***present***

The Amaranth Insane Asylum.  An independently funded sanctuary for the mentally ill.  A place for the afflicted to heal and come to terms with their handicaps.  

And a place for head nurse Jean Delamonte to cure the world of its greatest affliction, one so called hero or heroine at a time.

She truly believed their kind, their attitude, were a blight on the world.  They possessed an affliction that caused them to think they could make the world a better place through misplaced superiority.  And Jean would cure them all.

She stood by the back entrance of the asylum, waiting eagerly as the trunk of the black town car popped open.  She nodded at her two orderlies, Pete and Lenny, and they opened the trunk.

“Well what have we here?” she asked, rubbing her palms together as the unconscious, red headed, naked woman in the trunk was revealed.  The girl was tightly balltied, her lower face plastered over with duct tape, her cheeks bulging from something packed into her mouth.

“She called herself Siren.  She believed she could control people just with her voice.”  Ursula leaned into the trunk, cutting the ropes holding the girl in a ball, revealing the ugly bruise on her chest.  “She got shot, running around pretending to be a heroine.  It’s a wonder she hasn’t gotten herself killed already.”

“Oh my.  She really does need my help.”

“She’s really rooted in her fantasy.  It’s going to take everything you’ve got to cure her of her madness.”

“Oh don’t worry.”  Nurse Delamonte smiled.  “This is what I do.  Don’t you worry Ursula.  We’ll take good care of, what’s her name?”

“Ariel,” Ursula said with a smile.

“We’ll take great care of Ariel.  We’ll cure her of her madness, by any means necessary.  She’ll forget all about this Siren persona.”



***10 years ago***

“You need a name,” Macy said.  

Anna stood in front of the mirror, swiveling this way and that.  “What do you think about a cape?” she asked as she admired her form in the tight, red two-piece bathing suit.  

“None of the Legendary Consortium wear capes,” Macy said.  

“They’re not the only heroes.  And as fun as running around in a bikini is, it quickly looses its appeal from September to May.  If I had a cape, I could cover up, and then be like, bam, I’m the… shit, coming up with name is hard,” she said as she mimed opening a cape.

“You could be the Flasher if that’s your move,” Macy laughed.

Anna sighed, sitting down on her bed.  “We could be anything we wanted.  Something that doesn’t involve running around in a bathing suit.”

“No,” Macy said.  “You could be anything you wanted.”

“You could too.”

“As nice as your degree,” she gestured to the wall of diplomas, “degrees plural, are, I’m starting to figure out that after you getting me straight A’s in high school without having to show up for class once, I’m kind of an idiot.  And while I appreciate the full ride, I’m quickly coming to the conclusion that I might not be college material.  I’m failing every class, and I’m actually trying, really hard.”

Anna frowned.  “Macy, whatever you want to do, I can get you the best tutor if you really want to learn.”

“That’s not it.  I was getting shit grades before I met you, and I’m fine with not being college material.  But you, you can be something that even people who could actually earn those eight degrees you have could never be.  Well, if you get eight degrees, you’re probably a super genius, but still, you can do something most people can’t.  You can be a super heroine.”

“I’m the one with the power to make people do whatever I want, and somehow you’re the one convincing me to be do this.”

Macy shrugged.  “Someone has to make sure you use your powers for good.”

Anna looked at herself again in the mirror.  “Siren,” she said suddenly.

“Like a police siren?” Macy asked.

“No.  In mythology, the sirens compelled sailors to drive their ships up onto the rocks with their enchanting voices.”

“That’s, kinda dark,” Macy said.

“Do you have a better idea?”

Macy cocked her head to the side.  “No, I like it.  Siren,” she said.  “It has a nice ring to it.”



***present***

Anna didn’t have the strength to resist as she was dragged through the sterile halls by the two burly orderlies.  She offered a brief, futile struggle as her naked body was forced into a chair and strapped tightly in place.

Her eyes went wide and she whimpered into her gag when she heard the electric razor buzz to life.  One of them strapped a stiff leather posture collar around her neck, preventing her from thrashing about while the other ran the clippers through her hair.  She sobbed as she watched her red hair fall from her head in clumps.  

With practiced efficiency, they shaved her bald, her scalp gleaming in the harsh fluorescent lights, small trickles of blood falling from the few spots they had nicked her.

They unstrapped her from the chair and removed the posture collar, dragging her into another room.  Two leather straps hung from the ceiling above a drain, and Anna’s wrists were quickly locked in place, leaving her on her toes to keep her weight off her sore shoulders.

She screamed into her gag when one of the orderlies turned on a hose, blasting her with a high powered jet of icy water.  The other orderly spun her around, letting his partner get every inch of her naked flesh with the powerful stream.  The water stopped, but her relief was short lived as the two orderlies began scrubbing her down with rough sponges.  They paid extra attention to her bruised breasts and her pussy, finally ripping her tape gag off.  Her efforts to expel the cloth jammed into her mouth were thwarted by the sponge vigorously rubbing the sticky tape residue from around her mouth.

They stepped back to hose her down again, and the fresh scream of agony as the jet of frigid water blasted her in her bruised chest forced the sodden rag from her mouth.  

“Please,” she begged breathlessly as the water finally turned off, only to have a leather plug attached to a padded muzzle jammed in her mouth and strapped tightly around her newly bald head.  

She cried softly into her new gag as she was released from her restraints.  The orderlies forced her into a waiting straitjacket.  Her fingers found themselves jammed into the sealed ends of the sleeves, and she was forced to hug herself tightly.  Anna grunted in fresh pain as the crotch strap was pulled between her legs and yanked up excruciatingly tight before being fastened in place.

“Let’s go,” one of them said, making no effort to let her try to walk herself as she was dragged out of the room.  “Time to show you your new room.”

She wasn’t surprised when she found herself in front of a tiny cell, only four feet by four feet if that.  The walls and floor were padded, a fact she was grateful for as she was unceremoniously shoved forward into the cell.  She landed on her shoulder, rolling over and looking back in time to see the door slamming shut, leaving her in her pitch black prison.

Somebody help me, she thought as she wailed helplessly into her gag.  Anybody, please save me.



***10 years ago***

Siren frantically prodded at her own bikini bottoms stuffed in her mouth with her tongue, trying in vain to push them past her top which was tied tightly between her lips.  Nearly two months of successfully being a super heroine, and she found herself captured for the first time.  

She’d done her research, and she knew that almost no hero or heroine went their whole career without a few defeats.  But she, like most 18 year olds, had assumed it would never happen to her.  She was Siren; she could stop crime in its tracks with a single syllable.  She would never allow herself to be defeated.

And now she found herself hogtied naked in the trunk of some gangsters’ car, gagged with her own costume.  She still had her mask on, only a small consolation because they didn’t seem to give a damn who she was and her identity wouldn’t save her from what they were planning.  The trunk vibrated to the bass of the rap music the gangsters was blasting, breaking her concentration as she desperately tried to free herself.  

She’d been stupid, careless as she failed to notice the third gangster sneaking up behind her, grabbing her and handgagging her while his buddies had stripped her and tied her up.  And she knew from their threats as they groped her body that when they got her destination, she was fucked, quite literally.

She shuddered as she realized her plan B if she couldn’t get her gag off herself before they stopped was to hope one of them wanted a blowjob.

She struggled harder as car came to a stop, realizing she was out of time.  She screamed into her gag as loud as she could as the blaring rap music cut off, and she heard the slamming of car doors.

“Mmmmph  mmmmgg!” she cried as the trunk was opened, and the three gangsters stared down at her.

“You’re much more likable chewing on your own slutty costume,” the heavily tattooed one said.

The one that had gotten the drop on her bared his golden grill as he leered down at her, reaching in and playing with her breasts while she squirmed and protested.

The third one with the dirty looking dreadlocks put his hand between her legs.  She tried to clamp her legs tight together, but she was helpless to stop him as he began to roughly rub her pussy.

