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Delta City Doomsday: Part I
By M. Hadley
An alarming realization struck the powerful Don of Delta City, Salvador Silvia, as he waited patiently at his table, flanked by his Number Two and a boisterous stripper in a star-spangled bikini. Surrounding him was a colorful cast of rogues: to his left were the sensational Asian criminal siren known as the Empress of Dragons, her entourage of sexy kunochi in barely-there ninja jumpsuits, the circus ringmaster-themed Master of Ceremonies, his clown henchmen, sword-swallower, and the second-in-command of his Crime Circus, the Bearded Lady,. To his right was the yellow and black striped Queen Bee, her similarly themed Hive Girls(brainwashed supermodels all), and the old mad scientist known simply as "The Lord", with his massively overgrown simple-minded behemoth of a son, "The Disciple".
He leaned over to whisper in the ear of Jacob Glass, his Number Two. "I need a costume."
The always reserved Jacob blinked for a second, before replying, "But you are a businessman, sir."
"Aren't you always talking about healthy competition in the marketplace, Jakey-boy?" Don Silvia spat slightly, half in jest, half in annoyance as he ran his coarse fingers through the red locks of the stripper sitting in his lap, snuggling against him.
"We sell drugs and protection, sir." Glass replied without missing a beat. "Not insanity. We're in the midst of madmen, low-lives, and thieves, whose various motivations are all over the place. They are not your competition, sir."
The stripper chuckled heartily at the madmen remark, joined by the Don.
"Yeah, you're right." The crimelord agreed composedly. " It's not like we're losing customers...just, the fear thing...that's what I'm talking about. I worry about my reputation, Jakey-boy. It's not what it used to be. The store owners pay up, sure. But you can see the defiance in their eyes, and its not because of the superbroads prancing around in their short underwear. I only have the muscle-bound mooks in too little suits, armed with pistols, blackjacks, and other forms of crippling technology. How can you compete for fear with a broad that can control carnivorous bees or a man with a mind-controlling top hat and a fire breather that worships him like a god?"
"People put their stock in fear too much, in my opinion." Glass coolly took a sip of his brandy. "Fear turn people against you. Fear makes you lose business. Respect is what you want, sir. Respect...is something you can buy and sell."
The Don stared at his lieutenant for a second, his eyes narrowing into slits as he considered the possibilities. "You're a good brain, Jakey-boy."
Glass smiled embarrassingly, basking in his employer's praise. "I got the business cards right here. I can pass them out after the festivities. Of the crop, I think Queen Bee and the Empress of Dragons can be bought-"
"Why the hell we're here...and how long we have to wait, Jakey-boy?" Don Silvia moaned, polishing off his liquor in one gulp and slamming the glass on the table as hard as he could without shattering it.
"Aw...you don't like my company?" the stripper pouted playfully, crossing her arms over her bountiful chest.
"Of course, sweet thing." The Don nudged her chin with his index finger and thumb. "But I have a stripper pole in my office and you'd look better with the Delta City skyline behind you than this seedy setup..."
"Actually, 'Yoshiwara' is a brilliant name for a strip club, boss." Glass smirked, reclining in his plush chair. "Just like the Japanese red-light district, we're here for carnal pleasures, and disarmed at the door. Someone had class when they opened this joint."
"Anybody can read Wikipedia, Jakey-boy." Don Silvia snorted. "But...you got a good brain, nevertheless."
There was a subvert nervousness, uncharacteristic of his superior, that Jacob Glass was picking up on. It was healthy paranoia, one trait vital to the operation helmed by a brilliant leader. The host of the informal get-together was unknown, and his emissaries mysterious. Glass was still baffled by how the hooded figure had effortlessly infiltrated their fortress-like skyscraper headquarters, a feat failed by many of Delta City's superhuman champions. It was as if he had simply materialized within the expansive office of the Don, undaunted by the impressive level of firepower wielded by the mob boss's security.
The voice of the intruder was mechanical, as if filtered through an intercom. He had simply extended an invitation to Yoshiwara, a fresh component to the Don's metropolitan empire. The enigmatic creature waited for no answer. Before the stunned Don could whip out his own golden Magnum, the cloaked being had vanished just as suddenly as it appeared. The Don thought it initially beneath him to play to another's tune, especially someone that was unknown. However, he also thought it a sign of weakness, a crack in the veneer of invincibility he had so long crafted as Delta City's greatest underworld figure, if he did not show his face for the proceedings.
Now the kingpin waited, successfully hiding his bated breath, for what would unfold next. His right hand lingered near his left golden cufflink, a secret summoner for his ubiquitous army of enforcers, stationed in front of the club and hidden around it.
He did not have to wait long. All activity suddenly stopped in the seedy establishment, a freeze frame of colorful characters in bizarre costumes. Even the huge bees flying about Queen Bee's behive hairdo seem to cease with their buzzing, such swiftness as if the very sound had been stolen from their beating wings.
Not a pin drop, or a solid clink of ice against liquor glass.
All eyes were drawn to the stage of the club, where three cloaked figures, living shadows, seemingly materialized out of thin air. The one of the center of their line suddenly sauntered up to the stripper pole and whirled around it like an expert dancer. As its feet hit the ground from the revolution, it began to perform an graceful erotic dance, with sensual moves that rivaled the best Yoshiwara had to offer.
The assembled crooks, shocked and confused beyond measure, did not know initially how to react. But soon, slobbering grunts from the massive Disciple soon incited infectious fervor from the male criminals, with the exception of Don Silva and his lieutinant.
"Fresh meat?" Don gave the stripper at his table a suspicious look.
"Beats the hell out of me, sugar..." the redhead shrugged, a mixture of fear and astonishment on her pretty face.
"I can't say that I dig the Sith angle..." Glass murmured under his breath.
Onstage, the cloaked dancer finshed its routine by sliding upside down the pole and landing neatly on its feet. Then, walking to the edge of the stage before its audience, it reached for its hood and revealed its features, causing gasps of astonishment to explode from the assembled hoods.
The head was a reflective silvery skeleton, with harsh blue spotlight eyes that practically blinded the crowd.
Overmaster Wars: Delta City Doomsday!
Last edited by The UG 11 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
-
flagonforge
- Sargeant 1st Class
- Posts: 213
- Joined: 15 years ago
interesting start - looking forward to more!
The grinning skull, the haunting juxapotation of the Grim Reaper with the sensational sexuality of a pole dancer, hissed menacingly at Delta City's underworld from the stage. It was soon joined by the other two, stepping beside her in eerie unison and pulling their hoods from their skulls as well.
Don Silva's finger lingered at his golden cufflink, only to be gently grasped at the wrist by Glass, who shook his head disapprovingly. His Number Two was right. Jumping the gun could be destructive to his invincible image.
"What izzzzz thizzzz?" The Queen Bee droned, slamming an angry fist on her table.
"I gave up a perfect night of experimenting with cheerleaders for this nonsense." the Lord sniffed arrogantly with his long nose in the air.
"Patience." an eloquent, mascaline voice suddenly boomed. "Even those who walk the world of the dark should practice virtues."
"Are you the host of this circus?" the Master of Ceremonies motioned to his clown henchmen to scurry about the tables to search for the voice's source.
The buffonish ensemble did not have to look for long, as all eyes were once again drawn to the stage. The skull-faced figures. still as statues, were joined by a fourth. The being was tall, and rather majestic, clad in strange silvery blue armor that left everything to the imagination. Even the eyes were not invisible, being instead devilish red orbs that seemed to burn into one's soul. Razor-sharp horns curved from both sides of the being's helmet, stretching several inches into the air.
A black cape billowed regally behind the egnimatic being as it slowly moved to the front of the stage. The three skull-faced figures stepped meekly aside as the being approached, bowing deeply in unison.
Don found himself experiencing something that had been rendered foreign, ever since he seized power in the Delta City underworld.
Dread. In the limited light of the strip club, the mysterious armored figure on stage resembled the Devil himself.
"I take it that the show...was not to your liking?" the eloquent mascaline voice spoke again, this time radiating from the armored being.
"Lucas beat you to it, buddy!" the Bearded Lady jeered. "The Darth Vader routine is so overdone!"
"Silenzze, you foolzzz!" the Queen Bee growled. "Obviouzzzzly, thizzz man has a reazzzon to call uzzzz together..."
"Call my beauty a fool again, Bee..." The Master of Ceremonies turned towards her and wiped his gloved finger across his throat in a slashing manner.
"Cut if off, you mooks." Glass snarled. "Let the...guy have the floor..."
The two quarreling villains instantly quieted down, showcasing the pull Silva had in the metropolis. All attention returned to the caped man in glistening silver blue armor and devil horns.
