The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My name is Claire and I’m... I’m... in the Fifth Circle of Hell!!

You know, from the very first time I’d donned my pink and white costume and gone out to fight crime, I’d dreamed of one day finding a mentor, someone to train me and show me the ropes. A kind and knowledgeable hero who would take me under his or her wing, and teach me all the tricks and techniques to make me a better heroine. Of course, in those dreams, I never once imagined myself lying curled up in the fetal position on the cold floor, sobbing and trying not to void my bladder, every other day.

“Okay, let’s call it a day,” the sadistic demonic Satan Spawn masquerading as a human called Veronica Albinn said cheerfully, tossing me a clean towel. “Good workout. You’re making remarkable progress, dear,” she said in a tone that I could never figure out if it was mocking or sincere. “Get cleaned up, go take a nice relaxing shower, dress, and meet Parker upstairs in half an hour.”

I groaned, curling up into an even tighter ball. If you’d put a gun to my head, I’d honestly be hard pressed to say which of the Albinns was the more sadistic, Parker or his wife. While Veronica focused entirely on training my body and getting me to their level of physical fitness, Parker focused more specifically on the metaphysical, on training my mind and in the use of my powers. And while that might sound like a much easier assignment than the thousand sit-ups, crunches, push-ups, and other exercises his wife put me through, let me assure you, Parker’s tasks were just as arduous! And likewise usually ended with me lying on the floor sobbing.

Lately, he’d been pushing me to develop my paper bending powers more, to try and reach a new level of control. Basically, I had complete control over any paper in reach, using it in any way I decided. I could also somewhat manipulate paper from around me, lying on the ground, or trash can, or wherever, from about a maximum distance of fifty feet. Any further than that was out of my range. Even then, reaching out and trying to paper bend from further than a few feet away was EXTREMELY tiring. If your brain was a large muscle, then using my powers this way amounted to trying to pump a fifty-pound barbell with just the powers of my mind alone. And added a hundred pounds for every ten feet of distance. After a few minutes, my brain usually felt like a hotdog in the microwave. So, as you can guess, after two fucking hours, I was lucky if I could even remember my own name!

Trudging my way upstairs thirty minutes later, still slightly damp from the shower, I found my teacher waiting for me, an evil grin on my face, and I groaned inwardly. He had something special in mind... something that would actually be worse than pushing the limits of my powers. Oh, god... please don’t let this be another stupid test! I begged silently, praying with every fiber of my being. Please, please, PLEASE don’t let him say, ‘today we’re going to test how well you think outside the box’...

“So, Claire,” he said, pacing slowly back and forth across the floor, “today we’re going to test how well you think outside the box—” Ohhh gaawwdddd why!

“Um, Mr. Albinn,” I said, plaintively, “can we please, please PLEASE not do that today? Your wife... I swear she is literally trying to kill me! I can barely move my arms and legs!”

To which, Parker merely chuckled. “Yes, well, she can be a bit hard on newbies like you. But trust me. If she were actually planning to kill you, you’d be dead. There wouldn’t be any trying involved. Besides, it’s been a couple of months now. You probably don’t notice it, being on the inside, but to anyone watching and observing you, the difference is obvious. You’re much stronger than you were when we first started training you. And your sparring sessions with Megan have come a long way as well. You’ve made remarkable progress.”

I scoffed at that. They’d assigned the older girl to train me in the various fighting disciplines... and by train, I mean they allowed her to use me as a practice dummy to beat on. Despite getting my ass kicked from one side of the training hall to the other, I actually found my training time with Techna to be the least horrible thing about this whole experience. She at least was apologetic about my bumps and bruises, and her praise and encouragement always felt genuine, knowing that she too had gone through the same trials as me.

“Progress?” I spat, rolling my eyes. “So far, in the one hundred and twenty sparring matches we’ve had, I have zero wins. Hell, I just landed my first ever hit on her yesterday!”

“Exactly,” Parker replied instantly, causing me to blink in surprise. “You know how good she is. You’ve seen it yourself. And trust me when I tell you that she is holding back very little. She’s attacking a bit slower than she’s able, and purposely telegraphing her blows... but she’s not pulling her punches.” He smirked. “Veronica and I were perfectly clear with her. When she spars with you, she is really fighting you. Not to injure you or cause serious damage, but enough to end the fight if you’re not capable of defending yourself. And the fact that you were able to land a telling blow on her yesterday says a lot.”

