Medea

  What if there came a world where supernatural abilities were real?
  
  And what if a military sect took advantage of this, by pairing such talented individuals, Evolutions, with a normal person, who was to be their emotional crutch?

  What would happen if one of these crutches took advantage of their position?

  In the elite group known as DEMI, she became a legend. Early on, when the organisation's modus operandi was still being fully developed, she was conscripted out of high school and trained in self defence and modern warfare, psychology and medicine, and paired with an Evolution..

  He was her own age, taller with dark red hair and brown, almost black eyes. As soon as he saw her white blonde hair and bright blue eyes, small frame and angelic features, she knew he was obsessed with her. And she used it to her advantage.

  She knew why she had been conscripted. At school she had been the queen bitch, displaying an almost psychotic detachment from her emotions and those of others at will, while at the same time using another's mind set against them, manipulating everyone around her for her own pleasure. Lives were entertainment for her. She was worshipped and feared, she literally controlled who lived and died just by creating insidious mental traps; six girls and three boys, all from different ages and cliques, had committed suicide because of her.

  She was still held in awe by all around her when she joined, simply because of one thing: she had come voluntarily. Every single other person in DEMI had been threatened, blackmailed and kidnapped. She was given the spiel and had her bags packed in five minutes. She was drawn to the entire thrilling lifestyle, the privileges she received and the missions she was sent on. She would be filthy-rich for the rest of her life, and got to kill people on covert missions as an added bonus. Yes, she had to take care of the emotionally unstable person with a superpower, but manipulating him was as natural as her bitch nature.

  This was what eventually made her a legend in DEMI, discussed with fear and wonder for decades to come.

  One of the few rules forced upon this elite group was: no close relationship between partners. A small level of detachment and preferably antagonism was encouraged between the two, so that if the crutch were to be killed, the Evolution wouldn't go on a rampage. Hers was the only partnership ever where intimacy was allowed.

  At first, she had had no intention of making him worship her. She'd been so excited about joining, the money, the missions, the challenge of maintaining his sanity, that she'd been content.

  But he was still obsessed with her. And looking around, she noted that no-one was close with their partner. It became a personal challenge to her, that she overcome this inviolable rule. It was all such a perfect situation, the power of breaking The Commandment, being worshipped by someone who was far more powerful than she could ever hope to be, that she couldn't resist.

  So she planned, something she had never before been required to do. Everything else had been on a whim, a product of her mood. This would take deft skill and management.

  She knew that DEMI was aware from the beginning. They were literally omniscient. But she was the perfect subject: only out to seek glory, no real emotions were involved, and she would get even more control over an unstable, precious mentality. She wasn't obstructed.

  She started slowly, giving demure glances over seductive smiles, angling her body just slightly towards him, letting him know that she was interested.

  On parting she would hug him just a second longer, moulding her petite body to his, her head tucking under his chin. He would almost cling to her in response, until she "regretfully" pulled away with a sad light in her eyes.

  It didn't take long for another of his break-downs; he was more unstable than other Evolutions, a by-product of his shape-shifting ability, forever giving him an identity crisis that was aggravated beyond measure by his DEMI status. An invisible person to society, existing only in the shadows of classification, unable to speak to anyone outside of the military.

  In his break-downs, he would sit with his head in his hands, shoulders heaving with each sob, as his form changed again and again, over and over, switching hair colour, skin tone, height, weight, gender, even species. She would sit beside him and hug him to her, soothing him, stroking his hair, rubbing his back.

  On this occasion though, she allowed tears to spring to her eyes. She pleaded quietly with him to stop, pulling him closer to her, coming close to pushing her breasts into his face in her "abandon". She turned to face him and pressed her face into his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his neck, tears soaking his shirt. She could still feel him shuddering and warping, and looked up into his face. Only his eye colour remained the same, and she smiled desperately, pleadingly into them, locking his gaze with her own.

  She felt him at last become aware of her, straddling him on the floor against the lounge, her entire body crushed against his, clinging to his neck, her face inches from his own.

  His eyes widened slightly, the distorting of his body slowing, slowing, to a stop, settling on a form he knew she liked. She ignored the sudden interest the rest of his body had become, though, and focussed solely on the brown eyes, so dark they were almost black.

  She let her lips part slightly, running the edge of her tongue over them, as though she was nervous. She shifted her glance down to his mouth then back to his eyes, leaning forward almost without her own volition, and pressed her lips to his. Softly at first, moving gently, timidly, her eyes closing, then she parted his lips with her tongue and deepened the kiss, breathing in his masculine scent, pressing herself even closer to him.

  At last she broke off with a small gasp and opened her eyes to stare at him, releasing her fingers from where they'd twined in his hair like she hadn't known she'd done so. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest against her, and her eyes widened in fear at what she'd done; then she looked into his eyes again and closed her own, sinking into his embrace and kissing him, not caring at all.

  It all went smoothly after that. She didn't sleep with him that night, or the night after. It was almost a month of playing with him, super-charging his emotions, making him think she was in love with him, before she took her next step and spent the night with him.

  That was an interesting experience, where he changed forms constantly, trying to make himself more and more appealing to her, desperate for her to continue showing him affection. At one point he literally got down on his knees and begged her for more.

  The next day, everyone knew of what she'd done. She didn't know how they found out, maybe a telepath or empath overheard, but everyone stared at her in awe. She had actually done it, actually broken the inviolable rules, and wasn't punished for it. She was alive and breathing and unharmed. DEMI was allowing her to continue her relationship.

  No-one dared replicate her feat, however. There must be a reason she had been able to go so far, a reason that didn't apply to any of them. All stood reverently to the side as she walked the halls, unable to comprehend how she'd been able to go so far. None of the DEMI superiors even gave her a second glance.

  She became the most infamous legend in DEMI. Her tactics were simple and quick, but it wasn't the way she did it that anyone cared about. It was the plain fact that she had dared, had been able to do it at all. She had a relationship more than friendship with her partner, and wasn't punished for it. None could believe it. None dared copy it.

  She was the only ever to do it. And she was never forgotten.