"Thank you." the being nodded towards Glass and Silver. "Now, questions are part of human nature. You all have them. But I'm sure at the end of my spiel, you won't need them anymore."
"Well...get on with it!" the Disciple bellowed, hurling phlem in the air.
"How can I refuse vigor like that, hmmm?" the armored being laughed, a sinister chortle of gruff thunder. "But honestly, fiends...I would have to start a long time ago, in a lifetime far, far, away. Now...how many of us were born into a world of superheroines?"
Various hands shot up around the confines of the small club.
"Yes, those big-breasted powerhouse bimbos have been a staple of society for quite some time now, right?" the being continued. "They have been thorns in our sides, stopping profits, halting our fun...right? We're society's predators! We play a role in people's lives, eh? We make them appreciate them. Without us...society would not care about themselves...it would be much too easy, and then...much too boring!"
"Hell yeah!" one of the clown minions of the Master of Ceremonies chimed in.
"I had it worst, my fiends." the caped being walked back and forth. "I had a superheroine ruin my entire life. She took employment from my mother and father, and later took their lives. This was BEFORE my jaunt into the dark, back when life was sunny, and full of hope...back when I would have been happy to be some nameless nobody, surfing rainbows through life."
He stopped and pointed to the audience. "You all and I differ in our viewpoints on superheroines. For you, they are simply a hinderance, a nuisance. A fly can be a nuisance. Rain can be a nuisance. But for me...they are a disease, eating away at the body...a subtle danger that can snuff out a life. For me, they are the fly that poison you with germs. They are the rainstorm that destroy homes. They are eating away at this society, destroying our very way of life."
"So what do you propose to do about it, Jim Jones?!" Don Silva exploded. "So far, all I'm feelin' is hot air, and its starting to dry me out!"
"You've dedicated your life to vice, Mr. Silva." the egnimatic character said harshly. "I've dedicated my life to the capture and subjection of superheroines. We are both experts at what we do."
He pointed towards the three skullfaced figures. "Behold, my lovely wives...the greatest expression of superheroine humilation and eradication technology ever conceived. Powered by liquid chloroform, with fifty times the strength of the greatest of bionic women and armed with the most lethal capturing and killing technology ever-"
"Hmmph! I've built robots before!" the Lord sniffed, waving the being on stage off.
Upon an unseen cue, the three skull-faced beings disrobed, revealing shapely female, but silvery skeletal bodies with visual tubes connecting to various joints around their bodies. A bluish-greenish liquid flowed through these tubes, disappearing into the sculptured bosoms of the strange beings. A haze seem to flow about the bodies of the silver trio, as if it was heat.
"Not like these." the caped being chuckled sinisterly. "The Synturions are one of a kind."
"So...thezzz thingzzz..." The Queen Bee's eyes widened fearfully as she gave the three silvery gynoids the lookover. "How do we know they will be able to defeat a superheroine?"
"Because..." the armored man stepped backward while the Synturions stepped menacingly forward. "You get to see them work first hand..."
"God damn it!" Don managed to stutter, pushing his cufflink as hard as he can. He only had time to draw his golden Magnum before the Synturions leaped into the air for the attack.
Don Silva's finger lingered at his golden cufflink, only to be gently grasped at the wrist by Glass, who shook his head disapprovingly. His Number Two was right. Jumping the gun could be destructive to his invincible image.
"What izzzzz thizzzz?" The Queen Bee droned, slamming an angry fist on her table.
"I gave up a perfect night of experimenting with cheerleaders for this nonsense." the Lord sniffed arrogantly with his long nose in the air.
"Patience." an eloquent, mascaline voice suddenly boomed. "Even those who walk the world of the dark should practice virtues."
"Are you the host of this circus?" the Master of Ceremonies motioned to his clown henchmen to scurry about the tables to search for the voice's source.
The buffonish ensemble did not have to look for long, as all eyes were once again drawn to the stage. The skull-faced figures. still as statues, were joined by a fourth. The being was tall, and rather majestic, clad in strange silvery blue armor that left everything to the imagination. Even the eyes were not invisible, being instead devilish red orbs that seemed to burn into one's soul. Razor-sharp horns curved from both sides of the being's helmet, stretching several inches into the air.
A black cape billowed regally behind the egnimatic being as it slowly moved to the front of the stage. The three skull-faced figures stepped meekly aside as the being approached, bowing deeply in unison.
Don found himself experiencing something that had been rendered foreign, ever since he seized power in the Delta City underworld.
Dread. In the limited light of the strip club, the mysterious armored figure on stage resembled the Devil himself.
"I take it that the show...was not to your liking?" the eloquent mascaline voice spoke again, this time radiating from the armored being.
"Lucas beat you to it, buddy!" the Bearded Lady jeered. "The Darth Vader routine is so overdone!"
"Silenzze, you foolzzz!" the Queen Bee growled. "Obviouzzzzly, thizzz man has a reazzzon to call uzzzz together..."
"Call my beauty a fool again, Bee..." The Master of Ceremonies turned towards her and wiped his gloved finger across his throat in a slashing manner.
"Cut if off, you mooks." Glass snarled. "Let the...guy have the floor..."
The two quarreling villains instantly quieted down, showcasing the pull Silva had in the metropolis. All attention returned to the caped man in glistening silver blue armor and devil horns.
"Thank you." the being nodded towards Glass and Silver. "Now, questions are part of human nature. You all have them. But I'm sure at the end of my spiel, you won't need them anymore."
"Well...get on with it!" the Disciple bellowed, hurling phlem in the air.
"How can I refuse vigor like that, hmmm?" the armored being laughed, a sinister chortle of gruff thunder. "But honestly, fiends...I would have to start a long time ago, in a lifetime far, far, away. Now...how many of us were born into a world of superheroines?"
Various hands shot up around the confines of the small club.
"Yes, those big-breasted powerhouse bimbos have been a staple of society for quite some time now, right?" the being continued. "They have been thorns in our sides, stopping profits, halting our fun...right? We're society's predators! We play a role in people's lives, eh? We make them appreciate them. Without us...society would not care about themselves...it would be much too easy, and then...much too boring!"
"Hell yeah!" one of the clown minions of the Master of Ceremonies chimed in.
"I had it worst, my fiends." the caped being walked back and forth. "I had a superheroine ruin my entire life. She took employment from my mother and father, and later took their lives. This was BEFORE my jaunt into the dark, back when life was sunny, and full of hope...back when I would have been happy to be some nameless nobody, surfing rainbows through life."
He stopped and pointed to the audience. "You all and I differ in our viewpoints on superheroines. For you, they are simply a hinderance, a nuisance. A fly can be a nuisance. Rain can be a nuisance. But for me...they are a disease, eating away at the body...a subtle danger that can snuff out a life. For me, they are the fly that poison you with germs. They are the rainstorm that destroy homes. They are eating away at this society, destroying our very way of life."
"So what do you propose to do about it, Jim Jones?!" Don Silva exploded. "So far, all I'm feelin' is hot air, and its starting to dry me out!"
"You've dedicated your life to vice, Mr. Silva." the egnimatic character said harshly. "I've dedicated my life to the capture and subjection of superheroines. We are both experts at what we do."
He pointed towards the three skullfaced figures. "Behold, my lovely wives...the greatest expression of superheroine humilation and eradication technology ever conceived. Powered by liquid chloroform, with fifty times the strength of the greatest of bionic women and armed with the most lethal capturing and killing technology ever-"
"Hmmph! I've built robots before!" the Lord sniffed, waving the being on stage off.
Upon an unseen cue, the three skull-faced beings disrobed, revealing shapely female, but silvery skeletal bodies with visual tubes connecting to various joints around their bodies. A bluish-greenish liquid flowed through these tubes, disappearing into the sculptured bosoms of the strange beings. A haze seem to flow about the bodies of the silver trio, as if it was heat.
"Not like these." the caped being chuckled sinisterly. "The Synturions are one of a kind."
"So...thezzz thingzzz..." The Queen Bee's eyes widened fearfully as she gave the three silvery gynoids the lookover. "How do we know they will be able to defeat a superheroine?"
"Because..." the armored man stepped backward while the Synturions stepped menacingly forward. "You get to see them work first hand..."
"God damn it!" Don managed to stutter, pushing his cufflink as hard as he can. He only had time to draw his golden Magnum before the Synturions leaped into the air for the attack.
Thanks!flagonforge wrote:interesting start - looking forward to more!
The bestowing of the name "Dirty Pair" to the team of Gabriella and Golden Angel was a longshot joke originating from Dexter Strange's Anime Calvacade on Saturday mornings. The source of the joke was two space heroines codenamed "The Lovely Angels"; so destructive were they in completing their missions that their rather grim subsequent nom de guerre was well earned.