I considered that. It DID kind of put things into perspective. I’d kind of assumed that I was just really bad at fighting, that those were just regular sparring sessions, and that I was getting trounced so badly because I had no talent. Now, considering the difficulty curve they’d thrown me, I was really doing better than I thought. I actually felt a bit better about that.

It also reminded me, yet again, just how insane my so-called trainers were.

“At any rate,” Parker stated, gesturing down the hallway, “I have prepared a little test for you. It’s simple enough, but the answer is not immediately obvious. You’ll have to be creative to get out of this one.”

“Um... am I going to need to shower again after this?” I asked pointedly, remember the last test, where I’d been locked and shackled in a sealed room with a bomb counting down, and a small scrap of paper in the far corner of the room to use to escape. I’d managed to free myself and had attempted to disarm the bomb, only to find out that it was tamper proof, setting it off. Luckily, the “bomb” had turned out to be nothing more than an explosive dye pack, the kind used by banks for security against thefts, so the only injury was to my pride. It had taken me two weeks to fully scrub off all the bright blue dye, however.

Parker shook his head, laughing. “No, no, nothing like that. This test is being held in the regular part of the house after all—Roni would kill me if I stained her study bright blue. No... this is a lot less physical and more... hmmm... mental.” He opened the door and gestured inside. I’d been in Mrs. Albinn’s office a few times, so I wasn’t overly surprised by the decor. Centermost in the room was a large flatscreen TV monitor, at least a sixty-five inch, hanging on the far wall. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the leather recliner behind the desk. I did so, then gasped as manacles snapped down over my wrists and around my waist, locking me in.

“Um... okay,” I said slowly, testing my bonds “I guess it is going to be one of those types of tests after all.”

“In a matter of speaking. Fifteen seconds after I close and lock this door, the monitor will switch on, and music will begin playing through the speakers. I’ve set up a little hypnotic display that will put you in a very deep trance, so I’d advise you not to stare at it for too long. Likewise, the sounds coming through the speakers will contain very potent subliminals. A few minutes of listening to them will likewise render you catatonic and completely suggestible.” He flashed his ever-present smirk at me then. “You’re in an office, so as you can guess, there are plenty of office supplies for you to use. The issue will be time. It will take time to get free, time to disable the hypnotics affecting you, and time to escape the room. You’ll have to resist having your mind and thoughts emptied enough to accomplish your task.”

I groaned aloud at this. “Great. So I have to try to think outside the box while holding on to the ability to even think at all?”

Parker shrugged. “Pretty much. You’d be surprised how often you end up in this kind of situation in our line of work. And honestly, you DO need to work on your resistance to mind control a bit.”

“Yes, Master,” I nodded, then blinked, scowling at him. “Dammit! You made me say that!”

“Just a holdover from a previous test,” he said, laughing as he made his way to the door. “But don’t worry, I’m SURE you’ll do much better with this one. Good luck!” With that, the door closed.

“Shit!” I grunted, struggling for several seconds before managing to calm down and focus. He said there are paper supplies here that I can use. I have the tools I need to get out of this. I just need to decide how to do it. The TV will click on any second... so I should probably close my eyes. But... can I use my paper effectively without even seeing what I’m doing? And how powerful are they, anyway? Can I peek out now and again without succumbing, or will a single glance entrance me? At which point, my musings were interrupted as the monitor came on, and relaxing new age music filled the air.

“Ahhhh!” I yelped, closing my eyes. Okay, So a single glance isn’t enough to ensnare me. But I’d better not take any chances. Focusing my powers to my right side, I picked up and sent a wave of notebook paper at the monitor, covering it up and blocking the picture. Sighing softly, I thought about what I needed to do next. I’d tested the manacles, and it wouldn’t be easy to open them, likely taking a minute or two to force each one. In the meantime, I was being assaulted by the relaxing music nonstop. Did I even have the three or four minutes needed to escape? Or should I go after the speakers the same way I’d disabled the monitor, and THEN worry about breaking out of the chair?

Both options... seemed equally important. If I escaped the chair I could get out of the room and be done. If I took out the speakers first... if I did that... something would... um... it would be good because... because...

SHIT! I thought grimly, shaking my head to clear it. My thoughts were already starting to get fuzzy. Okay... speakers, it is. I needed to stop this bombardment if I was going to focus well enough to get out of this room. Focusing on another sheaf of papers, I opened my eyes again, glancing over at the walls, and covered both speakers in a thick cocoon of papers to muffle the sound. I let out a sigh of relief... then cursed loudly as the seat I was in sprang to life, the hidden build in speakers within blaring to life, playing the music just inches from my head.

Okay, This was bad. I should have known Parker would add in some kind of sadistic twist to things, just like he always did. But he had said that the way out was easy. I just had to find it. And Parker didn’t lie. He was sneaky and twisted, and sadistic and conniving... but he’d never outright lied. There was something... something obvious. Something in plain sight that I was missing... gahhh! It was so hard to fucking focus right now! Think! THINK!

I glanced around the room, frantically, looking for something, anything that would do... something. Whatever it was I was... um... needing it to do. My eyes finally settled on the TV, the soft and enticing colors bleeding through the walled over paper ever so slightly... and I was soooo tired. I’d just gone through a killer work out with... with... um, that trainer person... the, um... cute sexy... ninja girl... I shook my head, dazed. It was so hard to focus. All I wanted to do was just close my eyes again for a bit... rest and quiet my brain... let myself drift... drift...

N... n-no! NO!

“Gnnnnhhhh!” I growled, whacking the back of my head against the headrest to snap myself out of it. Dammit! I was losing it fast. I had to find a way out of this. If only I could shut off this damned music for a second, just to have a moment or two to think! Stupid surround sound system right by my ears... I was better off with the damn wall mounted speakers...

Surround sound... speakers... wait.

The thought was slow forming, achingly slow as if the words were swimming through blackstrap molasses instead of my brain... but it did register. I nearly laughed, a drunken giggle of desperation, as I fired off one last wad of paper, aiming for the TV again. My eyes were crossing, and I knew I was seconds away from fading out, but I gave it my all... and a soft sigh of satisfaction escaped my lips at the telltale click, and the accompanying silence, just as my eyes slammed shut...

“Claire? Claire! Hey, kid, wake up!”

I groaned, protesting for a moment, trying to hang on to that sweet, seductive, peaceful sensation of emptiness just a bit longer... only to gasp, coming awake as the memory of where I was and what was doing came back to me. I blinked, staring up into the face of my Mas... gaaah... dammit... into the face of my trainer and mentor, Parker Albinn. He sighed, a deep frown on his face, as he released the manacles still holding me down.

“Well, you didn’t escape the room,” he pointed out, “or even the chair, really... so I wouldn’t call this test a rousing success. Still, you did finally figure out the trick to it—actually turning off the TV—so I suppose I can give you partial credit for that.”

I perked up at that. “Really?”

“No, not really,” he replied, rolling his eyes skyward. “This is a pass-fail test, Claire! There IS no partial credit! It doesn’t matter that you were only partially brainwashed. If this has been a real-life situation, the villain would have come back to find his machine off, but you still helpless and deeply tranced... and would have most likely simply removed the paper shield and turned the machine back on to finish the job.” Seeing my expression, though, he lightened up. “Okay... so it’s not as bad as all that. The reason we do these kinds of tests is to let you try and fail and learn from your mistakes in a safe environment. And you DID figure out that the sound was coming from the TV through the surround sound, and that simply turning it off would stop both. So you ARE learning to think of more than just using your paper as offensive weapons or as defensive shields.”

It was faint praise, but hell, I’d take it. It was still a better way of spending the day than practicing ‘paper pushing’ until my ears bled.

“All right,” he said cheerfully, helping me up out of the chair. “Now that that’s settled, let’s get back to our usual practice sessions.” I groaned audibly. “So, just to mix things up a bit, let’s see how well you do manipulating cardboard.” I groaned again, slamming my head against the wall. “Hey, cut that out,” he admonished. “Keep banging around your brain like that and you won’t be in any shape to practice.” For a response, I paused for a moment, before banging my head against the wall several more times...

“Hahahaa... no way. You did NOT really do that, did you?” Megan, my senior partner asked.

I nodded ruefully. “Yeah, I sure did. And I really wish now that I hadn’t.” I sighed, rubbing my still throbbing temples, grateful that the migraine from overusing my powers had subsided. “You know, growing up, there were all these stories about Super Sonic, about how witty he was, and what a great sense of humor he had. I’m starting to think those stories were grossly exaggerated.”

