Explore theirs electric powers
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 7
by
copier
· original author:
an188
Glitz practically vibrated with uncontained energy, her glowing electric-blue eyes locked onto the open window above the money changer's office like it was a free buffet. The scent of fresh cash mingled with sea salt—irresistible. She flexed her new talons, silver hair whipping in the coastal wind as she took a step forward, already tasting the thrill of vaulting through that window and frying every security system with her sparking fingertips.
Glam’s hand shot out, fingers clamping around Glitz’s sculpted bicep with the precision of a hydraulic press. “Stop.”
Glitz whirled, silver hair fanning dramatically, her glowing electric-blue eyes wide with cartoonish indignation. “The fuck, Glam?! That’s a money-changer’s office! I can *smell* the unmarked bills from here!” She flexed, veins snaking over her daphne-blue forearm as she tried to shake free—Glam didn’t budge. “We could *buy* the boardwalk by sunrise!”
Glam’s grip tightened, her own electric talons digging just enough to sting. “And electrocute the vault by accident? Melt every security camera into modern art?” She arched one shimmering silver brow, voice dripping with condescension. “We don’t even know *why* we’re walking Tesla coils now. Control first, grand larceny second.”
"But Glam..." Glitz starts whining like a little girl whose ice cream cone has just melted in the sun. "We could be *rich* right now!" She gestures wildly at the office window with her glowing blue talons—only to accidentally discharge a stray arc of electricity that sets a nearby trash can ablaze. The flames cast flickering shadows across their daphne-blue skin as Glam just stares at her with those smoldering electric-blue eyes, arms crossed beneath her now-massive, gravity-defying breasts.
Glitz huffs, silver hair practically crackling with static as she kicks at the scorched pavement. "Okay, fine. Maybe I don't have perfect control yet." She side-eyes the burning trash can, then snaps her fingers—another wild spark jumps out, igniting a second bin three feet away. "...Shit."
Glam doesn't even blink. Just adjusts the tattered remains of her crop top with glacial calm. "Hotel. Now."
"OK, OK, FINE!" Glitz whined, kicking her stiletto against the pavement with enough force to leave a spiderweb crack in the concrete. She shot one last longing glance at the money changer's office—so close, so full of untapped potential—before spinning dramatically on her heel, her mile-long silver ponytail nearly decapitating a passing pigeon. "But I'm only agreeing because I *want* to, not because you're right."
Glam arched an eyebrow so perfectly it could've been carved from marble. "You literally just set two trash cans on fire with your eyelashes, Glitz."
Glitz scoffed, flipping her silver ponytail—which promptly crackled with enough static to lift several strands straight up like a demented halo. "Details, details. Besides, arson's hot." She wiggled her glowing blue talons toward the smoldering bins. "Literally."
---
They were walking back to the One Star Wonder, the hotel where they lived, and the streets were packed with tourists and locals alike. Every head turned as Glitz and Glam strutted down the sidewalk—hips rolling, silver hair shimmering under the neon signs, daphne-blue skin practically glowing in the twilight. A construction worker dropped his coffee when Glitz flashed him a wink, his mouth hanging open like a broken puppet. A group of teenage girls whispered furiously behind their hands, eyes wide with envy as they took in the sisters’ impossible physiques—the sculpted abs, the gravity-defying breasts, the thighs that could crack walnuts.
Glam smirked, cool as ever, but her electric-blue eyes flickered with amusement as she watched the reactions unfold. A middle-aged businessman in a wrinkled suit stumbled mid-step when she blew him a kiss, his tie lifting inexplicably toward her as if pulled by static. His hair stood on end in a perfect cartoon puff, and Glam couldn’t help but laugh—a sharp, melodic sound that made a nearby streetlight flicker violently.
Glitz was in her element, hips swaying with exaggerated confidence as she strutted past a sidewalk café. A woman’s wineglass trembled, then shattered in her hand as Glitz’s silver ponytail crackled with unseen energy. "Oops!" Glitz grinned, not sorry at all, winking at the stunned onlookers. She twirled, her shredded miniskirt flaring, and a collective gasp rose as every phone screen within ten feet glitched into staticky rainbows. "What? Never seen a goddess before?"