Of course, Gabriella and the Golden Angel were rather efficent and non-destructive in their crusade against crime in Delta City. Thus, in truth, "Lovely Angels" were a perfect fit for the marvelous metropolitian duo.
And that's what made their "Dirty Pair" nickname even more ironic and hilarious.
In Gabriella's case, she could not help being angelic. It was literally part of her nature as a being from the Heavenly Plane, sent to curtail evil on the third planet from the sun. Her celestial nature manifested outwardly as well, with luscious, long, golden locks that gleamed in the moonlight, practically reflecting a reflection. A beautiful, flawless face, with shapely ruby lips, joined a sleek, slender, delicate form in the epitome of graceful beauty.
A unique skimpy light pink bra wrapped around her svelte neck to reached her mid-section, forming an oval that teasingly showcased a bit of her breasts. Her bare, meek but taut abdomen led to matching pink bikini panties, with the minimist of gold string holding a tiny, heart-shaped bikini patch over her nether region. A matching small pink sash fluttered majestically around her curvy waist, drifting in an unseen wind.
Pink bracers were strapped tight around her wrists, while golden sandals glistened on her feet. Completing her unique ensemble was a gossamer-like pink cape that drifted about her shoulders as if it had a mind of its on. While the Angelic Avenger cut quite the erotic figure in the costume, she was more dependent on it than she let on. For the bracers, sandals, sash, and cape were her angelic raiments, the only way she could keep her angelic powers in her now mortal form.
The bracers provided her angelic super strength, while the sandals maintained her grace. The little sash allowed her to keep her superhuman endurance and stamina. However, the cape was the most important raiment of all.
It was the manifestation of her beautiful white wings in clothing form. Without it...she would lose the most precious thing of all to an angel.
Her partner, the Golden Angel, was a raven-haired warrior extraordinaire, her curvy composition well musculed in some places, and well-shaped in others. A mistress of the martial arts, the Golden One was never without her trademark Golden Katana, a wonder weapon above all others, practically indestructible in battle. Her shoulder-length black locks, tinged with gold highlights, framed a solumn but regal face, accented by a large golden tiara with a star in the center and stark, dark red lips.
A golden pendant, shaped like an angel, dangled between a shapely cleavage that was clothed only by a scanty golden-scaled string bikini bra. A thick, light gold sash adorned her slender waist, while matching golden-scaled bikini panties gleamed behind shiny black pantyhose that showcased well-sculptured legs and shapely feet with fire-engine toenails. These feet were shod in sparkling gold high heeled sandals, with strings that wrapped up to her knees.
The two, newcomers to the world's greatest superheroine assemblage, The Protectors of Justice, sat clandestinely on a rooftop half a block away, watching Yoshiwara from the outside for any signs of activity. They had no idea about the minute details of the proceedings, only that the bulk of Delta City's underworld had been assembled there under mysterious circumstances. Meanwhile, the leader of their team, the Wrestling Wonder known as Thunderbolt Woman had sent the pair to keep watch, and to alert the team if something was going to happen.
Hearing paper rattling close to her, Golden Angel took the binoculars from her tired eyes just in time to see Gabriella delicately devouring a Twinkie. Or, it was the nice way to say how the Heavely Heroine was eating the sugary confection.
"See, that proves that God has a sense of humor..." she chuckled, taking up the binoculars once again to spy on Yoshiwara. Outside, a dozen of business suited men had assembled at the front of the strip club.
"What?" Gabriella sensually lapped the sweet cream filling with her tongue, licking her lips afterward.
"You're supposed to represent the man upstairs, but here you are trying out for "Debbie Does Deep Throat 28"!" Golden Angel grumbled.
"But, its good!" Gabriella retorted jokily. "They say where I come from that mana is sweet...but nothing beats that yellow, soft, goodness!"
"Girl, you're even starting to sound like the commercials!" Golden Angel chuckled. Her golden sandals twinkled as they kicked the air in a childlike manner. She was sitting on the edge of the rooftop, nonchalantly facing a hundred foot drop to the unrelenting pavement below.
Gabriella was lying on her front, her legs and feet kicking the air. "So...do you like the Protectors?"
There was a long silence, as Golden Angel was focused on the growing mass before the strip club doors. Silva's goon squad.
"They're fine." she said at last with a sigh. "Thunderbolt Woman, Shining Star, White Venus...the others...I'm okay with them. As long as they have my back, I have theirs. That's what all this is about, right? Fight the fight that no one heroine can do by herself?"
"I can sense feelings, Golden Angel..." Gabriella raised up on her haunches. "I can sense when things are bothering mortals...I mean, people. If I'm prying-"
"You're not." Golden Angel pulled the binoculars from her face and stared into her partner's eyes. "We came in together. I'm used to being the lone wolf...yes, it is cliche, but its the truth. I need you. I need the Protectors. I need...this."
Gabriella grinned. "What I need is more Twinkies."
"Who'd thought? An angel with a sweettooth..."
"Well, not necessarily. I hate Angel Food Cake."
"I..." Golden Angel started to laugh before she returned the binoculars to her eyes and gasped. "Something's up. The cockroaches are stirring..."
"Cockroaches?" Gabriella asked, visually puzzled.
"Just a figure of mortal speech." Golden Angel said without moving. "Silva's thug army is charging into the club. That means something is going down..."
"I remember Sundancer saying that his golden cufflink can summon them." Gabriella quickly rose to her feet. "We have to summon the others-"
"No time." Golden Angel solumnly pulled the binoculars from her face and placed them on the rooftop. "We have to get closer...get inside to see what's going on-"
"We're part of the Protectors now, GA." Gabriella said. "We need our friends in this endeavor!"
"Look..." Golden Angel stood up and faced the Heavenly Heroine, her arms crossed over her bountiful, near-naked bosom. "I did not come here to observe and report. If we are to eradicate injustice in this city, we have to be about action...not waiting-"
"GA-" Gabriella started, but her fellow Protector held up a hand.
"I'm not saying I won't contact Thunderbolt Woman..." she said as she touched her communicator earring, linking up with the Chaquanas Superwoman at the secret Center of Justice.
"Great Thunder!" the leader of the Protectors exclaimed nervously over the link. "Good to hear from you, Golden Angel! I was beginning to worry about the Dirty Pair!"
"Sorry, boss lady." Golden Angel rolled her eyes impatiently at Gabriella. "We finally have movement. Something's going down at Yoshiwara."
"Anything in particular?"
"Don Silva's monkey-boys pulling a 'Cobra!' on the place." Golden Angel reported.
"Okay. I'm sending Shining Star and Sundancer for backup. Stay put." Thunderbolt Woman ordered. "Don't make a move until they have arrived. This operation can be overwhelming...and I don't want anyone hurt."
As the Protectors' leader signed off, the two superheroines looked at each other in silence, not knowing how to react next. However, before Gabriella could part her lips and ask the meaning of her partner's last statement, the Golden Angel broke the silence.
"Let's get going." she turned in the direction of the club.
"Didn't you hear Thunderbolt Woman?" Gabriella practically wailed. "We wait here for backup-"
"I didn't hear her say that." Golden Angel flashed her partner a wicked smile.
"But...but..."
"What if...they are torturing babies in there? Poor, poor, innocent cherubs, that tender, untouched baby flesh..."
"No...no..."
"Or what if..." Golden Angel leaned close to Gabriella's ear and practically whispered. "They are worshipping your old friend in there..."
"Old friend?" Gabriella raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Lu-cy-fer..." Golden Angel stressed the word omiously. "Devil Worshippers."
"No!" Gabriella shook her head, her golden tresses flying furiously.
"I'm going to fall off of this roof...and if you don't catch me, I will splatter myself on the sidewalk."
Before the Angelic Avenger could respond, the Golden One took one step off of the roof, and plunged over the side.
"Oh Lord!" she exclaimed. Within seconds, her gossamer cape suddenly transformed into a set of the most majestic wings an angel could ever possess. With a sigh and a thunderous flap of her wings, the angelic mortal known as Gabriella plummetted towards the ground, swooping to catch the Golden Angel seconds before impact.
"You are a creature of wickedness!" Gabriella screeched exasperately as the duo flew over the streets towards the club.
"I know." Golden Angel smirked. "Good girls are always drawn to the bad ones."
Of course, Gabriella and the Golden Angel were rather efficent and non-destructive in their crusade against crime in Delta City. Thus, in truth, "Lovely Angels" were a perfect fit for the marvelous metropolitian duo.
And that's what made their "Dirty Pair" nickname even more ironic and hilarious.
In Gabriella's case, she could not help being angelic. It was literally part of her nature as a being from the Heavenly Plane, sent to curtail evil on the third planet from the sun. Her celestial nature manifested outwardly as well, with luscious, long, golden locks that gleamed in the moonlight, practically reflecting a reflection. A beautiful, flawless face, with shapely ruby lips, joined a sleek, slender, delicate form in the epitome of graceful beauty.