“Hey! Shhhh!” Megan shushed me, glancing down at the street below our vantage point on the rooftops. I glanced down, squinting, wishing I had high tech scanner goggles like she had. “Okay... I think we’re on,” she said a moment later, zipping up her silver bodysuit, and drawing a strange looking gun shaped tube from her belt. “Nothing major... looks like just a simple carjacking. But the guy is pretty big,” she murmured, frowning. “And... is that a metallic arm?!?”

That got my attention. “He’s mine!” I growled, moving to the edge of the fire escape, ignoring my partner hissing at me to wait. “Relax. I’ve got this,” I told her. “I’ve fought this guy before. I know exactly who and what I’m facing. His name is Chopper, and it looks like he’s trying to rebuild his carjacking empire from the last time I got him locked up.”

“Didn’t he break your arm the last time you fought?” Techna grunted, sounding more than a little put out.

“Okay. Yeah, he did that. But I’ve been training my ass off with you and the Albinns for more than a few months now. You keep telling me that I’m making progress. Well, now’s my chance to see just how much progress I’ve actually made, okay?” I sighed softly. “C’mon, Techna. Please? The guy’s not a Super, just a regular thuggish brute with a metal arm. If I can’t handle him by myself after all of this training, then what’s the point?”

Megan sighed heavily, before nodding. “Okay. Go for it, Doll. I’ve got your back as always. Just be aware, if at any time I think you can’t handle it, or that the fight is going in his favor, I’ll stun him from up here,” she stated, gesturing with her strange techno-gun thingie.

“Fair enough,” I agreed, switching on the tiny mic and earpiece in my costume so I could contact Techna if needed. Taking a deep breath, I swung out and dropped the last three feet down to the street below, landing directly behind the leather-clad car thief. “Hey, Chopper,” I called out, easily, causing him to jump and whirl around. “Looks like your up to your same old tricks. Guess you didn’t learn from your past mistakes.”

He started at me for a long moment before blinking in recognition. “Ahhh! You’re the little skirt what stepped in when I was after that swag Ninja a few months back.” He chuckled wickedly, flexing both his arms and cracking his knuckles. “Considering that you ended up with a broken arm, lying down on the pavement at my feet, I’d say it was YOU that didn’t learn her lesson.” He glanced around briefly. “And since it looks like yer boyfriend ain’t around to bail you out this time, maybe you should just be on your way, little girl—” only to fall silent as he suddenly found himself wrapped up in a tight paper cocoon with the consistency of iron. My smirk of satisfaction faded, however, as a gleaming metallic arm punched through the cocoon before ripping it to shreds, and tossing it away. “—before you piss me off,” he finished, stalking slowly towards me.

Well... damn. Okay, so no quick win here with this guy. No problem. Switching to plan B, I told myself, drawing out twin rolls of paper, forming my usual pair of batons. Unperturbed, Chopper kept advancing, his metallic arm up in front of him at the ready. Taking a deep breath, focusing on what I’d learned, I struck, lashing out with a barrage of blows. To his credit, Chopper was actually pretty good himself, managing to block most of them with his invincible arm. But most isn’t all, and after a few shots to an unprotected flank, Chopper was definitely feeling the strain. When our last exchange ended with me scoring a solid rap to his left knee, he completely lost his composure.

“Arrrrgghhh! Ya goddamn, little cupie doll!” he raged, stumbling back. “That tears it! I am through playing around with you!” Growling, he held up his arm and glared at it, looking as if he really had to use the bathroom, or was possibly having a stroke. Just when I was about to ask what the hell he was doing, his arm... changed. The smooth metallic outside bad become ridged, as if the surface was covered in a few thousand tiny little blades... which apparently turned out to be the case as I charged in and swung, lashing at his arm with one of my batons, only to bring back the handle clutched in my hand, and a few thin lines of paper confetti.

“You like that?” he taunted me, swinging at me again. I dodged, then winced slightly, my costume’s blouse shredded. Luckily, I wasn’t cut, but it had been a narrow miss. “I got an upgrade, bitch!” he snarled, swinging again, wildly, missing twice, then lopping off a lock of hair in the end. “What are you going to do now, you little one-trick pony? What else ya got for me, huh?” he taunted, rearing back.

