The X-Man formally known as The Masochist had a long list of accomplishments. He was an experienced combatant, mutant conflict strategist, and a widely undisputed badass. He had killed the leaders of mobs under the guise of The Judge, held the line in the great riots of New York years earlier, knocked the golden doors of the Sanctuary down, single-handedly defeating the physically strongest mutant in existence in a game of roshambeau for punches. He had a long list of accolades and notches under his belt that would, without a doubt, make someone think twice about messing with him.

Currently, he was naked, tied to a chair, in the basement of a warehouse in the merchant district. He looked about with a slightly bored expression, looking down to the chains they'd used to bind him once more. Preeeeetty thick. He'd been trying to tap up enough energy to break through them, but he was pretty sure they criminals that had put him here would be back before he was done.

The experience mutant looked over to his clothes in the corner... No way to get to his crowbar.

Yup. He was pretty screwed.

Funny thing was, he wasn't even here for these guys. They were just some sort of underground street fighting ring. He'd been on his way to a location he was pretty sure held the headquarters of the group that was orchestrating the kidnappings down town, just to scope it out. The vigilante saw some shady characters doing some shady things on the way, went to check it out, got ganked by like, four grapplers, and here he was. What was he supposed to do against five guys that weren't even trying to punch him?

Sitting in a chair.

Naked...

Why was there a hole in the bottom of is chair? He grimaced a little bit. Aw man, this wasn't like that scene from James Bronds Crasino Royale, was it?

#@$^.

She had picked up the paintbrush again shortly after moving back in with Saph. Partly due to the fact that she couldn't avoid it forever, and partly because Saph had moments where he gave really great advice. She tended to forget how smart that knucklehead was.

Still, she didn't feel comfortable yet with painting out in the open. Paranoia was still something she was dealing with on a regular basis. So as a workaround, she had decided to just ring some of her supplies into her paintings with her, where she would work in private. No one but her could get in. She was safe. It also helped that the painting she liked to use most often was the size of a small locket, so she didn't have to feel bad about cramming more things into Saph's room beside all of the baby stuff she was slowly gathering.

As she was finishing a portion of her current work, her stomach rumbled. A glance at her watch showed her that a few hours had passed since she had gone in. Saph would still probably be out and about, so she would probably just grab a snack and head to bed.

Wiping her bushes off on an old rag, she settled them in a pocket of her apron and grabbed her work in progress. Then she headed for the exit.

A few seconds later and she was... very confused. Her butt met something hard with a painful plop. It took a moment for her to realize she was covered in... clothes? The room had been clean when she had left, but Saph's underwear was definitely resting over her face with the rest of his clothes thrown over her.

Was this one of those kinky pregnancy things? Had he rushed home to surprise her, and she'd find him draped suggestively across the bed? She pulled his underwear from her head.

"...The @#$%?"

Well, there was Saph. Stark naked and tied unsuggestively to a chair. Why was she in a basement?

"... This had better not be some kind of side thing and you've secretly been into BDSM the whole time." She did not look pleased as she started to get up.

Oh! His crowbar had been stabbing her in the butt. Pleasent.

Here he was, minding his own business, sitting naked in a nondescript dark room, when his former Ex-Girlfriend appeared out of nowhere?

She cursed in a confused fashion, and he looked over to her. "Uhhhhh... hi?" I mean... that worked. He wasn't sure how or why she was here, unless he was being punked, but why look a gift artist in the mouth, right?

"Boy, am I glad to see you! Five meat heads ambushed me on the streets." He grinned widely as she remarked about him maybe having a BDSM fetish.

"Why do you think they call me the Masochist, Babe... For real, though, I'm in a bit of pickle, and the six burly guys who put me here won't be gone long. I dunno how the @#$^ you got here, but I need you to pick up my crowbar and start hitting me. Hard." It was a lot to process, yes, but he was completely serious. "Gonna need you to step on that. All seven of them could be back any minute."

He motioned toward the long black crowbar with his head. It would be heavy in her hands, but not unwieldable, even for the smaller woman. He only usually brought Burnside with him on missions like these. He hoped it would hold up to the fight they were in for if they managed to get out, especially since he now had Shelby and their unborn child to defend. Not that he was complaining. However she managed to get here, he really could use the help. Still...