A unique skimpy light pink bra wrapped around her svelte neck to reached her mid-section, forming an oval that teasingly showcased a bit of her breasts. Her bare, meek but taut abdomen led to matching pink bikini panties, with the minimist of gold string holding a tiny, heart-shaped bikini patch over her nether region. A matching small pink sash fluttered majestically around her curvy waist, drifting in an unseen wind.
Pink bracers were strapped tight around her wrists, while golden sandals glistened on her feet. Completing her unique ensemble was a gossamer-like pink cape that drifted about her shoulders as if it had a mind of its on. While the Angelic Avenger cut quite the erotic figure in the costume, she was more dependent on it than she let on. For the bracers, sandals, sash, and cape were her angelic raiments, the only way she could keep her angelic powers in her now mortal form.
The bracers provided her angelic super strength, while the sandals maintained her grace. The little sash allowed her to keep her superhuman endurance and stamina. However, the cape was the most important raiment of all.
It was the manifestation of her beautiful white wings in clothing form. Without it...she would lose the most precious thing of all to an angel.
Her partner, the Golden Angel, was a raven-haired warrior extraordinaire, her curvy composition well musculed in some places, and well-shaped in others. A mistress of the martial arts, the Golden One was never without her trademark Golden Katana, a wonder weapon above all others, practically indestructible in battle. Her shoulder-length black locks, tinged with gold highlights, framed a solumn but regal face, accented by a large golden tiara with a star in the center and stark, dark red lips.
A golden pendant, shaped like an angel, dangled between a shapely cleavage that was clothed only by a scanty golden-scaled string bikini bra. A thick, light gold sash adorned her slender waist, while matching golden-scaled bikini panties gleamed behind shiny black pantyhose that showcased well-sculptured legs and shapely feet with fire-engine toenails. These feet were shod in sparkling gold high heeled sandals, with strings that wrapped up to her knees.
The two, newcomers to the world's greatest superheroine assemblage, The Protectors of Justice, sat clandestinely on a rooftop half a block away, watching Yoshiwara from the outside for any signs of activity. They had no idea about the minute details of the proceedings, only that the bulk of Delta City's underworld had been assembled there under mysterious circumstances. Meanwhile, the leader of their team, the Wrestling Wonder known as Thunderbolt Woman had sent the pair to keep watch, and to alert the team if something was going to happen.
Hearing paper rattling close to her, Golden Angel took the binoculars from her tired eyes just in time to see Gabriella delicately devouring a Twinkie. Or, it was the nice way to say how the Heavely Heroine was eating the sugary confection.
"See, that proves that God has a sense of humor..." she chuckled, taking up the binoculars once again to spy on Yoshiwara. Outside, a dozen of business suited men had assembled at the front of the strip club.
"What?" Gabriella sensually lapped the sweet cream filling with her tongue, licking her lips afterward.
"You're supposed to represent the man upstairs, but here you are trying out for "Debbie Does Deep Throat 28"!" Golden Angel grumbled.
"But, its good!" Gabriella retorted jokily. "They say where I come from that mana is sweet...but nothing beats that yellow, soft, goodness!"
"Girl, you're even starting to sound like the commercials!" Golden Angel chuckled. Her golden sandals twinkled as they kicked the air in a childlike manner. She was sitting on the edge of the rooftop, nonchalantly facing a hundred foot drop to the unrelenting pavement below.
Gabriella was lying on her front, her legs and feet kicking the air. "So...do you like the Protectors?"
There was a long silence, as Golden Angel was focused on the growing mass before the strip club doors. Silva's goon squad.
"They're fine." she said at last with a sigh. "Thunderbolt Woman, Shining Star, White Venus...the others...I'm okay with them. As long as they have my back, I have theirs. That's what all this is about, right? Fight the fight that no one heroine can do by herself?"
"I can sense feelings, Golden Angel..." Gabriella raised up on her haunches. "I can sense when things are bothering mortals...I mean, people. If I'm prying-"
"You're not." Golden Angel pulled the binoculars from her face and stared into her partner's eyes. "We came in together. I'm used to being the lone wolf...yes, it is cliche, but its the truth. I need you. I need the Protectors. I need...this."
Gabriella grinned. "What I need is more Twinkies."
"Who'd thought? An angel with a sweettooth..."
"Well, not necessarily. I hate Angel Food Cake."
"I..." Golden Angel started to laugh before she returned the binoculars to her eyes and gasped. "Something's up. The cockroaches are stirring..."
"Cockroaches?" Gabriella asked, visually puzzled.
"Just a figure of mortal speech." Golden Angel said without moving. "Silva's thug army is charging into the club. That means something is going down..."
"I remember Sundancer saying that his golden cufflink can summon them." Gabriella quickly rose to her feet. "We have to summon the others-"
"No time." Golden Angel solumnly pulled the binoculars from her face and placed them on the rooftop. "We have to get closer...get inside to see what's going on-"
"We're part of the Protectors now, GA." Gabriella said. "We need our friends in this endeavor!"
"Look..." Golden Angel stood up and faced the Heavenly Heroine, her arms crossed over her bountiful, near-naked bosom. "I did not come here to observe and report. If we are to eradicate injustice in this city, we have to be about action...not waiting-"
"GA-" Gabriella started, but her fellow Protector held up a hand.
"I'm not saying I won't contact Thunderbolt Woman..." she said as she touched her communicator earring, linking up with the Chaquanas Superwoman at the secret Center of Justice.
"Great Thunder!" the leader of the Protectors exclaimed nervously over the link. "Good to hear from you, Golden Angel! I was beginning to worry about the Dirty Pair!"
"Sorry, boss lady." Golden Angel rolled her eyes impatiently at Gabriella. "We finally have movement. Something's going down at Yoshiwara."
"Anything in particular?"
"Don Silva's monkey-boys pulling a 'Cobra!' on the place." Golden Angel reported.
"Okay. I'm sending Shining Star and Sundancer for backup. Stay put." Thunderbolt Woman ordered. "Don't make a move until they have arrived. This operation can be overwhelming...and I don't want anyone hurt."
As the Protectors' leader signed off, the two superheroines looked at each other in silence, not knowing how to react next. However, before Gabriella could part her lips and ask the meaning of her partner's last statement, the Golden Angel broke the silence.
"Let's get going." she turned in the direction of the club.
"Didn't you hear Thunderbolt Woman?" Gabriella practically wailed. "We wait here for backup-"
"I didn't hear her say that." Golden Angel flashed her partner a wicked smile.
"But...but..."
"What if...they are torturing babies in there? Poor, poor, innocent cherubs, that tender, untouched baby flesh..."
"No...no..."
"Or what if..." Golden Angel leaned close to Gabriella's ear and practically whispered. "They are worshipping your old friend in there..."
"Old friend?" Gabriella raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Lu-cy-fer..." Golden Angel stressed the word omiously. "Devil Worshippers."
"No!" Gabriella shook her head, her golden tresses flying furiously.
"I'm going to fall off of this roof...and if you don't catch me, I will splatter myself on the sidewalk."
Before the Angelic Avenger could respond, the Golden One took one step off of the roof, and plunged over the side.
"Oh Lord!" she exclaimed. Within seconds, her gossamer cape suddenly transformed into a set of the most majestic wings an angel could ever possess. With a sigh and a thunderous flap of her wings, the angelic mortal known as Gabriella plummetted towards the ground, swooping to catch the Golden Angel seconds before impact.
"You are a creature of wickedness!" Gabriella screeched exasperately as the duo flew over the streets towards the club.
"I know." Golden Angel smirked. "Good girls are always drawn to the bad ones."
The daring duo entered the smoky, shadowy confines of the Yoshiwara strip club to the throbbing beat of "Cult Of Personality" by Living Colour. Resistance was offered by no one; there was no person behind the desk to take their fee, and no giant bouncer to obstruct them.
Not that it would have been a problem anyway. Their skimpy crimefighting ensembles would have easily rendered them interchangable from the employees.
Golden Angel's face twisted into a grimace of disgust, an uncontrollable reflex action. "A scum place for scum kings."
"Hey, there are positive beings here as well..." Gabriella gently fussed, brushing a glossy rebellious strand of blonde from her face. "The girls work here only to provide for themselves..."
"Look, Mother Theresa." Golden Angel crossed her arms and faced the Angelic Avenger. "Newsflash...women can find high class occupations in this day and age."
Gabriella shrugged. "Only the Creator can judge, GA. Seriously."
