Misfortune - A Super Story

I was inspired to write this after reading "Villainous", elsewhere in this board.

This story contains a little bit of sex and, hopefully, the potential for plenty more. I hope you all like it and enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

If you want something far, far darker, please visit the thread for Classroom Discipline; after receiving some supportive comments, I can confirm that I will try and continue that story on in a different direction and develop both the plot and the characters further.

Super Stories - Misfortune

There was only one topic that Mimicra was reluctant to talk about freely (as she was generally very happy to talk; at length if need be) and that was Latents. As a villainess of considerable power, if not considerable wisdom, she always felt that, above and beyond the yapping of the more righteous vigilante types, the special punishment reserved for her actions by God was the existence of these useless, useless Latents.

It was all just so bitterly unfair.

***

In the polished neon future of Nextropolis, a world of power, passion and vibrant colour played out it's sagas and intrigues on the most gargantuan canvas of them all: life. Corporate mercenaries raided data hubs, next generation cloning facilities and gene-modders birthed the latest and most crazed forms of super human and costumed heroes and villains erupted from burning buildings and fought among the populace with reckless abandon. Each day was a riot of headline news, drama and the actinic furnace glow of the elemental forces of the universe untapped, on the way to being untapped, or still being well and truly tapped, whatever that means.

In this noisy, wild mess of a gleaming future city many thousands went about their lives without robbing banks, without foiling the master plans of evil masterminds, or even without any kind of great impact at all, but not all of the innocent were powerless. Latents were those who were destined to pass on being super to their children, or were the nephews and nieces of those who already were super. They lived, worked and died in the kind of constructive anonymity that was only occasionally broken up by "VOLTAR SUBDUES HERO LAD; HUNDREDS ARE CRUSHED IN SEISMIC DELUGE".

They rarely ever were anything more than the guy next door, the quiet chap from accounts, or as Mimicra had just found out, the mousy bank teller girl that had been trying to press the security button.

***

Mimicra had definite ideas about what costumes a villainess had to wear and the words "sexy" and "tight" had cropped up no less than one hundred and forty eight times during the last shopping trip she'd taken with Boombastic (aka. Sarah) to the fetish/superhero costume shop in the local mall. In all her imaginings of ridiculously tight unitards, the reinforced spandex weave parting her nether-lips like