ThePurpleQuill
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Jan 11, 2018
- Messages
- 161
- Points
- 16
August 1944
War rages on across the Atlantic, with millions of young American men defending this great nation against the forces of Nazi Germany. On the home front, women are stepping up to do their part in the war effort, hoping that they may once again embrace their brothers and lovers fighting the good fight. But for one woman, this call of duty means much more than picking up a wrench and blowtorch. To her, it means becoming a symbol of hope, of justice, and of the good ol’ American dream. For in their absence, a new wave of crime has rocked New York City, with criminals growing more nefarious day by day, and with no one else to turn to, aspiring actress Penelope Wright knew just what she had to do.
With just a simple costume, her wits, and that little bit of womanly charm, she transforms into the bane of the underworld’s existence. Who knew a red trench coat, downturned fedora, and mask black as a moonless night was all you needed to strike terror into the hearts of criminals? She takes to the rooftops, swooping in on a moment’s notice, only to disappear into the dead of night without a trace. Ne’er-do-wells beware, as she is coming for all those that do not know what it means to respect their fellow man (or woman, as they will soon learn the hard way).
She is the Scarlet Shadow, and she is coming to a radio broadcast near you.
An alert comes in across police radio: jewelry store burglary in the heart of Midtown, or so the owner claims. Apparently, it is merely a false alarm, with responding detectives not three minutes later calling back into the station to say they will be pursuing the matter no further without even jotting down a single account or witness statement. Just what could this mean? Is there something going on here more sinister than meets the eye? She hasn’t a clue, but one thing she knows for certain is this: The Scarlet Shadow is sure to find out.
A broken store owner sits behind the pristine glass counter of his small establishment just off Broadway. His heavy tears stream perpetually down his cheeks like the pouring rain just outside his window, with his eyeglasses just barely held between his trembling fingers. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning flashes across the sky, followed by the crash of thunder. He looks up, feeling another presence in the room, and that’s when he sees her: The Scarlet Shadow, standing in the doorway, her outfit seemingly spared from even a drop of moisture. She slowly raises her gaze from the floor, revealing the mask covering the top half of her face, with a pair of piercing blue eyes shrouded underneath.
“Scarlet Shadow!” the store owner exclaims, nearly tossing his glasses halfway across the room. “Thank the heavens above, you are here! Please, you have to help me! You’re my only hope, please!”
“Calm yourself, citizen!” she commands, holding her gloved hand up like a crossing guard, masking her voice in a gruff undertone. “What seems to be the problem?”
“My entire inventory has gone missing!” he shouts, frantically waving his hands above his head. “It’s all gone, down to my last wedding band! I’m ruined! What am I going to do now?” He brings his hands down to his face once more, intent on letting the waterworks flow yet again, but it is her commanding presence that stops him, if but momentarily.
“I assume you contacted the proper authorities?” she asks him, slowly approaching the distraught figure in a veil of mystery and intrigue, her black leather boots not making one sound against the tile floor beneath her.
“I tried to tell them, but they wouldn’t listen to me!” he tells her, retrieving a white handkerchief from his front breast pocket, excavating his nose into its pristine fabric. “They said I was drunk, and that they’d throw me in the clink if I called them again! Please, you’ve got to help me!”
“Fear not, for I will take your word for it,” she says, finally reaching him to place her hands atop his shoulders, as her delicate lips form a comforting smile for his sake. “Give me a moment to initiate my investigation.” She leaves the store owner to collect himself as she ventures further into the shop. Her eyes glaze over the dazzling array of high-end jewelry all around her, seemingly still locked away safe and sound in their glass houses, the exact site the responding detectives would have met as their “crime scene” only to be driven away. However, she can feel that there is something off, that which she just can’t quite put her gloved finger on, but if there’s one thing she knows best, it’s how to tell a fake gemstone from a real one.
She approaches a single glass case standing in the center of the room, its occupant a radiant ruby necklace that would cost her three years of theater work just to afford the down payment. She pulls on the glass door, having been unlocked by the owner, gazing over its pristine design like the woman with good taste that she is. However, just as she goes to grasp it, she comes away with nothing, the image sliding right through her fingers. It is then her hunch is confirmed, as reaching behind the porcelain bust, she feels her way around for this: a small mirror, as innocuous as can be, wedged just out of view. As she pulls it from its perch, the necklace disappears, followed by a gasp from the shop owner.
“It’s really gone!” he yells, collapsing unto his knees, cradling his face within his hands. “Just who could have done such a thing?” She does not utter a word, but in her heart, she knows exactly who could be behind such a brazen theft: Mirage. That diabolical woman with a penchant for optical illusions, only she could have waltzed her way into this establishment unnoticed, possessing the means in which to make objects disappear right under everyone’s noses. She slips the mirror into her front pocket, turning towards the weeping man, trying her best to hide her excitement having deduced the identity of the perpetrator so quickly.
“Do not fear,” she says, pulling the man up unto his feet, dusting off the front of his vest with the back of her gloved hand. “I will get your precious gems back, each and every one of them, for I am… The Scarlet Shadow!” A bolt of lightning flashes across the sky, followed by the crash of thunder and, just like that, she is gone.