"How the #@$^ did you get here, anyway?"

Ambushed? By meatheads? Eh... she wasn't surprised.

After sifting through his clothes for a moment she found her painted locket and stuffed it into the pocket of her apron along with her paintbrushes.

"Why do you think they call me the Masochist, Babe... For real, though, I'm in a bit of pickle, and the six burly guys who put me here won't be gone long."

"I figure it was due to all of the stupid decisions you make and the resulting consequences." She gestured flippantly around them. "My case in point."

"I dunno how the @#$^ you got here, but I need you to pick up my crowbar and start hitting me. Hard. Gonna need you to step on that. All seven of them could be back any minute."

She squinted at him. "... Don't think you can cover up that five guys got the better of you, Mr. Masochist. Five meatheads suddenly turning into seven. Tch."

Still, she bent to retrieve the weapon. It was awkward to get a grip on it. She cursed his choice of weapon under her breath while heading on over to him, kicking his clothes with her along the way.

Once she was at his side, she eyed him an adjusted her grip on the crowbar. She figured if she just treated it like a baseball bat she might actually be able to generate some force.

"How the #@$^ did you get here, anyway?"

"Eh...Dunno?" She tightened her grip, "I set my locket on top of the dresser before you left."

Actually... the clothes on the floor looked a lot like what had been folded up on top of the dresser. Whoops.

WHACK!   She swung quickly from her right.

"I figure it was due to all of the stupid decisions you make and the resulting consequences. My case in point."

"Haha, Enjoy it now, Babe, but I'm gonna tickle the @#$& outa you when we are safe again."

He protested to her statement about her being bested by definitely more than four guys. "What are you talking about, there were eight of them! All Olympic level wrestlers! You gonna start hitting me, or what? I got a lot of energy stored, but not enough."

As he spoke he nearly missed that she was advancing already, weapon wound up and ready to swing... at the wrong side. He just barely reached out with his absorption field reflex to stop the sharp part of the crowbar from digging into his temple.

"...WOAH!....WOAH!.... wrong side! Jesus f#$%! Babe, babe, I always hit the other side! They sent you in here, didn't they? Tryin to make you finish me off while I wasn't paying attention. I $%#&in knew it." He was clearly joking. "C'mon, start swinging... We gotta hurry." He paused. "Eh... My right. Hit my right side. Give me a #$%&kin heart attack, see if I save us then. Jesus."

He braced for the incoming hits.

"You try and tickle me again and I will pee, and then I will make you pay for it." Being a few months along in the pregnancy was having interesting effects on her body, which Saph seemed all too willing to torture her with.

The crowbar hit but felt funny. She'd imagined it would have stopped or something. Hadn't really seem his mutation in use a lot. His power was weird.

She grew a little red in the face when he jumped on her about her choice of sides. "Alright, alright! Settle down, it's not like a keep notes on how all of your various power facets freakin' work!" With a huff, she switched dominant hands and drew the bar back again.

"Just so you know.."

WHACK!

"This is single-handedly..."

THUCK!

"The weirdest..."

SMACK!

"Thing I have ever done..."

THOCK!

"And I have interviewed dragons and stalked sewer monsters."

She had to pause them. Her arms were starting to feel noodly.

Tucker Darefort was a pretty chill guy. He spent the vast majority of his time hanging out, training his body, and teaching people how to grapple. He wasn't exactly the world's greatest mind, and that didn't really matter. He was good at what he did, and his skills applied to his job. That job was to teach underground fighters how to hurt each other, mainly with his black belt in jujitsu and some collegiate wrestling experience. The schooling part of school had been hard, and he had a bit of a temper when he lost, so he'd opted to earn a living in a less legitimate way.

Today was the biggest score he'd ever made in his life, though. He'd caught a professional superhero with a price on his head. Sure, he'd never tried his hand at bounty hunting, but the man had just stumbled on in on him and three of his trainees shaking down someone who hadn't paid their gambling debt. When they wrestled him down, and discerned who he was, the dollar signs started showing in his eyes. Yesiree, he was beginning to think that life really was looking up.

