Vesara and Spectra lit upon the rusty sheet metal of the warehouse roof, two shadowed specters set against the dark midnight sky. Their boots tread silently, or at least as silently as boots could on dilapidated and warped metal. They made their way to a skylight and peered down through the panes, thankful that the grime-covered glass had long been shattered away.

“There it is,” Spectra whispered, nodding toward the red armored car in the middle of the warehouse floor, hazy in the dim light and swirling dust.
Vesara counted four robbers near the rear of the truck: male, physically fit, each wearing a suit that looked far better than an off-the-rack piece from a department store. Rigar’s men, as the APB theorized. Not many other criminals in Colmaton would dress as sharply for an armored car heist. With the rear doors of the truck open, the heroines could just barely make out the guard that’d been taken hostage. She lay face down, hands ziptied behind her back, most of her upper body just out of sight.

“They think they got away clean,” Vesara said, noticing that they’d discarded their masks and were laughing up over their success. “Won’t be long ’til they figure out they don’t need the hostage anymore.”

“Whaddya say we ruin their night then?” The lioness clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Only four. I almost feel bad that War Wolf’s across town on the hard case. I’m half-tempted to not even use steelight just to keep things interesting.”

Vesara chuckled. “Up to you. Just shriek for help when you need me.”

“Har har. Shall we?”

The two heroines fired their grapple guns down into the roof at their feet and leapt through the skylight, splintering the panes and raining wood and glass down into the warehouse as they zipped down. Vesara extracted her wrist blades as she hit the ground and dashed forward, striking a pistol from the nearest mobster’s hands in a burst of sparks before leaping into a kick that sent him barreling back into his buddy behind him.

Staring down the barrel of a shotgun quickly changed Spectra’s mind about abstaining from steelight and she produced a glowing purple bo staff in time to knock the gun’s trajectory upward before it could fill her with buckshot. She stuck with the staff as her weapon of choice and swept the goon’s legs out from under him before bringing it back down hard, violently putting him to sleep.

“Whoa, whoa!” The badger nearer to the truck dropped his gun and put his hands up. “Take it easy, I give!”

The mobster near Vesara, prone and floundering under the weight of his unconscious ally, didn’t seem too eager to continue the fight either.

“Sorry, boys,” the vixen chided with a grin as she retracted her wrist blades. “Try robbing an ice cream truck next time, might be more at your skill level.”

Spectra chuckled as she spun the goon in front of her around and shoved him up against the truck. “Jeez, Ves, that was cold. Get it? Cold?”
She groaned. “Go make sure the hostage is okay before I ‘split.’”

“Good one.” Spectra finished frisking the badger and left him for Vesara to secure while she hopped into the back of the truck and knelt over the blue-uniformed woman. She cut the ziptie restraining her wrists with a steelight dagger and gently squeezed her shoulder, hearing nearly inaudible sobs and feeling a shudder. “Are you okay?”

“I…I’m…wonderful.”

Goosbumps broke out over Spectra’s flesh. She knew that voice. The ‘guard’ wasn’t shuddering from sobs, she was quivering with suppressed laughter. And when the lynx spun around, Spectra was too shocked at suddenly coming face to face with the nightmarish visage of Violetta to react when the villain shoved a rubber vial in her face and squeezed, bursting a cloud of somaform over her muzzle. Violetta grabbed Spectra and pulled her into a tight hold, clenching her wrists with one hand and squeezing her muzzle shut with the other. Within a few seconds, Spectra’s struggling and muffled protests waned and her eyes began to droop.

“That’s right, sleep,” Violetta whispered in her ear as the heroine succumbed to unconsciousness in her arms. “If you’re lucky, you might wake up again.”

The chilling words pulled a final squeak from the lioness before she fell into forced slumber.

“Spectra? Everything okay with the hostage?” Vesara furrowed her brow and stepped from the side of the truck to peek into the back. But the moment she came into view of the deceptive lynx, another rubber vial soared through the air and hit her in the face, the mist exploding around her.
Vesara stumbled back, her head swimming, and extracted her blades only to be sucker punched by the goon she hadn’t yet restrained. She stumbled and fell to her knees, her vision going dark, as Violetta grabbed her hair and yanked her head back.

“Thank you both for walking right into my trap,” the lynx grinned, digging a knee into her foe’s spine. “I know a cute, fuzzy hunk of a lion who’d love to have his hands and one good eye on you.”

Vesara swallowed and tried to speak, her gut tightening at the mention of her nemesis, but she could only release a low growl before she slumped to the gritty floor.

The two Rigar mobsters still left standing cautiously looked at the unconscious Vesara and peeked inside the truck at the equally subdued Spectra.

“Heh, looks like it worked,” the badger said. “The boss’ll love havin’ these two leashed to his desk.”

