With a satisfied smirk, Vartox finally released his hold over Supergirl, stepping back to admire his handiwork with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He turned to Mercy Graves, his expression smug as he addressed her.
"Supergirl is yours for now," he stated, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "She will listen to you until our next meeting tomorrow."
Mercy nodded in acknowledgment, her gaze unwavering as she observed the scene before her.
As Vartox departed the warehouse on a wheelchair, pushed by one of Lex Luthor's henchmen, Mercy couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. While she loathed the depraved acts Vartox had subjected Supergirl to, she was grateful for his cooperation in keeping Supergirl subdued.
In this twisted game they were playing, cooperation was key, and Vartox's compliance ensured that Supergirl remained subdued, at least for the time being.
She despised the role she was forced to play, the compromises she had to make in service of Lex Luthor's ambitions but she also loved him.
In this world of shadows and deceit, there was little room for sentimentality or morality. Survival was paramount, and she would do whatever it took to ensure her Lex's victory, even if it meant making unsavory alliances with the likes of Vartox.
With Vartox gone, Mercy turned her attention to Supergirl, who remained naked and trembling in the aftermath of her ordeal. She sighed heavily, her heart aching somewhat for the once-mighty heroine who now stood before her, stripped of her dignity and her power.
Despite her disdain for Vartox's methods, Mercy couldn't deny that he had shown a modicum of restraint by not instructing Supergirl to remove the necklace that Lex Luthor had placed around her neck.
"Get some clothes for her," Mercy ordered the henchmen, her voice firm and authoritative. "She cannot go out in her superhero costume."
The henchmen quickly obeyed, returning moments later with a selection of casual clothes. She glanced over Supergirl's outfit, noting with a frown the risqué style of the clothes chosen for her.
The henchmen had returned with an ensemble that seemed more fitting for a night out in a club than for a superheroine. The top they had brought for Supergirl was a snug, cropped top that barely covered her midriff, leaving her toned abdomen exposed to the cool warehouse air. Paired with it were skin-tight jeans that hugged her curves in all the right places, accentuating her athletic physique.
Mercy eyed the clothes with a mixture of disdain and resignation, her lips pressing into a thin line as she suppressed a sigh. "Is this really necessary?" she questioned, her tone laced with a hint of exasperation.
The henchmen exchanged uneasy glances, shifting uncomfortably under Mercy's scrutiny. "It's what Mr. Luthor instructed," one of them muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mercy clenched her jaw, recognizing the intention behind the choice of attire. It was a deliberate attempt by the henchmen to strip Supergirl of her dignity and to further humiliate her and not because they are subservience to Lex Luthor's whims. She knew that they couldn't afford to draw attention to themselves by dressing Supergirl in anything too conspicuous, but that didn't make the situation any less infuriating.
Suppressing her irritation, Mercy turned her attention back to Supergirl, who stood silently beside her, her expression betraying a mix of reluctance and resignation. "Put these on," Mercy instructed, her tone devoid of sympathy. "We have places to be."
With Supergirl now dressed and ready to depart, Mercy led her out of the warehouse and towards a waiting car. The streets of National City were quiet as they drove through the city, the hustle and bustle of everyday life seeming to fade into the background as they made their way to the safe house owned by LexCorp.
Supergirl in new outfit:
