Kira Northvale played her fingers across the smooth marble countertop, idly drumming against a glass that contained yet more of her late father's scotch. She watched Walter Durgess sleep on a couch, snoring into the fabric, obviously entertaining a dream that was far better than the nightmare he'd soon wake up into. The drink hissed in response to her touch; the infernal hatred was rising within Kira again, as she remembered this man and his three companions, and the deeds they did. Forgivable, yes, but it was easy to rationalize away what little moral issues Kira had left about human experimentation when they'd performed such actions. Besides, it's not like they could have really hurt Kira if they tried – she had Neo Ability Four to thank for that – but they'd definitely hurt Miranda. That was what made her as furious as she was. The redhead tried to calm herself, to control the literal fiery rage that burned within her, but it came as often as it went. The flames were not nearly as easy to control as anything else.
The brilliant dominatrix regarded her current position. Walter Durgess lay before her, in a state of intoxicated sleep. She frowned; perhaps she'd overdone it with the pheromones. She'd had Neo Ability One for so long, yet, they were so particular; she had to be ever-so-precise. The path of aroused to mentally subservient, to intoxicated, and then basically brain dead, was a slippery one, and it all varied person-to-person. She wasn't sure when he'd get up. Kira watched as the man snored, her eyebrow arching over her emerald iris as she looked upon him disdainfully. She rummaged in her lab coat for a moment, pulling forth a tape recorder and clicking the button. She set it upon the marble countertop and began to speak, multitasking as she painted her fingernails the exact shade of her eyes.
“Subjects are hereby designated Six-Seven through Six-Ten, four homo sapiens who have volunteered for experimentation. Subjects are currently in a state of either unconsciousness or delirium, and will be revived to full consciousness and cognizance once the tests start. It is important to note that the subjects do not have knowledge of any Neo Ability beyond the lesser use of Neo Ability Five to mimic the behaviorial patterns of a Delta Neo; therefore, their reactions are genuine,” Kira spoke to herself. She bit her lip as she talked; soon, she'd be driving her toys into herself as she listened to the night's experiments, self-indulgence crying out in one of its purest forms. This was as erotic as anything. “It is recommended that the listener be aware of the current status of the subject's psyches.”
Crimson hair trailing behind, Kira left the den she'd dumped Walter in, heading down the hall of her estate to the location of her first experiment – her patio, where she'd dropped off Jeremy Bevinski. He was the one who threw the bottle at the diner, the grand instigator. It made sense to her that she start with him. Kira put a swing into her hips as she walked; the scotch buzzed inside her, and though Ability Four made it particularly difficult for her to get drunk, it was certainly not for her lack of trying. Everything about her step radiated how she felt; the click of her heels, the feel of the nylons clinging to her hot skin, the aura of power she exuded with just a glance. Kira Northvale felt like the sexiest creature on the planet, and there wasn't much reason she should not.
“Subject Six-Seven, formerly known as Jeremy Bevinski,” Kira cooed into her recorder, taking a moment to sip. “Will be the focus of a test designed to determine the durability of homo sapiens minutus. The newly created sub-species begged the question, could the irregularities of neo power augmentation through Subject Zero cause an increase in strength, durability or resilience? This test shall prove the answer.” Kira's lips curled into a wicked grin, her entire body thrumming as she walked towards the patio door. Her eyes lit up with excitement as she watched the doorknob rattle, as she heard banging on the other side, screaming to be let out. She'd practically drugged Jeremy with her pheromones; the sudden lack of them was driving him mad. Kira opened the door and flared Ability Six to life; by the time Jeremy had scrambled out of the room, he was eight inches tall and sprawled on the carpet that covered Kira's wooden floor. Her monolithic heel slammed into the ground before him a few times, tapping out a promising, fatal rhythm. Eyes as wide as plates, Jeremy looked up, up, and up, to the form-fitting khakis and sweeping lab coat of a smiling, redheaded Goddess. Her buxom chest looked to be mountains; her legs towered above him for miles. Face white as a sheet, Subject Six-Seven took off like a shot, running directly between Kira's feet and out from underneath him. With a clap of her hands and a giggle, Kira spun on her heels and dropped to all fours.
“Subject Six-Seven has decided to flee,” She purred, crawling behind him, expending minimal effort to keep up as he ran for his life. “It seems that no superhuman ability has been imbued in homo sapiens minutus. Subject seems only capable of running at normal human speeds, albeit on a much, much smaller scale.” Kira laughed and slammed her hand in front of him, causing the tiny man to shriek in fear and change direction, stumbling and falling hard onto the carpet. He scrambled to his feet, taking one last soul-searing glance at Kira's smiling face high above him. Her eyes twinkled, and she extended her fingers, laughing cruelly as she flicked him away from her. He landed unceremoniously, clutching his leg for a moment. She tsked, sitting up onto her feet and talking into her recorder.