She takes to the rooftops, her long blonde locks cascading over her shoulders as she leaps over every crease and crevice with ease. It was only fitting she have a meeting with Mirage, hearing inklings of her exploits despite attempting to lay low these past few weeks, and if her hunch was correct, there would be only one place she could be this time of night. Sliding down the shingles of one final rooftop, she takes position atop a fire escape, catching sight of the abandoned magic shop on the edge of the city. “Master of Illusions” it was once called, but with its former owner now retired on a beach in Miami, the building seems to sit in squalor. Little would anybody realize it has been secretly taken over in recent years as the secret lair of Mirage herself.
She approaches the back of the building, carefully sliding through a small window lining the top of the wall that places her in a narrow hallway. Taking her small flashlight, she slams it against her hand, illuminating the cluttered path laid in front of her as she makes her way deeper into the back of the building. Speckles of dust float in the air as weaves in between stacked boxes of knick knacks and cheap dime store gimmicks. If there was anybody who would enjoy this sort of environment filled to the brim with cheap thrills, then surely it would be Mirage...and speak of the devil herself.
“Welcome darling!” a voice emanates from speakers hidden in the ceiling, instantly recognizable as a haughty emanation from the esteemed villainess herself. “I hope you weren’t thinking of dropping in unannounced. That would be most unbecoming of a woman of your stature!”
“And just what is grand theft to a woman of your stature, hmm? Business as usual?” The Scarlet Shadow quips back, noting just how long she seems to have been walking, feeling that this could be yet another one of Mirage’s visual tricks.
“So, you saw through my little optical illusion, did you?” Mirage answers, followed by a shrill stream of amused laughter. “Only a real woman can tell the difference between real and fake jewelry, I suppose. Pity, I had hoped we could meet on better terms, but I guess the present is a better time than never.”
“Deliver yourself into the hands of the proper authorities, and I’d be glad to share a glass of water with you on visiting day at the penitentiary,” the heroine answers, finally coming to the end of the hallway without a door to be seen.
“So, you want a drink, do you?” Mirage asks her, as the blonde bombshell turns around, beginning to walk back the way she came. “Well then, why don’t you come down here and have one!” She catches her reflection in a mirror in the corner of the hall, but by that time, it is too late. Suddenly, Scarlet Shadow feels herself falling, as the floor has given way to a trapdoor, seemingly hidden by yet another optical illusion. She plunges downward, her flashlight swallowed by darkness, descending into a world of peril that has been lying in wait for her all this time…
She slowly awakens, her eyes adjusting to the bright fluorescent light emanating from above. Just how long she has been out, she can’t be sure, but what our heroine knows is that it was just long enough to place her exactly how she is now: she is seated in a high back wooden chair, with her wrists bound with thick rope behind her back. Resting atop a stool in front of her are her ankles, bound in similar fashion, along with her thighs just above the knees for good measure. She gazes downward, noting the feet of the stool having been bolted down to the floor, believing the same has been done to the chair, preventing any effort on her part from freeing herself. Peering to her right, she spots her fedora hanging on a wooden coat rack, joined by her boots seated just below. She can feel the mask atop her face still right where she left it, wondering just what Mirage has in mind for her if not to reveal her secret identity. Luckily for her, she doesn’t have to wonder for very long.
“Darling!” a familiar voice exclaims, as the figure of none other than Mirage herself exits from the shadows in front of her. “Don’t you know to take your shoes off when entering another person’s abode? How rude, tracking in all that dust, all when I had just cleaned up for your arrival!” If her taste in home decorations was one thing, then Mirage’s taste in fashion was just as horrid: her pink sequin dress nearly blinds the heroine underneath the bright lights, truly making her a sight for sore eyes. With a set of fishnet stockings, red high heeled shoes, and multi-colored make-up across her leathery face, her presence was nothing close to being subtle, something that matched her personality more than anything else.
“If you were so concerned with me tracking in dirt, then I recommend next time installing a doormat,” Scarlet Shadow quips, unimpressed with the minimum amount of attention her bonds have been given to keep her there. “It makes it easier to know just whose lair I’m stumbling into this time.”
“Hmm, so true darling,” Mirage tells her, suddenly extending her arms to her sides. “But what is life without a good old fashioned...SURPRISE!!” Her theatrics are getting on her captive’s nerves, something her unbreakable professionalism would never betray, no matter what the dire circumstances. She presses on, hoping to get to the bottom of the woman’s ploy.
“So just what is the dastardly villainess doing on this side of the train tracks? Looking for some more costume jewelry to go with that clown makeup?” She prompts Mirage to laugh, tossing her head back in dramatic fashion, as she looks her captive dead in the face.
“Oh, if that were only the case,” Mirage tells her, casually inspecting her nails hidden underneath her gloves. “Actually, I thought if anyone could help me in my next score, then it would be the person who ruined my last one!” Penelope knows exactly what she is talking about: an attempted diamond heist three months ago, one which she got a whiff of and helped police intercept before Mirage was able to make off with dozens of precious gems. Knowing they had a mole in the force that helped her plan the heist, the police entrusted the masked marauder to find a suitably safe place to store them for the time being, opting for a safe deposit box in the local bank under the pseudonym Sadie Sparrow. Now, it seems, Mirage is fully intent on acquiring the location of that safe deposit box, something The Scarlet Shadow isn’t going to give up easily.