“Is someone gonna get this shit off me, or what?!” his buddy whined, tugging at the zip-ties he’d been restrained with.

“Shut up, both of you!” Violetta hissed from where she stood over Vesara. Her purple eyes scanned the shadows around the warehouse, each passing moment deepening the scowl on her muzzle. War Wolf wasn’t here. No way she’d sit back and let all this happen to her friends. A growl rumbled deep in the lynx’s throat. All this for nothing! This whole trap to lure out War Wolf and the bitch didn’t even show!

The badger had the balls to try talking to her again. “Hey, listen, the deal you made with Rigar was you get War Wolf and we get anyone else she comes with. Wolfie didn’t show. These two did. And we ain’t goin’ back to the boss without his spoils.”

Violetta ignored them, cute as it was hearing disposable meat pawns think they have any kind of say. But slowly, her scowl upturned into a devilish smile as she realized how easily this minor setback could be molded into a new trap. “Rigar’s going to have to work a little harder if he wants these heroines. I think some competition is in order.”

“What? What’re you..?”

His next words were lost amidst the gargling of his own blood as Violetta spun around and flung her knife, the steel blade plunging into the badger’s neck and pinning him against the back of the truck.

“Fucking hell!” the restrained goon blurted, stumbling back in fear as the lynx calmly walked up to the dying badger.

Violetta wrapped her fingers around the blade’s hilt and smiled as the choking, wide-eyed man neared death. “You really should have shut up.”
She tugged the knife free and the mobster crumpled to the ground.

“Take ‘em!” the other goon said in a panic as the purple eyes fell upon him. “Take ‘em both! I don’t care!”

Violetta grinned, enjoying his fear as she moseyed toward him. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You and the other two stooges here are going to toddle on back to your master and tell him exactly what happened. You’re going to tell him that a lion named Sharpfury has these heroines. Make that name very clear to him.”

“Yeah…yeah, Sharpfury, I got it.”

Violetta locked her eyes on his and trailed the bloody knife down his face, leaving a trail of red. “Think you can do that? Think you can do what I say better than your friend over there?”

He swallowed. “Yeah, no problem, I swear.”

“Good.” Violetta shoved him backwards, tripping him and sending him sprawling to the floor, and turned to get to work.

Sharpfury, the lynx thought as she began to strip the heroines, such a useful guy to have around in a pinch. He might not even mind being the bait in this trap given the payment was two free heroines and all he had to do was have his fun with them until War Wolf showed up. If all went according to plan, the imbecile that just pissed down the leg of his exquisitely tailored pants would report back to Rigar that Sharpfury had Vesara and Spectra, and Rigar being the boisterous brute he was would spread it like wildfire through the criminal underground, demanding his “spoils” be wrested from Sharpfury.

And knowing War Wolf, constantly with her ear to the ground, Sharpfury would have an angry lupine visitor very soon. One he’d be well prepared for.

-

A sudden jolt jarred Spectra and Vesara awake. They groaned, blinking yet unable to clear the darkness. As their heads cleared and they tried to move, they came to a number of realizations, each more alarming than the last. They were bathed in darkness and squeezed into some sort of tight container. Flexing their fingers and toes and moving what little they could, they felt the walls around them – and each other’s bare fur – on their bodies. With flushing cheeks, they realized they were naked, back to back. The cruel strictness of tight ropes kept their wrists, ankles, and legs bound and when they tried to ask each other if they were okay, all that came from their gagged mouths was garbled noise. They bucked and kicked against their opaque prison and tried to undo each other’s wrist bindings, but to no avail. Steelight was out of the question with Vesara’s back pressed against spectra’s hands.

The heroines calmed as they heard footsteps and waited in nervous anticipation as to who it could be. Scratching from above them and suddenly each heroine felt a tug around her neck and the smooth texture of ribbon.

The gravity of their situation became deeper when they heard Sharpfury’s voice reading a letter out loud, his tone giving away that he knew someone was in the box and enjoyed taunting them.

Sharpfury,

I don’t know when your birthday is. I don’t care either. But you exist, so you were born sometime, so happy belated or early birthday.

Don’t yank too hard on that ribbon; you’ll find your gifts leashed to the other end and it’d be a shame to damage them before you could even play with them. They’re probably bright eyed and bushy tailed by now, but I know you like your girls with some spirit. I got the delicious scars to prove it.

Oh, one tiny thing. War Wolf probably won’t be happy that I captured her little sidekick and vixen friend. Luckily for me, word will spread that you have them. So the price for owning these two heroines and having their bound bodies at your beck and call is rather fair: dealing with one very pissed off wolfess. Be a dear and pummel her into submission if she stops by, will you? Then deliver her to me. I want her alive. Oh, all right, you can have some fun with her before you bring her, but I want her in good shape.

Have fun with your gifts. I know you will.

-V