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VOODOO

Breathing hard, Lynx paused and scanned the darkness. This was Voodoo's unofficial patrol zone, so with any luck, he should run into her again tonight.

He'd known a lot of superheroines over the years, but she was something special. No dilettante adrenaline junkie or spandex-clad wannabe, she was determined and serious, even after the attack that had come so close to killing her. Like him, she really believed in the necessity of what they did. He'd been strongly tempted to beat Reaper to death for hurting her.

Lynx gave the skyline another questing scan, looking for the flap of a familiar cape. Nothing...

A female mouth suddenly closed around his cock, wet and hungry. He gasped and almost tumbled off his perch. Catching himself against a metal pipe, he threw a look downward. Despite his rioting senses, his groin armor was still firmly in place. A clever tongue swirled and danced around his thickening shaft as ghostly fingers gently squeezed his balls. He grabbed for his dick, wondering if some invisible superwoman....

No. There was nothing there.

"Shit!" Lynx glanced around wildly.

And there, hovering over the skyline, he spotted a familiar figure in skintight spandex, cape whipping in the wind. A cropped black top cupped her full breasts, while leaving her lean little belly bare. A belt made of feathers, chains, and silver skulls circled her narrow waist. The same skull motif decorated the knee-length loincloth that whipped over her thigh-high black boots. She wore her hip-length black hair tied back in a ponytail that spilled from the crown of her black cowl. Only the bottom half of her delicate face showed, pale and pretty in the moonlight.

Voodoo.

Despite the name and props, she didn't really practice magic, black or otherwise. She was, however, a powerful psychic and telekinetic who could project whatever sensation she wanted into a subject's mind -- pain, pleasure, fear. Or, apparently, a toe-curling blowjob.

"Voodoo," he shouted, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Just celebrating my favorite day of the year." She grinned. "Trick or treat, Lynx!" Giving him a mocking little wave, she turned with a swirl of her cape and soared into the night.

"I'll give you a trick!" Extending one of his guns, he fired its line into a long, hissing arc and threw himself in pursuit.

If she wanted to play games, he was more than willing.