“I knew the police weren’t going to take it upon themselves to relocate the diamonds,” Mirage tells her with a long droll in her voice. “So, would you be a dear and tell me where they are, or are we going to play tough and force me to get mean?” Her veiled threat makes Penelope chuckle under her breath, knowing just how pathetic this woman is as to try and get her to talk like that.
“Just what are you going to do?” The Scarlet Shadow asks her defiantly. “Keep in mind, I’m not much of a talker unlike yourself, and a classy girl like you surely doesn’t have the stomach to do anything too gruesome, especially to a fellow lady.”
“It is true, I haven’t the will to subject you to anything too drastic, Miss Shadow. But, lucky for me, I am in the company of some of the most creative masterminds this city has to offer…ones like, say, Tommy Two Feather?” A cold shiver rushes down Penelope’s spine the moment she hears that name: it was only six months ago she helped put that man behind bars, but not before getting a little taste of just how he earned that nickname, an ordeal that even to this day makes her sometimes reconsider the vigilante lifestyle. Had it not been for her trusty sidekick Wendy Whiplash breaking her out of that jam, she most surely would have broken cover. However, with Wendy off at summer camp, our high-spirited heroine is feeling a bit more dread than usual, especially after seeing Mirage gazing down at her bound and vulnerable feet.
“Now, let’s see just what we’re working with, hmm?” Mirage says, pinching at the tops of Penelope’s thick gray socks and, ever so gently, peeling them off her feet inch by agonizing inch. Hoping not to betray her one true weakness, Miss Shadow chooses not to resist, letting them slip from her grasp with all the willpower she has within her. Tossing the undergarments over her shoulders, the villainess gazes upon the glistening ruby red toenail polish of her goody-two-shoes archnemesis.
“And I thought I was vain,” Mirage notes, reaching behind her with both hands as though there was something waiting right behind her back this entire time. “Now, tell me: are you ready to talk?” Suddenly, Mirage reveals the sight Scarlet Shadow was dreading tow see: two feathers, one in each hand, with a devious smile placed between them. Noting her captive’s silent refusal, Mirage begins directing them towards the crusader’s vulnerable bare soles, completely immobile through sheer will power. Penelope can only stare intently at them with a heroic defiance encapsulating her demeanor, but deep inside, she already feels her resolve slowly unraveling right up until the moment they make contact.
“Phhhhhhfhfhfhfhfhhhhhhhh!” she sputters, her tightly pursed lips unable to keep every bit of air from forcefully escaping her lungs. They caress her tender soles, scraping up and down their soft supple form with ease. She fiddles with the ropes behind her back, hoping to slip out of these dastardly ropes so long as her archnemesis is distracted. Unfortunately for her, that is not the case, forced to watch as they get dangerously close to her toes time and time again.
“Best not waste your breath with those ropes, my dear,” Mirage says, making Miss Shadow stare at her in surprise. “What, you didn’t realize I have a house of mirrors all around you?” It was true: every conceivable angle Mirage can use to watch every little reaction Penelope can try to hide as not to give away what techniques are most effective. Minute by agonizing minute, Mirage tantalizes the bound young woman, running her dastardly implements across her succulent foot bottoms. Poor Penelope, having made it a priority to keep her feet soft and callous free, now suffering the consequences for such diligent attention. Feeling the soft material suddenly snake its way underneath her toes sends shockwaves up through her legs, making her face turn red through such force exerted to keep her girlish giggles suppressed. Flailing those tender appendages desperately for relief, she manages to grasp the feathers in between her toes, crushing them to a point where they are no longer usable to torment her.
“Hmm, it seems you have bested me again, my dear,” Mirage notes, gazing upon her torn feathers, all the while her captive breathes a sigh of utter relief. However, looking up, she catches sight of a wicked smile scrawled across Mirage’s face, knowing full well there is more to this than she could have imagined. “You know, I bet those gloves of yours are purely functional: having to jump rooftops, climb ladders, and such to keep your hands from damage. For me, well, mine are a bit more cosmetic, meant solely to hide something in plain sight.” Mirage steps back, pinching the soft material atop her left index finger as she slides the long glove off her hand, following suit with the other in tow. What she reveals almost breaks Scarlet Shadow down into tears: ten nails, painted in shimmering red polish, sharpened into dastardly claws seemingly just for her. Had she not been tied down, Scarlet Shadow would have leapt out of her skin just by the sight of them.
“Last chance, my dear,” Mirage tells her, directing her wriggling fingers towards Penelope’s soles, watching as they try to recoil themselves away from her grasp as their mute owner does not utter one sound. “Suite yourself.” Suddenly, Mirage plunges their hardened tips deep into Miss Wright’s quivering flesh, wildly scraping her way across her supple feet like there’s no tomorrow. Penelope jerks one more time, hoping with all of her might to free herself, but she hasn’t a chance, as the floodgates burst open with the onslaught of ticklish stimulation flooding her brain instantaneously.