"Whatever." Golden Angel pivoted on her heel and took the lead, down the darkened corridor and towards the main area of the strip club. Her pace initially quick, she began to slow to a crawl as she drew near the open, oval shaped portal that led towards the stage area. Timidly, Gabriella followed her led, still a novice heroine compared to her more experienced partner.
Suddenly, the music stopped rattling the walls.
At that same moment, Golden Angel's Katana materialized in her waiting hand. She hugged the wall, trying to make herself as invisible as possible as she slowly peeked around her corner.
"What do you see?" Gabriella whispered apprehensively, mirroring her.
"Quiet!" Golden Angel hissed, shifting the sword to her right hand, while trying to press herself even tighter against the wall. No sound. There was no sound of commotion...no talking, no anything.
Just eerie, suddenly overwhelming silence.
Just as the Golden One had painstakingly slipped an eye around the corner, something leaped before her, sending a paralyzing dread through her body. Gabriella clasped her hands tightly over her mouth, the color draining from her face as she stymied a scream.
It was a Bee Girl, one of the supermodel subordinates of the Queen Bee, beaten and bloodied. Her scanty yellow and blue striped leotard was in tatters, her bruised breasts and body bare for all to see. She was barely able to walk, clambering painfully on all fours like a tormented beast that had just escaped Hell itself.
"You gotta help me!" she sobbed, her face a mosiac of tear streams and smeared golden makeup.
"By the Ancestors!" Golden Angel gasped, her Golden Katana slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor. Both arms free, she tried to grasp the collasping Bee Girl...only for something else to take up the task. A skeletal, silvery bolt of lightning wrapped around the girl's neck and snapped her backward with such speed that it took both Protectors a full minute to realize what they had just witnessed.
An arm. The Bee Girl was grabbed by a silver arm.
"My Lord..." Gabriella marveled, fear overwhelming her beautiful face.
Suddenly, the music started up again, now "We Are The Champions" by Queen...and an eloquent male voice that seemed to radiate from everywhere spoke to them.
"I was getting lonely here." it said. "No one wanted to come to my victory celebration...but you two. Come, come...let's feast, and be merry!"
Gabriella nervously bit her lip while Golden Angel knelt down and picked up her katana with slick, sweat-drenched fingers. However, an exchange of worried glances followed by a nod of resolution restored their courage. Holding her Golden Katana with both hands before her, preparing to slice through anything, the Marvelous Martial Maiden known as Golden Angel stepped around the corner, quickly followed by Gabriella. The brave Heroine from the Heavens posed courageously, hands on hips, side by side with her fellow Protector.
The two stood in the doorway, failing to hide their shock of what was revealed before them. The huge interior of the strip club was empty; no patrons sat at the small tables. However, in front of the stage, sat an being in stylish blue armor from head to toe, with a black regal cape, and a wicked set of devil horns that seemed to reach the ceiling. His chair was another unique story.
It was living...made up of the top criminal masterminds of Delta City, all protesting loudly and angrily, all tied and twisted together in the form of squirming furniture. Don Salvador Silva, the most powerful and despicable criminal of all...was the main seat of this strange, armored man that reclined casually before them, seemingly undaunted by their appearance.
"Who are you?!" Golden Angel shouted, holding her Katana threateningly at him.
"What's your first impression?" the armored man reclined his head in his hand and regarded them casually.
"You are a madman..." Gabriella declared with an accusing finger.
"What happened to only God can judge, Gab?" Golden Angel shot her a sidelong glance.
"He is using the Protectors' greatest enemies as a love seat!" the Angelic Avenger retorted.
"Yes. The angel is right." the armored being smirked. "Although you call it a 'love seat'...I call it utopia."
The "Dirty Pair" exchanged confused glances.
"It's not that hard, supergirls." the being shifted his weight, causing the Master of Ceremonies to squeal, his head being used as an armrest. "I've accomplished in one night what you've failed for your entire existence. I've captured every single villain in this town, essentially locking them up and throwing away the key. I've ended the neverending battle, don't you see?"
"So what are you...some kind of hero?" Golden Angel taunted mockingly.
"There are things called laws, my friend!" Gabriella crossed her arms and glared at the armored man. "What you are playing at is judge, jury, and executioner...not the type of game my friends and I are interested in."
"Those fiends you're using as a cushion are the lowest of low." Golden Angel stepped forward, her Katana flashing. "They have trapped us, humiliated us...even raped some of us. But...and I can't believe I'm saying this...really...but they deserve the fullest protections the law offers!"
There was silence between the two parties for minutes, filled by the thunderous booming of Queen's "We Are The Champions". Soon, it was replaced by "Crazy Train" by Ozzy Osburne.
And that's where the being began to laugh, a sickening, sinister cackle that drowned out the music itself.
"You idiots." he growled when he finished. "I didn't clean up the streets just for the sake of benevolence. I'm simply getting the riff-raff out of the way...so the Protectors of Justice can be...all mine."
Suddenly, six pairs of spotlights flashed, blinding the angelic duo. When Gabriella's eyes cleared, she could see three things standing by the side of the seated armored man. They were silver in color, completely skeletal with the exception of their torsos, with a well-sculptured bosom gleaming in the flashing lights of the strip clubs. The spotlights were originating from their eyes.
"Put on some music I can chloroform by..." the armored man waved to no one in particular. Seconds later, he was rewarded by "Thriller" by Micheal Jackson.
"Indeed." he chuckled as his sleek, silvery androids stepped towards the brave heroines.
Not that it would have been a problem anyway. Their skimpy crimefighting ensembles would have easily rendered them interchangable from the employees.
Golden Angel's face twisted into a grimace of disgust, an uncontrollable reflex action. "A scum place for scum kings."
"Hey, there are positive beings here as well..." Gabriella gently fussed, brushing a glossy rebellious strand of blonde from her face. "The girls work here only to provide for themselves..."
"Look, Mother Theresa." Golden Angel crossed her arms and faced the Angelic Avenger. "Newsflash...women can find high class occupations in this day and age."
Gabriella shrugged. "Only the Creator can judge, GA. Seriously."
"Whatever." Golden Angel pivoted on her heel and took the lead, down the darkened corridor and towards the main area of the strip club. Her pace initially quick, she began to slow to a crawl as she drew near the open, oval shaped portal that led towards the stage area. Timidly, Gabriella followed her led, still a novice heroine compared to her more experienced partner.
Suddenly, the music stopped rattling the walls.
At that same moment, Golden Angel's Katana materialized in her waiting hand. She hugged the wall, trying to make herself as invisible as possible as she slowly peeked around her corner.
"What do you see?" Gabriella whispered apprehensively, mirroring her.
"Quiet!" Golden Angel hissed, shifting the sword to her right hand, while trying to press herself even tighter against the wall. No sound. There was no sound of commotion...no talking, no anything.
Just eerie, suddenly overwhelming silence.
Just as the Golden One had painstakingly slipped an eye around the corner, something leaped before her, sending a paralyzing dread through her body. Gabriella clasped her hands tightly over her mouth, the color draining from her face as she stymied a scream.
It was a Bee Girl, one of the supermodel subordinates of the Queen Bee, beaten and bloodied. Her scanty yellow and blue striped leotard was in tatters, her bruised breasts and body bare for all to see. She was barely able to walk, clambering painfully on all fours like a tormented beast that had just escaped Hell itself.
"You gotta help me!" she sobbed, her face a mosiac of tear streams and smeared golden makeup.
"By the Ancestors!" Golden Angel gasped, her Golden Katana slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor. Both arms free, she tried to grasp the collasping Bee Girl...only for something else to take up the task. A skeletal, silvery bolt of lightning wrapped around the girl's neck and snapped her backward with such speed that it took both Protectors a full minute to realize what they had just witnessed.
An arm. The Bee Girl was grabbed by a silver arm.
"My Lord..." Gabriella marveled, fear overwhelming her beautiful face.
Suddenly, the music started up again, now "We Are The Champions" by Queen...and an eloquent male voice that seemed to radiate from everywhere spoke to them.
"I was getting lonely here." it said. "No one wanted to come to my victory celebration...but you two. Come, come...let's feast, and be merry!"
Gabriella nervously bit her lip while Golden Angel knelt down and picked up her katana with slick, sweat-drenched fingers. However, an exchange of worried glances followed by a nod of resolution restored their courage. Holding her Golden Katana with both hands before her, preparing to slice through anything, the Marvelous Martial Maiden known as Golden Angel stepped around the corner, quickly followed by Gabriella. The brave Heroine from the Heavens posed courageously, hands on hips, side by side with her fellow Protector.
The two stood in the doorway, failing to hide their shock of what was revealed before them. The huge interior of the strip club was empty; no patrons sat at the small tables. However, in front of the stage, sat an being in stylish blue armor from head to toe, with a black regal cape, and a wicked set of devil horns that seemed to reach the ceiling. His chair was another unique story.
