METROCITY
SBA Arena
“You let her go!” Molly screamed.
“I did not let her go.” Commissioner X answered. “The courts let her go. They had to.”
His assistant, Mr. Smith continued. “When you signed up for the Superheroine Battle League you signed several contracts and waivers. Portions of it pertain to your agreement not to take part in super battles outside of the arena, not to use your powers in crimes or–”
“Skip ahead a bit, Smith.” Charles warned.
“Right. The villan amnesty clause. One of the incentives written into the contract to bring super-villainesses into the league was state sponsored immunity for super crimes that they plead guilty or no-contest to prior to their induction into the league.
“That’s only for past crimes though!” Molly cried. “Didn’t she try to destroy the world like three days ago?”
“That’s what we thought.” said Jade Detective. “But an army of truly evil beings–her lawyers–showed up with sufficient documentation to prove that every action that led to the dimensional collision we just avoided was initiated prior to her signing the league contract.”
“But she used mind control to make slaves out of half the league!”
“Using a magical pact that she entered into with Cthulhu months ago. Trust me, we had a team of lawyers and one demon sorcerer try to find a charge that would stick, but they came up empty.”
“So because we can prove her crimes were premeditated months in advance, that’s why we can’t throw her in prison??”
“I know, it sucks. If anything the only thing we could charge her with is 3rd degree sexual assault for kissing someone against their will. Well, except for Dr. Sanji. She kissed her willingly from what I understand.”
“Very funny, horn-head.” muttered Mukta as she entered the catering area. Following behind her was one of her SparBots, wearing an oversized bow tie and carrying a steaming tray of food. “I hope you like spicy.”
Molly was still fuming at the thought that the Domme was released from jail. The room was filled with league superheroines, all gathered for a celebration. Nike came flying in carrying a flagon of actual ambrosia of the gods. Ursa Mega scoffed about it being not nearly as strong as her Chernobyl Vodka, which produced a gale of laughter. Molly giggled.
“That’s the spirit, Chicky.” said the commissioner. You enjoy the victories and try not to dwell on what could’ve and what should’ve. I served with The Tower for twelve years. I know a little something about the hero business.”
“I guess…” sighed Molly.
“I mean. You did save the world, girl…” came a voice from behind her. Molly turned around and saw Tamara with her hands on her hips looking down at her.
“Tamara! You made it!” Chicky hugged her. “I couldn’t have done it without you! You gave me hope when I was about to give up.”
“I wouldn’t miss this for anything.” she smiled. “Although, I gotta say. This is pretty intimidating.”
“Don’t even think that.” said Commissioner X. “You’ve more than earned a place here.”
“Tis true enough.” came a familiar Irish voice. Lucky Star came into the room on her crutches. “We need to get this girly into a colorful costume and a mask and teach her to scrap proper.” Molly ran over and hugged her as well, careful not to knock her over.
“Me? Be a heroine?” Tamara shrank slightly. “For real?”
“Isn’t that why you tried out for the league in the first place?” asked Molly, still holding on to Siobhan. “And Lucky already agreed to train you!”
“That’s right,” Lucky nodded. “Seeing as I’m going to be sitting on the sidelines for the next few months while I rehab this leg, I can’t fight. I thought I’d try being a trainer for a bit. What do ye say?”
“I say hell yes!” Tamara joined the group hug.
“Instead of a tag team we’ll be a trio. Lucky, Chicky and…” Molly hesitated. “Hey, you need a superheroine name!”
“Amandla.” said Jade Detective. “It’s a Zulu word, translates to strength or willpower. I think it fits.”
“Really? I was thinking something like Ducky to fit in with her teammates.” grinned Siobhan. The group laughed, and for now, the horror that they narrowly avoided was forgotten.
METROCITY
Courthouse
Valerie DeVille walked down the steps with a pronounced limp. Instead of her skintight gear she wore a long gold coat and business dress. On the street at the bottom of the steps was her limousine complete with driver holding her door open. She landed heavily on her seat, still nursing her many injuries, and the car drove away with her.
In the back seat was the woman in the red dress. She began reading off several bullet points from her tablet, but Val didn’t hear anything she said. Instead, she grabbed her servant by the throat and pulled her face close to her.
“That woman, Tamara Jones. You just let her go? Released her from my prison?”
The woman in red wheezed, “You said… you didn’t care what…”
Valerie DeVille flung the woman away from her, missing the window and instead taking the limo door clean off. She rolled into the street. She was a crumpled mass of red fabric and limbs. The limo continued on. On the back of it, a bystander noticed the license plate: SUBMIT.