“Nnnoooooooooooooooohohohohohoooooooooo!” Penelope cackles forth, a mixture of utter frustration and ticklish dismay engulfing her senses. Just what she could have done in a past life to deserve this she could not understand, as an onslaught of ticklish torments remind her that truly no good deed goes unpunished.
“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Mirage dictates to herself. “Just enjoy it darling. It will all be over once you give me what I ask for.” Penelope does all she can to hold on, but it is no use, as her most childish weakness is inflicted upon her delicate extremities, all to get her to give up the same gems that elude her price range. She feels every minute sensation inflicted upon her, with every subtle change throwing her into a tailspin she is unable to recover from.
“Staaaaaaaaaaahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaapppp!” she finally wails, throwing her head back in desperation, hoping to will herself out of this situation. Her full-throated laughter breaks away from the gruff persona she has perpetuated this entire time, displaying the utter helplessness she feels, bound helpless, with nothing but the sight of a devilish woman tickling her the only thing she can look forward to. Her feet try desperately to protect each other from the torrent of tickles, shifting to and fro in comical fashion, but in time, they turn on one another, leaving one to be ravaged, only for the other to meet the same fate in turn.
“Is the heroine ticklish?” Mirage asks the disheveled young woman, not waiting too long for an answer. “I’ll have to let the boys know about this one. We’ve got a new weakness of yours to exploit, my dear!” Tears begin streaming down the sides of Penelope’s face, seeping underneath her mask as they drip atop the top of her coat. It is only several minutes later that Mirage lets the poor girl rest, that is, physically but not so psychologically.
“I’ll be honest with you dear: I said you were vain, but the truth is I’m vain too,” Mirage tells her, turning away as she nestles a tool in her hands out of Scarlet Shadow’s view. “In fact, let me show you my favorite beauty tool. I call her Destiny, because when it comes to yours, I see nothing but her in your future.” She turns around, revealing a large hairbrush, its purple exterior holding roughly two hundred hard bristles, all of which are being directed straight into Penelope’s soles before she even knows what’s happening to her.
“WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” Her horrid shrieking cackles echo off the concrete walls, as Penelope suddenly falls deep into the darkest pit of despair. She can feel every bristle scraping wildly across her soles, tantalizing her nerve endings to an unfathomable degree. Up and down, left and right, it seems no inch of her reddened soles are saved from this horrid form of coercion. No amount of running across the rooftops could prepare her for such diabolical attention, as Mirage begin weaving her way up into Penelope’s flailing toes, sending her into convulsions as she can no longer take it any further. Between her silent shrieks of agony and hapless wails of helplessness, The Scarlet Shadow finds it within herself to compromise her stalwart moral values, giving in to a lesser being all to avoid her horrid fate.
“THERE’S A LOCKBOX!!” she is just barely able to utter, as Mirage removes the brush from her person, letting her collect just enough air to form these next new words. “There’s…a lockbox…at the local bank…use my initials…they’re yours now.”
“Good girl,” Mirage reassures the Scarlet Shadow, patting her atop her downturned head like an obedient child. “I’m sure that was very hard for you to do, my dear. Betraying your better judgment, all to save yourself some agony…too bad it won’t save you from this.” Penelope’s stomach drops to the floor, hoisting her head up just as Mirage wraps a cloth around her eyes, plunging our poor heroine into perpetual darkness.
“Now, just rest and relax for a bit. We have all night to get you to divulge all those pesky secrets you keep bottled up inside of you…”
“…and in other news, small-time mob boss Tommy Vallachi, aka Tommy Two Feathers, is still at large, having escaped from Tillamook Regional Penitentiary just three nights ago. Authorities say that he may be armed and dangerous…” The radio clicks off, as several burly men load crates into the back of an unmarked truck, all supervised by none other than Mirage herself. Seeing them load the last box, Mirage dismisses them, approaching its wooden paneling, its exterior possessing a key with only two copies, one of which she is holding in her left hand.
She opens the crate, revealing none other than The Scarlet Shadow, bound almost to the point of mummification in duct tape. All the way from her wrists, ankles, knees, elbows, across her chest, and even her hands are wrapped in the sticky material, with several strands of duct tape across her mouth, keeping her vocal protests muffled.
“RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMPHPHPH!!” she yells, not even piercing the second layer, eliciting a smile from the dastardly villainess.
“I must say: you do look ravishing in silver, darling. Well, it has been a most enlightening night, but I’m afraid it is time to bid each other adieu. But, if you thought the fun was going to stop, then let me assure you we intend on keeping it going. Yes, as you may have heard, your favorite friend Tommy Two-Feather has just broken himself out of prison, and I thought what better way to thank him for his troubles than to give him the dame that put him there in the first place. Oh, don’t worry: we’ve had many chats about what the most effective ways to deal with pesky little detectives like yourself. I heard he’s even preparing a little something for your arrival. So, buckle up, Pewter Princess: you’re going to start having quite the wild ride.”
