[Mind Mistress’s POV]

I stride down the dimly lit corridor, my heels clicking against the polished obsidian floor. The sound echoes off the cavernous walls, a rhythmic beat that matches the pulsing of the crimson emergency lights.

The doors slide open with a pneumatic hiss, revealing the circular chamber beyond. The room is dominated by a large, round table crafted from a single slab of black marble.

Magnetra, Surge Queen, and The Big Cheese are already seated. As I enter, their eyes snap to me, a mixture of respect and wariness in their gazes. I feel a familiar thrill of power course through me, knowing that these formidable villains regard me with such caution.

I settle into my chair, the high-backed throne molding perfectly to my form. The leather is cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat of frustration that’s been simmering within me all day.

Magnetra leans forward, her silver hair catching the light and shimmering like liquid metal. Her piercing blue eyes study me intently as she asks, “Long day?”

I let out a sigh. “Yeah,” I respond, my voice carrying a weariness that I rarely allow others to hear. “You?”

Magnetra nods, a rueful smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, too long,” she agrees.

The Big Cheese suddenly slams her hand down on the table, the impact reverberating through the polished marble surface.

“Ladies, we need to get down to business!” she exclaims. “My boyfriend demanded to see Sound of Music tonight, and he’s been such a whiny bitch. He won’t give me any if I don’t take him!”

I nod, long accustomed to her bizarre behavior. Without missing a beat, I reach into my sleek designer jacket and pull out a slim, state-of-the-art data pad. With a practiced flick of my wrist, I activate the device, projecting a high-resolution holographic image of Super Star above the center of the table.

The image rotates slowly, showcasing Super Star in all her glory. Her emerald eyes seem to pierce through each of us, a reminder of the immense power she wields. The room falls silent as we all gaze upon our nemesis, a mixture of fear, respect, and hatred reflected in our eyes.

“As we all know,” I begin, my voice cool and measured, “Super Star recently got a fiancé.” I pause, allowing the weight of this information to settle over the group.

“Ladies,” I say, my voice low and intense, “we have a unique opportunity before us. Super Star’s newfound attachment to this man presents a vulnerability we can exploit.”

I wave my hand, and the hologram shifts, displaying a complex web of interconnected data points. “Our goal to manipulate Super Star into becoming the very thing she fights against is easier than ever.”

I’m about to delve into the specifics of our plan when The Big Cheese suddenly jerks upright in her chair, her cheese eyes wide with shock.

“Wait, wait, wait!” she exclaims, her voice echoing off the obsidian walls. “Super Star is engaged?!”

I blink in surprise, momentarily thrown off by The Big Cheese’s outburst. The hologram of Super Star flickers slightly as if reacting to the sudden tension in the room.

“Yes, Big Cheese,” I say slowly, my brow furrowing in confusion. “Super Star’s engagement has been all over the news for weeks now. How could you possibly have missed this?”

The Big Cheese’s cheese mask seems to droop slightly, the frowning face becoming even more pronounced. She slumps back in her chair, the leather creaking under her weight.

“I cut cable years ago,” she mutters, her voice muffled by the enormous cheese block covering her head. “Too many commercials, not enough cheese-related sex scenes.”

Surge Queen leans forward, her electric blue eyes crackling with energy. “But surely you keep up with the news online? It’s been all over social media, news sites, even meme pages!”

The Big Cheese shakes her head vigorously, causing small chunks of cheddar to fly off and scatter across the obsidian table. “I have my own special news sources,” she declares proudly. “But they don’t cover petty celebrity relationships. They focus on the real issues, like the declining quality of artisanal cheese in urban areas and Yiffing.”

I look at The Big Cheese with curious eyes. “Yiffing?”

The Big Cheese leans forward eagerly, her cheese mask wobbling precariously. “Oh, you want to know about yiffing? Well, let me tell you, it’s a fascinating subculture!” She rubs her hands together, clearly relishing the opportunity to share her knowledge.

“You see,” she begins, her voice taking on a lecturing tone, “yiffing is a term that originated in the furry fandom. It refers to the act of…”

“Never mind,” I interject hastily, holding up a hand to stop her. “That’s not something I need to know about.”

The Big Cheese deflates visibly, her cheese mask drooping even further. “But I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet,” she whines. “I was just about to explain the intricate rituals involving fur suits and…”

“Please,” Magnetra cuts in, her voice sharp as steel. “Spare us the details. We have more pressing matters to discuss.”

I nod greatefully at Magnetra, relieved to have avoided what was surely going to be an uncomfortably graphic explanation. The hologram of Super Star still hovers above the table, her emerald eyes seeming to judge us silently.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“As I was saying,” I continue, trying to steer the conversation back on track, “Super Star’s engagement presents us with a unique opportunity. Her fiancé is a potential weak point we can exploit.”

I wave my hand, and the hologram shifts, displaying a new image. The room falls silent as we all take in the disturbing scene before us.

“The plan is simple,” I say, my voice cool and detached. “If we have Super Star’s fiancé gang raped by a group of ordinary human women, I believe it would be enough to push Super Star over the edge.”

The hologram flickers, showing a series of potential scenarios. Each one more graphic and disturbing than the last.

“Up to this point, Super Star has only cared about her ego and public image,” I continue. “But recently, she seems to care deeply for this man. If he were to be harmed in such a way by the very people she’s sworn to protect...”

I let the implication hang in the air.

Magnetra nods slowly, her blue eyes gleaming with a predatory light. “You think it would be enough to make her consider my offer from a couple years ago?”

“Precisely,” I confirm. “The offer to wipe out and enslave the human race. With her fiancé violated by ordinary humans, Super Star might finally see them as even less than just the ants beneath her boot.”

The room falls silent as the weight of this plan settles over us. The hologram continues to rotate slowly, the images a chilling reminder of what we’re proposing.

