Ropemaster 2

THE HOUSE OF SCORPIO

by K-Man

She called herself Scorpio. Typical. A superheroine who derived her
name and her power from the most sexual sign of the zodiac. Wanton whore.
She wore a red body suit just like her perverted sapphic lover, Red Devil,
and the mask of a criminal. She was powerful, this one. The huntmaster told
me how she had scrambled the mind of the last member who had hunted her.

“You need to be careful of this one. She’s tapped into some sort of
supernatural powers that allow her to destroy minds and channel energy. Make
sure we’ve gotten everything we can out of Red Devil before you set off to
capture the bitch.”

That’s just what I did. I watched them torture her some more and
asked question after question about Scorpio.

“What are her weaknesses? Where can I ambush her? How can I keep her
weak?”

Screaming and twisting in her restraints, the flashing energy burning
through her body, Red Devil told me everything I wanted to know about her
superheroine pal. Her thick, black hair tossed about and her breasts shook
as she gave me the key to destroy Scorpio. With the last answer, her head
sagged and her mind went blank.
Every hunter in the room applauded and cheered as her lush body
surrendered. Their celebration drowned out the humming machines of the
torture room. Now I was off to bring in the night’s big catch.
As I moved through the city at midnight, smelling the fetid air and
hearing the evil sounds of civilization gone corrupt, I reviewed my list of
steps. With a few easy moves I’d bring her down and bring us one step closer
to a healthy and true society. This place, this heap of inhumanity, build
hundreds of stories high and shrouded in smog and lights, would be rid of
this Scorpio.

1) Enter her apartment through an air vent

2) Find the orb that she uses to recharge

3)Place a simple magnet below it

4) Take Scorpio

It went according to plan. Just like Red Devil (or Louise, as we
found out) she lived alone on of the highest floors of the building. Just
like Red Devil, she had a home filled with the icons of martial arts and
warrior culture. Katanas. Foils. Sai. Bo staffs. Shiriken. Belts and
gis. Again, I saw a photo of two women. This time both wore martial arts
uniforms adn it was obvious to me that this was Scorpio posed with Red Devil.
No masks. Two women.
I worked quickly, placing the magnets below the white orb that Red
Devil had described. It sat on a red - draped platform and glowed white a
soft, white light. I still don’t know what the origin of that globe was, but
I rigged it to do my bidding. The magnets, according to Devil, would
manipulate her aura and that of the globe to suck energy away, as opposed to
allowing her to charge.
I waited in the shadows.
There must have been some sort of camoflage surrounding Scorpio.
She simply appeared on the balcony, a slender female frame with hair that
painted the nighttime wind. Just like Red Devil, she dropped her defenses
and entered her space. Thought of herself as safe, did she?
I grew hard as I watched her move through the dark apartment and
reach out for the globe.

“Yes, bitch....”

Her fingertips touched the globe, and again my soul was filled with
the screams of a superwoman. The orb glowed red and Scorpio screamed out in
pain. Her muscular legs buckled and quivered down to her knees. I watched
her try to pull her hands away, but end up still glued to her orb.

“Hello, Scorpio. How’s life?” I chuckled as I walked from the
shadows.

“Now, let me explain all of this. I traced and captured Red Devil.
At the Club, we tortured her until she told us everything about you. Simple
stuff, really. Then I came to claim you. I’m taking you off of the streets,
bitch.”

Her face was a definant grimace, but she was fading away. Now red
flashes seemed to leap from her and into the globe.

“Time for rope. Here, I’ll help you off of that globe.”

I snapped the noose tightly around her throat and jerked back on the
rope. Scorpio jerked back and sailed in a lean line of helpless muscle. She
hit the ground, and I dragged her like an object, like a beaten woman. I
shifted my weight and sent her flying again. Her body arched and her hair
flew wildly in a blizzard of blackness. I pulled again, tugging her up and
whipping her body to the left. She hit the wall with a dull thud. I snapped
it back again, smashin her into the other wall. Imagine her - Asian,
defined, slender, wearing a second-skin red body suit and being thrown around
the room by me with a length of rope. Powerless rag doll. Her perfect
teardrop-shaped breasts would thrust up in the moonlight. Her long limbs
would cut through the air. Her body would crash into her floor and wall.
Even when she was knocked-out, I continued to choke her and fling her
around the room. I was erect and charged as I watched her suffer.
When I was finally done, panting, I went to work tying her up. I
bound her wrists together and pulled them between her supple thighs. Then I
squeezed the thighs together and secured her legs at the knees with three
layers of rope. Another line ran from her secure wrists, up her back and to
her hair, which I pulled into a tight pony tail and tied with a tight knot.
The ankles came next, tied tightly and linked to her wrists. I taped her
mouth. I took her.