She closes the chest, locking it up tight, as she waves for the driver to leave…
To be continued?
War rages on across the Atlantic, with millions of young American men defending this great nation against the forces of Nazi Germany. On the home front, women are stepping up to do their part in the war effort, hoping that they may once again embrace their brothers and lovers fighting the good fight. But for one woman, this call of duty means much more than picking up a wrench and blowtorch. To her, it means becoming a symbol of hope, of justice, and of the good ol’ American dream. For in their absence, a new wave of crime has rocked New York City, with criminals growing more nefarious day by day, and with no one else to turn to, aspiring actress Penelope Wright knew just what she had to do.
With just a simple costume, her wits, and that little bit of womanly charm, she transforms into the bane of the underworld’s existence. Who knew a red trench coat, downturned fedora, and mask black as a moonless night was all you needed to strike terror into the hearts of criminals? She takes to the rooftops, swooping in on a moment’s notice, only to disappear into the dead of night without a trace. Ne’er-do-wells beware, as she is coming for all those that do not know what it means to respect their fellow man (or woman, as they will soon learn the hard way).
She is the Scarlet Shadow, and she is coming to a radio broadcast near you.
An alert comes in across police radio: jewelry store burglary in the heart of Midtown, or so the owner claims. Apparently, it is merely a false alarm, with responding detectives not three minutes later calling back into the station to say they will be pursuing the matter no further without even jotting down a single account or witness statement. Just what could this mean? Is there something going on here more sinister than meets the eye? She hasn’t a clue, but one thing she knows for certain is this: The Scarlet Shadow is sure to find out.
A broken store owner sits behind the pristine glass counter of his small establishment just off Broadway. His heavy tears stream perpetually down his cheeks like the pouring rain just outside his window, with his eyeglasses just barely held between his trembling fingers. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning flashes across the sky, followed by the crash of thunder. He looks up, feeling another presence in the room, and that’s when he sees her: The Scarlet Shadow, standing in the doorway, her outfit seemingly spared from even a drop of moisture. She slowly raises her gaze from the floor, revealing the mask covering the top half of her face, with a pair of piercing blue eyes shrouded underneath.
“Scarlet Shadow!” the store owner exclaims, nearly tossing his glasses halfway across the room. “Thank the heavens above, you are here! Please, you have to help me! You’re my only hope, please!”
“Calm yourself, citizen!” she commands, holding her gloved hand up like a crossing guard, masking her voice in a gruff undertone. “What seems to be the problem?”
“My entire inventory has gone missing!” he shouts, frantically waving his hands above his head. “It’s all gone, down to my last wedding band! I’m ruined! What am I going to do now?” He brings his hands down to his face once more, intent on letting the waterworks flow yet again, but it is her commanding presence that stops him, if but momentarily.
“I assume you contacted the proper authorities?” she asks him, slowly approaching the distraught figure in a veil of mystery and intrigue, her black leather boots not making one sound against the tile floor beneath her.
“I tried to tell them, but they wouldn’t listen to me!” he tells her, retrieving a white handkerchief from his front breast pocket, excavating his nose into its pristine fabric. “They said I was drunk, and that they’d throw me in the clink if I called them again! Please, you’ve got to help me!”
“Fear not, for I will take your word for it,” she says, finally reaching him to place her hands atop his shoulders, as her delicate lips form a comforting smile for his sake. “Give me a moment to initiate my investigation.” She leaves the store owner to collect himself as she ventures further into the shop. Her eyes glaze over the dazzling array of high-end jewelry all around her, seemingly still locked away safe and sound in their glass houses, the exact site the responding detectives would have met as their “crime scene” only to be driven away. However, she can feel that there is something off, that which she just can’t quite put her gloved finger on, but if there’s one thing she knows best, it’s how to tell a fake gemstone from a real one.
She approaches a single glass case standing in the center of the room, its occupant a radiant ruby necklace that would cost her three years of theater work just to afford the down payment. She pulls on the glass door, having been unlocked by the owner, gazing over its pristine design like the woman with good taste that she is. However, just as she goes to grasp it, she comes away with nothing, the image sliding right through her fingers. It is then her hunch is confirmed, as reaching behind the porcelain bust, she feels her way around for this: a small mirror, as innocuous as can be, wedged just out of view. As she pulls it from its perch, the necklace disappears, followed by a gasp from the shop owner.
“It’s really gone!” he yells, collapsing unto his knees, cradling his face within his hands. “Just who could have done such a thing?” She does not utter a word, but in her heart, she knows exactly who could be behind such a brazen theft: Mirage. That diabolical woman with a penchant for optical illusions, only she could have waltzed her way into this establishment unnoticed, possessing the means in which to make objects disappear right under everyone’s noses. She slips the mirror into her front pocket, turning towards the weeping man, trying her best to hide her excitement having deduced the identity of the perpetrator so quickly.
“Do not fear,” she says, pulling the man up unto his feet, dusting off the front of his vest with the back of her gloved hand. “I will get your precious gems back, each and every one of them, for I am… The Scarlet Shadow!” A bolt of lightning flashes across the sky, followed by the crash of thunder and, just like that, she is gone.
