The rain wasn't heavy, but it was persistent - a fine, cold mist that turned the neon signs of the warehouse district into blurred, bleeding smudges of pink and blue. My steel-core heels let out a rhythmic clacking on the damp concrete, the sound bouncing off the corrugated metal walls of the industrial stacks.

  "Yuna, seriously. It's midnight. It's raining. And this place smells like wet cardboard," I said, adjusting the matte-black visor on my face as it tried to compensate for the low light. "You should be at home, watching a show or ... I don't know, sleeping? Whatever normal people do."

  Behind me, Yuna was a whirlwind of motion despite the damp. She had a raincoat on over her clothing from earlier, my phone on a gimbal rig with one hand, and her own phone in her other hand, her face illuminated by the pale glow of the twin electronics.

  "Normal people don't have a best friend who just hit D-Rank in forty-eight hours, Voltana," Yuna chirped, pivoting the camera to get a dramatic low-angle shot of my boots stomping through a puddle. "Besides, the Night Patrol aesthetic is absolute gold." She turned the camera and waved to it, then pivoted it back to me. "Hey guys! Thanks for joining us on Voltana's first patrol!"

  I sighed, the sound seeming muted in the damp alleyway. "I'm supposed to be deterring crime. I suppose having my camerawoman narrate my every step like a nature documentary will keep the criminals away, so maybe that counts?"

  "Oh hush, you're doing great," she said, stepping closer to bump her hips into mine for a brief second. "I didn't want you to be lonely - or get lost. Sector 7 is ... it's a bit much for a first patrol. Large, empty, and dark."

  I looked at her, seeing the way the drizzle was sticking to her eyelashes - the way that her legs were damp from the water splashing up from the street. She was trying to act like this was about the clout, about building me an audience - about hanging with a friend - but I could see the way her eyes darted toward the darker alleys. She was scared, and yet she was here. For me.

  "Thanks, Yuna," I whispered. "But if things get weird, you run. Promise?" I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to my one friend in this strange world.

  "Yeah, yeah. I'll be the fastest camerawoman in Bay City," she joked as she turned the lens back toward me. "Okay, viewers! All ... thirty seven of you. Thanks for joining! Let's make it a little interactive. What questions would you have for Bay City's newest heroine? Voltana is here to answer your questions and fight crime! Well, she might - if any villi-"

  The air didn't just move around us, it hissed.

  A blur of slate-gray dropped from the fire escape above us. I didn't even have time to shout before the shadow slammed into Yuna's side. Her cell phone flew from her hand, shattering against the pavement with a sickening crunch of plastic and glass. Yuna let out a sharp, choked cry as she was hurled into a stack of wooden crates, her body hitting the pine with a heavy thud before she slumped to the ground, left hand somehow hanging onto the gimbal unit.

  "YUNA!"

  I lunged toward her, my heart jumping into my throat, but a sharp, burning pain across my shoulder stopped me cold. I staggered back, my hand flying to my arm. The heavy rubber of the electrician's hoodie had been sliced clean through, and a line of hot, wet crimson was already beginning to soak into the fabric of the compression top. It hurts, I whimpered to myself. It HURTS!

  "Eyes on the prize, newbie," a voice purred from the shadows.

  A woman stepped into the flickering light of a nearby streetlamp. She was lithe, dressed in a matte-gray bodysuit that looked like second skin, topped with a mask featuring pointed, feline ears. She was casually flicking blood off a set of retractable, obsidian-colored claws.

  "You've got a lot of nerve, strolling into my den," she said, her eyes glinting behind the mask. "But don't worry. I'll make sure her last memory is a high-definition shot of me taking you apart."

  I looked at Yuna, who was clutching her side, struggling to point the camera rig at me even as she coughed. Then I looked at the blood on my fingers, still dripping from my right arm.

  The Man of Culture who loved his anime figurines wasn't here anymore. The hapless IT nerd who got bullied daily for his Asuka figurine was dead. Something old and primal - something that felt like a lightning storm - started to roar in my ears.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  "You shouldn't have touched my friend," I growled. In my peripheral vision, I could see the indigo circuits starting to appear on my hands as I raised them into a fighting stance, feeling a low, dangerous vibration start to build in my body.

  "Make me regret it, Sparky," she quipped.

  I didn't have time to answer. The woman was a blur of gray motion, her boots barely splashing as she launched herself off a dumpster. I raised my arms to block, but she was faster, her claws raking across the poly-carbonate plates on my forearms with a screeching sound that set my teeth on edge.

