You'll always got odd requests when you worked at a brothel. Especially when said brothel was located in a city filled with villains and heroes all vying for dominance. That's Jump City for you, proud holder of place number three on the top ten list of supernatural/kung-fu fighter cities (the two above are Gothem and Metropolis).
Money was as close as the nearest street corner for girls like me; heroes were so concerned with the megalomaniacs that petty crime slid by without a hitch. Brothels were a little harder to cover up, safer (for both costumer and employees), but harder to hide. This was the kind of place I worked. We covered as mimic provider; we had a look-a-like for almost everyone out there, heroes, villains, celebrities. We supplied look-a-likes for all occasions, birthday parties, bachelor/bachelorette parties, dance clubs, you name it. We made so much money of the legitimate business that the brothel part was almost a side note, almost.
I never really made as much money as the other girls, cause I didn't look like anyone else, I have black hair worn tomboyishly short and green eyes; I'm fully developed but my total height is 5' 1 ¾ , and I only made bust size b. I got the occasional assignment but it was usually to men who didn't have the guts to be real pedophiles. The only role playing job I'd been involved in was acting as the helpless victim in need of rescue, that particular customer had an odd obsession with our own cities bat's-apprentice-turned-leader Robin; now that was a whacked out assignment. The other girls looked at me as a kid sister and Barney (no cracks about the name) our 'bouncer' taught me martial arts when our off time coincided. I knew that was going to change when a request came in asking for a specific girl type.
"Wilson: South District, 7:00 Tuesday. Female, young teens, short black hair, blue eyes, martial arts background preferred." It came with a locater to provide more specific directions.
There you go, pop in a pair of blue contacts and prefect. Maybe not as young as preferred but I'm small enough to pass. Martial arts background, no first name, payment in cash, all the markings of a villain. Besides South District is the factory district, the only people over there are workers to poor to higher me and villains who need a large lair, usually to compensate. I wasn't too worried; the last call like this had been for our "Starfire" we had some laughs over the stories she told us about that 'control freak'.
I didn't know what the costumer was looking for so I played it safe and kept it low profile. Red tank top, black tight pants, but not so tight as to restrict movement, after all, this guy wanted a fighter. With the black and chrome locater on I was ready to go. I threw on a light weight black leather jacket and a pair of shades and I set out.
The locater didn't turn on until I was deep within the South District, no sudden beeping, or flashing lights, it just heated to a comfortable state and maintained the gentle heat until I stood before the door of the correct factory. There must have been a camera monitor somewhere because the lock clicked and the door swung open when I stepped up the first stair.
The room was nearly black; the only light came from several computer screens across the room. I slipped off my shades and began to walk toward them.
"You're right on time."
I whirled around balancing lightly on the balls of my feet ready to play my part. A patch of shadows seemed to shift as the speaker stepped forward. He was garbed in an unmistakable black Kevlar skin tight suit with steel bracings, on his face was the mask known throughout the city, half orange, half black, and a solitary eye. Slade.
"Shit, run girl, you do not want this job, not if HE'S involved."
I flicked my gaze back to the door, calculating how fast I could make it there. Not fast enough, by the time I was looking back toward him his mask was inched from my face. I dropped into a defensive stance retreating several steps; he followed, taking every inch I gave. I glanced once more at the door, big mistake. Slade's fist came out of nowhere; I blocked reflexively, and again, and again, not fast enough, not by far. His blows were blinding. Feeling my back press against the wall I lashed out with the right hook Barney had always complimented me on. Slade caught my fist totally encompassing it in his own, and bringing it up and back till he held it against the wall above my head; I struck with my elbow only to quickly find my left arm held in symmetry to my right. I twisted feebly for a few seconds then went limp; there was no way I could ever hope to be a match for Slade the only one who would ever be was our very own spiky haired, leader of the teen titans.
"Triple shit! Short black hair, martial arts, young body."
Realization hit me like a ton of bricks. My mind flashed back to that Robin-obsessed freak of a customer and one of the whacked out theories he'd had. He'd bought police footage off e-bay of the titans (minus Boy Wonder who had conveniently disappeared for several weeks) fighting a villain wearing Slade's colors, he swore that it was actually Robin himself. He had no reason why Robin would join Slade, but he had paused the tape and zoomed in on the face. And it was close. Looking back now, really, really close.
"Do you accept?"
Slade asked the customary question, more a formality than anything.
"Did I accept? HELL NO! There was no FUCKING way I was going to 'play Robin' to this psychopath."
Why else would Slade buy a whore fitting this description?
Why the hell would SLADE buy a whore at all? He'd had the real fucking thing in his hands!
I looked up at his mask; this was SLADE. You didn't say no to him and live to brag about it. I knew the location of his lair and did I really think he would just let me walk away if I did say no. He hadn't killed Robin; Robin was back with the titans, right? He wouldn't kill me if I said no would he? I was too far beneath him, just a whore. What threat could I present to him, who would take my word for it if I tried to tell? Right, right?
"Hell, yeah, Villains always allow people who deify them to go on living."
"I… I accept."
Why the hell did I feel like just turned my body over to the devil?