“Minimal effort on the part of Subject Zero has resulted in the unfortunate maiming of Subject Six-Seven,” Kira said, twirling one of her curls around her finger. “It is regrettable, but this facility does not house medical equipment nor a proper treatment clinic for Six-Seven. I must...terminate the subject. I'm...I'm so sorry,” Kira played, her expression as far from regret as possible. Her eyes half-lidded, Kira crawled forward, positioning herself over the terrified, pale-faced, crying Jeremy Bevinski. “It has to be done,” She breathed, her voice husky.
“P-Please,” He cried, clutching his leg. “I'll...I'll do anything, j-just...just don't...”
“Perhaps,” Kira said softly, and it was for a fleeting moment that Jeremy believed she was acknowledging him as a person again. But soon, she had brought her recorder to her lips, and curled each word through them carefully, allowing her prey to watch her lips move. “It is opportune that such an event has occurred, for...potentially fatal...tests can be performed to further explore the resiliency of homo sapiens minutus.”
“Psychotic,” Jeremy wailed, trying to back away. “Y-You're fucking psychotic!” He shouted.
Kira's hand suddenly came down like a flash, crushing the poor man's lower body under her palm. Gritting her teeth, her eyes flaring up in the light of her own sadism, she roughly smeared him in half, her back arching as arousal took control of her. His screams sounded in her ears, and though he was quickly dying, he pulled himself away, entrails dragging on the floor behind him like a half-smushed bug. Kira steadied herself, rising up onto her feet and gently stepping out of her shoes. “Subjects...mm. Subjects seem to...seem to have no durability increase, and remain pathetically fragile,” She said, watching him crawl away in shock and pain. She wriggled her toes in the sweaty confines of her nylons, inches above his dying form. “I therefore complete the duty of executioner, as I can find no way to save him. It is...pitiable.” Grinning widely, Kira rose her knee up, and slammed her foot down as hard as she could. Bones snapped and blood sprayed, coating not only her entire nylon-clad arch but a good portion of the surrounding carpet as well. The redhead buckled, collapsing against the wall for support; she dug her nails into her wall, into her thighs, anything to relieve the potent sexual tension building inside her. Power shouldn't feel this fucking good.
“Subject...oh, fuck me...Subject Six-Eight awaits,” She breathed, tucking a piece of crimson behind her ear. Recomposing herself, Kira slowly walked toward the room in which she had Lizzie Williams. Every single time she took a step, she wiped her foot on the carpet a bit, smearing more and more of Jeremy upon the rug. The power intoxicated her; it filled her every movement, her every single action. As she brought the recorder to her trembling lips, she moaned softly, letting the words roll out. “Six-Eight is a noted...troublemaker,” Kira said, smiling as she paused to choose the word. “Subject is a very proud, vain individual. History of domestic violence and abuse. Therefore, Abilities will be used as they can to create a psychological environment suited for taming the subject.” Kira walked down the stairs, and smiled as she heard the sound of wood splintering, as well as grunts of effort. Clearly, her pheromones had not worked as well on Lizzie as they had on Jeremy. The redheaded Goddess walked calmly toward the closet in which she'd left the blue-haired girl, and laughed to herself as she saw the blade of a combat knife tear into the door, yet again.
“You seem to want out,” Kira said loudly, crossing her arms. For a moment, the knife stopped, and a harsh voice responded.
“I'm gonna gut you, you fucking disgusting Unbound slut --” Lizzie snarled, stabbing at the door repeatedly. Kira sighed, rolled her eyes, and opened the door, simultaneously letting Ability Four run its course. Lizzie leaped out, hate and rage in her brown eyes, and stabbed Kira as hard as she could in her heart. Kira flinched from the impact, but the blade shattered, breaking off halfway as it struck something as unforgiving as a brick wall. Lizzie cried out as the impact reveberated into her arm, but this cry was snuffed out as the wind left her – Kira had slammed her fist into her stomach, and was quickly letting Ability Three out as well.
“I don't like the way you talk,” Kira said in a soft, violent voice. She paced around as Lizzie struggled to her feet, looking from the shattered knife to Kira, and back again, all in a combination of fear, hate and confusion. “But you seem to want to fight. That's cute. You're a subject now, not a person. You don't have any rights to fight for.”
“SHUT THE FUCK --” Before Lizzie could act, before she could even finish her sentence, Kira punched her hard across the side of her face, sending the girl into the wood so hard it splintered. The redhead shuddered with anger; Ability Three made her powerful, but it also made her furious, and she hated being a toy of her emotions. Lizzie didn't get up immediately, so Kira grabbed the girl by the hair and picked her up, holding her at arm's length.
“I thought you were tough?” Kira asked in that quiet voice. Lizzie's hair began to sizzle, and she clawed at Kira's grip, stabbing at her unyielding skin with the broken blade. “What happened to super-bitch Lizzie Williams, who knocks down lovers at a diner because they're Unbound? Your daddy must be so proud.”
“Fuck...you!” Lizzie screamed. The heat on the top of her head was beginning to become unbearable. She spat at Kira, screamed and flailed, and eventually, Kira simply batted her across the room like a rag doll, knocking over a chair and shattering a glass table that the girl came to rest against. Bleeding and broken, Lizzie looked up at the powerful redhead, who folded her arms and pouted.
