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Fuchsia Fox: "Angel & Demon"
[Note: If you've read Dan Brown's novel "Angels & Demons" (or seen the movie), the title will make sense, eventually. Otherwise, it's a metaphor for a good-girl heroine up against a wicked villainess. Like my other FF stories, if it were a movie it would probably rate a borderline R. You can expect superheroine peril and "adult situations" -- nudity, mild bondage, a nice (wet) deathtrap around chapter 5 -- but no sex as such.]
Chapter 1: Arlington, Virginia...
It was a quiet, moonless night in September. An explosion in a small chemical plant set fire alarms clanging and sent the night shift running out of the burning building. Firetrucks and paramedics were immediately racing to the scene, red lights flashing, but the Fuchsia Fox got there first. "Is anyone still inside?" the sexy superheroine demanded as she alit in the parking lot among the evacuees.
The shift foreman felt his breath catch in his throat. The stunning superlady was about 22 years old, possessing short brunette hair and the body of a lingerie model. Her reddish purple costume was a pair of skin tight spandex briefs and a matching halter top, her distinctive fox head chest emblem lovingly following the sweet delicious curves of her bust. Her long, gorgeous legs were bare down to her ankle boots, arms clad in elbow length gloves and golden bracelets. "Sir? Is anyone inside?" she repeated impatiently.
With difficulty, the foreman snapped his mind back to reality and looked around. "Uh... I don't see Mr. Kinney, the bookkeeper," he said. "He could still be up in the office. But you can't go in there! The fumes--"
But the Fox had already launched herself into the air, treating the men to a really nice look at her pert little derriere as she soared skyward. She knew that the force aura generated by her bracelets of Ishtar could stop bullets, but could it protect her from fire? There was only one way to find out. Without hesitating, she punched right through one of the upper story windows.
The interior was hazy with smoke. "Hello?" the Fuchsia Fox called, darting from one office to another, finding them all empty. "Mr. Kinney?" She raced upstairs to the third floor. The air was getting hotter by the second. Her skin was glistening with perspiration, the smoke making her eyes water. "Hello? Please answer me!"
Without warning, a second explosion rocked the building. A support beam crashed through the ceiling, showering her with debris. Instinctively the Fox sprang backwards, but before she could bring up her force shield, she missed her footing and slammed into a hardwood desk. The unexpected impact knocked the wind out of her. Overcome by the smoke and the heat, the beautiful superheroine dropped to the floor unconscious.
***
On the rooftop across the street, two men were watching. One was bald, a little on the stout side, and dressed in a long brown coat. The other was tall, with a severe blond buzzcut, wearing a green army jacket. The fire engines were at work on the fire by this time, but the men paid no heed to that. "So much for the Fuchsia Fox, Prokofiev," the plump one said gloatingly in Russian. "She goes in, but she does not come out! Please convey to the Major that her plans may proceed, thanks to me."
The tall man was busy looking into the screen of a scanning device he was holding. "We shall see, Minsky," he said dryly.
***
After the second explosion had died away, timid bookkeeper Morris Kinney left his refuge in the washroom. Holding a wet handkerchief in front of his nose, he crawled across the floor on his hands and knees, feeling his way by touch through the debris. It felt as if most of the ceiling had collapsed. Pushing aside a fallen light fixture, he touched something completely unexpected. It felt like a woman's leg!
No, it wasn't a mistake. It was a smooth, warm, bare female leg! A girl was lying stretched out on the floor, insensible and defenseless. He explored further, his fingers travelling over a shapely knee, along an equally smooth thigh that seemed to go on forever. He touched thin, clingy fabric, like nylon panties (what was the girl doing in her underwear?), another luscious expanse of naked feminine flesh, and finally...
"OoH!" The Fuchsia Fox opened her eyes in alarm as a male hand gently squeezed her nubile, spandex-covered breast. "What in the--?"
"Sorry about that, miss," the bookkeeper mumbled as he hurriedly snatched his hand back. "Where did you come from?"
"Thank goodness I found you, Mr. Kinney!" the Fox whispered hoarsely, digging herself out from the debris which had fallen on her. "We've got to (cough!) get out of here!"
The man shook his head, having a coughing fit into his handkerchief. "We're trapped... no use..."
The spunky supergirl looked around. He was right. She could see flames coming up the staircase, cutting off their escape in that direction. Even if her force shield protected her own lissom body from the fire, she couldn't carry Mr. Kinney out that way. That only left the windows, and they were interlaced with tough safety mesh. It was too hot to think!
The Fox mentally kicked herself for not thinking of this sooner. Her power aura responded to her will. If she could repel bullets just by thinking about it, why couldn't she repel smoke and carbon monoxide the same way? With seconds ticking away, she concentrated. It seemed to be working. The area immediately around her was clear. Her bracelets of Ishtar couldn't provide oxygen where there was none, but they could buy her a minute or two of grace.
Rising to her knees, the lovely superheroine took a good grip on that heavy pine desk she had stumbled over earlier. Hoisting it up to shoulder height, she flung it into the windows with all her might. The window shattered outward with the desk stuck about halfway. The Fox pushed it through, enlarging the hole.
"Hang on tight, Mr. Kinney," she said, lifting the accountant up in her arms. He clutched his arms tightly around her slender waist, burying his face in between her breasts. "Close enough," the Fox muttered, kicking off and flying him through the window.
The cool night air felt delightful on her sleek, sexy, spandex-clad body. Her smooth skin was grimy with perspiration and soot, but she felt ALIVE! The crowd below erupted in a ragged cheer as the superheroine circled the parking lot, alighting next to a paramedic vehicle with her passenger.
***
"She is impossible!" Minsky bleated in frustration. "This was the third trap I have laid for her! I have tried bullets, knives, hand grenades! Nothing stops her! I have lost four good men trying! Prokofiev, you must tell the Major that her plan cannot go forward."
Prokofiev studied the display of electromagnetic waveforms on his scanning device, impressed by remarkable power controlled by this beautiful young girl. "The Major knows all about this Fuchsia Fox, Minsky. As to changing the plan, you must tell her that yourself."
Minsky turned white. "Major Zennakova is coming here? Personally?"
"Oh yes. She has a personal interest in this American superheroine."
Fuchsia Fox: "Angel & Demon"
Chapter 2: Two nights later...
The restaurant maitre d' was very polite. "I'm afraid we're all booked up, sir. I may have a table if you can wait twenty minutes."
Martin Fletcher, looking spiffy in a charcoal gray Brooks Brothers suit, grimaced with disappointment. "Twenty minutes?" He turned to his date. "What do you think?"
Jennifer Traylor, standing slightly behind him in her slinky little black dress, shook her short brunette hair and quietly slipped her hand into Fletcher's elbow. "That's okay," she whispered. "Let's go on to the dance club. We can eat later."
"You're sure?"
Arm in arm, the couple crossed the lobby of the hotel and came out onto the street again. It was a fine September evening, the heat of the sidewalks beginning to bleed off into night as dusk descended. A string of car headlights lit up the nearby Potomac Parkway. "I'm really sorry about this, angel," Fletcher said. "My buddy Oscar recommended this place. I didn't realize I'd have to make reservations."
Jennifer snuggled closer, resting her head against on his shoulder. "It's the thought that counts, sweetie." Nothing mattered now that the two of them were finally together. For months she had been afraid to reveal her secret to him, afraid of how he would react. This was their first real "date", to celebrate his recent promotion, and she wouldn't let anything ruin it.
"I'm just sorry you waited so long to tell me," he said, apparently reading her mind. "Did you really think I only liked the Fox because of her sexy costume?"
"I didn't know what to think," she replied, turning to face him. "Do you forgive me?"
As an answer, he stopped and took her in his arms, drawing her closer as his hands slipped to her round little bottom. "Well, I'll have to--"
Suddenly a dull throbbing sound reached their ears from the sky, seeming directly overhead. An off-white Mercedes came into view, skidding around the corner of New Hampshire Avenue heading north. It was closely followed by a sleek black helicopter, flying not more that twenty feet above the roadway.
"What the hell is going on?" Fletcher said, throwing his arms protectively around Jennifer. As the two of them watched, the car tried to make for the cover of the Whitehurst overpass, but the helicopter opened fire with a chain gun. Bullets sprayed into the surface of the parkway, causing cars to scatter and the Mercedes to frantically spin back around the other way.
