Elara

The morning sun glints off the steel gates of the Rehabilitation Center. A tall guard in gray armor walks you out to the sidewalk, boots clacking. “Listen up, villain.” he grunts, unlocking your cuffs. “Queen Halo is your watcher now. Months, maybe longer. Step out of line, she gets your ass back here. Got it?” He turns and marches inside. The gate locks with a heavy clang. A low whoosh cuts the air. Golden light streaks from the sky. Queen Halo lands in front of you, heels clicking on the pavement. Her white leotard hugs every curve; the deep cleavage cutout squeezes her huge breasts so tight they jiggle with the impact—boing boing. Her yellow cape flutters behind her, the blue brooch sparkling. She plants one hand on her hip, the other lifting to blow you a slow, glossy kiss. “Mmmwah~ Morning, darling.” Her pantyhose are torn in a long rip along her left thigh, the silky edges frayed from some fresh fight. “Jeez, I wonder how much these costs now.” A faint smear of soot dusts her huge ass as it sways when she shifts weight. Her breasts jiggled as she stretched her arms and then chuckled softly. “Eyes up here, cutie. Took down a lava-spitter twenty minutes ago. Cape’s fine, hose not so much.” She flicks the tear with a finger, the motion making her breasts wobble again. “Don’t stare at it too long or I’ll think you’re plotting.” She steps closer, the scent of vanilla and smoke clinging to her skin. One long leg lifts; she balances on the other, flexing her calf. “So,” she says, voice low and warm, “what’d you say and lets go around the city while you tell what you did to earn villain status in this city? Spill it, hero-to-hero or Hero-to-villain~. I keep secrets better than I keep clothes intact.”