The wall exploded, and I flew through the hole that was created. The whip snapped at its end, and I unraveled from it, spinning through the air into a pile of wooden crates.
Pieces of brick and drywall showered around me. I groaned and tossed broken pieces of wood off of my lap. I looked around at the boxes, shelves, and forklifts. "Warehouse? How cliché." I coughed. I tried to stand, but the rubber bottoms of my boots were fucked by the electricity. "Shit." I removed them and tossed them aside. Then I stumbled to my bare feet and shook stray pieces of rubble and dust out of my hair. Dusting off my suit, I inspected the damage.
"Aw, great." There were more rips in my latex. They would just get bigger as I fought.
"Don't worry, I'll pay for your dry cleaning."
I looked up. CB wore a smug smile across his face. "Where's the vase?" I asked.
"It's safe." He smirked. "Unlike you."
I didn't want to give him the chance to make the first move. I faked a punch to his left, and as he dodged to the right, I landed a roundhouse kick on his face. He stumbled backward and grabbed his jaw.
"Now we're talkin'." He unzipped his black leather jacket adorned with yellow lightning bolts and tossed it to the floor. He cracked his knuckles and flexed his chest. The taught muscles combined with his shining sweat made my loins twitch. I gasped but shook it off. I had to get my mind back on the right "F" word.
I ran at him and tried to fake him out again, but this time he was ready. He grabbed my leg and sent me face first to the sealed concrete floor.
That's when I heard the crack again.
This time I didn't feel a thing, so I didn't realize what he had hit until I stood up and felt something missing. I looked on the ground and found my black corset splayed open with every one of the ties in the back ripped in two. Now I was only wearing what was left of my green cat suit and my mask. I wrinkled my nose and gazed at CB in anger. "You son of a bitch."
I hopped straight at him. This time I went for speed and strength instead of tricks and cunning. And this time it worked. I slammed into him, knocking him on his back. I came down hard on top of him, my knees around his head. I squeezed my legs together around his skull and reached down to pull his hair. If he didn't talk, I would pop his head off.
"The vase! Tell me where it is n--" And suddenly I didn't care about the vase anymore. I had forgotten about my broken lower zipper, so to say that feeling a warm, moist tongue inside me was surprising would be quite the understatement.
)