"Uh-oh," said Jennifer, biting her lip. She looked anxiously up at Martin.
"Don't tell me. This is a job for the Fuchsia Fox, right?"
"Martin, innocent people are in danger..."
"It's okay! Go!" Fortunately there was a narrow alley between the restaurant and the parking garage. Jennifer gave Martin a quick kiss and ran a few yards into the shadows where she could get undressed safe from any prying eyes. Even though Martin was keeping watch for her, the girl felt her cheeks flush as she unzipped her black dress and let it fall down her long legs. Oh God how embarrassing it felt changing in a public place! Slipping out of her black lace bra and her silky garter stockings, Jennifer quickly wiggled into her skimpy, body-hugging fuchsia briefs and halter top. A moment later she stepped into her ankle boots, then tugged on her elbow length gloves and golden bracelets. Clashing the bracelets together, she whispered "Ishtar!" and once again felt the flush of power as their magical aura engulfed her, transforming her from a magazine writer into a super-powerful heroine.
In the meantime, the Mercedes had crashed into the median. Fletcher watched as the helicopter touched down. Two men in dark jumpsuits manhandled the passenger of the car into the aircraft. That was when the Fuchsia Fox appeared. The helicopter rose into the air, turning so that it could open fire on her with its chain gun. Martin couldn't help wincing as the alluring superheroine hovered, staggering backward under the impact of the armor piercing bullets on her force shield. Then, its ammunition expended, the black helicopter spun around once more, gaining altitude as it flew off across the Potomac River. The Fox zoomed off in pursuit.
As soon as she was gone, Martin went into the alley and picked up the clothing Jennifer had left there. Alongside her purse lay her black dress, bra, stockings and high heels, all still warm from contact with her body. He carefully folded her clothes so they wouldn't be wrinkled. What now? Should he wait here for her?
***
There once was a time the Fox would have been unable to fly at more than about 45 miles an hour. But with practise, she realized that the protective shield of her power aura could also hold back the effects of wind friction. With that worry out of the way, there didn't seem to be any limit to her velocity. The helicopter was still in the middle of the Georgetown Channel when she flashed past it.
Inside the cockpit sat a beautiful blonde woman, apparently about 40 years of age, wearing a green military style uniform. She allowed herself a smile as she caught sight of the Fuchsia Fox through the bulletproof windscreen. "So we meet again, devochka," Major Zennakova whispered, pressing a button on the control panel. Outside, a section of the sleek black fuselage slid back as a weapons pod deployed.
Four minirockets roared out into the darkening sky, targeting the Fuchsia Fox point blank. Even the helicopter was buffeted backwards by the resulting explosions. And when the pyrotechics and smoke had cleared, the sky ahead was empty!
***
Eight hundred yards away, Martin Fletcher watched the explosion with disbelief. "No," he muttered. The hell with waiting! He ran for his car, then tore off into the Potomac Parkway, heading south towards the Roosevelt Memorial Bridge.
The restaurant maitre d' was very polite. "I'm afraid we're all booked up, sir. I may have a table if you can wait twenty minutes."
Martin Fletcher, looking spiffy in a charcoal gray Brooks Brothers suit, grimaced with disappointment. "Twenty minutes?" He turned to his date. "What do you think?"
Jennifer Traylor, standing slightly behind him in her slinky little black dress, shook her short brunette hair and quietly slipped her hand into Fletcher's elbow. "That's okay," she whispered. "Let's go on to the dance club. We can eat later."
"You're sure?"
Arm in arm, the couple crossed the lobby of the hotel and came out onto the street again. It was a fine September evening, the heat of the sidewalks beginning to bleed off into night as dusk descended. A string of car headlights lit up the nearby Potomac Parkway. "I'm really sorry about this, angel," Fletcher said. "My buddy Oscar recommended this place. I didn't realize I'd have to make reservations."
Jennifer snuggled closer, resting her head against on his shoulder. "It's the thought that counts, sweetie." Nothing mattered now that the two of them were finally together. For months she had been afraid to reveal her secret to him, afraid of how he would react. This was their first real "date", to celebrate his recent promotion, and she wouldn't let anything ruin it.
"I'm just sorry you waited so long to tell me," he said, apparently reading her mind. "Did you really think I only liked the Fox because of her sexy costume?"
"I didn't know what to think," she replied, turning to face him. "Do you forgive me?"
As an answer, he stopped and took her in his arms, drawing her closer as his hands slipped to her round little bottom. "Well, I'll have to--"
Suddenly a dull throbbing sound reached their ears from the sky, seeming directly overhead. An off-white Mercedes came into view, skidding around the corner of New Hampshire Avenue heading north. It was closely followed by a sleek black helicopter, flying not more that twenty feet above the roadway.
"What the hell is going on?" Fletcher said, throwing his arms protectively around Jennifer. As the two of them watched, the car tried to make for the cover of the Whitehurst overpass, but the helicopter opened fire with a chain gun. Bullets sprayed into the surface of the parkway, causing cars to scatter and the Mercedes to frantically spin back around the other way.
"Uh-oh," said Jennifer, biting her lip. She looked anxiously up at Martin.
"Don't tell me. This is a job for the Fuchsia Fox, right?"
"Martin, innocent people are in danger..."
"It's okay! Go!" Fortunately there was a narrow alley between the restaurant and the parking garage. Jennifer gave Martin a quick kiss and ran a few yards into the shadows where she could get undressed safe from any prying eyes. Even though Martin was keeping watch for her, the girl felt her cheeks flush as she unzipped her black dress and let it fall down her long legs. Oh God how embarrassing it felt changing in a public place! Slipping out of her black lace bra and her silky garter stockings, Jennifer quickly wiggled into her skimpy, body-hugging fuchsia briefs and halter top. A moment later she stepped into her ankle boots, then tugged on her elbow length gloves and golden bracelets. Clashing the bracelets together, she whispered "Ishtar!" and once again felt the flush of power as their magical aura engulfed her, transforming her from a magazine writer into a super-powerful heroine.
In the meantime, the Mercedes had crashed into the median. Fletcher watched as the helicopter touched down. Two men in dark jumpsuits manhandled the passenger of the car into the aircraft. That was when the Fuchsia Fox appeared. The helicopter rose into the air, turning so that it could open fire on her with its chain gun. Martin couldn't help wincing as the alluring superheroine hovered, staggering backward under the impact of the armor piercing bullets on her force shield. Then, its ammunition expended, the black helicopter spun around once more, gaining altitude as it flew off across the Potomac River. The Fox zoomed off in pursuit.
As soon as she was gone, Martin went into the alley and picked up the clothing Jennifer had left there. Alongside her purse lay her black dress, bra, stockings and high heels, all still warm from contact with her body. He carefully folded her clothes so they wouldn't be wrinkled. What now? Should he wait here for her?
***
There once was a time the Fox would have been unable to fly at more than about 45 miles an hour. But with practise, she realized that the protective shield of her power aura could also hold back the effects of wind friction. With that worry out of the way, there didn't seem to be any limit to her velocity. The helicopter was still in the middle of the Georgetown Channel when she flashed past it.
Inside the cockpit sat a beautiful blonde woman, apparently about 40 years of age, wearing a green military style uniform. She allowed herself a smile as she caught sight of the Fuchsia Fox through the bulletproof windscreen. "So we meet again, devochka," Major Zennakova whispered, pressing a button on the control panel. Outside, a section of the sleek black fuselage slid back as a weapons pod deployed.
Four minirockets roared out into the darkening sky, targeting the Fuchsia Fox point blank. Even the helicopter was buffeted backwards by the resulting explosions. And when the pyrotechics and smoke had cleared, the sky ahead was empty!
***
Eight hundred yards away, Martin Fletcher watched the explosion with disbelief. "No," he muttered. The hell with waiting! He ran for his car, then tore off into the Potomac Parkway, heading south towards the Roosevelt Memorial Bridge.
- Attachments
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chapter 3 --
Suddenly the helicopter lurched alarmingly, as red warning lights lit up all over the control panel. "We are losing compression!" said Prokofiev, struggling with the joystick. "What is happening?"
"SHE is happening," said Zennakova grimly. "The Fuchsia Fox!"
Unsure whether her force shield could take that many rockets at close range, Jennifer had evaded them at the last moment, slipping underneath the helicopter and attacking its vulnerable tail assembly! Prokofiev pushed the main rotor for all it was worth and managed to break free of the sexy superheroine's grasp, but the damaged machine was wobbling dangerously. He had no choice but to set down in the park next to the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial.