It was living...made up of the top criminal masterminds of Delta City, all protesting loudly and angrily, all tied and twisted together in the form of squirming furniture. Don Salvador Silva, the most powerful and despicable criminal of all...was the main seat of this strange, armored man that reclined casually before them, seemingly undaunted by their appearance.
"Who are you?!" Golden Angel shouted, holding her Katana threateningly at him.
"What's your first impression?" the armored man reclined his head in his hand and regarded them casually.
"You are a madman..." Gabriella declared with an accusing finger.
"What happened to only God can judge, Gab?" Golden Angel shot her a sidelong glance.
"He is using the Protectors' greatest enemies as a love seat!" the Angelic Avenger retorted.
"Yes. The angel is right." the armored being smirked. "Although you call it a 'love seat'...I call it utopia."
The "Dirty Pair" exchanged confused glances.
"It's not that hard, supergirls." the being shifted his weight, causing the Master of Ceremonies to squeal, his head being used as an armrest. "I've accomplished in one night what you've failed for your entire existence. I've captured every single villain in this town, essentially locking them up and throwing away the key. I've ended the neverending battle, don't you see?"
"So what are you...some kind of hero?" Golden Angel taunted mockingly.
"There are things called laws, my friend!" Gabriella crossed her arms and glared at the armored man. "What you are playing at is judge, jury, and executioner...not the type of game my friends and I are interested in."
"Those fiends you're using as a cushion are the lowest of low." Golden Angel stepped forward, her Katana flashing. "They have trapped us, humiliated us...even raped some of us. But...and I can't believe I'm saying this...really...but they deserve the fullest protections the law offers!"
There was silence between the two parties for minutes, filled by the thunderous booming of Queen's "We Are The Champions". Soon, it was replaced by "Crazy Train" by Ozzy Osburne.
And that's where the being began to laugh, a sickening, sinister cackle that drowned out the music itself.
"You idiots." he growled when he finished. "I didn't clean up the streets just for the sake of benevolence. I'm simply getting the riff-raff out of the way...so the Protectors of Justice can be...all mine."
Suddenly, six pairs of spotlights flashed, blinding the angelic duo. When Gabriella's eyes cleared, she could see three things standing by the side of the seated armored man. They were silver in color, completely skeletal with the exception of their torsos, with a well-sculptured bosom gleaming in the flashing lights of the strip clubs. The spotlights were originating from their eyes.
"Put on some music I can chloroform by..." the armored man waved to no one in particular. Seconds later, he was rewarded by "Thriller" by Micheal Jackson.
"Indeed." he chuckled as his sleek, silvery androids stepped towards the brave heroines.
Thanks, valugi. :-Dvalugi wrote:this story in this very interesting wait to read next chapter
Notes:
Gabriella is the awesome creation of Angelic-Kitten. You can see pictures of her herehttp://angelic-kitten-art.deviantart.co ... y/32796372.
Golden Angel, White Venus, and Shining Star are creations of the spectacular Paulposer: http://paulposer.deviantart.com/gallery/ Golden Angel can be found here:http://paulposer.deviantart.com/gallery ... 4#/d1xm5od
B69 is the fine creator of Sundancer and Nightfall:http://www.superheroinecentral.com/~nig ... all_01.jpghttp://www.superheroinecentral.com/~wiz ... 20(02).jpg
And Thunderbolt Woman sprung from the mind of Mr. Brad Chung, who is continuing to bring forth new superheroines in the world of heroine peril.
They were the titans of the modern age, beings that moved about on a level unobtainable by modern man. Every minute gesture was grand, every miniscule breath epic; in truth, their very existence decided the fate of mankind...at least, within the Delta City limits.
The standoff lasted mere seconds, but in the andrenalined-heighted senses of the two Protectors, it seemed to drag for hours. Their silvery foes, the epitome of mad science and malicious ambition, crouch slight towards them, their slender, cold, metal fingers audibly clicking as they clenched and unclenched in a flashing blur. The Dirty Pair glanced at each other, swallowing their anxiety in unison while mentally bathing in their raw fighting instinct.
They had a duty to do. They had to protect this city from this strange, new criminal horde.
Golden sandals flashed as they hit carpet, followed by the tip of the deadly glowing katana dragging directly behind them. Golden Angel was point woman, the head of the charge, the one to shatter the silent confrontation. With a sharp cry, the squeal of a siren, she raced forward, both hands on the hilt of her downward pointed weapon, the tip sparking as it easily sliced the carpet and scrapped the floor underneath.
When she was a mere inch from the feminine monstrosity, she sliced upward with all the strength at her command, aiming for one lethal blow. The blade moved so fast that it seemed to resemble a golden mist, shaped in a half-sphere. However, her slender arms quivered violently by a blocked blow. Her dark, ruby lips curled in a snarl, failing to hide astonishment. Her narrowed copper eyes locked on to the blank spotlights of the skull face, and the glowing blue lance that had seemed to appear from nowhere. The light from the weapon bathed her sweaty glistening body in a soft, sapphire glow.
As the two combatants locked in stalemate, the Angelic Avenger known as Gabriella dashed from behind Golden Angel, lashing out with a blurring haymaker at one of the other two skull-faced figures. The target easily dodged the punch, and returned with an expert jab of its own. Moving with the extraordinary grace of her immortal status, Gabriella danced around the attack, and the many others that quickly followed in rapid succession. She resisted the urge to cry out in amazement; the blows from the being were undoubtly superhuman, and so fast that she was getting whiplash.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other lunge at her. Her graceful left leg extended into a perfect roundhouse kick, sending the silvery female thing stumbling back a step...but only a step. Hiding her astonishment, the pink-clad superheroine focused on the enemy before her...or tried to focus. Suddenly, the darkened interior of the strip club became wavy, and her arms and legs began to feel heavy. Her actions seem to slow, her limbs failing to obey her commands. And then it happened.
Two heavy blows to her abdomen, literally blowing the air out of her body.
"Gabby!!" Golden Angel screamed, her ensnarled attention costing her the faceoff with her enemy. A wave of near-invisible steam overwhelmed her senses as the silvery menace pushed forward, still holding the lance against the sword. Unable to regain her footing, the Martial Arts Maiden found herself being pushed back uncontrollably. Her lenthly mane of hair fluttered furiously as she quickly glanced behind her.
She was nearing one of the tables!
Quickly timing the seconds before her back would hit it, she increased her backpedal. However, she failed to take the silvery fiend off balance. However, just as her back was about to slam into the table, she pushed forward on the balls of her feet with every fiber in her being, sending the creature reeling backward a step. Then, she somersaulted backward, barely missing the glowing lance being sliced into her body. She landed neatly into the table, both hands on her katana, held forward in a defense stance.
"Gabby, get away!" she screamed to her friend. "They have chloroform radiating from them! You are being chloroformed...and you don't even know it!"
Sadly, Gabriella's senses were nearing orbit, her mind wrapped in the blankets of numbness. She had collasped to her knees, nursing her stomach and wincing in agony. Without warning, her assailant raised its silvery foot and sent a resounding kick across the angelic superheroine's jaw. Golden Angel could only watch in horror as her friend's golden head twisted inhumanly. Without a sound, she fell to the floor in a flaccid heap.
"Gabby!" she wailed, choking back a sob. While she was feeling the affects of the anesethic as well, Golden Angel had built up a slight tolerence to the heroine hazard. Gabriella, on the other hand, was a nearly minted mortal and novice heroine, with no resistance offered by her heavenly nubile body.
Her reaction time was still active, although operating at the lowest ebb. She returned her attention to her adversary just in time to clumisily dodge a rising knee attack to her face. As time slowed, the deadly silver knee whizzing past her nose, she sensed more movement out the corner of her eye, and the telltale flash of silver that she had begun to dread.
She tried to raise her sword to defend, but the other silvery skeletal woman tackled her with terrific strength. She was literally taken off of her feet and flung into midair, the thing holding tightly to her midsection. Carried clear across the club, their momentum was halted by the wall behind the bar...and the hundreds of glass bottles behind it. Golden Angel's horrifying screech of agony was drowned out by hundreds of liqour bottles and the glass display shattering in a symphony of violence.
Slowly, Gabriella's eyes drifted open, sensing her friend was in danger. A trickle of blood flowed from her split bottom lip, dripping to the floor. Whoozily, her head raised, eyes blinking rapidly as she lethargically began to crawl across the floor. However, a heavy silver foot pressed down on the small of her back, cementing her in place.
"Get...off...!" she wheezed the words. "Have...to...to...save...Golden Angel..."