"If working hard wasn't so disgusting, Glitz, we could make a lot of money with our new body enhancements," Glam said, arching an eyebrow as she flicked a stray lock of silver hair over her shoulder. The motion sent a visible ripple of static through the air, making a nearby street vendor's apron strings stand straight up like frightened snakes.
Glitz threw her head back and laughed—a rich, throaty sound that made several pedestrians stumble mid-step. "Oh please, like we'd ever work again," she purred, running electric-blue talons down her own sculpted abs. The crowd parted before them instinctively, a sea of slack jaws and wide eyes. Some looked hungry. Some looked terrified. One teenage boy dropped his skateboard with a clatter when Glam's glowing eyes flicked in his direction.
---
The One Star Wonder loomed like a drunken scarecrow at the end of Harbor Street, its neon sign flickering the "O" in "Wonder" with tragic inconsistency. Rolando unfolded from the shadows of the lobby doorway like a stop-motion nightmare—his elongated limbs unfolding in segments, knobby knees popping audibly as he straightened to his full, unsettling height.
"Well well, if it isn't the Glam Sisters," he crooned, voice dripping with syrupy malice. His enormous grin split his face like a crack in cheap plaster, square teeth gleaming under the faulty neon. Rolando's freakish proportions became fully visible as he stepped into the light—his torso like a stretched rubber band, those pipe-cleaner arms gesturing dramatically. The crimson vest barely covered his ribcage, riding comically high above trousers that pooled around his clownishly elongated feet. "Didn't recognize you at first. You've been... working out?" His green lenses flickered over their daphne-blue skin, silver hair, the lightning tattoos pulsing on their biceps. A long fingernail—yellowed and chipped—tapped his chin. "Or is this some new spray-tan situation? Either way, you still owe me two grand by Friday."
Glitz rolled her electric-blue eyes so hard static cracked in the air. "Fuck off, Rolando. We'll get your stupid rent." She flexed one vascular arm experimentally, watching his gaze track the movement like a hungry spider.
Rolando's grin widened impossibly, his square teeth resembling piano keys jammed into his face. "Mmm, such *muscle* on you now," he cooed, dragging one skeletal finger through the air near Glam's bicep without quite touching. "Did you join a gym? Or just fuck a personal trainer until he gave you his... strength?" His chuckle was wet, like something rotting in the back of his throat.
"Fuck of, Rolando!" Glam snarled, flipping him off with her electric-blue talons crackling between them. The air smelled like ozone as sparks danced across her glowing tattoo—a not-so-subtle warning. "Touch us and I'll fry that greasy pencil-dick of yours into jerky."
Rolando blinked slowly, his too-long fingers twitching near his chest. He didn't understand the physics of supercharged twins, but the way Glitz's shredded abs flexed as she stepped forward—veins pulsing under shimmering daphne-blue skin—made something primal in his lizard-brain hiss danger. He didn't apologize. Creeps like him never did. But he slithered backward toward the reception desk, muttering about deadlines and "waiting for the money" like a broken record.
The sisters turned in unison, silver ponytails whipping with the motion. The elevator at the end of the hall loomed like a metal coffin, its "OUT OF ORDER" sign dangling by one corner. Glitz rolled her glowing electric-blue eyes and stomped forward—her stiletto heels left scorch marks on the linoleum. "Fucking thing never works," she growled, slamming her taloned fist against the call button.
Sparks erupted instantly. A jagged blue bolt arced from her fingertips into the panel, frying circuitry with a sizzling pop. The overhead lights flickered violently before the elevator dinged—a sound it hadn't made in months—and the doors shuddered open.
Glam's hand clamped around Glitz's wrist, yanking her back as acrid smoke curled from the control panel. "Are you trying to burn down the fucking building?" she hissed, though her electric-blue eyes glittered with reluctant approval.
Glitz grinned, flexing her fingers. Tiny arcs danced between her knuckles. "Worked, didn't it?" She strutted into the elevator, hips swaying deliberately to make her micro-skirt ride higher. The mirrored walls reflected infinite iterations of her daphne-blue curves—silver hair cascading over swollen breasts, lightning-tattoo pulsing with each heartbeat. She blew a kiss at her own reflection; the glass cracked where her electric kiss hit.