The passengers piled out at the rotors slowed to a stop. Prokofiev and two musclebound thugs dressed in drab green military jumpsuits, the man they had abducted from the Mercedes, and finally Major Zennakova herself.
"I hoped I'd never run into you again, Zennakova," the Fuchsia Fox glowered, standing on the lawn ten yards away, her hands planted firmly on her smooth, shapely hips.
"A foolish hope, devochka," the villainess said. "I warn you I will not be as gentle this time. If you persist in playing heroine, you will be hurt."
"I'm a little pressed for time right now," the stunning superlady replied lightly. "I'll remember to quiver in my little booties later."
The two thugs suddenly charged, each of them armed with an electric battle stave. Jennifer concentrated on the protective shield which encased her flawless body, parrying each blow as it came. Even so, she could feel the tingle of each high voltage charge. Her nimble young form twisted gracefully as she evaded one blow, letting her opponent hit his partner instead. As that man dropped to the grass, she high-kicked the remaining one, and he went down as well. The Fox disdainfully cocked her desirable little tail at them and then haughtily turned to advance upon Zennakova.
The Russian beauty narrowed her eyes, and suddenly Jennifer's alluring legs seemed to lock in place! She couldn't move! From the waist up she was fine, but it felt as though powerful invisible hands had latched around her legs, holding her pinned! She had forgotten about Major Zennakova's psychokinetic mental powers!
"You are stronger than I remember, devochka," the villainess called out confidently.
"I've been eating... this new... unnn!... breakfast cereal," the Fox grunted, struggling desperately to move. Oh please, Ishtar! She couldn't be beaten like this!
"Fortunately my powers are still superior," said Zennakova smugly, although Jennifer was certain she heard the strain in her voice, too. She redoubled her efforts to resist, pouring every ounce of her concentration into beefing up her strength. Her bracelets of Ishtar glowed softly as she drew power from them.
Her right leg moved! Like a clumsy puppet, she picked up her right foot and shoved it forward about six inches! Then her left foot... A pause to gather her strength, and her right foot moved again! She was doing it!
At that point, Prokofiev came up behind the Fuchsia Fox and tossed a net over her! Some kind of mesh wrapped tightly around her slender arms, pinning them to her sides! As Jennifer summoned her strength to burst free, an excruciatingly painful shock conducted through the net, paralyzing her! "No! Don't--" she whimpered, as every muscle in her body seemed to go limp, leaving the spunky superheroine feeling weak and powerless.
Zennakova's henchman caught the Fox before she could fall face first to the ground. To make doubly sure of her, he clasped a cloth full of chloroform to her face. The stunning supergirl sagged unconscious and helpless into his waiting clutches. Prokofiev grinned with pleasure as he picked up her slim, scantily-clad body, his eyes greedily caressing her smooth, supple curves.
***
Fletcher brought his car to a screeching halt in front of the disabled black helicopter. Leaping out of his car, he could see a group of people boarding a motorboat at the riverside. A tall man with a buzzcut was carrying the Fuchsia Fox, tied up and slung over his shoulder. Zennakova turned and with a casual gesture sent Fletcher flying back several yards to slam into the hard stone monument. By the time he staggered to his feet again, the boat was taking off upriver at high speed. He watched it go with his heart pounding in his chest. Jennifer? What had they done to Jennifer?
Suddenly three black sedans pulled up behind him, their headlights framing him in their glare. "This is the FBI!" a voice shouted. "Keep your hands where I can see them!"
Of course a running battle in the sky over Washington D.C. would have attracted attention! Fletcher carefully held up his hands to show they were empty. "Take it easy! I'm a captain in the U.S. Army! I'm unarmed!"
Suddenly the helicopter lurched alarmingly, as red warning lights lit up all over the control panel. "We are losing compression!" said Prokofiev, struggling with the joystick. "What is happening?"
"SHE is happening," said Zennakova grimly. "The Fuchsia Fox!"
Unsure whether her force shield could take that many rockets at close range, Jennifer had evaded them at the last moment, slipping underneath the helicopter and attacking its vulnerable tail assembly! Prokofiev pushed the main rotor for all it was worth and managed to break free of the sexy superheroine's grasp, but the damaged machine was wobbling dangerously. He had no choice but to set down in the park next to the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial.
The passengers piled out at the rotors slowed to a stop. Prokofiev and two musclebound thugs dressed in drab green military jumpsuits, the man they had abducted from the Mercedes, and finally Major Zennakova herself.
"I hoped I'd never run into you again, Zennakova," the Fuchsia Fox glowered, standing on the lawn ten yards away, her hands planted firmly on her smooth, shapely hips.
"A foolish hope, devochka," the villainess said. "I warn you I will not be as gentle this time. If you persist in playing heroine, you will be hurt."
"I'm a little pressed for time right now," the stunning superlady replied lightly. "I'll remember to quiver in my little booties later."
The two thugs suddenly charged, each of them armed with an electric battle stave. Jennifer concentrated on the protective shield which encased her flawless body, parrying each blow as it came. Even so, she could feel the tingle of each high voltage charge. Her nimble young form twisted gracefully as she evaded one blow, letting her opponent hit his partner instead. As that man dropped to the grass, she high-kicked the remaining one, and he went down as well. The Fox disdainfully cocked her desirable little tail at them and then haughtily turned to advance upon Zennakova.
The Russian beauty narrowed her eyes, and suddenly Jennifer's alluring legs seemed to lock in place! She couldn't move! From the waist up she was fine, but it felt as though powerful invisible hands had latched around her legs, holding her pinned! She had forgotten about Major Zennakova's psychokinetic mental powers!
"You are stronger than I remember, devochka," the villainess called out confidently.
"I've been eating... this new... unnn!... breakfast cereal," the Fox grunted, struggling desperately to move. Oh please, Ishtar! She couldn't be beaten like this!
"Fortunately my powers are still superior," said Zennakova smugly, although Jennifer was certain she heard the strain in her voice, too. She redoubled her efforts to resist, pouring every ounce of her concentration into beefing up her strength. Her bracelets of Ishtar glowed softly as she drew power from them.
Her right leg moved! Like a clumsy puppet, she picked up her right foot and shoved it forward about six inches! Then her left foot... A pause to gather her strength, and her right foot moved again! She was doing it!
At that point, Prokofiev came up behind the Fuchsia Fox and tossed a net over her! Some kind of mesh wrapped tightly around her slender arms, pinning them to her sides! As Jennifer summoned her strength to burst free, an excruciatingly painful shock conducted through the net, paralyzing her! "No! Don't--" she whimpered, as every muscle in her body seemed to go limp, leaving the spunky superheroine feeling weak and powerless.
Zennakova's henchman caught the Fox before she could fall face first to the ground. To make doubly sure of her, he clasped a cloth full of chloroform to her face. The stunning supergirl sagged unconscious and helpless into his waiting clutches. Prokofiev grinned with pleasure as he picked up her slim, scantily-clad body, his eyes greedily caressing her smooth, supple curves.
***
Fletcher brought his car to a screeching halt in front of the disabled black helicopter. Leaping out of his car, he could see a group of people boarding a motorboat at the riverside. A tall man with a buzzcut was carrying the Fuchsia Fox, tied up and slung over his shoulder. Zennakova turned and with a casual gesture sent Fletcher flying back several yards to slam into the hard stone monument. By the time he staggered to his feet again, the boat was taking off upriver at high speed. He watched it go with his heart pounding in his chest. Jennifer? What had they done to Jennifer?
Suddenly three black sedans pulled up behind him, their headlights framing him in their glare. "This is the FBI!" a voice shouted. "Keep your hands where I can see them!"
Of course a running battle in the sky over Washington D.C. would have attracted attention! Fletcher carefully held up his hands to show they were empty. "Take it easy! I'm a captain in the U.S. Army! I'm unarmed!"
Chapter 4 --
The Fuchsia Fox opened her eyes and found herself strapped to a stainless steel table. The room was about twenty-five feet square, with walls of brick. Judging from the narrow horizontal window high up on one wall, it was a cellar or basement. The man who had been kidnapped from the Mercedes was there also, tied up in a chair.
A thick leather strap was bound around each of the Fox's outstretched arms, holding her to the table, another across her lower legs. She automatically tried to flex her muscles to break free, but the straps were far too tight and secure. It was then she realized that both her gloves and the bracelets of Ishtar had been taken away from her!