  She didn't just attack, she danced - a blur of slate-gray motion, efficient and cruel. I swung a heavy kick toward her, but she slipped under my guard, her claws raking the plates on my thigh. I grunted, following up with a desperate back-fist that caught her shoulder, sending her reeling back a step.

  "What the hell are you even supposed to be?," I spat, wiping a smear of blood from my lip. "Some sort of discount cat lady?"

  "Not even close," she hissed, rebounding off a nearby wall and catching me with a mid-air knee to the ribs that took my breath away. "I'm the Stray - and I don't like people playing hero in my territory."

  We traded blows for several minutes - a messy, uncoordinated slug-fest that left both of us gasping. I was stronger, but she was faster, and my costume kept getting in the way of my attacks more than I felt comfortable with - the heavy rubber of the hoodie slowing my attacks. I caught her with a solid elbow to the mask, snapping her head back in a shower of blood, but she countered by raking her claws down my side, shredding more of my costume as sharp lines of agony traced their way down my side.

  The Stray and I staggered away from each other for a second, panting heavily. I glanced over toward Yuna, who was pale and clutching her side against the crates, still holding up my phone on the gimbal.

  "Distracted?," The Stray purred. "Bad move, Sparky."

  She lunged; not at me, but toward the crates. I didn't think. I threw myself across the alley, my heels skidding on the wet concrete as I became a human shield for my only friend in this strange world. Her claws caught the center of my hoodie, the reinforced rubber tearing away with a violent, jarring snap. The straps gave way, the plates clattering to the ground, and I was thrown backward, landing hard in a puddle.

  My outfit was shredded. All that remained was fragments of the vacuum-sealed Gravity Gal silk top, now clinging to my chest like a desperate, glowing bandeau that barely covered the essentials.

  Suddenly, the rain hitting my bare skin didn't feel cold anymore - it felt like fuel. As I sat up, breasts jostling wildly as I tried to avoid a wardrobe malfunction, I saw the viewer count in my visor start ticking upward as Yuna stared, open-mouthed, at me from five feet away.

  Behind me, I could hear The Stray climbing to her feet once more and I staggered to my own feet, one hand holding my top together.

  A massive, euphoric flush of heat surged from my core as the indigo circuits on my skin flared with a blinding, almost strobing light, turning the alley into a violet-tinted nightmare.

  The Stray's eyes widened and she took a step backward, the feline confidence flickering. "What the ... what the hell are you?"

  "I'm Voltana," I growled, my voice somehow layered with a static hum that resonated in my bones. "And I'm the one who's going to bring you to justice."

  She lunged for a finishing blow, but I didn't dodge. Instead, I tackled her mid-air.

  We hit the wet pavement hard, rolling through the grime of the alley until I managed to flip her. In the chaos of the grapple, I ended up straddling her chest. As she bucked and twisted, I pivoted to maintain my balance, ending up in a reverse mount with my weight pinned firmly over her face and throat.

  The position was humiliatingly suggestive - my ass, clad in the tight, wet tactical leggings, was shoved directly into her masked face. I could feel her muffled gasps as she struggled to breath, her claws scratching frantically at my thighs, shredding the leggings. The warm heat of her breath against my inner thighs, heating already.

  "Let ... go!," she choked out.

  "Not a chance!" I leaned back, pressing my weight down into her face even harder, using the suggestive position to anchor her to the ground. As I did, I saw the viewer count tick up again - and I could feel an intoxicating energy run through my body. I reached down, grabbing her wrists and pinning them to the concrete.

  *KRA-KOOM*.

  Indigo lightning erupted from me, arcing through my body and discharging into the Stray. Her body arched, her muffled scream lost against the heat of my skin. I poured everything I had into her - the frustration of being Kenji, the fear of this new world, of seeing my only friend hurt, and the raw, addictive power of the lightning coursing through my veins as I dominated her.

  Finally, she went limp beneath me. The static died down to a low crackle. I stayed there for a beat, breathing hard, my bare shoulders steaming in the rain as I sat victoriously on her face.

  I looked around. Yuna was staring at me, the gimbal trembling in her hands as she captured the entire, scandalous silhouette. I looked down at the unconscious girl beneath me, then at my own tattered, shimmering outfit. In the grapple, a nipple had almost poked free and I moved quickly to adjust it, ensuring I didn't show anything I didn't mean to.

  I should have been embarrassed. I should have been horrified. But as I glanced down at the Stray, all I felt was a dark, electric hunger. I wanted more of this.