Elena didn't laugh at the bank-robber costume again after that first underground fight.
She studied me the next morning over coffee in her kitchen—me in boxers, her in one of my T-shirts that barely reached mid-thigh—and said, very seriously, "You proved your point. You're in this now. So we're doing it right."
That afternoon she dragged me into the basement lair.
The hidden room behind the bookshelf had expanded in my mind from "cool secret" to "holy shit, this is real." Racks of spare catsuits hung along one wall. A workbench was covered in half-assembled gadgets—energy dampeners, collapsible staffs, things I didn't even recognize. A 3D printer hummed in the corner.
She opened a locked cabinet and pulled out a folded bundle of matte black fabric shot through with subtle violet circuitry.
"Your turn," she said, handing it to me.
I unfolded it on the table.
It was a full tactical suit—sleeker than hers, designed for agility rather than raw power absorption. High-collared jacket with reinforced padding at shoulders and elbows, but flexible enough for movement. Pants that tucked into boots with magnetic soles. A half-face mask that covered mouth and jaw, leaving eyes exposed. Subtle purple piping traced the seams, glowing faintly when active. Built-in comms, HUD contacts, and a lightweight chest rig for gadgets.
On the chest, stitched in elegant violet script: LOVERMAN.
I looked up, grinning like an idiot.
"Loverman?"
She shrugged, smirking. "You wanted a code name. And let's be honest—you've been seducing your way into my life since day one. It fits."
I stripped right there in the lair and pulled it on. The fabric adjusted like it was alive, shrinking and expanding to fit perfectly. It felt like a second skin—cool, supportive, powerful.
Elena circled me slowly, eyes dark with approval.
"Damn," she murmured. "You look dangerous."
I flexed. "Feel dangerous."
She stepped close, fingers tracing the glowing lines on my chest. "You are. Just remember—dangerous doesn't mean invincible. Stay behind me in heavy combat. Use your head. Use the gadgets. And if I tell you to run, you run."
"Yes, ma'am."
She kissed me hard, backing me against the workbench until tools clattered to the floor.
We didn't make it upstairs.
She rode me right there on the padded mat, my new suit half-unzipped, her catsuit peeled down to her waist. Every thrust felt amplified by the adrenaline of the new gear, the new role. When she came, purple energy flared along the circuitry of both our suits, syncing for a heartbeat. Still no transfer—but the promise was there.
Three nights later came the first real mission.
Intel came from one of Elena's underground contacts: a rogue biotech lab in an abandoned industrial park outside the city had successfully fused human DNA with extraterrestrial samples recovered from a meteor crash. Result: a seven-foot hybrid soldier—enhanced strength, acid blood, rapid regeneration. It had escaped containment and was heading toward populated areas, drawn by bio-signatures.
We geared up at midnight.
Thick Chick in her newest reinforced suit—glossy black with armored plating across chest and thighs, purple accents brighter than ever.
Me in the Loverman suit—mask up, HUD contacts in, utility belt loaded with smoke pellets, EMP darts, and a collapsible baton Elena had trained me to use.
She looked me over one last time in the garden.
"Comms check."
"Crystal clear," I said through the mask filter.
"Nervous?"
"Terrified."
"Good. Means you'll stay sharp."
She pulled me in for a quick, fierce kiss.
"Let's go hunting."
Flight was still my favorite part—clinging to her back as she rocketed us across the skyline, wind screaming past, city lights streaking below. We landed silently on a rooftop overlooking the industrial park.
The hybrid was already there.
It looked like a nightmare crossed with a special forces operative—bulky muscle under mottled gray-green skin, veins pulsing with glowing acid. Claws. Spiked shoulders. Eyes like burning coals.
It smashed through a chain-link fence, roaring.
Thick Chick glanced at me. "Plan?"
"You draw aggro. I flank and hit weak points. If it regenerates too fast, I EMP the acid glands—you said they're electrical?"
She nodded, impressed. "Exactly. On my mark."
She leaped off the roof, landing in a crouch that cracked concrete.
"Hey, ugly!" she shouted. "Pick on someone your own size!"
The hybrid charged.
The fight was brutal.
Thick Chick met it head-on—punches trading like artillery, her speed keeping her one step ahead of claws that shredded metal like paper. Acid blood sprayed when she landed hits, sizzling on her suit's shielding.
I moved on the perimeter—grapnel line swinging me between buildings, dropping smoke to obscure its vision, darting in to stab EMP darts into exposed joints. Each one slowed its regeneration for precious seconds.
At one point it caught her with a backhand that sent her crashing through a warehouse wall. My heart stopped.
But she burst out laughing, aura flaring purple. "That all you got?"
She flew straight up, grabbed it by the throat, and slammed it into the ground hard enough to crater pavement.
I saw my opening—the glowing acid sacs on its back pulsing wildly.
I sprinted, leaped, and drove the last EMP spike deep between armored plates.
The creature convulsed, acid flow cutting off.
Thick Chick finished it—one glowing fist through the chest, twisting until the light in its eyes died. The body slumped, dissolving into inert sludge.
We stood in the aftermath—steam rising from melted asphalt, distant sirens approaching.
She turned to me, mask lenses reflecting purple glow.
"You okay, Loverman?"
I pulled my mask down, grinning through sweat and grime.
"Never better."
She yanked her own mask off, hair wild, and kissed me right there in the open—deep, claiming, adrenaline-fueled.
When we broke apart, she rested her forehead against mine.
"Welcome to the big leagues, partner."
We exfiltrated before the authorities arrived—her carrying me into the night sky, both of us laughing like maniacs.
Back home, we didn't even make it to the bedroom.
Suits peeled off in the hallway, leaving a trail to the shower. We fucked against the tiles—hot water cascading over us, her legs wrapped around my waist, my hands gripping her ass as she rode me with superhuman rhythm. Purple energy danced across the water droplets, lighting the steam violet.
Later, tangled in her bed, she traced the Loverman emblem on my discarded chest piece.
"First mission down," she murmured. "Hundreds more to go."
I kissed her slow and deep.
"With you? I'm ready for every single one."
Outside, the city slept—unaware that Thick Chick and her new sidekick, Loverman, were just getting started.
The world was getting darker.
But we were ready to light it up.