"Struggle all you wish, devochka," sneered Major Zennakova, standing a couple of yards away where the bracelets were resting on another table. "Well, Prokofiev?"
The henchman was punching buttons on his scanning device, clearly bewildered. "I do not understand," he said. "When I scanned her earlier, her powers clearly came from these bracelets. And now they appear to be nothing but ordinary gold."
Zennakova strolled over to the Fuchsia Fox. Resting her hand on the helpless superheroine's bare thigh, she ran her fingertips softly upwards, sensuously following the gentle hills and valleys of her supple, spandex clad body. Jennifer squirmed in distress at the eroticism of the contact. "Get your hands off of me," she panted, desperately trying to kick against her tight leather restraints.
"You will tell me how I activate the bracelets," Zennakova said, her hand sliding along the curve of Jennifer's breast, caressing the naked skin of her neck.
"Get stuffed!" the girl spat. "Like I'd tell YOU!"
"If you will not be a good little girl," said Zennakova, backing off one pace, "I shall have to pull down your panties and spank you. Prokofiev, would you do the honors?"
"Thank you, Major," the henchman said, grinning. Jennifer struggled desperately, her eyes wide with alarm as the man approached her, but it was no use. She felt so helpless! His hands roughly caressed her upper body, taking his sweet time fondling her as he felt for the fastenings of her costume. After what seemed an inordinately long time, he undid her halter top and removed it. Jennifer's cheeks burned with embarrassment as the man ogled her naked, unprotected breasts. He was reaching inside the waistband of her scanty spandex briefs when Zennakova stopped him.
"That will do... for now." The Russian villainess leaned forward, letting her fingers gently stroke the Fox's slender throat. At the same time, her psychokinetic powers twisted the leather straps around her arms tighter. Jennifer's head shot back, her entire body arched against the table as she cried out. "Pleasure or pain, devochka. You will tell me what I wish to know."
***
"Ludmillia Zennakova," said FBI agent Zachary Hardcastle, taking a photograph out of file folder and showing it around. "Ex-KGB. Wanted in 27 countries. Excuse me, 28 now."
Six agents plus Martin Fletcher were clustered near the disabled helicopter planning their next move. "Correct me if I'm wrong," said one of the younger men, "but didn't the KGB go out of business 20 years ago? She should be what... pushing 60?"
"She was part of a top secret biogenics program, Shelby," Hardcastle replied. "She could probably run you into the ground."
Fletcher nodded. "I've run across her before," he said. "What's she doing in America?"
"No idea," said Hardcastle. "I've been on her trail since she stole this stealth helicopter in Canada a week ago. I assume her plan was to use it for something, but now that it's been disabled..."
"We have the Fuchsia Fox to thank for that," Fletcher told him. He hesitated as he went on, his heart momentarily catching in his throat. "But... she's... been captured." The other men were silent. The Fox's reputation was already well-known.
"All right then," said Hardcastle, raising his voice as a recon helicopter called in from the local bureau arrived, hovering above them. "We'll lay down a search pattern along both sides of the river. Maybe we'll get lucky. Captain, I appreciate the information you've given us, but this will be a dangerous hunt. I can't ask you to--"
"Try and stop me," said Fletcher, taking off his suit jacket and tossing it in his car.
Their eyes met. "Glad to have you with us then," said Hardcastle, as he handed him a spare sidearm. "Let's move!"
***
"Please... stop," the Fox whimpered. "I'll tell you anything... please..." Her lovely body was slick with perspiration, every muscle trembling. Wildly she wondered if she could risk lying. No -- Zennakova was too shrewd for that. She would somehow know, and the punishment she would inflict upon Jennifer's soft tender body wouldn't be worth contemplating. "To activate the bracelets... call upon the name of the goddess Ishtar."
Zennakova smiled in triumph. "There... you can be cooperative! And now I am afraid that I have no more need of you, devochka. Come, Prokofiev." Leaving the Fox's halter top on the table, the henchman picked up the bracelets of Ishtar and the two of them climbed the wooden staircase at the other corner of the room.
The man they had abducted, who was still slouched in the chair and tied up, spoke up for the first time, tugging against his ropes. "What... what about me? You're not going to leave me here, are you?"
Zennakova paused at the top of the stairs. "Sadly, Dr. Radek, you are also superfluous to my plans. But never fear. I do not propose to let you starve to death." Turning to a six inch pipe next to the landing, she twisted a valve. Water began gushing from the pipe at a furious rate. Within seconds it had already formed a pool on the cellar floor, rising steadily inch by inch. "Doh svedanya."
The Fuchsia Fox opened her eyes and found herself strapped to a stainless steel table. The room was about twenty-five feet square, with walls of brick. Judging from the narrow horizontal window high up on one wall, it was a cellar or basement. The man who had been kidnapped from the Mercedes was there also, tied up in a chair.
A thick leather strap was bound around each of the Fox's outstretched arms, holding her to the table, another across her lower legs. She automatically tried to flex her muscles to break free, but the straps were far too tight and secure. It was then she realized that both her gloves and the bracelets of Ishtar had been taken away from her!
"Struggle all you wish, devochka," sneered Major Zennakova, standing a couple of yards away where the bracelets were resting on another table. "Well, Prokofiev?"
The henchman was punching buttons on his scanning device, clearly bewildered. "I do not understand," he said. "When I scanned her earlier, her powers clearly came from these bracelets. And now they appear to be nothing but ordinary gold."
Zennakova strolled over to the Fuchsia Fox. Resting her hand on the helpless superheroine's bare thigh, she ran her fingertips softly upwards, sensuously following the gentle hills and valleys of her supple, spandex clad body. Jennifer squirmed in distress at the eroticism of the contact. "Get your hands off of me," she panted, desperately trying to kick against her tight leather restraints.
"You will tell me how I activate the bracelets," Zennakova said, her hand sliding along the curve of Jennifer's breast, caressing the naked skin of her neck.
"Get stuffed!" the girl spat. "Like I'd tell YOU!"
"If you will not be a good little girl," said Zennakova, backing off one pace, "I shall have to pull down your panties and spank you. Prokofiev, would you do the honors?"
"Thank you, Major," the henchman said, grinning. Jennifer struggled desperately, her eyes wide with alarm as the man approached her, but it was no use. She felt so helpless! His hands roughly caressed her upper body, taking his sweet time fondling her as he felt for the fastenings of her costume. After what seemed an inordinately long time, he undid her halter top and removed it. Jennifer's cheeks burned with embarrassment as the man ogled her naked, unprotected breasts. He was reaching inside the waistband of her scanty spandex briefs when Zennakova stopped him.
"That will do... for now." The Russian villainess leaned forward, letting her fingers gently stroke the Fox's slender throat. At the same time, her psychokinetic powers twisted the leather straps around her arms tighter. Jennifer's head shot back, her entire body arched against the table as she cried out. "Pleasure or pain, devochka. You will tell me what I wish to know."
***
"Ludmillia Zennakova," said FBI agent Zachary Hardcastle, taking a photograph out of file folder and showing it around. "Ex-KGB. Wanted in 27 countries. Excuse me, 28 now."
Six agents plus Martin Fletcher were clustered near the disabled helicopter planning their next move. "Correct me if I'm wrong," said one of the younger men, "but didn't the KGB go out of business 20 years ago? She should be what... pushing 60?"
"She was part of a top secret biogenics program, Shelby," Hardcastle replied. "She could probably run you into the ground."
Fletcher nodded. "I've run across her before," he said. "What's she doing in America?"
"No idea," said Hardcastle. "I've been on her trail since she stole this stealth helicopter in Canada a week ago. I assume her plan was to use it for something, but now that it's been disabled..."
"We have the Fuchsia Fox to thank for that," Fletcher told him. He hesitated as he went on, his heart momentarily catching in his throat. "But... she's... been captured." The other men were silent. The Fox's reputation was already well-known.
"All right then," said Hardcastle, raising his voice as a recon helicopter called in from the local bureau arrived, hovering above them. "We'll lay down a search pattern along both sides of the river. Maybe we'll get lucky. Captain, I appreciate the information you've given us, but this will be a dangerous hunt. I can't ask you to--"
"Try and stop me," said Fletcher, taking off his suit jacket and tossing it in his car.