“Are you ready to be a good girl?” Kira asked, grinning. Lizzie snarled, her rage building up.
“GO TO HELL, CUNT!” Lizzie shrieked. Kira stood there in silence for a moment, and then shook her head. She crossed the distance in seconds, knocking Lizzie's knife aside and breaking the girl's hand with a squeeze of her own. The blue-haired girl shrieked in pain, and Kira picked her up, strong-arming her by the throat. Lizzie struggled, but the struggles turned to screams as serious heat began to scald her neck.
“I hate you,” Kira said quietly, her rage surfacing. Lizzie cried and begged as the heat surged through her body, as her hair sizzled and her clothes frayed. “You're ugly, mean, cruel and hateful. You want to feel what it's like to be hated for what you are? Would you like to see, to experience what that feels like? Fuck me, you say? No. Fuck you, bitch.” Kira snarled and twisted, snapping the girl's neck as she burst into flames. Kira dropped the burning bigot, watching her twitch and spasm, unable to do much other than die a gurgling, hissing death. As she calmed Ability Three down, she bit her lip and glanced at the discarded recorder, hoping it had caught most of that.
Kira picked up the recorder and hurried down the hall, towards the kitchens. She'd been waiting for this one. Derrick Powell had tried to kill her and Miranda with a baseball bat. Roleplay or not, there was no saving this one. Kira giggled as she opened up one of her drawers, grabbing the tiny man and holding him in her grip. Still buzzing from the scotch, the arousing roleplay, and the way she'd disposed of her previous subjects, the redheaded Goddess glared hunger and fire at her newest toy. She sat her ample hips upon a stool, twirling back and forth in it.
“Subject Six-Nine will be tested on whether or not homo sapiens minutus is a viable food source,” Kira said, smiling as the man's eyes bugged out of his head and he fought her iron grip with increased fervor. “Simultaneously fixing world hunger and overpopulation! I simply am a genius.”
“I remember you! I know who you are! Oh, SHIT!” Derrick exclaimed, kicking against Kira's hand. She laughed and twirled her hair in her fingers again, pouting in mock affection.
“Aw, you remember me,” Kira giggled, licking her lips, purposefully letting a drop of viscous, boiling drool to drip onto the counter. “I daresay it'll be hard to forget me after this.” She stood up, crossing over to her living room and flopping on the couch. Derrick swung back and forth in her grip, clawing at air and pleading for forgiveness. Her fiery hair bounced and cascaded down her shoulders as she leaned forward, maw opening to reveal long strands of spit whose tensile strength had not yet been broken.
“NO! DON'T PUT ME IN THERE!” Derrick screamed. Kira laughed and breathed onto her toy. Derrick screamed in agony, writhing as the scalding breath of this redheaded sadist washed over him. Without much fanfare, Kira let go, and Derrick fell, shrieking and pleading, onto her infernal tongue. With a snap of her lips, Kira shut the man in a dark, hellish environment, bathing him in boiling spit and cooking him within her mouth. One hand ripped open her shirt, spilling her enormous chest out and exposing her narrow waist. She ran her hands over herself as she slurped and suckled on her cooking prey like a candy, and moaned as drool dripped down her chin and onto her chest. Her pussy ached, begging to be filled...
The screaming stopped. Kira pouted; it was such a rush. She shook her head, tilting it back to allow gravity to help her. Derrick's boiled body descended down her throat, and with a loud gulp, it took him. Kira hung her tongue out for a moment, giggled, and looked down at her unabashed nakedness. Fuck the goddamn tests, she was getting off, NOW.
As she walked back to the room that contained Walter, she let the lab coat fall, and discarded her shirt as well. The carpet singed and twisted under the heat of her soles as she walked, which in turn made short work of the nylons. They frayed and burnt, the charred fabric dusting the floor behind her, leaving a wake of ash. Gloriously naked, hair askew, Kira Northvale pounded her way toward the door, her heart racing, her body aflame...the door gave way, wooden splinters flying as she nearly threw it off its hinges...she was going to boil this fucker alive inside her...
No. God. Fucking. No.
Cold wind swept through the room, but it turned to moisture as it embraced the redhead's naked form. The window lay open, and Walter was nowhere to be found. Hate and disdain brimming inside her, Kira glanced out the window, grimacing as she beheld an impact mark on the grass below. He'd be hurt from a second-story jump, but not dead.
Not yet.
Scooping up her recorder, Kira sat in a chair in the room, idly playing with the glass of scotch again. “Subject Seven-Ten has escaped the facility,” Kira said, sighing. “Attempts will be made to retrieve him. Until then, we will make use of what we have to continue experiments,” Kira said. She ran a hand through her hair and looked to the side at her drawer of sex toys. Tonight would still not go to waste. “Perhaps...perhaps, after Ability Two has been used...Subject Zero-One would like to play.”
That night, Kira's screams were louder than ever.