For the rich and famous of Spire City, there was no greater affair on the social calendar than the annual Charity Masquerade. Every December 1st, thousands gathered within the palatial Claremont Hall estate to help ring in the holiday season and raise vital funds for support the city’s homeless population… not to mention shmooze with the most wealthy, powerful and well-connected people in the entire city. Anyone who was anyone, or sought to be anyone, was there; corporate executives, media personalities, socialites, union leaders, movie stars, the Mayor, all disguised behind masks of various colours and designs. Indeed, part of the fun of such events was trying to determine who exactly lay behind each disguise, and for many of the guests, wholeheartedly devoted to the cult of celebrity worship, that alone made the steep price of admission worth it.

Of course, with so many of the city’s notables present, security was likewise heightened for the event, and the Spire City Police Department had been called out in significant strength to patrol the grounds and interior. There were even rumours that the Spire Guardians, the quintet of superheroines who safeguarded the city, were protecting the festivities. If that was true, they were certainly keeping a low profile. The courageous Exemplar, mysterious Nightshadow, compassionate Fireborn, the adventurous Hypersonic, or the psychic beauty Aether, wife of the late superhero Bastion; even the most ardent fan had yet to catch a glimpse of their masked defenders, and most resigned themselves to being denied that possibility. For his part, Oben Marsh certainly didn’t mind.

Not having to contend with costumed do-gooders made kidnapping beautiful women for the Cult of the Nine-Tailed Serpent much easier…

At first glance, Oben looked the part a banker or some other white-collar worker, for he wore his well-tailored suit jacket and dress pants like he was born to them, his short dark hair slicked back and a black mask hiding handsome features that had lured women to their doom. Eight such prizes had been delivered to the cult’s hidden sanctum, drugged, bound, gagged and naked, their lives to be spent for a cause far greater than their narrow minds could comprehend. Only one more, and the Rite of Ascension could commence, and this decadent and corrupted world would be swept away in the fires of the Nine-Tailed Serpent, with His chosen servants ruling over the new Eden to come. They were close now, so very, very close, and beneath the mask of an ordinary, unremarkable man, the cult’s Grandmaster shuddered in ecstasy at the promise of the power to come. It was for that reason he was here, walking amongst the mindless sheep unaware that they’d be dead in mere days. For while his minions had done well in securing the other eight to be sacrificed, this final victim, the capstone to the ritual, could be nothing less than perfect, and thus demanded his personal attention.

But who to take? There were certainly plenty of potential candidates to found amongst the thousands attending the Charity Masquerade, and behind his own black mask, Oben examined each woman in turn with a predator’s calculating gaze. That beautiful Asian woman in the black ballgown certainly had promise, but from the way the media was crowding around her, it was all too likely her disappearance would noticed. Same too with that gorgeous redhead hanging off her arm; a pleasing specimen, to be sure, but from the way they seemed joined at the hip, there was no way he’d be able to get her alone. An athletic-looking brunette walked past, and Marsh dismissed her without a second’s hesitation on account of the press badge she wore; journalists and other media figures possessed too many connections to vanish without a trace, and there was no sense in compromising the cult’s secrecy now. Again and again, new potential victims were examined and rejected, and for a moment, he despaired of ever finding someone worthy.

And then he saw her. She’d gone unnoticed at first amongst the more colourful and vibrant guests, but only for a moment, and Oben couldn’t help but smile, for she was utterly perfect for his needs. Amongst the dancing couples and cheerful groups eagerly celebrating the night’s revels, a short, slender blonde stood alone against the back wall of the main ballroom, still nursing the glass of complementary champagne she’d received at the beginning of the night. She was pretty enough, her figure flattered by her mid-length steel-grey cheongsam, dark nylon pantyhose and simple black dress slippers, and her golden curls piled up to expose a pale, slender neck. Yet she seemed uncomfortable, out of place, the soft pink lips left revealed by her silver mask turned downwards in an anxious, almost petulant frown. Indeed, it seemed difficult to place an age on her, for between her youthful beauty and the hesitant awkwardness with which she carried herself, she seemed younger than she probably was. More importantly, no friends or lovers were at her side, and from the way her grey eyes were downcast and unengaged with the festivities, she seemed lost in her own thoughts, completely ignorant to Oben’s intense interest.

Introverted. Vulnerable. Alone.

Perfect.

“Mind if I join you, miss?” The blonde’s head jerked up in shock as Oben approached her with an award-winning smile. “Seems wrong for such a beautiful woman to be left on her own during the Charity Masquerade.”

“I—I’d like that,” she stammered in reply, and around the corners of her mask, Oben caught a glimpse of a blush spreading across pale flesh. “I’m actually new in town, and don’t really know anyone, so--”

You’re actually stupid enough to let a stranger know that juicy detail? Are you looking to get kidnapped? “Well, then allow me to be your escort. What’s your name?”

“It’s—it’s Athie.”

A stupid name for a stupid girl, Oben thought, keeping such scorn hidden beneath a mask of a gentleman’s courtesy. “I don’t know about you, Athie, but it’s getting a little too cramped in here for my liking. How about we head up to the roof? The observation platform should give us a nice view of your new home.”

“Really?” squeaked the blonde, clapping her hands in excitement. “Oh, that sounds wonderful! Lead on, Mister…”

“Oben Marsh. It’s just this way.”

Giggling, the blonde allowed Oben to hook his arm around hers, and the pair set off through Claremont Hall’s elaborate grandeur. “This is so exciting! I heard so many great things about Spire City before I came here, but nothing could have prepared me for all this.”

“It’s a city with many charms, my dear, but all of them pale in comparison to you.”

Again, she offered a girlish titter. By His coils, it’ll be a relief to see this stupid bitch gagged, if only so I don’t have to hear her anymore. On the fifth floor of Claremont Hall, just below the observation deck, were a series of elaborately furnished bedrooms, part of the original design before Lord Claremont had given over the entire property to the city, and Athie gave a gasp of awe, releasing his arm and striding into the nearest to give it a closer look. “Do you like what you see?” Oben asked, taking advantage of her distraction to close the door behind them and reach into his jacket pocket.

“It’s so beautiful!” marvelled the blonde, staring out the nearest window into Spire City’s brightly lit skyline, glittering in the darkness like some precious jewel. “Thank you so much for show—mmmppggghh!”

With a cobra’s quickness, Oben leapt for Athie, right hand coming up and clamping a reeking cloth over her nose and mouth, while his left arm wrapped around her waist and bore her up off the floor. “Mmmmpppggghh! MMMPPPGGGHHH!” she screamed, long legs kicking uselessly in her struggles, languid grey eyes suddenly wide with terror. “MMMPPGGGHH!”

The mask fell away, and in that moment of triumph, all of Oben’s cruelty stood revealed. “Foolish woman!” he snarled, groping her shapely breasts through the fabric of the cheongsam and provoking a helpless moan from the blonde. “You are the final sacrifice my lord needs to enter this world! The Cult of the Nine-Tailed Serpent will rise, never to fall, and your life’s blood will be the key to our ascension!”

“Mmmmppgghhhh…” The chloroform was doing its work, her struggles fading with each passing breath, and with a groan, she collapsed completely. Holding the cloth in place until he was certain she’d remain unconscious, Oben set her on the nearby bed and went to work. Cords concealed beneath his jacket lashed her wrists and elbows behind her back, as well as her slim ankles, while the chloroform-soaked cloth kept in place over her mouth with a final length served to keep her both insensate and gagged. “Nnngggh…”

I’ve done it! Now I must get her out of her undetected, and—

And then, to Oben’s astonishment, the girl suddenly vanished in a literal blink of an eye, disappearing as if she had never been, and leaving only some stray cords and the cloth behind. Impossible! She was right here! I—

<A psychic projection, created the instant I walked into the room. Did you honestly think that was me you were tying up and groping?>

Thoughts that were not his own cut deep into Oben’s mind like a blade sliding between a pair of ribs. He had but a moment to turn back towards the exit before his body completely seized up, time enough to see the blonde leaning against the doorframe, her naïve, excited demeanour gone, replaced with steely self-assurance. Too late, he realized the innocent young woman he’d thought to capture had never been real, that she’d been a mask of a different sort.

Ironic, too, for she was the only Spire Guardian who didn’t wear one when engaging in superheroics…

<You’ve hurt eight innocent women. Stolen them from their lives. Robbed them of their freedom, all in hopes of murdering them in the name of your insane cult,> Athena Gallagher, aka Aether, silently tore into her would-be kidnapper, telepathic abilities overriding his motor functions and leaving his innermost thoughts utterly bare. <I know where your cult lurks now, Grandmaster. Your evil will threaten Spire City no more.>

No, you can’t. Please, have mercy. You—

<Those women begged you for mercy, didn’t they? I offer you all you showed them.>

Oben Marsh endured a single, heart-wrenching moment of pure terror before Aether reached deep into his mind and ripped it apart, taking every last secret of the cult with her as she withdrew her telepathy. The veteran superheroine permitted herself a moment to observe coldly as her would-be abductor toppled onto the bed a drooling invalid, before turning away and projecting her thoughts outward to a far more noble soul. <Jessica? It’s done. I know where we can find the cultists and their captives.>

<Are you all right?> Exemplar’s thoughts sounded in reply, and there was no masking the concern she felt for her teammate, her worries about using her as bait for the cult. <Did he hurt you?>

<It’s fine, he won’t be hurting anyone.> Aether felt a spike of disapproval from Exemplar at her rough methods, but pressed on, unwilling to get into an argument. <I’ll contact the others, but you should get ready. It’s an old crypt down in Miller’s Lane.>

<Nightshadow’s favourite place. All right, good work. We’ll meet up there.>

The psychic connection faded, and Aether expelled a shuddering breath in hopes of restoring her equilibrium. She valued and respected and trusted Exemplar, just as she did all her fellow Spire Guardians.

Yet even around them, she couldn’t help but keep her true feelings masked…