Their eyes met. "Glad to have you with us then," said Hardcastle, as he handed him a spare sidearm. "Let's move!"
***
"Please... stop," the Fox whimpered. "I'll tell you anything... please..." Her lovely body was slick with perspiration, every muscle trembling. Wildly she wondered if she could risk lying. No -- Zennakova was too shrewd for that. She would somehow know, and the punishment she would inflict upon Jennifer's soft tender body wouldn't be worth contemplating. "To activate the bracelets... call upon the name of the goddess Ishtar."
Zennakova smiled in triumph. "There... you can be cooperative! And now I am afraid that I have no more need of you, devochka. Come, Prokofiev." Leaving the Fox's halter top on the table, the henchman picked up the bracelets of Ishtar and the two of them climbed the wooden staircase at the other corner of the room.
The man they had abducted, who was still slouched in the chair and tied up, spoke up for the first time, tugging against his ropes. "What... what about me? You're not going to leave me here, are you?"
Zennakova paused at the top of the stairs. "Sadly, Dr. Radek, you are also superfluous to my plans. But never fear. I do not propose to let you starve to death." Turning to a six inch pipe next to the landing, she twisted a valve. Water began gushing from the pipe at a furious rate. Within seconds it had already formed a pool on the cellar floor, rising steadily inch by inch. "Doh svedanya."
Chapter 5 --
The Fuchsia Fox felt her heart hammering in her chest as she tugged in vain against her bonds. "Alright Jennifer," she thought, taking deep breaths to calm herself, "this is no time to panic."
Part of her whimpered back, "I've been stripped of my powers, I'm tied up and helpless and about to drown! Can you think of a better time?"
It hadn't taken long for the cellar to fill with water a foot deep. Then two feet. Lying on her back on the stainless steel table, she could see her fellow captive, nearly hysterical with terror, desperately straining at his ropes. Sitting upright in a chair, the water was already up to his waist. The chair was teetering. If he didn't calm down, he was going to tip over, and then he would drown for sure.
With someone else to worry about, the Fox found her own fear easier to manage. "Sir?" she pleaded. "Please, you've got to stop wobbling like that!" She took a deep breath and spoke louder. "SIR! STOP IT!" The man froze, his eyes locked on the helpless superheroine. "That's better," she said. "I'm working on getting us out of this, but I need you to please try to relax. What's your name? Can you tell me why Zennakova kidnapped you?"
"My name is Radek," he panted, almost mesmerized by the sight of her. "Joseph Radek."
His eyes were now staring at the Fox's firm, gorgeous bust, gently rising and falling as she breathed. Jennifer squirmed with embarrassment, but if looking at her naked breasts kept him calm, that was okay. The water was lapping over the tabletop now, swirling around her butt and her legs... it was COLD! As the spunky superheroine tugged at her straps, the man's name suddenly rang a bell. "Um... you're not the same Dr. Joseph Radek who works at Sandford Labs?" The science magazine where she worked had done an article about him about a month ago.
He hung his head, shamefaced. "Zennakova had photographs of me in a gay bar. She blackmailed me into handing over one of our experimental antimatter canisters. I swear I had no idea she intended to use it as a bomb. If I had--"
"A BOMB?" the Fox blurted, craning her neck as the water soaked into what was left of her costume, surging steadily up the curves of her body. "What kind of bomb?"
"A small drop of antimatter held suspended in a magnetic bottle. Undetectable to any standard security detector. The container's power supply runs down at 11 o'clock. When it does, the magnetic bottle collapses and the antimatter explodes with enough force to take out half a city block!"
The Fuchsia Fox's heart began to thump faster. It was nearly ten thirty now! "Where does she intend to plant it?"
"I don't know!"
***
Prokofiev was driving a black Lexus down Madison Place at a very leisurely pace. "Why do you not speak the name and claim her powers?" he said. "You could have flown the device there in seconds."
Zennakova, in the passenger seat next to him, was admiring the bracelets of Ishtar on her wrists. "And possibly be detected," she replied. "I suspect that Hardcastle is hot on our trail. Better to be discreet for the moment. There is plenty of time. Ah, there is our destination now."
The car pulled up next to a high wrought-iron fence. A police car was already parked there with its blue bubble revolving. One of the uniformed officers walked over and rapped on the window. "We've received a level orange warning from the Office of Homeland Security. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you folks to move along."
"Of course," said Zennakova, smiling. And then her psychokinetic powers slammed the policeman face first into the roof of the car. Almost simultaneously, two quiet coughs from Prokofiev's silenced pistol took down the second policeman before he could turn around. Zennakova reached into the back seat and picked up a long plastic cylinder, about the size of a half gallon water bottle. A red indicator on top was counting down. Without another word, she got out of the car and walked towards the fence.
***
The Fuchsia Fox was running out of time. Flat on her back, her arms and legs were completely submerged now, the water level steadily rising over her shoulders and neck. She struggled harder. "Oh please mighty Ishtar," she silently prayed. "Please help me!"
Suddenly she felt one of the straps give! The wet leather was stretching! The water was lapping at her face. Quickly she took a deep breath and held it as the water rose over her head. Pulling, straining, gradually she worked the leather strap loose. Her right arm was free! Twisting around, she unraveled her left arm and sat up, her marvelous chest expanding as she gasped precious air into her lungs.
Seconds later her legs were free and she dove off the tabletop into the murky water. Her immediate priority was to get her halter top back and then make her way up the stairs to turn off the valve, but Dr. Radek didn't have time for that. The water was nearly up to his chin, and he was starting to panic again.
Swimming over to him, the Fox somehow managed to get his ropes undone. Her muscles were beginning to cramp from all the effort, and she had to lean on the man's shoulders while he carried her up the cellar stairs. And at the top, they naturally found the door locked. Jennifer sagged to her knees, utterly spent.
The lock suddenly turned. The door opened. As Dr. Radek shrank away in fear, the Fuchsia Fox forced herself shakily to her feet. If it was one of Zennakova's henchmen, she had none of her powers and she was exhausted! She didn't stand a chance!
Instead, she saw a familiar face framed in a white shirt. "Martin! What are you doing here?" she gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and collapsing weakly into his strong arms. She felt about two seconds away from crying.
The first thing he did was kiss her face about a dozen times, while he held her trembling, soaking wet body tightly against himself. Then it was almost as if he felt embarrassed by the emotion he had displayed. He tried to make a joke of it. "Um... We had a date, remember? You stood me up."
Sheer relief to be alive made her feel giddy, not to mention the feel of Martin's hard masculine body after all she had been through. "Gee I'm sorry," she replied in the same tone. "But I was captured by a supervillain and had to escape a deathtrap."
He was laughing now. "You call that an excuse? Why can't you just say you had to wash your hair, like normal girls do?"
***
With the valve turned off, the water began to drain almost at once. Fletcher waded down and brought back the Fuchsia Fox's halter top. While she wiggled into it, Hardcastle questioned Dr. Radek. "Are you sure you don't have any idea where Major Zennakova went?"
The scientist frowned as he tried to remember. "I can't be sure, but I think she said something about taking it to Harry Truman's rickety old home improvement project?"
"Oh my God!" the Fox gasped. "We've got to stop her!"
"You know what that means?" said Hardcastle incredulously.
"Of course I do. Everybody does. Let me rephrase that. Everybody who knows about history does."
Fletcher shook his head. "As far as I know, the only time Harry Truman lived in Washington, he stayed at..." His voice trailed off. "You don't mean...?"
***
In front of the White House, Zennavoka checked her watch. "Ten forty five. Time we were going, Prokofiev." They got into the Lexus and turned down 17th Street.
The Fuchsia Fox felt her heart hammering in her chest as she tugged in vain against her bonds. "Alright Jennifer," she thought, taking deep breaths to calm herself, "this is no time to panic."
Part of her whimpered back, "I've been stripped of my powers, I'm tied up and helpless and about to drown! Can you think of a better time?"
It hadn't taken long for the cellar to fill with water a foot deep. Then two feet. Lying on her back on the stainless steel table, she could see her fellow captive, nearly hysterical with terror, desperately straining at his ropes. Sitting upright in a chair, the water was already up to his waist. The chair was teetering. If he didn't calm down, he was going to tip over, and then he would drown for sure.
