Email: arthurcomichero@gmail.com
Team Augment Superhero Peril
By: Arthur Hero /Jobbercomics.com
Blackstone's Ambush
A vigilante solo hero that was on the Augment Alliance team, is tracked down and ambushed by The Syndicate, a villain's ring that takes superheroes and busts them.
The rain came down hard over the midnight skyline of Grand Island City, turning the neon reflections on wet pavement into streaks of electric color. Beneath the city, far below the train tunnels and forgotten utility lines, something moved in the dark.
And Blackstone was already hunting it.
Loren Demir moved through the sewer corridors like a shadow given muscle and purpose. At 5’11”, he wasn’t the tallest of the Codex-enhanced heroes, but he carried himself with lethal confidence. His sleek jet-black suit looked poured directly onto his muscular, athletic frame, glossy under the flickering industrial lights. Deep crimson accents wrapped around his gloves, boots, chest detailing, and the signature latex codpiece, giving him the appearance of a vigilante stepping through the underground. The suit’s subtle red highlights on his nipples, codpiece, contrasted with his black suit. His Augment implant in his testicles pulsed beneath the codpiece and gave him power.
Devilishly handsome with sharp Turkish features inherited from his family’s roots in Istanbul, Loren had grown up in Grand Island City his entire life. His father worked construction on the city’s collapsing subway systems; his mother taught literature in Iron Heights. Loren learned early that Grand Island City only respected strength. By sixteen he was fighting in underground MMA style rings. By twenty-four, Marcus Kane found him. Loren begged to be a hero, but he didn't like the limelight. He loved hunting down villains but didn't like the press tours, interviews and the pomp that was now surrounding the Augment heroes. His implant connected to his nervous system, like most heroes but a fluke made him very fertile. He ejaculates a few times a day to lower the pressure in his testicles. Marcus tried to keep it under control, but Loren began to like to swing his thick cock around and find lovers. Eventually he decided he didn't need the Augment control of Marcus, but that made him vulnerable. When attacked, villains knew if they got him aroused they would be able to drink pints of his superhero spunk. He was now a walking source of fuel. And The Syndicate wanted him.
Marcus called him Blackstone.
Because once he planted his feet, nobody moved him.
A voice crackled through the comms embedded in his collar.
“Blackstone, I’m serious,” Marcus warned. “Your implant pinged three times in the last hour. Someone’s tracking your Augment signal.”
Blackstone vaulted effortlessly over a flooded maintenance trench, landing with catlike precision.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he muttered.
“This is different,” Marcus replied. “I’m detecting brute signatures below you. Multiple. You need backup.”
Blackstone smirked despite himself. He had a love and hate relationship with Marcus. Slate, Vanguard, Vern, Razor, Purple Thunder, Flare & the rest of the lot were perfect. He hated the rules of the game. Don't kill villains. But as a hero that was marked to be milked he was often attacked the most. He resented that.
“I work better alone.”
Static filled the line for half a second before Marcus sighed.
“That attitude is exactly why I’m worried.”
The tunnel widened ahead into a massive storm overflow chamber. Thick pipes lined the walls like rusted arteries. Water dripped steadily from above.
Then the sounds started.
Heavy footsteps.
Breathing.
Wet growls.
Blackstone’s body immediately lowered into a fighting stance. His suit tightened microscopically around his muscles as the Augment system prepared for combat. His bulge erect and hard from the hormones.
Shapes emerged from the darkness.
One brute.
Then three.
Then six.
Then more.
A dozen grotesque mutant brutes slowly surrounded the chamber, their charred grey-green skin stretched over swollen muscle and malformed bone. Their eyes glowed sickly yellow beneath torn hoods and industrial armor plating. Some carried chains wrapped around massive fists. Others dragged hooked restraints across the concrete floor.
Blackstone immediately moved.
He exploded forward first, faster than any human should’ve been able to react. His fist cracked into the jaw of the nearest brute hard enough to spin the creature sideways. Another lunged, only for Blackstone to spring off a pipe wall and drive both boots into its chest. He moved like living smoke — agile, brutal, elegant.
For a moment, it looked almost unfair.
Three brutes crashed into each other trying to grab him. One caught only a blur of black and red before Blackstone elbowed him directly in the throat. Another swung a chain; Blackstone ducked beneath it and swept the brute’s legs clean out from under him.
But the chamber was too crowded.
Too tight.
And the brutes didn’t care about pain.
A massive arm suddenly wrapped around Blackstone’s torso from behind. And then another grabbed his testicles. The weak spot.
He twisted violently, striking backward with sharp precision, but another brute slammed into him from the side. Then another.
The chamber erupted into chaos.
Blackstone fought like a trapped panther, muscles flexing beneath the glossy black armor as he drove elbows and knees into anything within reach. He broke free once — almost escaping toward an upper tunnel — but a hooked restraint whipped around his codpiece and ankles and yanked him backward hard onto the concrete. TWACK!!!
Marcus’s voice exploded through the comms.
“BLACKSTONE MOVE! MORE ARE COMING!”
Too late.
Four brutes piled onto him at once.
One locked down his left arm.
Another grabbed his right.
A third forced him against the rusted floor grating while the largest brute planted itself over him like a mountain of rotting muscle.
Blackstone snarled through gritted teeth, still fighting, still trying to rise.
But numbers eventually defeated even speed.
The mutants hauled him upward into a brutal restraint hold, chains wrapping around his forearms and chest as water poured around their boots. His black suit gleamed beneath the flickering sewer lights, scratched and smeared from the battle but still defiant.
Even restrained, Blackstone stared them down with furious pride.
One brute leaned close enough to see its reflection in his crimson lenses.
And smiled.
Because Grand Island City had just found its newest hero.
And its newest target.
His erect codpiece throbbed. The milking was coming.
to be continued...
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