After killing Gimsa, Arnold instantly gained 10,000 points. He was somewhat surprised; just how many atrocities had that guy committed to be worth such a bounty? It didn't matter—the man had reaped what he sowed.
Whistling, Arnold began his return toward the upscale apartment, hoping to spend the rest of the night with Corinna. The thought of her fair skin and mature curves was a pleasant reward for a night of work. However, the streets of 1939 New York were not peaceful. Gunfights had broken out nearby, the echoes of lead on brick echoing through the alleys. Arnold was annoyed. These gangs couldn't even let a man sleep!
He ducked into an alley, drawing his confiscated pistol. Bang! A wall nearby shattered, and a man with a cigar clamped between his teeth—the "Comedian" from the bar—was thrown through the masonry like a ragdoll. A burly enforcer, his neck cracking with every movement, stepped through the dust. He looked like a high-ranking Gotham heavy.
The Comedian scrambled to his feet and retreated without looking back. The big man snorted. "Grab that woman! Beat that man to death later, then we'll take turns with that bitch until she breaks!" He rushed out after the Comedian, his underlings following close behind.
Arnold's expression turned strange. He waited for the heavy to leave, then slipped through the hole in the broken wall. Inside the dance hall, a dozen men were still brutally beating the glamorous woman from the bar. Despite her skill, she was outnumbered and exhausted.
Arnold calmed his mind and cast his spell. Flames erupted from the bodies of the attackers. One, two... five men were suddenly rolling on the ground, screams of agony filling the hall. The others froze in shock. Arnold didn't give them a chance to recover. He donned his mask, raised his gun, and fired six precise shots.
He swapped magazines with practiced ease and finished off the remaining guards, putting a bullet in every head. Seeing the woman was unconscious, he gathered her up, carried her to his car, and drove to a discreet hotel on the edge of town. He paid the owner two hundred dollars. The man gave a knowing, greasy smile; in his business, rich men bringing "unconscious" women in was just another Tuesday.
Inside the room, Arnold undressed the woman, discovering a delicate rose tattoo on her calf—an alluring detail. He secured her hands and feet to the headboard, then exchanged 100 points for a healing potion, forcing her to swallow it before he stepped into the bathroom to wash the grime of the night away.
Stepping out of the shower, Arnold felt a surge of adrenaline. He had killed over a dozen men tonight; despite his growing disregard for life, he still felt the need to vent the lingering tension. The woman on the bed was the perfect outlet. She was stunning—blonde hair, blue eyes, and a figure meant for sin.
Her breasts were ample, and Arnold pressed himself against her, his mouth claiming them wantonly while his hand explored her. Finding her already reactive to his touch, he realized she had a naturally high drive. He used his length to tease her, coating himself in her natural heat before pushing forward.
Pop! He forced his way past the threshold, entering her directly. It wasn't as loose as he had expected for a woman in her line of work; in fact, she was incredibly tight, rivaling Corinna.
"I've struck gold!" he thought. He began to thrust wildly, her heat enveloping him. Every movement sent a tingling pleasure from his glans through his entire body, guiding him to move faster and harder.
The high-speed impact finally brought the woman back to consciousness. Dazed and sensing the intrusion, she cried out, "Who are you? Get off me right now!"
Arnold remained unfazed, his rhythm never breaking. "So tight... you little slut. I didn't know you could grip this well!"
"You beast, let me go! Ah... be gentle... it hurts... don't go so deep!" She cried out in a mix of anguish and rising, involuntary pleasure. Her body was betraying her; despite the situation, the physical sensation was becoming irresistible.
"Is this how you treat your savior?" Arnold sneered, his voice a low growl as he pounded into her. "If I hadn't rescued you, those animals would have gang-raped you to death. What's wrong with me taking my payment? Without my medicine, you'd still be a broken mess."
He gave her no room for further argument, his body focused entirely on the ultimate pleasure of the foreign beauty beneath him.
