In Art-Man®’s penthouse suite, the supernatural villainess, Gale, had seated herself on the bed, as if answering his question.

She smoothed her body-stocking around her legs, then attached the thigh holster that held her nickel-plated pistol like hosiery to a garter belt. Gale prepared for a night out as opposed to a high-stakes infiltration. Her fiery red pigtails swayed gently as she moved, the ends brushing against the curve of her bosom.

Her phone rang again, the screen displaying ‘François’ once more. Gale put it on speaker as she finished dressing. “Yes, François?”

François’ voice was smooth, almost too smooth, like velvet rubbed against the grain. “Gale, my dear, I trust you are ready?” he asked.

Gale picked up her silver gloves, slipping them on one finger at a time. “Not just ready François, but already finished.” Gale answered, her voice laced with a hint of mockery. She stood up, her curvy figure amplified by the form-fitting teal-colored body-stocking and navy-blue combat leotard. She adjusted her blue gingham scarf, tying it loosely around her neck.

“Already?” François asked, surprised. “That was... quick.”

Gale smirked, “When you have my skills, darling, ‘quick’ is just another word for ‘elegant,’” she replied as she walked towards the expansive window, looking out at the Los Angeles skyline. “Never doubt me, François. I am the master of my domain, and some overgrown boy scout and his pet scientist will not best me.”

“Oui, I had little doubt, Ma Chèrie.” François conceded, a hint of admiration in his voice. “However, the mere thought of that, how you say, ‘boy scout,’ touching that heavenly body of yours, it makes me... jealous, Gale. I want to be the one to defile that temple of sin.”

Gale chuckled, a low, sultry sound that seemed to echo through the penthouse. “Always so dramatic, Mon Cher. You know I’m not one for monogamy, especially with business. Besides, Art-Man® was the perfect gentleman...”

***

The previous evening...

Gale sashayed into the lobby of the Jonas Plaza Suites, her silver ankle boots clicking on the polished marble floor. She approached the concierge desk, her hips swaying with a predatory grace. The young man behind the counter, barely out of his teens, swallowed hard as she leaned in, her green eyes piercing.

“Good evening,” she purred, her voice a low, husky melody. She was wearing a pearl white sweater dress over her body-stocking, the fabric clinging to her curves like a second skin. She tucked away her fiery red pigtails, hiding them under a platinum blonde wig. The wig was straight, sleek, and reached just past her shoulders. A simple black beret and a pair of oversized sunglasses hiding her piercing green eyes completed the disguise.

The concierge, a young man with acne-scarred cheeks and a nametag reading ‘Timothy,’ gulped audibly. “Good evening, ma’am. Welcome to the Jonas Plaza Suites. Are you meeting with someone?” he asked.

Gale smiled, a slow, seductive curve of her lips that made Timothy blush. “An order, actually, two bottles of champagne for the penthouse. I believe Mr. Gardner is expecting me?” she stated, while she pressed on a small tablet she held behind her back, which intercepted the order that Geoff had placed.

Timothy nodded, his eyes darting between Gale and his own touchscreen. “Yes, yes, I see it now. I’ll get that for you right away, ma’am.” He hurried off. Then returned shortly with two bottles of champagne in a silver-plated ice bucket. “Here you go, ma’am.”

Gale took the bucket, her fingers brushing against Timothy’s in a deliberate, lingering touch. “Thank you, Timothy. You’ve been most helpful.” She turned and walked towards the elevators. Her hips swayed, making Timothy lean over the counter to leer. As the elevator doors closed, she turned, blew him a kiss, and vanished.

The elevator doors opened into the foray of the penthouse. She saw Geoffery Gardner, otherwise known as Art-Man®, sitting at his drawing table. He wore jeans and a t-shirt. His slightly disheveled hair gave him a boyish charm that surprisingly endeared him to Gale.

Gale sauntered in, her hips swaying gently, the ice bucket containing the champagne held aloft like a trophy. “Mr. Gardner, I presume?”

“Ah yes, you must be the champagne delivery,” he said from his drawing table, a sketchbook and pencils scattered around him. “I appreciate you coming up so late.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.” She asked, her voice a low, sultry purr.

Geoff looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her overly sexualized appearance. “Um, no, not at all. Just... working on some ideas.” He stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans before taking the bucket from her. “Thanks, you, uh, are much more... punctual than Timothy downstairs.”

Gale laughed, a sound like velvet rustling, as she stepped further into the penthouse. “Well, I do aim to please, Mr. Gardner.” She watched as he placed the ice bucket with the champagne on a nearby sideboard, her eyes scanning the room, taking in every detail. “You have a lovely home. Very... artistic.”

Geoff smiled, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks. It’s my sanctuary, really. A place to unwind and create.” He gestured to the framed comic book panels lining the walls. “Those are some of my favorite pieces.”

“And this one?” Gale asked, gesturing towards a modern art piece with fiery reds and navy blues reminiscent of her own attire.

Geoff followed her gaze, “Ah, that’s ‘The Demon.’ It’s a bit of a personal piece. Inspired by... well, life’s storms,” he answered, his hand drifting towards his paintbrush on the island counter.

Gale raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Storms, you say? Sounds like quite the tale.”

Geoff shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips as he gently placed his palm on the counter instead, bringing up a security force-field around the paintbrush. “Perhaps another time. For now, would you like a glass of that champagne you brought?”

Gale chuckled, “Only if you join me, Mr. Gardner.”

Geoff nodded, grabbing two glasses from the sideboard. He popped the cork on the first bottle and poured the champagne, handing one to Gale. “To new acquaintances,” he toasted, clinking glasses with her.

Gale took a sip, her eyes never leaving Geoff’s, as she made a very clear, audible swallow. “Mmm, delightful. You have excellent taste, Mr. Gardner.”

Geoff took a sip of his own wine. “Please, call me Geoff. And thank you, I try.”

Gale set her glass down, approaching him, a hand plucking a ruby earring off one of her ears as she placed her hands on the sides of his neck. “You know, Geoff, I’ve always found artists to be such fascinating creatures. So full of passion, so... alive.” She leaned in, her breath hot on his ear as she whispered, “I bet you’re full of interesting stories, aren’t you?”

Geoff swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He noted the warmth of her body. Sniffed the fragrance of vanilla and orange on her skin. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. “Well, I suppose everyone has a tale or two.”

She pulled back, aligning their faces, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Indeed, we do.” She said before she stood on her toes and kissed him, her tongue darting out to trace his bottom lip. The kiss took Geoff aback, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he responded to her kiss, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer.

Gale deepened the kiss, her hands remaining on the sides of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. She could feel his heart racing, matching the rhythm of her own. She pulled back slightly, her eyes still closed, a small smile playing on her lips.

“That was... unexpected,” Geoff admitted, his voice low. “I fully expected the wine to be drugged... Gale.” he said. He puffed out his chest with confidence. Though the flush of his cheeks betrayed his bravado.

Gale shot him a condescending glare. “Now don’t be silly, Art-Man®. You can’t give Sodium Pentothal by mouth.” A hiss sounded from the ruby earring she had removed earlier. She revealed a tiny needle when she tossed it onto the coffee table. “But a small hypodermic? Now that’s different.”

Geoff’s eyes widened, realizing what had happened. He lunged at her, but his limbs felt heavy.

Gale chuckled. She stepped aside, allowing him to fall onto the bed. “Oh, darling, don’t be so dramatic.” She replied. “It’s just an overdose of truth serum. A man of your supernatural metabolism will cope just fine, eventually. I merely wanted to make our conversation more honest, and of course... forgettable.”

“I must admit, I wasn’t expecting you to be so... thorough, Gale.” He said.

Gale smirked, adjusting her silver gloves. “Thoroughness is my middle name, darling. Now, where were we?” she asked.

Geoff blinked drowsily, trying to focus on her face. “You were about to tell me why you’re here, I think.”

Gale laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. “Was I? How delightfully crafty of you.” She sauntered over to the window, looking at the city skyline. “You see, Geoff, I have a certain... client who’s interested in your work. So deary, tell me how to access that lab of yours through that thick, stainless-steel door right there,” she said, pointing towards the lab area.

Geoff squinted, trying to focus on the door. “What? No! Why would I do that?”

With a dramatic sigh, Gale turned to face him. “Geoff, my dear, you’re currently under the effects of a truth serum, you see. It has lowered your inhibitions and heightened your desire to cooperate.”

Geoff tried to shake his head, but his movements were sluggish. “No... I won’t... I can’t...”

Gale walked back to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Shh, it’s alright, Geoff. There’s no need to struggle.” Gale’s voice was soothing, like a lullaby sung by a siren. Her hand on his shoulder was firm yet gentle, her thumb tracing circles on his skin. “Tell me what I need, then you can rest. You’ll feel so much better once you’ve cooperated.”

Geoff’s eyes fluttered closed. His resistance waned. “It’s... it’s voice-activated,” he said, his words slurring together. “The door... it only opens for me.”

Gale smiled with predatory triumph. She readied her tablet to record. “Very good, Geoff. What phrase activates it?” she asked.

Geoff’s brow furrowed, his mind in a fog, “Phrase... it’s... ‘Art for Art’s sake.’”

Gale held up her tablet, crafted by Galvani, which repeated the phrase. Geoff’s voice echoed the phrase in the vast penthouse. The steel door slid open with a soft hum, revealing the state-of-the-art lab and its supercomputer beyond. “Marvelous,” she said, patting Geoff’s cheek. “You’ve been most helpful.”

Geoff tried to reach out, to grab her arm, but his limbs were leaden. “Why... are you doing this?” Geoff asked; his speech slurred from the truth serum.

Gale turned to look at him, her eyes cold and calculating. “Money, darling. Money is always the motivation.” She stepped into the lab, her heels clicking on the polished floor. “My client will pay a substantial sum for secrets on that supercomputer of yours.” She said. Gale then inserted a flash device into the database. The Galvani animation on her tablet showed a full database copy was in progress on the device.

“Being an opportunistic woman, I accepted the job...” The length of the time remaining for the download caught her eye. “Damn, six hours. This will take longer than I expected. I should have brought a book.” She left the lab, braced open the stainless door, and slid into bed next to Geoff.

She propped her head up on her hand, watching him sleep. His features were softer in repose, less guarded. She reached out, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips. He stirred slightly, his hand reaching up to grasp hers, pulling it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles softly, still asleep, before releasing her hand and rolling onto his side, facing away from her.

“Gaze upon the pale blue orb. Gaze upon your doom...” Geoff said, his voice groggy from the truth serum.

Gale looked at him, his back to her, with concern for his words...