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Throughout his ten years of service on the bank's security team, Harry Morgan had seen some pretty wild things. Robberies. Riots. Alien invasions. And more supervillains than he could shake a stick at. Hell, he'd once seen the Joker in action, and somehow managed to live to tell the tale.
And if there was one thing that those ten years had taught him, it was that the most dangerous surprises often came wrapped in the most harmless-looking of packages. Who could forget that charming old granny who walked through that very bank's doors three years ago, and promptly whipped off her overcoat to display thirty sticks of dynamite wrapped around her body?
So when that (admittedly hot as all hell) lady in the French maid getup strolled through the doors that afternoon, he was on his guard immediately. For a few minutes, he watched silently as she waltzed around the place on those impossibly tall heels. Then, he saw her approaching one of the tellers - Linda, who'd just started working here about a year ago - and found the alarm bells in his head jump a few decibels higher as the woman started harassing the poor girl with what looked like a feather duster.
"Cover me," he said surreptitiously to his partner for the last five years, Charlie Evans. "This might get ugly."
His partner nodded, though Harry noted the lecherous look on his face. Well, that figured. Charlie was still a bachelor, and something of a skirt-chaser as well - poor kid didn't stand a chance against a woman that luscious, in an outfit like that.
But in any case, Charlie had proved dependable enough in the past, and there were another two guards on the opposite end of the room, as well. Worst came to worst, one of them would hit the alarm and bring in the cops - or maybe a cape or two.
One hand on his holstered pistol, he crossed the room with purpose and approached the woman in the French maid outfit. Once there, he cleared his throat and said, in his most authoritative voice, "Ma'am, if you have no business here, I must ask you to lea-"
It happened in a flash.
The next thing he knew, he was on his back, looking up at the ceiling and a grinning face. Then his eye wandered, and he realized that the woman had his un-holstered gun in one hand.
"Eet iz most ungentlemanly to interrupt a converzation between two ladies, oui?" the woman smirked down at him, twirling the pistol in her hand.
All around her, the patrons of the bank were beginning to scream. Feet stampeded - probably toward the exit.
Harry began sweating bullets then and there, even as another part of his mind drank in how utterly hot the woman was. Never mind how she looked - she was clearly another meta looking to rob the place blind. The fourth one they'd gotten this year, as a matter of fact.
Then, he heard a soft click somewhere, and breathed a sigh of relief. One of the tellers had managed to hit the alarm. Now all they had to do was keep her occupied long enough for backup - human or superhuman - to show up.
Mighty Maid found herself caught between the urge to roll her eyes and the urge to giggle. Those silly security guards... always thinking that they and their dinky little guns were enough to save the day. It was annoying, but also so cute.
(Not as cute as that tasty little redhead she'd just recruited, though. That one, she'd be keeping around for a while.)
"Ah, ze ineevitable rezistance..." she mused as the three security guards closed in on her, guns drawn. Her baby blues then flashed. "Will you never learn?"
In the blink of an eye, she had left all three of them joining their companion on the floor - some clutching their stomachs, others clutching somewhere lower. Four pistols now rested in her hands.
Grinning, Mighty Maid raised one of the pistols for the guards, the (un-entranced) tellers, and the few patrons who'd remained in the bank (for whatever reason) to see. Then, without another word, she crushed that pistol with her fingers as if it were a soda can.
"Pleeze do not try my temper," she said sweetly, blowing a kiss toward one of the guards. Then she turned back around to face the cute little redheaded teller.
The poor thing was staring off into space, looking oh-so yummy and oh-so impressionable. So Mighty Maid leaned in close, and whispered her instructions for her first recruit's new personality.
Once she had finished the teller blinked. Then, a saucy yet submissive little smile came over her face.
"I will find you an... appropriate new outfit later, my dear," Mighty Maid smiled. "But for now, if you would be so kind..."
The former super heroine's words were interrupted, however, by the sound of the bank's front door slamming open. Annoyed, she turned around, only to come face-to-face with a very familiar individual.
An individual whose face quickly changed from determination to recognition to shock.
Mighty Maid clapped her hands together. "Ah, how wonderful! I have beeen expecting you..."
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