A very good question, actually. I was at something of a loss. I’d been effectively disarmed, my batons sliced and diced, as well as my blouse. I did NOT want to get anywhere near that arm. But it was also pretty clear that any paper I sent his way would be shredded just as easily, no matter how hard I made it—

How hard... huh.

As he moved in yet again, I leaped back, turning as I did, opening my backpack and letting out my remaining batch of paper, sending it straight for his arm. “Stupid bitch! That ain’t gonna work!” he yelled, shaking his arm rapidly, turning the stream of paper into confetti... only to frown in surprise, staring at his arm as the tiny bits of paper continued to cling to it, packed on like paper mache. “What the fuck? What the hell did you do?” he snarled, swinging towards me again, moving noticeably slower with the extra load he now carried.

“I gave that blade of yours some padding,” I snapped, grinning right back at him. “So what now, Chopper? Have you got anything else for me? Or is it YOU that’s really the ‘one trick pony’ here?”

With a snarl, he rushed straight at me, murder etched on his face. I swallowed a bit, standing my ground. This was what I’d wanted after all. I’d taunted him, pushed his own words back at him, just as Parker had taught me. Your adversary is never as vulnerable as when they’re enraged, and not thinking, just acting on emotion. The idea, of course, being that you, keeping a clear head, can take advantage of the situation, and usually end the fight once the opponent gives you an opening.

Of course, its easier said than done when said opponent is a foot taller and at least a hundred and fifty pounds heavier than you! “Got you!” he growled in triumph, closing his arms around me. And then...

Looking back at that moment hours later, I would have to say that I owe Veronica and Parker Albinn a deep and very sincere apology. They were both cruel, sadistic, and relentless, veritable slave drivers. They worked you and worked you, and worked you until you didn’t just know the lessons, but your body, your muscles, your very cells knew the lesson! It was literally beaten into you so deeply that certain actions and response became reflex. When Chopper closed in on me, intending to crush the life out of me, I reacted exactly as I’d been taught, my body moving seemingly on its own accord, turning into him, past his guard, to deliver an elbow shot to the gut. As the breath exploded from his lungs, I kicked out with my right leg as my right arm surged up and underneath his, and twisted sharply to the side, flipping the stunned man over my shoulder and onto the hard concrete.

I’ll admit it. I was probably as stunned as he was when it happened. It took me a few seconds to realize what I’d actually done. If I’d been quicker, I probably could have finished him off then and there with a simple kick to the temple. But alas... battered and bruised, but not quite down for the count, Chopper got back to his feet again. His breathing was ragged, and he was weaving a bit, unsteady on his feet. His eyes were wary now, however, as he kept his distance, showing a newfound bit of respect for me after that last round. Still, I could sense the fight was almost over. He just needed one more little push.

“Whoa...” I said incredulously. “What th... did that really happen?” I asked in mock amazement. “A few weeks of kickboxing, and suddenly I’m freakin’ Michelle Yeoh” I grinned at him. “Or maybe it’s just that you’re a really, really... REALLY bad fighter—”

When he dove at me, it was a sudden and spontaneous movement, meant to catch me off guard. But again, thanks to the countless hours of brutal training, I’d learned to pick up on certain telltale signs of body language. When I saw him shift his balance, and his left knee bent slightly, and hunch his shoulders, I knew it was coming. The counter was something I’d only tried a few times with Techna and had never really gotten it to work, but considering the hiptoss I’d given him earlier, I was feeling lucky. When his hands touched my chest, I went completely limp, arching and cradling my back slightly as I dropped, letting his momentum do all the work. Once I landed on the ground, I brought up my legs, grabbed his arms, pulling even as I kicked out.

“Waaaaahhhhhhh!” Chopper yelled as he was catapulted up and over, landing hard against the nearby building’s brick wall, and sliding down it to lay still on the sidewalk once again. Panting slightly, I rose back to my feet, then made my way carefully over to check on my adversary. A quick once-over revealed that he was out cold, with a possible concussion, but otherwise not seriously injured. Using bits and pieces of leftover paper shreds, I again cocooned him up, then finally, tapped my comm unit, signaling my partner.

“Got ’em. Just like I said,” I replied, breathless. “Piece of cake.”

