Mage King in Amalgam-Verse (Marvel) (DC) (HP)

16 - Rita Skeeter (r18)

{Unnamed Alleyway, London}

{19th August 1989}

Someone was following Rita Skeeter.

Rita didn't know who, or even how many, but she knew that she was being tailed. A sense of unease flowed through her mind and body as Rita subtly looked over her shoulder, trying and failing to determine who was watching her.

And after a few more minutes, it became apparent that she wouldn't know.

Not only were they very good at covering their tracks, but Rita realized that it was almost like her stalker wanted Rita to know that she was being watched. Keeping her face calm, Rita tried to think back to who exactly might want something to do with her... and her chest tightened as she very quickly realized that that number was too high to count.

Such a thing was just par for the course in her line of work.

'Fuck,' Rita thought, internally panicking.

Walking slightly faster, and subtly changing directions to the nearest narrow alley, Rita turned down what was essentially a crawlspace as she drew her wand.

"Apparate!"

With a loud crack, Rita arrived at her house. As she felt the Skeeter Wards wash over her, she nearly let out a sigh of relief... before she realized that she was still being watched. She whipped her head around frantically, only to see no one at all.

It didn't make any sense to Rita– it should've been impossible for anyone to follow her through apparition, especially when she was apparating into long-standing family protections... 'So why do I still feel eyes on the back of my head?!'

"Relax."

Rita let out a gasp as her body went limp. Unable to move a single muscle, Rita fell like a puppet that had its string's cut. Forced to look straight ahead, her face half in the grass, Rita could only watch as a silhouette of a woman slowly approached her.

"Mark is such a useful spell," the woman spoke, her soothing voice sending a shiver down Rita's spine. "as the name implies, Mark lets me 'mark' a target, or in this case, you. It also gives the target a sense of unease... as if they're being watched..." the woman smiled. "Watching you warily look over your shoulder every few seconds, unable to do anything about it... I nearly cried trying to hold back my laughter."

Unable to retort, Rita merely grumbled into the dirt.

"Now, what do you with you..." the woman muttered. "Normally, I'd just torture you until you break–" Rita's heart leapt into her throat– "but I mean, just look at you."

Rita let out a silent gasp as the woman's hands roamed over her body, squeezing her tits and her ass, before one lifted her face off the dirt, bringing it eye level to her captor's. "You're quite the fine piece of meat. You'll do nicely."

The words not doing Rita's peace of mind any favors, she tried to struggle, to do anything, but it was to no avail.

"Sleep."

Then everything went to black.

***

{Brooke Manor, Greater Manchester}

{22nd August 1989}

Camilla looked down at the unconscious Rita Skeeter before her.

Blonde hair, green eyes, and a meaty figure... Camilla was eerily reminded of herself, but there were a few differences. Rita's face was narrower, she wore glasses, and even though they were faint, Rita had a few wrinkles.