That's why he was totally thrown off when he walked down into his makeshift torture basement, a request of the person who had a bounty on him, to a small woman beating his bounty all to hell with a crowbar while he kept saying things like, "Almost there! Hit harder! C'mon, swing harder, I'm close!"

He dropped the knotted rope he'd been carrying in his hand, and let out a shocked. "What the F-"

Saphirus looked over, still buck naked, and nudged the large chain on him, sending in enough collected force to bust the thick metal wide open. He quickly scrambled free of the heavy chains as the shocked wrestler took in what had just happened, and started to charge forward.

The Super Hero spun around Shelby, grabbing his weapon, and tossing it at the man's forehead in a fluid motion.

CONK!

Tucker stumbled off to the side and flopped like a sack of potatoes.

"I mean, see? He's a pretty big dude... Imagine trying to wrestle nine of him..."

They'd been caught!

Shelby let out an eep of surprise, lifting the weapon like she could do something with it before her boyfriend broke free. She stepped back a little after that, willingly allowing him to reclaim the crowbar and take down his assailant like it was a walk in a park.

Sometimes she marveled at how easy he made physical things look. The guy dropped, twitching slightly on the floor before he lay still. Out cold. She looked back to her boyfriend, who was once again trying to defend his manly pride... while still bare ass naked in a basement.

"Uh-huh. I'll stake the usual against that claim." She'd only lost a handful of times before with her usual bet on the line. She only offered it when she was generally confident that she would win. "You gonna get your pants on or take everyone else on in the buff? I'm sure it would make for one heck of a story."

The artist headed over to the rope the giant grappler had dropped. What the hell were they planning to do with it? "So where to from here? Want me to hop back in a painting for oh... twenty minutes while you kick some ass?"

She looked up the stairs to where the guy had come from, before heading off to retrieve her fallen canvas.

Saph grinned a little bit as Shelby as he grabbed Burnside from the ground at the KO'd wrestler's feet. Hey, those ten guys had jumped him, after all. Handling them in a fair fight would be easy as pie.

He started hitting himself, stopping only to blanch, and then turn a deep red in the face as he collected his clothes and got dressed.

The fact that she was willing to bet the usual upped the ante; the usual bet was... pretty great if he won. How would he win this one? He'd figure something out. Were there really 11 guys up there?

"You like James Brond at all?" He didn't say anything further about the rope. "Yeah, prolly best to hop in for a bit. Should be done in ten" He grabbed the pendant, waited for her to do her thing, and then got right to business. First, to see where they were. He opened up the door to the basement and strode on into the next room...

Right into the middle of a Jujitsu Dojo full of angry looking dudes. "Yup... Yeah... That's about right." He muttered as he tossed his crowbar for a spin, and caught it.

The first big guy charged his way.

Many Batman fight sound effects later he looked around the Gym, and slowly nodded to himself, smacking a guy who was trying to slowly get up.

They hit around the ten minute mark, and Saph grinned widely as Shelby popped out.

"See? 12 guys!"

She hopped away to a safe space while he did his thing. When she popped back out, she blinked around a room of prone or unconscious men and blinked.

"I call Bull@#$%. You clearly planted these dudes." She pointed at one man, who was curled up on the floor and weeping softly.

Eventually, she relented, but not without a lot of cursing.

"Why'd they jump you in the first place? This some kinda Karate Kid feud?" She imagined many a leg sweep attempts falling flat.

"And when are we leaving? I'm getting hangry."

She patted her rounded belly. She tended to eat like a freakin' badger these days because of the kiddo.

He chuckled again as he inspected his handiwork, hands on hips, crowbar nestled safely in it's holster.

"Nah, Couldn't plant these guys... I'm fresh out of Summer Dou$%e seeds." One could tell by looking at his face that he thought that joke was just delightful.

Saphirus eyed the slowly stirring musclemen for a moment longer, and reached over to loop her arm inside of his elbow. "Yeaaah, we should prolly go. Sides, I have a bet reward to collect. Yeaaaaaah, don't think you're weaseling your way out of it!" He hurried her out of the gym, and onto some of the less favorable streets of New York. He looked for a moment in the direction of the warehouse district he'd wanted to check out, and sighed, turning back with a smile.

