To The Victor Go The Spoils

The Plumbers had recently enacted preventive measures for the rapidly increasing problem of agent burn-out. After being debriefed from a mission, the aforementioned agent was to take a forced holiday sponsored by the Plumbers, naturally. That was perhaps the only reason why Gwendolyn Tennyson found herself checking into an off-world spa resort. She would have preferred being sent somewhere a little closer to home but spending a week or two away from Earth might do her a world of good.

No pun intended.

While the resort was equipped to pamper and to rejuvenate, it wasn’t quite what Gwendolyn wanted at the moment. A pamphlet in the lobby gave directions to a small, quaint little town that flowed into a long, seemingly endless stretch of beach. Even if the sand was a deep magenta, the crystal clear blue water was more enticing.

It always had to be this way.

And so, here she was, wandering down smoke-colored cobblestone streets speckled with pink sand. Small, twin-suns gently shone upon lacquered stalls where alien merchants offered various knick-knacks and souvenirs. Her bare shoulders seemed to relish the sunshine, having gotten tired of the cold vacuum of space. A balmy breeze tugged at her skirt, ruffling the light material before scooting off to play tag with a random alien’s hat.

Gwendolyn remained alert, but more out of the desire to keep her valuables safe from sticky fingers (or tentacles in some cases) as opposed to ensuring there were no enemies within the vicinity. She could stroll down maze-like paths without worrying about objectives or goals or time constraints. She smiled to herself, allowing the peace and cheerful atmosphere to wash over her. She may have had some reservations about this involuntary vacation, but now she was actually beginning to enjoy herself.

Neutral ground.

And yet she was unable to shake off this nagging feeling that she was being watched. Emerald eyes casually scanned her surroundings, apart from tourists who were overly excited by their first time being off-world nothing seemed to merit suspicion. Maybe she had just been working too hard lately and was being unnecessarily paranoid.

She began to hum softly, forcing herself to relax as she continued to explore the street bazaar. Empathic jewelry that shifted in size, shape and form depending on the wearer’s state of mind, bottled horizons that glowed dawn or dusk or high noon with a twist of the cap, looking over various trinkets calmed Gwendolyn down.

But the sensation of eyes watching her every move lingered.

A petite furred stall-keeper gestured to Gwendolyn, “Might some chimes interest you, dearie?” She sweetly asked, holding out the metallic cylinders to the Plumber. As Gwendolyn shook her head, she caught a glimpse of something on the reflective surface. She leaned in for a closer look and her suspicions were confirmed.

“It’s very nice, but it’s a bit too big for me to buy.” She apologized before heading off.

Sandal-clad feet eventually led Gwendolyn to the less populated area of the town. The air wasn’t as welcoming here as it was at the bazaar, but the red head felt her surroundings was much more apt for what could happen next.

“What do you want, Kevin?” She asked casually.

The proposal.

Strong hands rested upon her shoulders as his velvety voice whispered into her ear. “You know what I want.”

She felt his warm breath against her cheek and Gwendolyn struggled not to make him aware of the delicious thrill shooting up her spine. Her face flushed when his hands began to slowly trail down her bare arms to rest familiarly around her waist.

“Sorry, not interested.” Was her cold response before beginning to pull away.

The rejection.

Kevin held fast, the smile on his face practically audible as he purred into her neck. “I don’t believe you.”

She resisted the urge to moan, visibly. Gwendolyn knew she had to get away from him before she lost her resolve.

“Believe this.” She growled out a strength-enhancing spell and proceeded to break free from his grip. Kicking at the ground, Gwendolyn dashed along the deserted streets, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Kevin had disappeared from sight.

The hunt.

Gwendolyn should have been worried, she should have been concerned. Instead, she smiled. Her aura crackled in warning and she skidded to a halt just as furred limbs shot past her, missing her by a hair’s breadth. She somersaulted backwards, her speed allowing her to keep her modesty despite wearing a skirt that willingly danced with the slightest of breezes.

A containment spell was uttered at Kevin’s direction but the man quickly shifted forms and easily avoided the attack. In one smooth motion, his hand took on a petrosapien gleam and shards were fired directly at the sorceress. The projectiles embedded themselves onto cobblestone as she took to the sky.

The struggle.

Gwendolyn didn’t have a chance to catch her breath as a stream of flame blazed straight at her. She brought up a barrier, diverting the flames upwards before freezing them solid and raining hail down on Kevin.

The mutant just turned up the heat, melting the deadly shower of ice into its liquid counterpart. He stood tall and looked up at her, smirk ever present, ever taunting. The sound of ripping flesh echoed against small houses as metallic wings tore out of Kevin’s back. He sprang up, wings slicing through air, bringing him face to face with Gwendolyn. He had gotten close enough to steal a brief kiss from her lips before she propelled herself backwards. He laughed in amusement, watching the apples of her cheeks crimson.

The sorceress inhaled sharply and her aura sparked in fury. “Bastard!”

“Tease.” He retorted, enjoying the look of unmitigated disbelief and loathing she shot him.

It was a strange, destructive dance they performed. A necessity when social obligations conflicted with personal wants.

Everything about Kevin screamed of danger, of brutality, of raw, uncontrollable power. Her aura crackled like mad at the proximity of such immeasurable strength, or rather the lack thereof. He could have torn her apart. It would be easy, like ripping the wings off a butterfly.

But he didn’t.

Shortly after they exchanged a series of attacks interspersed with taunts of the double entendre variety, he had wrestled her to the ground. She glared up at him, trying to kick herself free but finding she lacked the leverage to do so.

“Yield.” Kevin commanded, voice laced with authority, malice and a manic glee.

She needed to justify her desires.

“I yield.” She declared and ceased her struggling. Drawing a deep breath to steady her wildly pounding heart, the sorceress stared into Kevin’s eyes and asked “What do you want?”

A feral grin spread across his lips as he leaned in closer, “You know what I want.”

He wanted her to willingly give herself to him.

She swallowed thickly before whispering, “I know, I want it too.”

“To the victor go the spoils.”