The elevator doors open...
Glam’s hand shot out, fingers clamping around Glitz’s sculpted bicep with the precision of a hydraulic press. “Stop.”
Glitz whirled, silver hair fanning dramatically, her glowing electric-blue eyes wide with cartoonish indignation. “The fuck, Glam?! That’s a money-changer’s office! I can *smell* the unmarked bills from here!” She flexed, veins snaking over her daphne-blue forearm as she tried to shake free—Glam didn’t budge. “We could *buy* the boardwalk by sunrise!”
Glam’s grip tightened, her own electric talons digging just enough to sting. “And electrocute the vault by accident? Melt every security camera into modern art?” She arched one shimmering silver brow, voice dripping with condescension. “We don’t even know *why* we’re walking Tesla coils now. Control first, grand larceny second.”
"But Glam..." Glitz starts whining like a little girl whose ice cream cone has just melted in the sun. "We could be *rich* right now!" She gestures wildly at the office window with her glowing blue talons—only to accidentally discharge a stray arc of electricity that sets a nearby trash can ablaze. The flames cast flickering shadows across their daphne-blue skin as Glam just stares at her with those smoldering electric-blue eyes, arms crossed beneath her now-massive, gravity-defying breasts.
Glitz huffs, silver hair practically crackling with static as she kicks at the scorched pavement. "Okay, fine. Maybe I don't have perfect control yet." She side-eyes the burning trash can, then snaps her fingers—another wild spark jumps out, igniting a second bin three feet away. "...Shit."
Glam doesn't even blink. Just adjusts the tattered remains of her crop top with glacial calm. "Hotel. Now."
"OK, OK, FINE!" Glitz whined, kicking her stiletto against the pavement with enough force to leave a spiderweb crack in the concrete. She shot one last longing glance at the money changer's office—so close, so full of untapped potential—before spinning dramatically on her heel, her mile-long silver ponytail nearly decapitating a passing pigeon. "But I'm only agreeing because I *want* to, not because you're right."
Glam arched an eyebrow so perfectly it could've been carved from marble. "You literally just set two trash cans on fire with your eyelashes, Glitz."
Glitz scoffed, flipping her silver ponytail—which promptly crackled with enough static to lift several strands straight up like a demented halo. "Details, details. Besides, arson's hot." She wiggled her glowing blue talons toward the smoldering bins. "Literally."
---
They were walking back to the One Star Wonder, the hotel where they lived, and the streets were packed with tourists and locals alike. Every head turned as Glitz and Glam strutted down the sidewalk—hips rolling, silver hair shimmering under the neon signs, daphne-blue skin practically glowing in the twilight. A construction worker dropped his coffee when Glitz flashed him a wink, his mouth hanging open like a broken puppet. A group of teenage girls whispered furiously behind their hands, eyes wide with envy as they took in the sisters’ impossible physiques—the sculpted abs, the gravity-defying breasts, the thighs that could crack walnuts.
Glam smirked, cool as ever, but her electric-blue eyes flickered with amusement as she watched the reactions unfold. A middle-aged businessman in a wrinkled suit stumbled mid-step when she blew him a kiss, his tie lifting inexplicably toward her as if pulled by static. His hair stood on end in a perfect cartoon puff, and Glam couldn’t help but laugh—a sharp, melodic sound that made a nearby streetlight flicker violently.
Glitz was in her element, hips swaying with exaggerated confidence as she strutted past a sidewalk café. A woman’s wineglass trembled, then shattered in her hand as Glitz’s silver ponytail crackled with unseen energy. "Oops!" Glitz grinned, not sorry at all, winking at the stunned onlookers. She twirled, her shredded miniskirt flaring, and a collective gasp rose as every phone screen within ten feet glitched into staticky rainbows. "What? Never seen a goddess before?"
"If working hard wasn't so disgusting, Glitz, we could make a lot of money with our new body enhancements," Glam said, arching an eyebrow as she flicked a stray lock of silver hair over her shoulder. The motion sent a visible ripple of static through the air, making a nearby street vendor's apron strings stand straight up like frightened snakes.
