"It's a terrible suit. Truly." Her voice wouldn't stop echoing in my head.
As I got closer, my HUD suddenly flared a bright red, a high-priority notification blocking my vision of the skyline.
[ENCRYPTED DM: VERIFIED HERO ACCOUNT 'CELTIC_EMBER']
This is Fiona O'Shea. i don't know what game you're playing at, "Scintilla," but you are an utter disgrace to the craft of super-heroines. If that recording makes it onto the boards, I will find you and incinerate whatever is left of those silver strings you call a suit. We are having a rematch - on my terms - where you will wear actual clothing. Stop being a harlot and act like a professional.
"I'm trying!" I screamed into the empty air, the frustration boiling over. Even the 'real' super-heroines were obsessed with my tits. Fucking hell.
Reaching our neighborhood, I leaped from the power lines and landed on the rooftop with all the grace of a dropped sack of flour, tripping and tumbling until I came to a rest against the roof access doorway. My legs were like jelly from the high-voltage surfing and the tattered remains of the silver suit kept snagging on the roof vents. As I scrambled up, a rasping cough echoed through the dark.
"Well, that's quite a sight," a gravelly, tobacco-stained voice chuckled.
I froze. An elderly man in a stained undershirt was leaning against a water tower, a glowing cigarette dangling from his lip and a mangy pug at his feet. His eyes drifted from my silver hair and shimmering veil down to the silver ribbons barely clinging to my hips.
"Are you the girl from the news? The silver one?" He squinted, leaning forward with a toothless grin. "The videos don't do justice to the ... craftsmanship, honey."
"Go back to your TV, pops!" I hissed, my hands sparking a warning flare of sparks. I didn't wait for a reply, flinging myself down the fire escape, my heart hammering with the realization that I was basically walking neon-and-silver sign to attract every creep and perv in the city. By the time I reached our apartment and slid the window open, I was ready to vent. I was ready to scream about S-Korp's railguns and the fact that I'd been stripped almost-nude yet again in the Scintilla outfit, this time by a Celtic Battle Priestess on a public rooftop.
The words died in my throat. Yuna's massive command center monitor wasn't showing code or satellite maps. It was frozen on a crystal-clear, high-definition still from Eye-Bee's feed. It was the exact moment that Fiona had leaned in, her face inches from mine, her fingers spread across the silver mesh to tuck my nipple back into place. Yuna had used a digital magnifying tool to circle the point of contact.
Beneath it, a draft for the fan-site by ScholarOfCurves69 was already open: "TOP 10 TIMES SCINTILLA NEARLY GAVE THE CITY A HEART ATTACK. #1: THE IRISH HAND-OFF."
Shaking my head, I spun on the woman in question. "Yuna! That was a disaster!," I barked, tearing at the clips of my veil and tossing it to the floor. "The lab is a fortress, I almost got incinerated, and you! You and Eye-Bee! Recording that whole thing! And you are ScholarOfCurves69? That fucking perv?"
I stopped, confused. The apartment smelled like lavender and actual, home-cooked food. Yuna wasn't hunched over her monitors in a ball of stress; she was sitting on the couch, looking remarkably relaxed. Piper stood next to her, holding a glass of wine; a soft, predatory smile on her face.
"You're back," Yuna said. No grumpiness. Just a calm, terrifying level tone.
"I ... yeah, I'm back," I stammered, confused by the change of personalities. "Did you hear me? The giant Irish woman who felt up my tits?"
"We saw," Piper said, stepping forward. She didn't look shocked, she looked critical. She reached out, her fingers catching the silver thread that ran from my collar down my chest. "The Celtic Ember was right about one thing, Kurumi. This suit is a liability. It's practically falling off you."
"I know! That's what I'm saying!" I started to pace, but Piper stepped into my path, her hands moving to the delicate silver clasps at my hips.
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"Hold still," Piper commanded. It wasn't a suggestion. "Yuna and I had a talk while you were out. About the suit, and ... about us. We're going to make some adjustments to the fabric's integrity. It needs to be sturdier. And some adjustments around the apartment."
"Wait - Piper, what are you doing?" I squeaked as she deftly unclipped the side of the suit.
Since the Scintilla outfit was essentially a thin silver G-string connected to two strips of fabric that ran from my waist to my neck, the moment the hip-clasp popped, the entire bottom half gave way. I instinctively reached down to cover myself, but Yuna stood up and gently but firmly took my wrists, holding them at my sides.
"Modesty is for people who aren't getting suit upgrades, Kurumi," Yuna said, her voice dropping low with amusement. "But don't worry, we'll make sure that the suit is even better for your rematch against her. It'll be even more popular." My mind spun, trying to square the fact that the 'upgrade' was going to make my suit more 'popular' ... and that Yuna didn't mention increased coverage or security for my nipples.
I stood there, shivering as Piper peeled away the remaining silver ribbons. In seconds, I was standing completely nude in the middle of the living room, the warm amber light of the apartment hitting skin that had barely seen the sun in weeks. I felt my face flaming, my pulse jumping at my throat as I stared at the two beautiful women, both captivated by my looks - apparently.
"Piper, I ... I can just go change," I whispered, my knees feeling weak.
"In a minute," Piper murmured, her eyes raking over me with a look that wasn't even remotely professional. She ran over my hip, trailing her fingers up toward my ribs. "Yuna and I spent a lot of time talking about you, Kurumi. We came to a few realizations. You're wound too tight."
"Okay," I stammered, not sure where this was going.
"This Friday, we're going out. A real night off," Piper said firmly.
"An arcade," Yuna added. "With beer and skee-ball."
"It'll be a double date," Piper added.
My brain officially short-circuited as my eyes bounced back and forth between the two women. "A double ... date? With who?"
"With us," Yuna said, finally letting go of my wrists only to wrap an arm around my bare waist, pulling me closer to her. "Piper and you. Me and you. We're the dates, you're the prize. Catch up, Kurumi. You're way too oblivious sometimes."
"I ... uh ..." I looked at Piper, then at Yuna. The two of them were looking at me like i was the best thing they'd ever seen and - for the first time in my crazy strange life - I didn't feel like a hero or a pizza delivery girl. And I certainly didn't feel like a 32-year-old otaku who electrocuted himself while playing a VR tentacle rape game. I felt ... wanted. And it felt nice. "Okay? I mean ... yeah. Okay."
The second I agreed, the 'professional' facade dropped. Piper squealed and tackled me into a hug, her skin warm against mine, and Yuna buried her face in my neck, squeezing me tight.
"Great," Yuna muffled against my skin. "Now go wash the smell of smoke and Irish pride off yourself. We have a big night on Friday."
I spent twenty minutes in the shower just staring at the tiles as the water slicked my long purple hair to my skin. I kept trying - and failing - to process the fact that my two roommates, my friends, had apparently formed a coalition government and agreed to a joint annexation of my body as their shared territory. When I finally finished drying myself, I found the clothing that Piper had left for me in the bathroom.
Wincing, I stared at the garments. First was a set of sheer, lacy black panties that were basically just a collection of holes held together by luck. The top was a tight, cropped white tank top made of a material so thin it was practically a suggestion. It had a cartoon bolt of lightning on the chest that lined up perfectly with my nipples. Growling, I looked for alternatives but found none. Resigning myself to the ridiculous outfit, I stalked toward the bedroom, stopping dead as I entered.
The bed was already occupied. On the left, Piper was propped up on a pillow, wearing nothing but one of Yuna's oversized hentai shirts, so thin it was almost transparent in the dim light. On the right, Yuna was lying on her side, completely nude, her back to the door, whispering something to Piper.
The center of the bed was empty. They both turned and patted the mattress in perfect synchronization.
"Come on, Kurumi," Piper whispered. "It's cold."
"Come to bed, babe," Yuna added, her voice a soft command.
I felt like my skin was made of live wires. I crawled into the gap between them and the moment I lay down, they pounced. Piper snuggled into my left side, her leg draping over mine, while I felt the electrifying sensation of Yuna's bare skin pressing against my right arm and hip as she rolled over to spoon me.
As I lay between them, I finally got a good look at the shirt Piper was wearing. It featured a stylized, wide-eyed anime girl surrounded by sparks, with the words ELECTRIC SLUT printed in bold, neon-pink English and Korean.
"I hadn't seen that shirt," I stammered, my face heating up as Piper's face pressed against my arm. "What does it .. 'Electric Slut' ? Really, Piper?"
"Yuna said it suited the theme of the week," Piper said with a giggle, snuggling deeper into my side. "And honestly, Kurumi? After seeing that video of you and Fiona ... I think the shirt is being modest."
I lay there, staring at the dark ceiling, my entire body stiff. I was somewhere between a C and B grade powerhouse Super. I could surf power lines. But right now, trapped between a rescued sociology major and a nude hacker, I had never felt more powerless in my entire life.
And ... I didn't mind it, at all.