With someone else to worry about, the Fox found her own fear easier to manage. "Sir?" she pleaded. "Please, you've got to stop wobbling like that!" She took a deep breath and spoke louder. "SIR! STOP IT!" The man froze, his eyes locked on the helpless superheroine. "That's better," she said. "I'm working on getting us out of this, but I need you to please try to relax. What's your name? Can you tell me why Zennakova kidnapped you?"
"My name is Radek," he panted, almost mesmerized by the sight of her. "Joseph Radek."
His eyes were now staring at the Fox's firm, gorgeous bust, gently rising and falling as she breathed. Jennifer squirmed with embarrassment, but if looking at her naked breasts kept him calm, that was okay. The water was lapping over the tabletop now, swirling around her butt and her legs... it was COLD! As the spunky superheroine tugged at her straps, the man's name suddenly rang a bell. "Um... you're not the same Dr. Joseph Radek who works at Sandford Labs?" The science magazine where she worked had done an article about him about a month ago.
He hung his head, shamefaced. "Zennakova had photographs of me in a gay bar. She blackmailed me into handing over one of our experimental antimatter canisters. I swear I had no idea she intended to use it as a bomb. If I had--"
"A BOMB?" the Fox blurted, craning her neck as the water soaked into what was left of her costume, surging steadily up the curves of her body. "What kind of bomb?"
"A small drop of antimatter held suspended in a magnetic bottle. Undetectable to any standard security detector. The container's power supply runs down at 11 o'clock. When it does, the magnetic bottle collapses and the antimatter explodes with enough force to take out half a city block!"
The Fuchsia Fox's heart began to thump faster. It was nearly ten thirty now! "Where does she intend to plant it?"
"I don't know!"
***
Prokofiev was driving a black Lexus down Madison Place at a very leisurely pace. "Why do you not speak the name and claim her powers?" he said. "You could have flown the device there in seconds."
Zennakova, in the passenger seat next to him, was admiring the bracelets of Ishtar on her wrists. "And possibly be detected," she replied. "I suspect that Hardcastle is hot on our trail. Better to be discreet for the moment. There is plenty of time. Ah, there is our destination now."
The car pulled up next to a high wrought-iron fence. A police car was already parked there with its blue bubble revolving. One of the uniformed officers walked over and rapped on the window. "We've received a level orange warning from the Office of Homeland Security. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you folks to move along."
"Of course," said Zennakova, smiling. And then her psychokinetic powers slammed the policeman face first into the roof of the car. Almost simultaneously, two quiet coughs from Prokofiev's silenced pistol took down the second policeman before he could turn around. Zennakova reached into the back seat and picked up a long plastic cylinder, about the size of a half gallon water bottle. A red indicator on top was counting down. Without another word, she got out of the car and walked towards the fence.
***
The Fuchsia Fox was running out of time. Flat on her back, her arms and legs were completely submerged now, the water level steadily rising over her shoulders and neck. She struggled harder. "Oh please mighty Ishtar," she silently prayed. "Please help me!"
Suddenly she felt one of the straps give! The wet leather was stretching! The water was lapping at her face. Quickly she took a deep breath and held it as the water rose over her head. Pulling, straining, gradually she worked the leather strap loose. Her right arm was free! Twisting around, she unraveled her left arm and sat up, her marvelous chest expanding as she gasped precious air into her lungs.
Seconds later her legs were free and she dove off the tabletop into the murky water. Her immediate priority was to get her halter top back and then make her way up the stairs to turn off the valve, but Dr. Radek didn't have time for that. The water was nearly up to his chin, and he was starting to panic again.
Swimming over to him, the Fox somehow managed to get his ropes undone. Her muscles were beginning to cramp from all the effort, and she had to lean on the man's shoulders while he carried her up the cellar stairs. And at the top, they naturally found the door locked. Jennifer sagged to her knees, utterly spent.
The lock suddenly turned. The door opened. As Dr. Radek shrank away in fear, the Fuchsia Fox forced herself shakily to her feet. If it was one of Zennakova's henchmen, she had none of her powers and she was exhausted! She didn't stand a chance!
Instead, she saw a familiar face framed in a white shirt. "Martin! What are you doing here?" she gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and collapsing weakly into his strong arms. She felt about two seconds away from crying.
The first thing he did was kiss her face about a dozen times, while he held her trembling, soaking wet body tightly against himself. Then it was almost as if he felt embarrassed by the emotion he had displayed. He tried to make a joke of it. "Um... We had a date, remember? You stood me up."
Sheer relief to be alive made her feel giddy, not to mention the feel of Martin's hard masculine body after all she had been through. "Gee I'm sorry," she replied in the same tone. "But I was captured by a supervillain and had to escape a deathtrap."
He was laughing now. "You call that an excuse? Why can't you just say you had to wash your hair, like normal girls do?"
***
With the valve turned off, the water began to drain almost at once. Fletcher waded down and brought back the Fuchsia Fox's halter top. While she wiggled into it, Hardcastle questioned Dr. Radek. "Are you sure you don't have any idea where Major Zennakova went?"
The scientist frowned as he tried to remember. "I can't be sure, but I think she said something about taking it to Harry Truman's rickety old home improvement project?"
"Oh my God!" the Fox gasped. "We've got to stop her!"
"You know what that means?" said Hardcastle incredulously.
"Of course I do. Everybody does. Let me rephrase that. Everybody who knows about history does."
Fletcher shook his head. "As far as I know, the only time Harry Truman lived in Washington, he stayed at..." His voice trailed off. "You don't mean...?"
***
In front of the White House, Zennavoka checked her watch. "Ten forty five. Time we were going, Prokofiev." They got into the Lexus and turned down 17th Street.
Chapter 6 --
The FBI helicopter raced across the sky towards 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, with Hardcastle speaking into his radio headset. "That's right, a bomb! You've got to evacuate!"
The Fuchsia Fox was in the rear seat with Martin's arm around her. She was trying not to think of what would happen if Zennakova managed to get away with her bracelets, and the result was that she wasn't thinking at all. Her head was resting against Martin's shoulder, her thoughts just drifting.
All at once she sat up straight. "Agent Hardcastle, wait! We have to turn right!"
The FBI agent half turned in his seat, shouting over the sound of the helicopter engine. "Are you out of your mind?"
"Trust me!" the sexy superheroine shouted back. "I can FEEL her! We have to turn down 17th Street! Zennakova's that way!"
Hardcastle hesitated for a second. "I hope you know what you're doing!" He gave the proper directions, and the helicopter turned. Skimming over the headquarters for the American Red Cross, they crossed Constitution Avenue. Now they were into the Mall and its vast expanses of grass... the Washington Monument to their left, the Reflecting Pool off to their right. Up ahead was the Potomac River, where a black Lexus had pulled off the street next to the John Paul Jones statue.
"Don't get too close," the Fox warned Agent Hardcastle. "Let me go down alone."
There were too many trees in this area for the copter to land safely anyway. Fletcher slid over to the side hatch and got the rope and winch ready. "Are you sure about this, Fox? You don't have your powers!"
"I have to do this, Martin." They looked into each other's eyes, and she sensed that he no intention of letting her go alone. "If you insist on coming with me, you have to promise to follow my lead, okay? I know what I'm doing. At least I think I do."
***
Zennakova warily watched the helicopter approach. Behind her in the Tidal Basin, Minsky was waiting in a mini-submarine. Even without the bracelets of Ishtar, her own psychokinetic powers could keep the helicopter at bay long enough for her and Prokofiev to escape.
The aircraft dropped off two people and backed away. Prokofiev brought up his gun, but the villainess held up a restraining hand as the Fuchsia Fox walked steadily nearer. Beside her was a man in shirtsleeves, holding a gun ready but pointed at the ground. "I must confess I am happy to see that you survived, devochka," Zennakova said. "But you must be crazy to come here. You never used a fraction of the power available in these bracelets, because you are too good, too noble. And I have them now!"
"Maybe I AM crazy," said the Fox, continuing up the lawn until she and Fletcher stopped just a few yards away. She planted her hands on her hips. "But I'm not letting you walk away from here with my bracelets. Go ahead and give me your best shot, witch."
Zennakova extended her slender arms above her. The golden bracelets glittered on her wrists. "ISHTAR!" she challenged. Their energy aura erupted like a nova, far brighter than it ever had for Jennifer. The other three stood dumbfounded as the Russian beauty was enveloped by it. Her arms out by her sides, she rose five feet off the ground and hovered there, her eyes blazing red like the hearts of stars.