She takes to the rooftops, her long blonde locks cascading over her shoulders as she leaps over every crease and crevice with ease. It was only fitting she have a meeting with Mirage, hearing inklings of her exploits despite attempting to lay low these past few weeks, and if her hunch was correct, there would be only one place she could be this time of night. Sliding down the shingles of one final rooftop, she takes position atop a fire escape, catching sight of the abandoned magic shop on the edge of the city. “Master of Illusions” it was once called, but with its former owner now retired on a beach in Miami, the building seems to sit in squalor. Little would anybody realize it has been secretly taken over in recent years as the secret lair of Mirage herself.
She approaches the back of the building, carefully sliding through a small window lining the top of the wall that places her in a narrow hallway. Taking her small flashlight, she slams it against her hand, illuminating the cluttered path laid in front of her as she makes her way deeper into the back of the building. Speckles of dust float in the air as weaves in between stacked boxes of knick knacks and cheap dime store gimmicks. If there was anybody who would enjoy this sort of environment filled to the brim with cheap thrills, then surely it would be Mirage...and speak of the devil herself.
“Welcome darling!” a voice emanates from speakers hidden in the ceiling, instantly recognizable as a haughty emanation from the esteemed villainess herself. “I hope you weren’t thinking of dropping in unannounced. That would be most unbecoming of a woman of your stature!”
“And just what is grand theft to a woman of your stature, hmm? Business as usual?” The Scarlet Shadow quips back, noting just how long she seems to have been walking, feeling that this could be yet another one of Mirage’s visual tricks.
“So, you saw through my little optical illusion, did you?” Mirage answers, followed by a shrill stream of amused laughter. “Only a real woman can tell the difference between real and fake jewelry, I suppose. Pity, I had hoped we could meet on better terms, but I guess the present is a better time than never.”
“Deliver yourself into the hands of the proper authorities, and I’d be glad to share a glass of water with you on visiting day at the penitentiary,” the heroine answers, finally coming to the end of the hallway without a door to be seen.
“So, you want a drink, do you?” Mirage asks her, as the blonde bombshell turns around, beginning to walk back the way she came. “Well then, why don’t you come down here and have one!” She catches her reflection in a mirror in the corner of the hall, but by that time, it is too late. Suddenly, Scarlet Shadow feels herself falling, as the floor has given way to a trapdoor, seemingly hidden by yet another optical illusion. She plunges downward, her flashlight swallowed by darkness, descending into a world of peril that has been lying in wait for her all this time…
She slowly awakens, her eyes adjusting to the bright fluorescent light emanating from above. Just how long she has been out, she can’t be sure, but what our heroine knows is that it was just long enough to place her exactly how she is now: she is seated in a high back wooden chair, with her wrists bound with thick rope behind her back. Resting atop a stool in front of her are her ankles, bound in similar fashion, along with her thighs just above the knees for good measure. She gazes downward, noting the feet of the stool having been bolted down to the floor, believing the same has been done to the chair, preventing any effort on her part from freeing herself. Peering to her right, she spots her fedora hanging on a wooden coat rack, joined by her boots seated just below. She can feel the mask atop her face still right where she left it, wondering just what Mirage has in mind for her if not to reveal her secret identity. Luckily for her, she doesn’t have to wonder for very long.
“Darling!” a familiar voice exclaims, as the figure of none other than Mirage herself exits from the shadows in front of her. “Don’t you know to take your shoes off when entering another person’s abode? How rude, tracking in all that dust, all when I had just cleaned up for your arrival!” If her taste in home decorations was one thing, then Mirage’s taste in fashion was just as horrid: her pink sequin dress nearly blinds the heroine underneath the bright lights, truly making her a sight for sore eyes. With a set of fishnet stockings, red high heeled shoes, and multi-colored make-up across her leathery face, her presence was nothing close to being subtle, something that matched her personality more than anything else.
“If you were so concerned with me tracking in dirt, then I recommend next time installing a doormat,” Scarlet Shadow quips, unimpressed with the minimum amount of attention her bonds have been given to keep her there. “It makes it easier to know just whose lair I’m stumbling into this time.”
“Hmm, so true darling,” Mirage tells her, suddenly extending her arms to her sides. “But what is life without a good old fashioned...SURPRISE!!” Her theatrics are getting on her captive’s nerves, something her unbreakable professionalism would never betray, no matter what the dire circumstances. She presses on, hoping to get to the bottom of the woman’s ploy.
“So just what is the dastardly villainess doing on this side of the train tracks? Looking for some more costume jewelry to go with that clown makeup?” She prompts Mirage to laugh, tossing her head back in dramatic fashion, as she looks her captive dead in the face.
“Oh, if that were only the case,” Mirage tells her, casually inspecting her nails hidden underneath her gloves. “Actually, I thought if anyone could help me in my next score, then it would be the person who ruined my last one!” Penelope knows exactly what she is talking about: an attempted diamond heist three months ago, one which she got a whiff of and helped police intercept before Mirage was able to make off with dozens of precious gems. Knowing they had a mole in the force that helped her plan the heist, the police entrusted the masked marauder to find a suitably safe place to store them for the time being, opting for a safe deposit box in the local bank under the pseudonym Sadie Sparrow. Now, it seems, Mirage is fully intent on acquiring the location of that safe deposit box, something The Scarlet Shadow isn’t going to give up easily.
“I knew the police weren’t going to take it upon themselves to relocate the diamonds,” Mirage tells her with a long droll in her voice. “So, would you be a dear and tell me where they are, or are we going to play tough and force me to get mean?” Her veiled threat makes Penelope chuckle under her breath, knowing just how pathetic this woman is as to try and get her to talk like that.
“Just what are you going to do?” The Scarlet Shadow asks her defiantly. “Keep in mind, I’m not much of a talker unlike yourself, and a classy girl like you surely doesn’t have the stomach to do anything too gruesome, especially to a fellow lady.”
“It is true, I haven’t the will to subject you to anything too drastic, Miss Shadow. But, lucky for me, I am in the company of some of the most creative masterminds this city has to offer…ones like, say, Tommy Two Feather?” A cold shiver rushes down Penelope’s spine the moment she hears that name: it was only six months ago she helped put that man behind bars, but not before getting a little taste of just how he earned that nickname, an ordeal that even to this day makes her sometimes reconsider the vigilante lifestyle. Had it not been for her trusty sidekick Wendy Whiplash breaking her out of that jam, she most surely would have broken cover. However, with Wendy off at summer camp, our high-spirited heroine is feeling a bit more dread than usual, especially after seeing Mirage gazing down at her bound and vulnerable feet.
“Now, let’s see just what we’re working with, hmm?” Mirage says, pinching at the tops of Penelope’s thick gray socks and, ever so gently, peeling them off her feet inch by agonizing inch. Hoping not to betray her one true weakness, Miss Shadow chooses not to resist, letting them slip from her grasp with all the willpower she has within her. Tossing the undergarments over her shoulders, the villainess gazes upon the glistening ruby red toenail polish of her goody-two-shoes archnemesis.
“And I thought I was vain,” Mirage notes, reaching behind her with both hands as though there was something waiting right behind her back this entire time. “Now, tell me: are you ready to talk?” Suddenly, Mirage reveals the sight Scarlet Shadow was dreading tow see: two feathers, one in each hand, with a devious smile placed between them. Noting her captive’s silent refusal, Mirage begins directing them towards the crusader’s vulnerable bare soles, completely immobile through sheer will power. Penelope can only stare intently at them with a heroic defiance encapsulating her demeanor, but deep inside, she already feels her resolve slowly unraveling right up until the moment they make contact.
“Phhhhhhfhfhfhfhfhhhhhhhh!” she sputters, her tightly pursed lips unable to keep every bit of air from forcefully escaping her lungs. They caress her tender soles, scraping up and down their soft supple form with ease. She fiddles with the ropes behind her back, hoping to slip out of these dastardly ropes so long as her archnemesis is distracted. Unfortunately for her, that is not the case, forced to watch as they get dangerously close to her toes time and time again.
“Best not waste your breath with those ropes, my dear,” Mirage says, making Miss Shadow stare at her in surprise. “What, you didn’t realize I have a house of mirrors all around you?” It was true: every conceivable angle Mirage can use to watch every little reaction Penelope can try to hide as not to give away what techniques are most effective. Minute by agonizing minute, Mirage tantalizes the bound young woman, running her dastardly implements across her succulent foot bottoms. Poor Penelope, having made it a priority to keep her feet soft and callous free, now suffering the consequences for such diligent attention. Feeling the soft material suddenly snake its way underneath her toes sends shockwaves up through her legs, making her face turn red through such force exerted to keep her girlish giggles suppressed. Flailing those tender appendages desperately for relief, she manages to grasp the feathers in between her toes, crushing them to a point where they are no longer usable to torment her.
“Hmm, it seems you have bested me again, my dear,” Mirage notes, gazing upon her torn feathers, all the while her captive breathes a sigh of utter relief. However, looking up, she catches sight of a wicked smile scrawled across Mirage’s face, knowing full well there is more to this than she could have imagined. “You know, I bet those gloves of yours are purely functional: having to jump rooftops, climb ladders, and such to keep your hands from damage. For me, well, mine are a bit more cosmetic, meant solely to hide something in plain sight.” Mirage steps back, pinching the soft material atop her left index finger as she slides the long glove off her hand, following suit with the other in tow. What she reveals almost breaks Scarlet Shadow down into tears: ten nails, painted in shimmering red polish, sharpened into dastardly claws seemingly just for her. Had she not been tied down, Scarlet Shadow would have leapt out of her skin just by the sight of them.
“Last chance, my dear,” Mirage tells her, directing her wriggling fingers towards Penelope’s soles, watching as they try to recoil themselves away from her grasp as their mute owner does not utter one sound. “Suite yourself.” Suddenly, Mirage plunges their hardened tips deep into Miss Wright’s quivering flesh, wildly scraping her way across her supple feet like there’s no tomorrow. Penelope jerks one more time, hoping with all of her might to free herself, but she hasn’t a chance, as the floodgates burst open with the onslaught of ticklish stimulation flooding her brain instantaneously.
