at first this was the Master. In fact I only wondered after I’d cross-checked everyone else as best I could. But, well, he only exists in a few databases, his name mostly exists on previous passenger flight lists, and I could cross-reference at least one trip against a report of Doctor Bimbeau being active. And then there’s the name, so…”

“So you saw through the disguise,” Candace said. Melissa pulled a face. She didn’t want to be rude, but…

“Honestly? It’s more that I think it’s plausible Overshadow would see through the disguise too.” She paused. “It’s not very… good, as a disguise.”

Candace sighed and nodded. “Doctor Bimbeau is always right,” she said, and Melissa heard how differently she said it and thought she recognised a post-hypnotic suggestion when she heard one. “But I do sometimes wonder if he’s perhaps dealing with a case of egomania.” The last few words she almost seemed to have to choke out, and Melissa winced sympathetically.

She could probably speak about that herself, but it would only force Candace to crash against her own programming to not criticise him if she did. Instead she simply nodded sympathetically, accepting the problem without trying to offer a solution that might not be wanted.

“You’re right,” Candace said at length. “This is urgent.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“How many of your team share your old obsession with the Doctor?”

She hesitated. The correct answer would be none. But she’d spoken about the hunt to Tanya so often, at the times they were both most open and vulnerable, that Tanya probably now knew a lot more than Melissa now thought she should.

But to say that was to draw a target for her Mistress against her friend…

“There’s one who knows about him,” she said at least, and she was surprised by how satisfying it felt to tell Candace. She squirmed inside her ragged super-suit, worried she was staining it as well as straining it.

Candace tutted. “If they descend on her and they figure this out, they’ll capture him.”

“I’m afraid so, Mistress.”

“Right. We’ll have to find some way to get you back there before we go.” Candace drummed the fingers of one hand on the upper slope of her breast, lost in thought; Melissa’s sharp analytical mind was briefly lost in what her mind perceived as the perfection of the way her skin dimpled under her nails.

With an effort of will she snapped herself back to the problem at hand. Candace was admirable in many ways, but now the question involved the Doctor her confidence seemed to have flickered and died and instead she was suddenly just scared of getting it wrong.

“Mistress,” she said gently, “I would like to go to help my team. And to protect the Master.”

Candace looked at her with a near panic in her eyes, lips parted, and then, very slowly, she nodded. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Having an experienced heroine on the ground… yes. It’s vital the Master be safe.”

Melissa nodded eagerly. “Of course, Mistress.” She cleared her throat. “May I ask if there’s any way to repair my costume?”

“Hm? Oh. Yes. I set Patti to start making a new one once we had your new measurements.” Candace blinked slightly, and Melissa had the very clear sense of a woman trying not to hyperventilate. She stood up and started gently guiding her Mistress back out to poolside, where Chad was waiting.

“Let me take care of it, Mistress,” she said softly. “You know I want to live up to your record.”

“I… I suppose so,” Candace said feebly.

“Chad, unfreeze,” Melissa directed once Candace was safely straddling his face. She was almost certain that the moan he made was the same one that had died in his throat when he froze.

Candace’s shoulders dropped and she relaxed visibly, and Melissa smiled. She had a vague sense that it must be hard for the Mistress to give up control when she was still responsible, but she was the best choice available to deal with this. She had the knowledge of a heroine, after all.

*

Overshadow looked up as the door to her dining room opened. Doctor Bimbeau was there, not just promptly but ten minutes in advance, and plastered across his face was a nervous, people-pleasing grin. She smiled in response. She’d had her report from her latest super-slave, but Overshadow never entirely believed anything until she’d put seen it for herself.

Now she was sure. Whatever the Doctor had been planning, he certainly wasn’t now. “Welcome, Doctor,” she said cheerfully. “I think you’ve been doing very good work.”

He flashed a nervous smile. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m glad I’ve made you happy.”

“Oh, you certainly have. And HS-01 was telling me you have plans for a way to upgrade my other slaves?”

The Doctor took a seat. “I think so. I worked on my previous device with Candace, but I can replicate much of what she did.”

“Hm. It sounds like you’re better suited to working on that than further conversion.”

He looked up at her, blinking thoughtfully. “If that’s what will make you happy?”

“Yes. I’m told you trust Sinner enough to even have her work on you. So her work will be good enough for current processing.”

“I agree,” he said, and they paused for a short while as dinner was served; a luxurious dish, made by a very nervous cordon bleu chef.

“Good. Then I’ll place you in a different, smaller lab, and you can work on the upgrade devices,” Overshadow said with a smirk. It was, she was discovering, a very different style of satisfaction to watch someone compelled to give up their life’s goals, one by one, willingly, because they were programmed to. She certainly enjoyed seeing people despair of her actions, and would enjoy plenty of that as her next wave of conquest began - doubtlessly soon now - but this? This would suffice to entertain her once the world was hers.