“It’s a risky plan,” Surge Queen says, breaking the silence. Her electric blue eyes crackle with energy as she speaks. “If it backfires, we’ll have an enraged Super Star on our hands.”

I nod, acknowledging the risk. “True, but the potential reward is worth it. Imagine a world where Super Star is on our side, where she’s the one enforcing our will upon the masses.”

The Big Cheese raises her hand enthusiastically like an excited 5th grader waiting to be called on. Her massive cheese head wobbles precariously with the motion.

I stare at her impatiently, waiting for her to speak, my fingers drumming a staccato rhythm against the obsidian table.

The silence stretches, becoming almost palpable in its intensity. Magnetra and Surge Queen exchange glances, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and exhaustion at what new insanity The Big Cheese might unleash upon us.

Finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer, I let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, Big Cheese?” I say, my voice dripping with barely contained annoyance.

The Big Cheese lowers her hand, her entire body practically vibrating with excitement. She leans forward, her cheese mask creaking ominously with the movement. Small flecks of cheddar rain down onto the table.

“We should make sure the all women that assault him have AIDS!” she exclaims, her voice filled with an enthusiasm that’s as disturbing as it is misplaced.

I sit there, my face a carefully composed mask of neutrality despite the wave of irritation washing over me.

“We will take that under advisement,” I say, my voice flat and devoid of emotion.

The Big Cheese nods enthusiastically, apparently oblivious to the annoyance she’s caused.

I wave my hand, and the hologram shifts once again. The image of Super Star disappears, replaced by a figure clad in a sleek red and white costume. The man’s face is obscured by a white helmet.

“Anyways,” I say, my voice cutting through the lingering tension from The Big Cheese’s disturbing suggestion, “the real issue in getting to Lucas, Super Star’s fiancé, isn’t actually Super Star herself. She tends to have missions quite often.”

“The real problem is this man.” I gesture to the hologram, which begins to rotate slowly, showcasing the figure from all angles.

“This rogue super is a teleporter who saved Lucas’s life from my underling, The Rapist,” I explain. “She had decided she wanted him as a toy, but thankfully, that didn’t pan out.”

“His name is Tyrell,” I add, “and he seems to watch Lucas like a hawk.”

As if on cue, Magnetra lets out another long sigh.

“I hate when a wild card enters the game,” she says, her voice tinged with frustration.

“Don’t we all,” I agree.

“I have no idea where he hides,” I admit, frustration coloring my tone. “Otherwise, we could just blast him from behind with a sniper. His teleportation abilities make him a slippery target, and we know precious little about who he works for.”

The Big Cheese suddenly perks up, her cheese mask wobbling precariously as she sits forward. “Well, he’s probably in Super Star’s penthouse, right?” she suggests, her voice muffled by the enormous block of cheddar encasing her head.

Surge Queen nods, her electric blue hair crackling with energy. “Yeah, gotta be, right?” she agrees, her eyes flashing with excitement. “It’s the most logical place for him to stay, especially if he’s watching over Lucas.”

I shake my head slowly, my lips pressed into a thin line. “We can’t make assumptions,” I caution, my voice low and measured. “I know next to nothing about his powers or his habits. For all we know, he could be able to teleport across continents. We need more information before we can make any moves against him.”

The room falls silent as the weight of our ignorance settles over us.

“We need to all dig through our contacts on this one,” I declare, breaking the heavy silence. My gaze sweeps across the table, meeting each villain’s eyes in turn. “Leave no stone unturned. Any scrap of information about Tyrell could be crucial to our plans.”

Magnetra nods, her silver hair shimmering in the dim light. “I’ll reach out to my network in the underground superhuman community,” she offers. “Someone must have crossed paths with him before.”

Surge Queen’s eyes crackle with renewed determination. “I can tap into the city’s power grid,” she says, electricity dancing between her fingertips. “If he’s using any significant amount of energy to power his abilities, I might be able to track it.”

Even The Big Cheese seems to understand the gravity of the situation, her usual jovial demeanor subdued. “I’ll ask my boyfriend’s friends,” she mumbles, bits of cheddar falling from her mask as she speaks. “You’d be surprised what kind of information gets passed around by men.”

I nod, a plan already forming in my mind. “I have a drop-off with Lady Ruin’s team soon,” I say, my voice carrying a hint of anticipation. “I’ll ask them if they know anything about Tyrell.”

Magnetra nods, her silver hair catching the crimson light and shimmering like liquid metal. “That could be very helpful.”

With our next steps decided, a sense of purpose fills the air. We rise from our seats. Tyrell’s hologram flickers and fades as we prepare to depart.

The Big Cheese is the first to leave muttering something about needing to get to the Sound of Music on time. Surge Queen follows, electricity crackling in her wake. Magnetra exits last, floating lazily out of the room.

Alone in the cavernous chamber, I turn back to the holographic display. With a wave of my hand, the image shifts and reforms. Tyrell’s figure disappears, replaced by a life-sized projection of Lucas.

The hologram rotates slowly, showcasing every angle of Super Star’s fiancé. In the eerie crimson glow of the lair, his features take on an almost ethereal quality. His eyes, though merely a digital recreation, seem to hold a depth that captivates me.

“Before he gets raped by the cattle, I’d like to get a taste of this little treat.”

I reach out, my fingers ghosting over the hologram’s face. There’s no physical sensation, of course, my hand passes right through the image, but I can almost imagine the warmth of his skin, the softness of his lips.

My eyes rove over every detail of Lucas’s face, committing it to memory. I find myself wondering what it would be like to run my fingers through that hair, to trace the lines of his face with my own hands rather than this insubstantial projection.

“What is it about you,” I muse aloud, circling the hologram, “that has Super Star so captivated throughout the multiverse?”