“So I noticed,” Techna replied, startling me as she appeared right beside me. “Sorry. I used my stealth setting to sneak down to ground level in case you needed me. I have to admit, I was pretty close to stepping in a few times, especially when he started using that blade attachment. But, you did great, Doll. You took him down all by yourself.” She placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. “That said... we should probably NOT mention this to Mr. and Mrs. Albinn,” she said sheepishly. “It’s been a while since she had me running wind splints until I puked. And I’d rather not start that trend again.”

I shuddered at the thought. And knowing the evil dragon ninja, Megan’s fears were well-founded. “No problem. Mum’s the word. So come on, partner... let’s head out of here. I need to get a new uniform,” I said gesturing to my now see-through blouse with newly installed air conditioning.

“Not a problem. I already contacted the police. They should be here any minute. As for your costume...” she said, smirking, “I think I know someone who can help you with that...”

“Check.”

“Check”

“I’ll raise you two,” Nigel Grimalde stated, sliding two poker chips across the table into the small pile in the middle.

Eugene Frasier stared at him, hard, as if trying to peer into the very depths of his soul. Then, finally, with a soft sigh, he added two of his own chips to the middle as well. “Verra well. I’ll play along. Yer bloody luck cannae last forever.”

Nigel chuckled. “Luck is it? Sounds like sour grapes to me, Eugene. We’ve finally found a game that you’re not the best at, and now you’re a victim of ‘poor luck’?”

“Yeah, well, I wish I were suffering from his poor luck,” Parker Albinn grumbled, staring at his own rather small pile of chips. “Between the two of you, going back and forth, Darryl and I haven’t stood much of a chance. Right, Darryl?” Silence. “Darryl?” he repeated, glancing over at the young man.

“What?!? Oh, sorry, Mr. Albinn,” the young black chauffer replied sheepishly. “My mind kind of wandered there for a moment. What were you saying?” The older men at the table chuckled.

“He’s got it bad, doesn’t he?” Eugene asked, grinning at Nigel, who merely chuckled in response.

“Indeed. But we really can’t tease him too much. All of us were young newlyweds once upon a time.”

Darryl colored slightly, glancing down at his cards. Even though he knew it was merely good-natured teasing, their words struck true with remarkable accuracy. Ever since he and Karen had married, he’d found himself constantly thinking of her. Even moreso now than when they were simply dating. And it wasn’t just the sex, which was always amazing. It was the other little things... her voice, her laugh, her smile, the way the wind shifted her hair... Whenever they were apart, he found himself missing her more than he would have ever imagined possible.

“Well, to be honest, its more of recent events that have me concerned,” he admitted after a moment. “I take it you all know about the incident a few days ago with that police shootout?”

“You mean with Wyldcard, right?” Parker asked, frowning. “Yeah. I’ve been monitoring things as well. She attacked and badly burned a small squad of police, then took off, leaving town with a bunch of stolen money. Luckily, all of the people she attacked lived, though a lot of them were badly burnt. Which is a good thing... going rogue like that is bad enough, but if she gets labeled a murderer, then no one will show her any mercy when she shows up again.”

“Ach, well, that’s a bloody shame,” Gene murmured, shaking his head. “Parker and I met her quite a few years ago. And she was brash and a bit of a hothead, and definitely vindictive. but not outright evil. I cannae imagine her taking innocent lives.”

“As I seem to recall, the police were investigating a rash of unnatural incidents at that time,” Nigel pointed out. “People going out and committing violent acts and crimes only to wake up later with no memory of it, insisting that they were innocent. And, considering the types of things that happen in this town on a regular basis, it’s not too far-fetched to believe that Wyldcard herself is a victim.” He sighed deeply. “Still, you’re right. Any more incidents like that standoff with the police, and it won’t matter if she is being controlled. They’ll go after her full force and won’t hold anything back.”

“Yeah,” Darryl replied sullenly. “And that’s what has me concerned. Or, well, it has Karen deeply concerned, and I’m concerned for her.”

Nigel merely nodded. He was well aware of the history the two heroines shared. Besides being partners and friends for many years, Ultra Girl had served as Wyldcard’s mentor and teacher. Very much the way Angela did for Patricia, he mused silently. If Patricia had suddenly gone berserk and started attacking innocents then disappeared, I know Angela would be worried nearly to death. I can only imagine how Karen is handling this. No wonder Darryl is acting distracted.