Imagining Ms Triumph willingly, guilelessly, giving up all her ambitions just because Overshadow led her to, one at a time, with no regret and no understanding remaining that she even should regret… Overshadow smiled. She liked that idea.

“Of course,” he nodded slowly.

“I don’t think you should have contact with Sinner again until you can train her on the upgrades,” she said, because there still was the risk that he might have a plan of some sort, but if he couldn’t communicate with her, he couldn’t put it into action.

She’d send some guards with him as escorts directly from the dinner table. This was all working out better than she’d risked, at the start of this gamble.

“Just as you say, Overshadow,” he said, and he smiled, and his tone was light and easy. She left him in that happy space for a little longer.

“And, of course,” and she drew this out, wanting to savour the moment, “if you can’t make it work yourself, you’ll call your slaves and tell them to serve me in turn.”

Yes, there was definitely a twitch there. Definitely some frustration at the idea. Had she pushed him far enough that he was about to outlive his usefulness?

“Of course,” he said, after a moment, and then he smiled. And there was humour to his smile. He wasn’t completely at his limit - she could push him farther.

Which was excellent, as she did want to get the most value out of him she could before she had him killed.

“Delicious,” she murmured, and she was sure he thought she just meant the meal; but oh, how delicious it was to see a potential threat become such a loyal servant.

There was definitely something satisfying about this…

She sent him on his way before too long and lingered over the dessert, smiling to herself. This Doctor Bimbeau… he’d given her an idea, and he’d done it just before planting the seed of his own downfall.

After satisfying herself that she’d savoured everything there was to be savoured from dinner, she rose and made her way to what was, now, the Doctor’s former lab, with Sinner in charge.

“Sinner,” she said as she walked in, “are you ready for a new assignment?”

She saw the former pilot straighten up immediately. “Yes, Mistress Overshadow!”

“Good. I’ve been thinking about the changes you made to the Doctor. What was it - removing ethical blocks? Encouraging faster thinking?”

“Yes, Mistress Overshadow. And making him place most emphasis on making you happy, as you ordered.”

Overshadow nodded curtly, waving a hand as if to say never mind that part. “It’s an interesting idea,” she said. “What would it take to do the same for me? Except for changing my focus to someone else’s pleasure, of course.”

Sinner had started looking thoughtful the moment she asked the question, but as Overshadow clarified she nodded as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. Why would she possibly think otherwise? “It should be simple enough, Mistress Overshadow. Unless whatever empowered you resists it in some way, or unless in becoming empowered you’ve been changed… I guess something like that would get in the way.”

“Changed? Of course I’m changed.”

Sinner nodded. “Yes, but… well, I meant changed to the point your brain isn’t built the same way as mine, or Featherweight’s, or the Doctor’s, or any of your serial-numbered slave troops. The basic pathing and layouts are the same, so the system can work.”

Overshadow was surprised to learn that the Doctor had allowed Sinner to pick up quite so much of an understanding of what was happening. Perhaps, she supposed, it was a necessary factor in operating the machine.

“I wasn’t born this way,” she said. “So I imagine my brain has changed only the same way as my body. The same as it was, but better.”

“Then we can help you, Mistress, if you give the word.”

*

The mood in Rebelle Lodge was sombre. The three women remaining free in the USA were all trying their best to do something, but for the most part they hadn’t had any success in doing anything useful. After most of a day of fruitless effort, they were reduced to pacing around and failing to distract themselves and each other.

To Tanya’s surprise she didn’t even think she was the most frustrated. While observers of the team would call Wayward the most headstrong of the group (and she’d usually agree), Monsoon was the angriest of all, and it seemed like it was all directed inward - as if any of them could have guessed that Overshadow would actually want to abduct just one of the team. But of course, none of them could help.

If Swift Fox had been present, Monsoon would have insisted on standing over her shoulder as she worked the computers, doing the research. Unspoken in all three’s frustration was that they had to hope she could still work her magic from across the ocean on a yacht.

When they all heard the communicator go at the same time, only Tanya reacted immediately; Monsoon and Pyre started out by looking at each other in disbelief.

But Melissa was calling, and Tanya was sure that meant she had something.

“We’re listening,” Tanya said, one hand to her earbud. “Go ahead, M - Fox.” She hated that her friend hadn’t just confirmed her identity to the others. There was something uncomfortable about being the only fully trusted person.

“Good. I’m on my way back, and I’ll be headed to O’Hare. Can you guys meet me there? I board in, like, ten minutes, so you’ve got about fourteen hours.”

“We’ll make it,” Monsoon said firmly. “You’ve found her?”

“I’ve found her, and I’ve even got some idea what this is about. Oh - gotta go! My ride’s knocking.”

And with that the call was over. The three Rebelles looked at each other, and each could see the tears of relief brimming in the others’ eyes.