........
The room gradually filled with the low moans of a woman. As if resigned to her fate, she began to move her hips to meet Arnold's rhythm. Arnold, with his sharp eyes, noticed the shift. He slowed down, kissing her flushed face. "Is it comfortable, beautiful?"
"Mmm... hurry... it hurts, but..." She bit her lip lightly as her body tightened in waves. She had reached her peak.
"You've already climaxed? Don't rush; I still have a long time to enjoy you." Arnold continued his assault, breathing in her perfume and kissing her snow-white neck. As he looked around the room, he noticed a poster on the wall—it looked like an advertisement for a stage play or a public performance.
"Are you... Silk Spectre?" Arnold's movements slowed as the realization hit him.
Sally Jupiter gasped for breath, her whole body tense as her muscles twitched in the aftermath of her satisfaction. It took her a long time to recover, her eyes glazed and her face flushed. "What... did you say?"
"I'm asking you—are you Sally Jupiter from the Minutemen?!" Arnold pressed down on her, the thrill of having a superheroine beneath him sending a surge of excitement through his veins.
Sally nodded weakly. "Yes... are you here to finish us off?"
"Heh, why would I do that? I only saved you because you're pretty. You're tight, Sally—like you've barely been used. You're my woman now. If you need anything, come to me. But remember: stay away from other men, or I'll kill you. Do you hear me?" Arnold thrust violently a few more times to drive the point home.
Sally could only nod; she had no strength left to argue. Arnold increased his speed for the final stretch. When the moment came, he didn't pull out, pushing deep to ensure his claim was absolute. The crazy idea of having a superheroine bear his child flashed through his mind. In this world, power is inherited.
Afterward, Arnold used a pillow to prop her up, seemingly determined to ensure his seed took root. Feeling refreshed, he checked the Exchange Shop. He redeemed a passive skill that allowed him to slowly improve his physical fitness through intimacy with women. While the improvement was slow, it was a perfect supplementary talent.
With some downtime while Sally slept, Arnold used his remaining bonus points to increase his magic practice speed and success rate. By the next morning, he had mastered a highly practical spell: Repair. It could fix anything—even complex machinery or broken vials.
To test it, Arnold picked up a torn poster, cast the spell, and watched in awe. Under the influence of his magical power, the paper mended itself perfectly. Not a single trace of the tear remained; it looked brand new. Arnold was excited. This was his second truly practical spell, and its potential was limitless.
A groan came from the bed as Sally Jupiter woke up. She gasped, pulling the blanket tight to cover her skin. "Why are you still here?"
Arnold walked over with breakfast he had prepared. "I saved you, so you're mine now. You've seen what I can do. I don't care about your organization, but you belong to me. No other men. Understand?"
Sally looked at him, memories of the previous night's intense pleasure flooding back. It had made her feel more like a woman than ever before. "Last night... the Comedian and I were tasked with capturing Gimsa. That idiot opened fire too early, and we were forced into a corner. Thank you for saving me, but... I already have a husband."
"Then I'll kill him," Arnold said bluntly. He didn't love Sally; he simply had a Tier-1 possessive desire. "You are mine."
Sally spoke quickly, "No, please. He's... he's gay. The marriage is a cover, and he provides essential aid to our organization. I can't stay with you right now; the gangs in Metropolis are hunting us."
"I don't care about the gangs. If you need help, find me. And when I call for you, you come. Follow me, and you'll have a good life. Betray me, and you'll find out what it feels like to be engulfed in magical flames." Arnold snapped his fingers, and a ball of fire danced in the air.
Sally stared at the flame, terrified and impressed. "I understand. How do I contact you?"
Arnold gave her an address where letters could be screened. After seeing her off, his expression became playful. Gotham City? He definitely needed to visit, but his immediate priority was the military. He needed to find a way to infiltrate the U.S. Strategic Scientific Reserve (SSR).