However, the silvery creature quickly straddled the angel's prone mortal form and wrapped her arms around the upper part of her body, pulling her backward. Cold metal fingers, devoid of organic warmth, tauntingly wrapped around the strips of Gabriella's bra and tore them without much fanfare. Then, it arched Gabriella's back even more in a camel clutch, causing her now naked breasts to jut directly forward at attention.
And since the human body did not bend in such a fashion, such was the passionate response of the Angelic Avenger.
"GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHHHHHHHHH!!!" she screamed, tears streaking her pale cheeks.
Silent while the battle unfolded, the man in the armor, seated on the living heads of Delta City's underworld, said. "More."
The silvery being obeyed, bending Gabriella backward a little more.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" she wailed, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Say...'I am a devil'...and I'll let you go." he said, his head reclined in his right hand.
"Nooooooo!!" Gabriella cried defiantly. "Let me go!! Let me go!!"
"Again." the man sighed.
"AGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" the angel screamed as the silvery being obeyed its master. It felt as if her entire top half of her body was being torn off.
"Play 'Stuck In The Middle With You.'" he said, watching nonchalantly as his greatest creation physically torture the most hated thing in his existance.
In the DJ's booth, the stripper who had dined with Don Silva just hours earlier, frantically obeyed her new master, quickly slipping on the Stealers Wheel's song.
However, it failed to cover Gabriella's painful wails.
The standoff lasted mere seconds, but in the andrenalined-heighted senses of the two Protectors, it seemed to drag for hours. Their silvery foes, the epitome of mad science and malicious ambition, crouch slight towards them, their slender, cold, metal fingers audibly clicking as they clenched and unclenched in a flashing blur. The Dirty Pair glanced at each other, swallowing their anxiety in unison while mentally bathing in their raw fighting instinct.
They had a duty to do. They had to protect this city from this strange, new criminal horde.
Golden sandals flashed as they hit carpet, followed by the tip of the deadly glowing katana dragging directly behind them. Golden Angel was point woman, the head of the charge, the one to shatter the silent confrontation. With a sharp cry, the squeal of a siren, she raced forward, both hands on the hilt of her downward pointed weapon, the tip sparking as it easily sliced the carpet and scrapped the floor underneath.
When she was a mere inch from the feminine monstrosity, she sliced upward with all the strength at her command, aiming for one lethal blow. The blade moved so fast that it seemed to resemble a golden mist, shaped in a half-sphere. However, her slender arms quivered violently by a blocked blow. Her dark, ruby lips curled in a snarl, failing to hide astonishment. Her narrowed copper eyes locked on to the blank spotlights of the skull face, and the glowing blue lance that had seemed to appear from nowhere. The light from the weapon bathed her sweaty glistening body in a soft, sapphire glow.
As the two combatants locked in stalemate, the Angelic Avenger known as Gabriella dashed from behind Golden Angel, lashing out with a blurring haymaker at one of the other two skull-faced figures. The target easily dodged the punch, and returned with an expert jab of its own. Moving with the extraordinary grace of her immortal status, Gabriella danced around the attack, and the many others that quickly followed in rapid succession. She resisted the urge to cry out in amazement; the blows from the being were undoubtly superhuman, and so fast that she was getting whiplash.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other lunge at her. Her graceful left leg extended into a perfect roundhouse kick, sending the silvery female thing stumbling back a step...but only a step. Hiding her astonishment, the pink-clad superheroine focused on the enemy before her...or tried to focus. Suddenly, the darkened interior of the strip club became wavy, and her arms and legs began to feel heavy. Her actions seem to slow, her limbs failing to obey her commands. And then it happened.
Two heavy blows to her abdomen, literally blowing the air out of her body.
"Gabby!!" Golden Angel screamed, her ensnarled attention costing her the faceoff with her enemy. A wave of near-invisible steam overwhelmed her senses as the silvery menace pushed forward, still holding the lance against the sword. Unable to regain her footing, the Martial Arts Maiden found herself being pushed back uncontrollably. Her lenthly mane of hair fluttered furiously as she quickly glanced behind her.
She was nearing one of the tables!
Quickly timing the seconds before her back would hit it, she increased her backpedal. However, she failed to take the silvery fiend off balance. However, just as her back was about to slam into the table, she pushed forward on the balls of her feet with every fiber in her being, sending the creature reeling backward a step. Then, she somersaulted backward, barely missing the glowing lance being sliced into her body. She landed neatly into the table, both hands on her katana, held forward in a defense stance.
"Gabby, get away!" she screamed to her friend. "They have chloroform radiating from them! You are being chloroformed...and you don't even know it!"
Sadly, Gabriella's senses were nearing orbit, her mind wrapped in the blankets of numbness. She had collasped to her knees, nursing her stomach and wincing in agony. Without warning, her assailant raised its silvery foot and sent a resounding kick across the angelic superheroine's jaw. Golden Angel could only watch in horror as her friend's golden head twisted inhumanly. Without a sound, she fell to the floor in a flaccid heap.
"Gabby!" she wailed, choking back a sob. While she was feeling the affects of the anesethic as well, Golden Angel had built up a slight tolerence to the heroine hazard. Gabriella, on the other hand, was a nearly minted mortal and novice heroine, with no resistance offered by her heavenly nubile body.
Her reaction time was still active, although operating at the lowest ebb. She returned her attention to her adversary just in time to clumisily dodge a rising knee attack to her face. As time slowed, the deadly silver knee whizzing past her nose, she sensed more movement out the corner of her eye, and the telltale flash of silver that she had begun to dread.
She tried to raise her sword to defend, but the other silvery skeletal woman tackled her with terrific strength. She was literally taken off of her feet and flung into midair, the thing holding tightly to her midsection. Carried clear across the club, their momentum was halted by the wall behind the bar...and the hundreds of glass bottles behind it. Golden Angel's horrifying screech of agony was drowned out by hundreds of liqour bottles and the glass display shattering in a symphony of violence.
Slowly, Gabriella's eyes drifted open, sensing her friend was in danger. A trickle of blood flowed from her split bottom lip, dripping to the floor. Whoozily, her head raised, eyes blinking rapidly as she lethargically began to crawl across the floor. However, a heavy silver foot pressed down on the small of her back, cementing her in place.
"Get...off...!" she wheezed the words. "Have...to...to...save...Golden Angel..."
However, the silvery creature quickly straddled the angel's prone mortal form and wrapped her arms around the upper part of her body, pulling her backward. Cold metal fingers, devoid of organic warmth, tauntingly wrapped around the strips of Gabriella's bra and tore them without much fanfare. Then, it arched Gabriella's back even more in a camel clutch, causing her now naked breasts to jut directly forward at attention.
And since the human body did not bend in such a fashion, such was the passionate response of the Angelic Avenger.
"GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHHHHHHHHH!!!" she screamed, tears streaking her pale cheeks.
Silent while the battle unfolded, the man in the armor, seated on the living heads of Delta City's underworld, said. "More."
The silvery being obeyed, bending Gabriella backward a little more.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" she wailed, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Say...'I am a devil'...and I'll let you go." he said, his head reclined in his right hand.
"Nooooooo!!" Gabriella cried defiantly. "Let me go!! Let me go!!"
"Again." the man sighed.
"AGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" the angel screamed as the silvery being obeyed its master. It felt as if her entire top half of her body was being torn off.
"Play 'Stuck In The Middle With You.'" he said, watching nonchalantly as his greatest creation physically torture the most hated thing in his existance.
In the DJ's booth, the stripper who had dined with Don Silva just hours earlier, frantically obeyed her new master, quickly slipping on the Stealers Wheel's song.
However, it failed to cover Gabriella's painful wails.
Even the most insignificant of motions brought Golden Angel crippling pain. Her conciousness returned screaming to existence, first mentally and then verbally. Her bruised hand clutched and unclutched, earning new cuts from the glass that now covered her entire body.
Whimpering in agony, the Golden One's raven head painfully endeavored to rise from the floor, tiny rivers of liquid warmth flowing down her face. With a trembling hand, she slowly touched her forehead and drifted her fingers into her line of vision. They were stained with crimson...blood.
Her face twisted in suffering, the hurt superheroine ignored the sickening crunch of the glass beneath her hands and knees as she slowly rose up on her haunches. Fighting the urge to close her eyes, she took visual inventory of her body and her surroundings. A couple of sickening red gashes covered her arms and legs, while her pantyhose had been ripped to shreds. Her golden thong had also been torn, essentially rendered useless. Of course, embaressment was the furthest thing from the Martial Arts Maiden's mind at the moment.
Especially when Gabriella's tear-rendering cries were intermixing with Stealers Wheel "Stuck In The Middle With You".