“Come on, let’s get her upstairs,” Tattoo said.  She was rolled over and the rope holding her wrists to her ankles removed.  They pulled her from the trunk, spanking her bare ass as Dreadlocks threw her over his shoulder.  She squawked in outrage, and realized she could smell Dreadlocks’ filthy dreads.  

“Yeah, we’re going to fuck you in that tight little wannabe heroine ass of yours,” Dreadlocks said as he squeezed and slapped her ass.

“Let’s see how you do against a real heroine.”

They all spun to see who had spoken.  Anna twisted herself to see around Dreadlocks’ body, watching from upside down as a woman strode out of the alley.

The caramel skinned woman was wearing a white vest over a shiny blue scale mail shirt.  She had tight white pants, and blue thigh high boots.  A red and grey utility belt circled her narrow waist.  Her brunette hair was striped with bright blonde highlights, and was pulled back in a tight ponytail.

“Sorry red, looks like you’re going to have to share,” Dreadlocks told Siren, dumping her off his shoulder.  She landed with a pained grunt.

“Come on sugar, we got plenty of room for you,” Grills said.  The three of them advanced on the newcomer, fanning out.

“Trust me papi, you don’t,” she responded in her slight Cuban accent.

The rushed her.  She moved like lightning, ducking and dodging out of the way, grabbing Dreadlocks by his hair and flipping him onto his back.

Anna watched, enraptured by the way her rescuer moved like water around her three attackers.  She countered everything they threw at her effortlessly.

The new heroine ducked under Tattoo’s punch, grabbing his belt and yanking it off.  His baggy pants dropped around his knees, and the woman kicked him hard in the stomach.  He stumbled back, tripping over his pants.  She whipped the belt out, wrapping it around Grill’s neck.  She yanked him forward into the heel of her hand, laying him out flat on his back.  Dreadlocks charged her from behind, and without missing a beat she flipped over him, bringing her foot down hard onto the back of his head.  He crashed to the ground, unconscious.

She kicked Tattoo in the head as he was trying to get up, knocking him out with the rest of his buddies.  She walked up to Siren.  The bound girl hadn’t even been trying to free herself, too enraptured by her savior.

“I’m La Trogón,” the woman said, kneeling over Siren.  “You must be Siren.”

Siren nodded.  Of course she knew who this woman was.  She was a Legend, a real live member of the Legendary Consortium.  And she more than lived up to her reputation as a badass.

“Let’s get some stuff out of the way before I let you talk.  I’m with the Legendary Consortium.  We know who you are; we know what you can do.  I’m correct in assuming you need to be able to talk to use your power?”

Siren nodded.

“Alright.  I’m going to take your gag out, now I’m going to advise you not to try and use your powers on me.  Trust me, you want this conversation to go well.”

Siren nodded again, tilting her head forward so La Trogón could untie her top from behind her head.  The woman smirked as Siren spit out her soggy red bikini bottoms from her mouth.

“Thank you.  You’re really La Trogón,” she said, working her jaw.

“Yes,” the heroine said as she leaned over Siren and united her wrists.  “And you really should have been able to escape these sloppy knots.  You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“I’m new at this,” she said humbly, rubbing her sore wrists.  “This is, this was the first time I was beaten.”

“It happens, but eventually it shouldn’t be three clowns that get the jump on you.”  She untied Siren’s ankles, and helped the red headed girl to her feet.  “Now let’s go someplace more private.”

Siren looked at the three gangsters lying on the ground.  “What about them?” she asked.

“Below my pay grade to bring these chumps in.  But if I do my job right, they’ll hope they never run into you again.”

“What do you mean, uh, Miss Trogón?”

The woman laughed.  “Grab your joke of a costume; we’ll get you something that can actually help you out rather than hurt you later.”

“I’m still confused.”

“Welcome to the most important job interview of your life.  The name’s Calita Aguilar.  But you can call me Callie.”