"You ready to do this? It's been a while! We gotta find some place where you can fill your end of the bargain! Maybe back at the mansion? I like the comfort of home the best."

It was a bit of a walk to the car, but he would be sure to hurry them. If there was one thing he would always be in a hurry for, it was what they usually wagered on things like this. What was that? Well, that was pretty obvious.

He started ushering her out, while she was trying to peek around the building. Her cheeks reddened at the accusation that she was trying to weasel out of the deal. "Excuse you! Since when have I backed out of an honest bet?!"

Affronted, she allowed him to steer her while keeping a grip on her things. She scoffed at him as he rambled. "Well, I'm sure as heck not going to try it out and about again. What a pain in the butt. Literally."

The drive home was, well, it was Saph driving so 'eventful' didn't even cover things anymore. It didn't bother her for the most part because she was internally going through a list of everything that needed to be done upon return. She needed to track down a few things and dig out the instructions again so she could make sure everything was juuuuust right. Saph was always satisfied and happy if she preplanned. He hadn't been able to get out of bed for a few hours last time!

As they pulled up homeward and she edged out of the car, she swallowed thickly. Was she ready for this again? It got harder and harder the further along in the pregnancy she got... she just didn't have the same energy anymore.

One short walk later and she stopped in front of the door, turning to maybe sorta cast one last kicked puppy look Saph's way before heading on in. Best to just suck it up and get it over with!

For viewers more sensitive, imagery will be left out to start. Suffice to say from outside of Saphirus' room, faint moans of pleasure could be heard. Light squishing sounds to those who listened even closer.

"Mmmmm, oh, yeah... This is the best. You do it so good~"

Lights up on two grown adults engaged in the ultimate act of pleasure.

Eating home made Mac and Cheese.

"This is why I gotta win every time. Yours is so much better. With the ham chunks and everything." He smoke with a partly full mouth, savoring the flavors as he spoke."God, I could eat this all freakin day! Your dad's recipe kicks #@$!"

The stuffed vigilante leaned back against the wall from his seat on the bed next to the pink haired cook, and then looked down at his empty bowl for a moment. Was he done? Surely he was full! Nope, time for seconds!

*Fade to Mac*

There had not been a lot of good days in the past year. Indeed, this year had been a tale of lost fortunes, destroyed connections, painful betrayals, and avoiding spiders at any cost.

Dreadful, really.

Today, though... Today was going to be splendid. Why, a curious mind might inquire? Because someone had caught The Masochist. You see, the only point of joy the giant cockroach by the name of Gregory Samson had been able to come across over the past year could be found in the horrendous torture of one Shelby Walters. A poor girl who had stumbled upon him witlessly and been foolish enough to take a picture.

Oh, sweet memories. He still tasted her roommate's blood on his... did he have a tongue? More like a series of palps. What was her name again? Jennie? Something like that. She'd certainly tasted better than Angela, Shelby's mother, had. Not nearly as satisfying to watch die, though.

Still, he had yet to complete the total and utter destruction of her life and character. She was not ready to be eaten. Soon. One major stride would be to kill her baby daddy, right?

That was why the giant bug strode into Krazy Tucks Jujistu Gym, donning a very large Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, a large knotted rope, in case the incompetents who brought him hadn't followed his instructions, and a pair on sandals, not on his feet, but on his antennae.

He hummed merrily as he danced on through the front doors, swinging to rope about like a pimp cane. He froze, however, when he, through his one good eye, caught sight of a bunch of men still slowly recovering from a major @#$whooping.

"Goodness, gracieous me... Is it always like this in here?" He knew that wasn't the case... Still, he held on to a modicum of hope as he wandered through the crowd looking for a certain face. Negative. He turned to head down into the basement to see Tucker himself rubbing his head, and slowly climbing to his feet. An empty chair with a broken chain was all that remained of his lovely day.

"Well... This is... Unfortunate." The man looked up, somewhat confused and disoriented. Roach proceeded to flog him to death with a knotted rope, screaming out his rage as he did so.

The only silver lining was that there was plenty here to eat.