Glitz threw her head back and laughed—a rich, throaty sound that made several pedestrians stumble mid-step. "Oh please, like we'd ever work again," she purred, running electric-blue talons down her own sculpted abs. The crowd parted before them instinctively, a sea of slack jaws and wide eyes. Some looked hungry. Some looked terrified. One teenage boy dropped his skateboard with a clatter when Glam's glowing eyes flicked in his direction.
---
The One Star Wonder loomed like a drunken scarecrow at the end of Harbor Street, its neon sign flickering the "O" in "Wonder" with tragic inconsistency. Rolando unfolded from the shadows of the lobby doorway like a stop-motion nightmare—his elongated limbs unfolding in segments, knobby knees popping audibly as he straightened to his full, unsettling height.
"Well well, if it isn't the Glam Sisters," he crooned, voice dripping with syrupy malice. His enormous grin split his face like a crack in cheap plaster, square teeth gleaming under the faulty neon. Rolando's freakish proportions became fully visible as he stepped into the light—his torso like a stretched rubber band, those pipe-cleaner arms gesturing dramatically. The crimson vest barely covered his ribcage, riding comically high above trousers that pooled around his clownishly elongated feet. "Didn't recognize you at first. You've been... working out?" His green lenses flickered over their daphne-blue skin, silver hair, the lightning tattoos pulsing on their biceps. A long fingernail—yellowed and chipped—tapped his chin. "Or is this some new spray-tan situation? Either way, you still owe me two grand by Friday."
Glitz rolled her electric-blue eyes so hard static cracked in the air. "Fuck off, Rolando. We'll get your stupid rent." She flexed one vascular arm experimentally, watching his gaze track the movement like a hungry spider.
Rolando's grin widened impossibly, his square teeth resembling piano keys jammed into his face. "Mmm, such *muscle* on you now," he cooed, dragging one skeletal finger through the air near Glam's bicep without quite touching. "Did you join a gym? Or just fuck a personal trainer until he gave you his... strength?" His chuckle was wet, like something rotting in the back of his throat.
"Fuck of, Rolando!" Glam snarled, flipping him off with her electric-blue talons crackling between them. The air smelled like ozone as sparks danced across her glowing tattoo—a not-so-subtle warning. "Touch us and I'll fry that greasy pencil-dick of yours into jerky."
Rolando blinked slowly, his too-long fingers twitching near his chest. He didn't understand the physics of supercharged twins, but the way Glitz's shredded abs flexed as she stepped forward—veins pulsing under shimmering daphne-blue skin—made something primal in his lizard-brain hiss danger. He didn't apologize. Creeps like him never did. But he slithered backward toward the reception desk, muttering about deadlines and "waiting for the money" like a broken record.
The sisters turned in unison, silver ponytails whipping with the motion. The elevator at the end of the hall loomed like a metal coffin, its "OUT OF ORDER" sign dangling by one corner. Glitz rolled her glowing electric-blue eyes and stomped forward—her stiletto heels left scorch marks on the linoleum. "Fucking thing never works," she growled, slamming her taloned fist against the call button.
Sparks erupted instantly. A jagged blue bolt arced from her fingertips into the panel, frying circuitry with a sizzling pop. The overhead lights flickered violently before the elevator dinged—a sound it hadn't made in months—and the doors shuddered open.
Glam's hand clamped around Glitz's wrist, yanking her back as acrid smoke curled from the control panel. "Are you trying to burn down the fucking building?" she hissed, though her electric-blue eyes glittered with reluctant approval.
Glitz grinned, flexing her fingers. Tiny arcs danced between her knuckles. "Worked, didn't it?" She strutted into the elevator, hips swaying deliberately to make her micro-skirt ride higher. The mirrored walls reflected infinite iterations of her daphne-blue curves—silver hair cascading over swollen breasts, lightning-tattoo pulsing with each heartbeat. She blew a kiss at her own reflection; the glass cracked where her electric kiss hit.
The elevator doors open...
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·
June 13
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