Fletcher swallowed hard, trying to keep his nerves steady as he raised the 9mm SIG-Sauer Hardcastle had given him to a firing position. Should he open fire? Granted he wasn't sure it would do much good at this point, but anything was better than just standing here waiting to be killed. He looked sideways at Jennifer, remembering that he had promised to follow her lead. "Fox?" he asked nervously. "Um... Fox?"
She turned to look at him, and to his surprise, she was smiling. "Gotcha," she said.
A slow motion ripple seemed to be passing from the bracelets along Zennakova's arms. As it passed, the sleeves of her uniform first smoked and then dissolved. The Russian beauty's eyes returned to normal as she looked with panic from one arm to the other. "What is happening?" she yelped. "Stop! Stop it, I command you!" But the line of disintegration moved steadily across her shoulders and down her torso, leaving nothing but bare female skin behind as it passed. The leather of her belt and boots fell apart, even the buttons on her uniform hissed as they too vaporized in flashes of molten brass.
Within seconds, every stitch of her clothing was GONE. For a long moment Zennakova hung there in midair, totally naked, spread eagled and totally on display but frozen, vulnerable and unable to move. Prokofiev's eyes bugged out as he stared up between her legs. Then with a bright flash of light, the villainess dropped to the grass and curled up in a fetal position. The bracelets of Ishtar rolled across the lawn to stop at Jennifer's feet.
"Gee, did I forget to mention it?" the Fox said, as she reached down to pick them up. "You also have to be considered worthy, signified by wearing a special costume given to you by Ishtar herself."
Prokofiev belatedly realized that the jig was up. Before the Fox could put on her bracelets, he charged forward, grabbing the girl's wrists. He was intercepted by Fletcher's fist, catching him on the jaw. A second blow slammed him in the gut, dropping the henchman to his knees. He looked up into the barrel of Fletcher's SIG-Sauer. "Don't even think about it," said Martin.
The Fox flashed him a grateful smile, then raised her bracelets and clashed them together. "ISHHHHHTARRRRR!" she exclaimed triumphantly. The energy burst surged out from the bracelets once again, but this time it was like a loving caress, the luminous kiss of angels, bathing Jennifer's nubile young body with the pure glow of creation itself. She closed her eyes with ecstasy as the energy coccoon touched her most intimate places, causing her to shiver as if she were having an orgasm. The two men watched with their mouths hanging open, feeling their male organs growing hard inside their pants.
And then, while Hardcastle and Shelby came running up to take charge of Zennakova and Prokofiev, the Fuchsia Fox streaked off in the direction of the White House. It was two minutes to eleven! Two minutes until the antimatter canister went off!
The FBI helicopter raced across the sky towards 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, with Hardcastle speaking into his radio headset. "That's right, a bomb! You've got to evacuate!"
The Fuchsia Fox was in the rear seat with Martin's arm around her. She was trying not to think of what would happen if Zennakova managed to get away with her bracelets, and the result was that she wasn't thinking at all. Her head was resting against Martin's shoulder, her thoughts just drifting.
All at once she sat up straight. "Agent Hardcastle, wait! We have to turn right!"
The FBI agent half turned in his seat, shouting over the sound of the helicopter engine. "Are you out of your mind?"
"Trust me!" the sexy superheroine shouted back. "I can FEEL her! We have to turn down 17th Street! Zennakova's that way!"
Hardcastle hesitated for a second. "I hope you know what you're doing!" He gave the proper directions, and the helicopter turned. Skimming over the headquarters for the American Red Cross, they crossed Constitution Avenue. Now they were into the Mall and its vast expanses of grass... the Washington Monument to their left, the Reflecting Pool off to their right. Up ahead was the Potomac River, where a black Lexus had pulled off the street next to the John Paul Jones statue.
"Don't get too close," the Fox warned Agent Hardcastle. "Let me go down alone."
There were too many trees in this area for the copter to land safely anyway. Fletcher slid over to the side hatch and got the rope and winch ready. "Are you sure about this, Fox? You don't have your powers!"
"I have to do this, Martin." They looked into each other's eyes, and she sensed that he no intention of letting her go alone. "If you insist on coming with me, you have to promise to follow my lead, okay? I know what I'm doing. At least I think I do."
***
Zennakova warily watched the helicopter approach. Behind her in the Tidal Basin, Minsky was waiting in a mini-submarine. Even without the bracelets of Ishtar, her own psychokinetic powers could keep the helicopter at bay long enough for her and Prokofiev to escape.
The aircraft dropped off two people and backed away. Prokofiev brought up his gun, but the villainess held up a restraining hand as the Fuchsia Fox walked steadily nearer. Beside her was a man in shirtsleeves, holding a gun ready but pointed at the ground. "I must confess I am happy to see that you survived, devochka," Zennakova said. "But you must be crazy to come here. You never used a fraction of the power available in these bracelets, because you are too good, too noble. And I have them now!"
"Maybe I AM crazy," said the Fox, continuing up the lawn until she and Fletcher stopped just a few yards away. She planted her hands on her hips. "But I'm not letting you walk away from here with my bracelets. Go ahead and give me your best shot, witch."
Zennakova extended her slender arms above her. The golden bracelets glittered on her wrists. "ISHTAR!" she challenged. Their energy aura erupted like a nova, far brighter than it ever had for Jennifer. The other three stood dumbfounded as the Russian beauty was enveloped by it. Her arms out by her sides, she rose five feet off the ground and hovered there, her eyes blazing red like the hearts of stars.
Fletcher swallowed hard, trying to keep his nerves steady as he raised the 9mm SIG-Sauer Hardcastle had given him to a firing position. Should he open fire? Granted he wasn't sure it would do much good at this point, but anything was better than just standing here waiting to be killed. He looked sideways at Jennifer, remembering that he had promised to follow her lead. "Fox?" he asked nervously. "Um... Fox?"
She turned to look at him, and to his surprise, she was smiling. "Gotcha," she said.
A slow motion ripple seemed to be passing from the bracelets along Zennakova's arms. As it passed, the sleeves of her uniform first smoked and then dissolved. The Russian beauty's eyes returned to normal as she looked with panic from one arm to the other. "What is happening?" she yelped. "Stop! Stop it, I command you!" But the line of disintegration moved steadily across her shoulders and down her torso, leaving nothing but bare female skin behind as it passed. The leather of her belt and boots fell apart, even the buttons on her uniform hissed as they too vaporized in flashes of molten brass.
Within seconds, every stitch of her clothing was GONE. For a long moment Zennakova hung there in midair, totally naked, spread eagled and totally on display but frozen, vulnerable and unable to move. Prokofiev's eyes bugged out as he stared up between her legs. Then with a bright flash of light, the villainess dropped to the grass and curled up in a fetal position. The bracelets of Ishtar rolled across the lawn to stop at Jennifer's feet.
"Gee, did I forget to mention it?" the Fox said, as she reached down to pick them up. "You also have to be considered worthy, signified by wearing a special costume given to you by Ishtar herself."
Prokofiev belatedly realized that the jig was up. Before the Fox could put on her bracelets, he charged forward, grabbing the girl's wrists. He was intercepted by Fletcher's fist, catching him on the jaw. A second blow slammed him in the gut, dropping the henchman to his knees. He looked up into the barrel of Fletcher's SIG-Sauer. "Don't even think about it," said Martin.
The Fox flashed him a grateful smile, then raised her bracelets and clashed them together. "ISHHHHHTARRRRR!" she exclaimed triumphantly. The energy burst surged out from the bracelets once again, but this time it was like a loving caress, the luminous kiss of angels, bathing Jennifer's nubile young body with the pure glow of creation itself. She closed her eyes with ecstasy as the energy coccoon touched her most intimate places, causing her to shiver as if she were having an orgasm. The two men watched with their mouths hanging open, feeling their male organs growing hard inside their pants.
And then, while Hardcastle and Shelby came running up to take charge of Zennakova and Prokofiev, the Fuchsia Fox streaked off in the direction of the White House. It was two minutes to eleven! Two minutes until the antimatter canister went off!
Chapter 7 --
The Fox was probably doing about 70 miles an hour as she zoomed over the White House, over teams of Secret Service agents combing the grounds. In the back of her mind, the timid voice of a magazine writer and part time history student kept whispering, "It's hopeless, Jennifer! There isn't time! Just get to a safe distance! Please?"
