Chapter 11: A New Thrall for Steed

Catwoman Marie sashayed down the front walk as briskly as her paw-boots would allow. She opened the rear door of the taxi and stepped inside, a vision of glossy black latex.

"Lemme guess: Castro street party?" Her taxi driver was a heavy-set bearded man in a large sailor suit.

Marie did not reply, her eyes bulging as the tail, squeezed between her back and the car seat, inflated suddenly within her. Gathering her composure, she just smiled and handed him the card with the address on it.

"Hmmm, that's gunna be tough from here what with all the streets closed. I'll have to take Divis. around to where I can cross Market, is that okay?" Marie just looked out the window and nodded, irritated that all San Francisco taxi drivers seem to want to get the rider's opinion on the best route.

The ride was uneventful, if circuitous. Several competing neighborhood costume parties provided plenty of visual entertainment for Marie, and she was startled when the taxi pulled into a narrow SoMa alleyway and stopped. She handed the driver a large bill and left the cab without a word, strutting into a dark brick archway as her tail flicked behind her.

A young man in a bellhop outfit ushered her into a large cage-like service lift, swinging the accordion door closed and squeezing the controls to go up. Marie imagined herself kept in a wire mesh cage, the ferocious wildcat of Hamburg. She'd be kept on display at the zoo, and people would pay admission to see her tear gashes in her trainer's uniform.

The lift whined its way up to the top floor, and the young man slid open the gate to let Marie out again. She stalked down a long hallway and reached a heavy iron door. Reaching up, she pulled on a wooden handle attached to a chain dangling from the ceiling. A tinkling bell sounded from the other side of the door, and a pair of eyes emerged from behind a tiny rectangular slot.

She did her best to smile and look as though she belonged, and the slot slid shut again. With a clang, the iron door swung inward, leading into a dim candle-lit gathering.

Marie tiptoed on her velveted rubber paws into what appeared to be someone's loft apartment. All around her, she spotted men and women in various rubber and leather costumes, each with an identity-concealing mask of some sort.

"Ah, you must be the new thrall. We were told you'd be coming as a cat, but I must say your costumer has outdone himself!" Marie turned quickly to find the source of the voice: a tall, slender, film-noir femme fatale leaned against a pillar, one knee bent beneath her long red rubber evening gown. Her arms were clad in opera-length red rubber gloves, and between her gummy fingers she balanced a long cigarette holder. Her black hair hung in a bob, her wide bangs resting atop a red rubber domino mask that matched the shade of her ruby lips perfectly.

The lanky woman took a sip of smoke from her cigarette and puffed a perfect ring into the air between them. "Welcome to the party, little one. Most of the guests have yet to arrive, but I'm sure they'll all want to meet you. We haven't had a new thrall at our gatherings in ever so long."

Marie cleared her throat, trying not to appear nervous. "Um, what exactly do you mean by 'thrall'?"

The lady in red straightened up and creased her lips in an amused smirk, "Oh yes, they'll definitely want to meet you, little one."

Marie frowned as the woman slinked off toward the bar, thinking that perhaps she needed a drink herself. She always hated going to parties where she didn't know anyone. Here it seemed, her reputation preceded her, and she wasn't sure that was the best thing.

"Cosmo?" A man in a leather three-piece suit and bowler hat held out a martini glass filled with a pink fluid. Marie looked up at his black rubber domino mask, and smiled as she took the drink.

"Thank you, that would be perfect." she sighed, "I'm afraid I'm at a loss. I don't know anyone here, you see, and..."

"Oh, that's really the point!" the man's green eyes sparkled behind his mask, "Nobody here knows who anyone else is. Perhaps we're all strangers, or maybe we met before. We could be reincarnations of lifelong companions or old pets! Don't worry, my dear, there are plenty of icebreakers planned. A gathering like this really needs structure, wouldn't you say?"

"Ah, oh..." Marie stammered a bit, sipping her drink, "Yes, yes, I suppose that's good. Erm, what should I call you then, if we're not supposed to know who everybody is?"

The man reached up with a menacing looking steel umbrella and pushed the brim of his hat up a little. "Steed. John Steed. Sorry I couldn't find anything in pinstripe, but I came in rubber last year."

Marie giggled, remembering her days of watching The Avengers dubbed into German, always relishing the scenes where Mrs. Peel or Kathy Gale were bound and tormented by some criminal mastermind.

"Ah, come with me, my dear. The first activity is about to begin." Steed took her clawed hand in the crook of his shoulder and led her down into the main floor of the loft. Marie looked around at the crowd and realized that they were all dressed as heroes and villains from comic books and spy series.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Masters, mistresses, slaves, and thralls! The first competition is about to begin!" A man dressed as The Joker waved his purple pork-pie hat around for emphasis as he announced the event. Standing behind him was a girl in a red and black latex Harley Quinn costume, a leash strap running from her chin down to the Joker's left hand. In her hands she held a small metal gong and mallet, which she used to punctuate the magician's cries and get the crowd's attention.

"Since our theme this year is heroes and villains, the first competition is a classic! This building was once a stockhouse for the Southern Pacific Railroad, and we've always been meaning to make use of the leftover supplies." He released the leash and Quinn walked over to a vinyl curtain and pulled it back, revealing a room covered in winding sections of railroad track. "So pair up and grab a bundle!"

The crowd murmur rose as couples began to choose and head into the room. Steed turned to Marie and smiled, gesturing inquisitively. She nodded hesitantly, and followed him into the track room. As they passed through the curtain, Steed grabbed a neatly-tied bundle of hemp rope, and fussed with it as he spoke.

"I think the best bet is to grab a curved section of track. I have an idea that ought to have them all kicking themselves!" Steed was like a little boy, excited with anticipation of the results of his clever idea.

"Oh, um, sure. Er, what exactly are we doing?" Marie scanned the room, and saw all the women in the party laying across or along the tracks, while the men unwound the bundles of rope they had picked up earlier.

"A classic scene: the damsel in distress! Bound to the railroad tracks, with the 10:30 local barreling down the right-of-way completely unawares! Now my dear Catwoman, I realize that you are the villain in our little team, but tradition demands that you be the one to lay across the rails. Allow me."

Marie furrowed her brow beneath the rubber cowl as she was assisted in laying down in a C-shaped section of track. He turned out to be quite quick and adept with the rope, binding her right wrist to the top of the outer rail, and her left ankle to the bottom. He connected her other arm and knee to the center of the smaller C of the inner rail in front of her, and connected a line from the center of the outer rail to provide tension on her waist, pulling her taut.