“Nnnoooooooooooooooohohohohohoooooooooo!” Penelope cackles forth, a mixture of utter frustration and ticklish dismay engulfing her senses. Just what she could have done in a past life to deserve this she could not understand, as an onslaught of ticklish torments remind her that truly no good deed goes unpunished.
“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Mirage dictates to herself. “Just enjoy it darling. It will all be over once you give me what I ask for.” Penelope does all she can to hold on, but it is no use, as her most childish weakness is inflicted upon her delicate extremities, all to get her to give up the same gems that elude her price range. She feels every minute sensation inflicted upon her, with every subtle change throwing her into a tailspin she is unable to recover from.
“Staaaaaaaaaaahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaapppp!” she finally wails, throwing her head back in desperation, hoping to will herself out of this situation. Her full-throated laughter breaks away from the gruff persona she has perpetuated this entire time, displaying the utter helplessness she feels, bound helpless, with nothing but the sight of a devilish woman tickling her the only thing she can look forward to. Her feet try desperately to protect each other from the torrent of tickles, shifting to and fro in comical fashion, but in time, they turn on one another, leaving one to be ravaged, only for the other to meet the same fate in turn.
“Is the heroine ticklish?” Mirage asks the disheveled young woman, not waiting too long for an answer. “I’ll have to let the boys know about this one. We’ve got a new weakness of yours to exploit, my dear!” Tears begin streaming down the sides of Penelope’s face, seeping underneath her mask as they drip atop the top of her coat. It is only several minutes later that Mirage lets the poor girl rest, that is, physically but not so psychologically.
“I’ll be honest with you dear: I said you were vain, but the truth is I’m vain too,” Mirage tells her, turning away as she nestles a tool in her hands out of Scarlet Shadow’s view. “In fact, let me show you my favorite beauty tool. I call her Destiny, because when it comes to yours, I see nothing but her in your future.” She turns around, revealing a large hairbrush, its purple exterior holding roughly two hundred hard bristles, all of which are being directed straight into Penelope’s soles before she even knows what’s happening to her.
“WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” Her horrid shrieking cackles echo off the concrete walls, as Penelope suddenly falls deep into the darkest pit of despair. She can feel every bristle scraping wildly across her soles, tantalizing her nerve endings to an unfathomable degree. Up and down, left and right, it seems no inch of her reddened soles are saved from this horrid form of coercion. No amount of running across the rooftops could prepare her for such diabolical attention, as Mirage begin weaving her way up into Penelope’s flailing toes, sending her into convulsions as she can no longer take it any further. Between her silent shrieks of agony and hapless wails of helplessness, The Scarlet Shadow finds it within herself to compromise her stalwart moral values, giving in to a lesser being all to avoid her horrid fate.
“THERE’S A LOCKBOX!!” she is just barely able to utter, as Mirage removes the brush from her person, letting her collect just enough air to form these next new words. “There’s…a lockbox…at the local bank…use my initials…they’re yours now.”
“Good girl,” Mirage reassures the Scarlet Shadow, patting her atop her downturned head like an obedient child. “I’m sure that was very hard for you to do, my dear. Betraying your better judgment, all to save yourself some agony…too bad it won’t save you from this.” Penelope’s stomach drops to the floor, hoisting her head up just as Mirage wraps a cloth around her eyes, plunging our poor heroine into perpetual darkness.
“Now, just rest and relax for a bit. We have all night to get you to divulge all those pesky secrets you keep bottled up inside of you…”
“…and in other news, small-time mob boss Tommy Vallachi, aka Tommy Two Feathers, is still at large, having escaped from Tillamook Regional Penitentiary just three nights ago. Authorities say that he may be armed and dangerous…” The radio clicks off, as several burly men load crates into the back of an unmarked truck, all supervised by none other than Mirage herself. Seeing them load the last box, Mirage dismisses them, approaching its wooden paneling, its exterior possessing a key with only two copies, one of which she is holding in her left hand.
She opens the crate, revealing none other than The Scarlet Shadow, bound almost to the point of mummification in duct tape. All the way from her wrists, ankles, knees, elbows, across her chest, and even her hands are wrapped in the sticky material, with several strands of duct tape across her mouth, keeping her vocal protests muffled.
“RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMPHPHPH!!” she yells, not even piercing the second layer, eliciting a smile from the dastardly villainess.
“I must say: you do look ravishing in silver, darling. Well, it has been a most enlightening night, but I’m afraid it is time to bid each other adieu. But, if you thought the fun was going to stop, then let me assure you we intend on keeping it going. Yes, as you may have heard, your favorite friend Tommy Two-Feather has just broken himself out of prison, and I thought what better way to thank him for his troubles than to give him the dame that put him there in the first place. Oh, don’t worry: we’ve had many chats about what the most effective ways to deal with pesky little detectives like yourself. I heard he’s even preparing a little something for your arrival. So, buckle up, Pewter Princess: you’re going to start having quite the wild ride.”
She closes the chest, locking it up tight, as she waves for the driver to leave…
To be continued?
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