She tried to ignore the voice as best she could. She was a superheroine, and a superheroine does NOT run away and hide when somebody needs her! That was the reason Ishtar chose her in the first place!
But how could she hope to find it? Gently she landed on the roof of the North facade, bracing her slim legs on either side of the slope. She closed her eyes. "Please, Ishtar," she prayed. "Please help me. I can't do it by myself."
The world held its breath. All sound ceased, and for one heart-stopping moment, the Fox thought the bomb had gone off and she was dead. Her bracelets began to glow.
Holding her arms outstretched, the Fox used her bracelets as a divining rod to zero in on the canister. She found it sitting on the lantern hanging from the North Portico. The stunning superheroine landed on the terrace, Secret Service men running to help her. She could see the little glowing glob of antimatter through the transparent window on the side of the container, and then she gasped as she saw the red numerals on the readout! Five seconds left!
There wasn't time! No time to disarm it, no time to fly it high enough so that she could throw it. "Stand back!" she shouted, dropping to one knee, clutching the container to her stomach, and concentrating her force shield around herself.
The silence was broken by a beepbeepbeepbeep as the indicator hit zero. But there was no explosion. Her bracelets were glowing like two suns. The Secret Service men backed away, shielding their eyes from the glare. The Fox set down the now empty container and soared off into the sky.
***
About 1 o'clock in the morning, Fletcher parked his car and walked up steps of the deserted Jefferson Memorial, then around to the northwest side, the side facing West Potomac Park across the expanse of the Tidal Basin. The Fuchsia Fox was sitting all alone on the cold marble, hugging her pretty knees as she looked at the lights of the city reflected in the water.
"Everybody's looking for you," he said, sitting beside her and draping his jacket around her smooth bare shoulders. "They want to thank you for saving the day again." He understood why she had skipped out. He knew that she didn't like the attention she always got when she appeared in public. He expected her to make a joke about it.
Instead, she leaned against him, clutching his arm. "Martin, I'm scared," she said. "The bomb didn't go off. My bracelets ABSORBED the antimatter! I flew high up over the city to let them dissipate, but they didn't need to! They just sucked it up like lemonade!" Fletcher was surprised to feel her trembling, and it wasn't from the cold. "I keep thinking of that old Star Trek episode. You know, where the guy became as powerful as a god and he started taking over and talking about crushing people like insects! Will that happen to me? Will I become like Major Zennakova?"
He softly slipped his arm around her and pulled her close. "What do you think?"
"I don't want to think," she whimpered, moving closer and burying her face in his chest.
Fletcher might not be the most insightful guy in the world, but he was sensitive enough to know when she needed someone to listen to her, someone to hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right. "Listen, if you're really worried about the bracelets, I've got the perfect solution. Let me take them off your hands. I could be a superhero." He felt her raise her head. "Of course, I don't think I'd look as good as you in your costume..."
Jennifer giggled hysterically. "I don't think so either." Their eyes locked and without either of them saying another word, they kissed. The Fox closed her eyes, savoring the strength of his body, the sweetness of his lips as he devoured her, arousing her passion. His jacket slid off as her arms wrapped round his broad shoulders and she clung to him. She felt his male hardness and moaned. Oh how much she NEEDED him tonight! As he kissed her, his hands were urgently exploring her silken body, unfastening her halter top.
"Mmmmmm... please... don't..." she murmured weakly in between kisses, blushing as he undressed her and tossed her garments aside. "Martin!" she hissed. "This is the Jefferson Memorial!"
Fletcher looked around as if he literally had forgotten where he was. "Old Tom can find his own chick," he said, and went back to making love to her.
>>>>>>THE END
The Fox was probably doing about 70 miles an hour as she zoomed over the White House, over teams of Secret Service agents combing the grounds. In the back of her mind, the timid voice of a magazine writer and part time history student kept whispering, "It's hopeless, Jennifer! There isn't time! Just get to a safe distance! Please?"
She tried to ignore the voice as best she could. She was a superheroine, and a superheroine does NOT run away and hide when somebody needs her! That was the reason Ishtar chose her in the first place!
But how could she hope to find it? Gently she landed on the roof of the North facade, bracing her slim legs on either side of the slope. She closed her eyes. "Please, Ishtar," she prayed. "Please help me. I can't do it by myself."
The world held its breath. All sound ceased, and for one heart-stopping moment, the Fox thought the bomb had gone off and she was dead. Her bracelets began to glow.
Holding her arms outstretched, the Fox used her bracelets as a divining rod to zero in on the canister. She found it sitting on the lantern hanging from the North Portico. The stunning superheroine landed on the terrace, Secret Service men running to help her. She could see the little glowing glob of antimatter through the transparent window on the side of the container, and then she gasped as she saw the red numerals on the readout! Five seconds left!
There wasn't time! No time to disarm it, no time to fly it high enough so that she could throw it. "Stand back!" she shouted, dropping to one knee, clutching the container to her stomach, and concentrating her force shield around herself.
The silence was broken by a beepbeepbeepbeep as the indicator hit zero. But there was no explosion. Her bracelets were glowing like two suns. The Secret Service men backed away, shielding their eyes from the glare. The Fox set down the now empty container and soared off into the sky.
***
About 1 o'clock in the morning, Fletcher parked his car and walked up steps of the deserted Jefferson Memorial, then around to the northwest side, the side facing West Potomac Park across the expanse of the Tidal Basin. The Fuchsia Fox was sitting all alone on the cold marble, hugging her pretty knees as she looked at the lights of the city reflected in the water.
"Everybody's looking for you," he said, sitting beside her and draping his jacket around her smooth bare shoulders. "They want to thank you for saving the day again." He understood why she had skipped out. He knew that she didn't like the attention she always got when she appeared in public. He expected her to make a joke about it.
Instead, she leaned against him, clutching his arm. "Martin, I'm scared," she said. "The bomb didn't go off. My bracelets ABSORBED the antimatter! I flew high up over the city to let them dissipate, but they didn't need to! They just sucked it up like lemonade!" Fletcher was surprised to feel her trembling, and it wasn't from the cold. "I keep thinking of that old Star Trek episode. You know, where the guy became as powerful as a god and he started taking over and talking about crushing people like insects! Will that happen to me? Will I become like Major Zennakova?"
He softly slipped his arm around her and pulled her close. "What do you think?"
"I don't want to think," she whimpered, moving closer and burying her face in his chest.
Fletcher might not be the most insightful guy in the world, but he was sensitive enough to know when she needed someone to listen to her, someone to hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right. "Listen, if you're really worried about the bracelets, I've got the perfect solution. Let me take them off your hands. I could be a superhero." He felt her raise her head. "Of course, I don't think I'd look as good as you in your costume..."
Jennifer giggled hysterically. "I don't think so either." Their eyes locked and without either of them saying another word, they kissed. The Fox closed her eyes, savoring the strength of his body, the sweetness of his lips as he devoured her, arousing her passion. His jacket slid off as her arms wrapped round his broad shoulders and she clung to him. She felt his male hardness and moaned. Oh how much she NEEDED him tonight! As he kissed her, his hands were urgently exploring her silken body, unfastening her halter top.
"Mmmmmm... please... don't..." she murmured weakly in between kisses, blushing as he undressed her and tossed her garments aside. "Martin!" she hissed. "This is the Jefferson Memorial!"
Fletcher looked around as if he literally had forgotten where he was. "Old Tom can find his own chick," he said, and went back to making love to her.
>>>>>>THE END
P.S.
"Jen... do me a favor?"
"Mmmmmmmm anything hon..."
"Whatever you do, please for the love of God don't yell 'Ishtar' when you climax, okay? I don't think I could handle it!" Jennifer giggled.
[I considered tacking on an epilogue here concerning a certain park ranger who spots Fletcher's car at about 1:15 and innocently strolls around to the northeast side just in time to catch our heroine and hero in a very delicate moment. But I thought there are some things I can safely leave to your imagination. Even a fictional character deserves some privacy...]
"Jen... do me a favor?"
"Mmmmmmmm anything hon..."
"Whatever you do, please for the love of God don't yell 'Ishtar' when you climax, okay? I don't think I could handle it!" Jennifer giggled.
[I considered tacking on an epilogue here concerning a certain park ranger who spots Fletcher's car at about 1:15 and innocently strolls around to the northeast side just in time to catch our heroine and hero in a very delicate moment. But I thought there are some things I can safely leave to your imagination. Even a fictional character deserves some privacy...]