“Well,” Parker said, dealing out the last card, tossing out a Jack of spades onto the River position, “there’s not much anyone can do at this point, at least until she shows up again. All we can do is hope that the next person she runs into is someone sympathetic to her plight.” He glanced again at his cards the grunted. “Ah hell... I fold,” he grumbled, tossing his cards aside.

“I guess I fold as well,” Darryl replied, tossing aside his cards as well.

Eugene and Nigel stared at one another for a long moment, then without blinking, Nigel pushed all of his chips forward onto the table. “I’ll all in,” he announced with a small smirk.

“Ye bloody—” Eugene started, only to sigh and shake his head. “Frankly, I should have expected this from ye, ye bloody blatherskite! It’s what I get for insisting ye give Daniel Craig a chance and actually watch Casino Royale the other night. Well, laddie, yer not bluffing me out this time! I see yer raise and call!” he said, shoving in all of his chips as well. He then flipped over his hold cards, a Jack of hearts and an Ace of diamonds, placing them next to the drawn cards. “With that, I’m showing a Full House, Aces over Jacks. So... show me what ye have!”

Completely expressionless, Nigel flipped over his hand, revealing a seven and an eight. Of Spades. “And with that, I have a straight flush, seven, eight, nine, ten and Jack, of spades,” he replied, finally letting his smile show. “Funny you mentioned Casino Royale. I seem to have won the same way Bond did at the end. By the way, you were right—not exactly a great movie, but also not a complete load of garbage.”

Parker and Darryl laughed gleefully as Eugene let loose a string of rapid-fire Gaelic before getting up and walking to the kitchen to make himself a drink. “You know, Nigel, I hate to admit it,” Parker said once their laughter died down, “but I’m actually going to miss these little get-togethers. You know, once Patty wins the election next week and you guys move to Salem.”

“Oh? And who said that means these little get-togthers need to end?” Nigel replied with a smirk. “While I’m sure things will be quite hectic for the next several weeks for the transitioning, once they die down a bit, I’m sure my lovely wife won’t mind having a few old friends over for the occasional poker night. Besides which, I’d never hear the end of it if you couldn’t bring Robbie’s BFF to visit now and again.”

“Aye, assuming of course that yer wee Patty actually wins the seat as Governor,” Eugene pointed out, returning with several glasses of scotch. “The state is still reeling a bit from that big reveal you and the lass gave earlier about her past as Seraph, and as Sunshine Angel. Revealing her to be a former costumed heroine, particularly one with the rather ‘racy’ reputation she had, might work against you.”

“True, I expect there to be some repercussions,” Nigel admitted. “But it couldn’t be helped. We always knew there was a chance that someone might uncover that tidbit about her, and we all agreed the best strategy was to be straightforward and direct, instead of trying to hide it.” He grunted, accepted a glass from his friend. “Granted, my attempts to subvert and humiliate the Angels back in their heyday is working against me now, but overall I see the good Patricia did as a heroine and later on with the Prosecutor’s office as trumping everything else.”

“Yeah,” Darryl replied, accepting his glass as well. “So, Patricia will have to settle with a ninety-five percent margin instead of a full hundred percent.” He sighed, draining his glass in a single gulp, much to the surprise of the others. “Well. I think I’ve made up my mind. I’ll probably regret it later, but I’m going to tell Karen to go after her friend... and see if she can rescue Wyldcard and bring her back before the worst happens.”

“Ah... so that’s what’s had you so distracted all night long,” Gene replied, thoughtfully. “Sending your new bride off to search for her friend in trouble...” He sighed. “Well, it’s not much, but if ye ask the lass to swing by my home tomorrow sometime, she can use my satellite scanner to try and track Elise down. I still have a copy of her DNA stored, and it shouldn’t take long to configure it to find her.”

“Really? Wow, thanks, Mr. Frasier!” Darryl replied with a smile. “That would be a huge help!”

“Not at all, its the least I could do,” the Scotsman replied dismissively. “And for the last time, laddie, its ‘Eugene’... or simply Gene to everyone other than Nigel, who insists on being a stickler for propriety,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh, hush you,” Nigel replied grinning. “You’re just sore than I cleaned you out in Hold ’Em for the third time in three weeks.”

“Tch... fine,” Gene muttered good-naturedly, as the others chuckled again. “I’ll concede that Poker is not my game. But next time we meet up, we’re going back to Blackjack! Then we’ll see if yer still smiling at the end of the night...”