"Gabby..." she croaked, her lungs and ribs burning from the tackle of her silver enemy. Her right hand amazingly maintained its grip on the hilt of her Golden Katana. Her left hand, meanwhile, was painstakingly inching its way up the wooden bar, trying to regain the strength to pull its mistress to her feet. However, in her slight delirium, Golden Angel did not pay attention to her adversary standing quietly over her, merely half an inch away.
She paid for this oversight dearly with a powerful kick that sent her bodily through the wooden bar, tearing it in half. Glass intermixed with splinters as the heroine was sent flying across the floor, flopped about limply like a ragdoll. As she came to a stop, unmoving, her glowing Katana twirled through the air after her, landing upright a few inches above her disheveled mane.
Behind her, the silvery female stepped through the hole in the bar, its spotlight eyes increasing in intensity at its bloodied and battered foe, as if admiring its handiwork.
Meanwhile, the man in armor watched the torture of Gabriella with continued interest. Her agonizing screams were diwindling in intensity; it was not known if it was because of exhaustion or because of seeing her friend lying unconcious before her.
"Change position." he suddenly ordered. "Deconstruct. Evaulate weaknesses."
The silvery skeleton obeyed, letting the worn-out Protector fall to the ground, with the added incentive of slamming her head against it. With pain searing her head and running roughshod about her tired body, the once proud angelic crimefighter could do nothing but lay meekly and sob quietly.
The silver thing, still straddling her form, roughly flipped Gabriella over, so she was facing up at her tormentor. Being so close to the skull face practically blinded her. The creature then rose slowly, its spotlight eyes lancing the golden-haired heroine's graceful form from disheveled head to glossy toe.
"Subject is wearing garments that enhanced physical attributes." it droned in a deep, feminine monotone. "Bracers. Sash. Sandals. Cape. Capacities? Presently unknown."
"Tell me, Protector." the man's voice boomed over the music. "What is the most precious of your garments?"
Gabriella remained quiet, her shapely naked breasts rising and falling as she fought to regain her strength.
"I'm a specialist at cracking people like you." the man continued. "The wonder women...the supergirls. As my Synturion will demonstrate, I'm pretty good at what I do."
Her breathing increasing in horror, Gabriella tried to backpedal from between the robotic woman's legs, only to be forcefully held in place. Two panels slid back underneath the Synturion's silvery breasts, unleashing a cloud of blue light orbs that resembled fireflies. Before her astonished eyes, the mist of blue fireflies covered her naked breasts and the area between her legs. Her heart-shaped panties instantly melted by the cloud.
"No...." Gabriella whispered through dry, cracked lips, unable to move. A icy tingling radiated from her breasts and nether region initially, before a wave of what seemed to be electicity rippled through her body, tinged with euphoria. Her back arched, her fingers and toes flexing uncontrollably as her breath was caught in her throat. Her eyes bulged in her eye sockets as her pelvis jutted forward in a seizure.
She wanted to scream, but could not. She wanted to move...but her body was no longer hers.
After a few minutes of the horrifying agony, the armored man spoke once again. "What is the most precious of your garments, Protector?"
Gabriella's face twisted in a visual battle for control. Her eyes blinked wildly, while her red lips trembled, endeavoring to part. Her will fought to regain her form, but in the end it was for nought.
"My...mmmmmmyyyy....myyyyy...ca...cape!" she stuttered, tears freely flowing from her eyes, the only thing she could control.
"Why is this?" the man interrogated.
"Be...be....be...because it....it transforms...into my wings!" she sobbed her confession.
"Ah..." the man pinched his chin thoughtfully. "So the angel motif is not just for show. You are a creature from the great beyond..."
"I...I've...never...felt this before..." she found herself confessing uncontrollably. "It...it...feels...feels....feels...."
This time her mental effort redoubled, trapping the word at the tip of her tongue. Her forehead wrinkled, a visual display of the war with herself. No. She had to fight...she could not admit the truth. She was an angel, and had a reputation to maintain!
"You can't fight it, you know." the man smirked. "Those are microscopic Synturions that have been injected into your body and brain, latching on to the part that controls your motor functions...including your sexual appetites. Also...my little wives can manipulate your neurons...basically, you will unconditionally tell me the truth. I have created the ultimate truth serum! Now finish what you were saying!"
"I...I..." Gabriella tried to grit her teeth, but failed miserably. "I...it...it feels...good! I...am a...virgin...you...can have...me!"
Whimpering in agony, the Golden One's raven head painfully endeavored to rise from the floor, tiny rivers of liquid warmth flowing down her face. With a trembling hand, she slowly touched her forehead and drifted her fingers into her line of vision. They were stained with crimson...blood.
Her face twisted in suffering, the hurt superheroine ignored the sickening crunch of the glass beneath her hands and knees as she slowly rose up on her haunches. Fighting the urge to close her eyes, she took visual inventory of her body and her surroundings. A couple of sickening red gashes covered her arms and legs, while her pantyhose had been ripped to shreds. Her golden thong had also been torn, essentially rendered useless. Of course, embaressment was the furthest thing from the Martial Arts Maiden's mind at the moment.
Especially when Gabriella's tear-rendering cries were intermixing with Stealers Wheel "Stuck In The Middle With You".
"Gabby..." she croaked, her lungs and ribs burning from the tackle of her silver enemy. Her right hand amazingly maintained its grip on the hilt of her Golden Katana. Her left hand, meanwhile, was painstakingly inching its way up the wooden bar, trying to regain the strength to pull its mistress to her feet. However, in her slight delirium, Golden Angel did not pay attention to her adversary standing quietly over her, merely half an inch away.
She paid for this oversight dearly with a powerful kick that sent her bodily through the wooden bar, tearing it in half. Glass intermixed with splinters as the heroine was sent flying across the floor, flopped about limply like a ragdoll. As she came to a stop, unmoving, her glowing Katana twirled through the air after her, landing upright a few inches above her disheveled mane.
Behind her, the silvery female stepped through the hole in the bar, its spotlight eyes increasing in intensity at its bloodied and battered foe, as if admiring its handiwork.
Meanwhile, the man in armor watched the torture of Gabriella with continued interest. Her agonizing screams were diwindling in intensity; it was not known if it was because of exhaustion or because of seeing her friend lying unconcious before her.
"Change position." he suddenly ordered. "Deconstruct. Evaulate weaknesses."
The silvery skeleton obeyed, letting the worn-out Protector fall to the ground, with the added incentive of slamming her head against it. With pain searing her head and running roughshod about her tired body, the once proud angelic crimefighter could do nothing but lay meekly and sob quietly.
The silver thing, still straddling her form, roughly flipped Gabriella over, so she was facing up at her tormentor. Being so close to the skull face practically blinded her. The creature then rose slowly, its spotlight eyes lancing the golden-haired heroine's graceful form from disheveled head to glossy toe.
"Subject is wearing garments that enhanced physical attributes." it droned in a deep, feminine monotone. "Bracers. Sash. Sandals. Cape. Capacities? Presently unknown."
"Tell me, Protector." the man's voice boomed over the music. "What is the most precious of your garments?"
Gabriella remained quiet, her shapely naked breasts rising and falling as she fought to regain her strength.
"I'm a specialist at cracking people like you." the man continued. "The wonder women...the supergirls. As my Synturion will demonstrate, I'm pretty good at what I do."
Her breathing increasing in horror, Gabriella tried to backpedal from between the robotic woman's legs, only to be forcefully held in place. Two panels slid back underneath the Synturion's silvery breasts, unleashing a cloud of blue light orbs that resembled fireflies. Before her astonished eyes, the mist of blue fireflies covered her naked breasts and the area between her legs. Her heart-shaped panties instantly melted by the cloud.
"No...." Gabriella whispered through dry, cracked lips, unable to move. A icy tingling radiated from her breasts and nether region initially, before a wave of what seemed to be electicity rippled through her body, tinged with euphoria. Her back arched, her fingers and toes flexing uncontrollably as her breath was caught in her throat. Her eyes bulged in her eye sockets as her pelvis jutted forward in a seizure.
She wanted to scream, but could not. She wanted to move...but her body was no longer hers.
After a few minutes of the horrifying agony, the armored man spoke once again. "What is the most precious of your garments, Protector?"
Gabriella's face twisted in a visual battle for control. Her eyes blinked wildly, while her red lips trembled, endeavoring to part. Her will fought to regain her form, but in the end it was for nought.
"My...mmmmmmyyyy....myyyyy...ca...cape!" she stuttered, tears freely flowing from her eyes, the only thing she could control.
"Why is this?" the man interrogated.
"Be...be....be...because it....it transforms...into my wings!" she sobbed her confession.
"Ah..." the man pinched his chin thoughtfully. "So the angel motif is not just for show. You are a creature from the great beyond..."
"I...I've...never...felt this before..." she found herself confessing uncontrollably. "It...it...feels...feels....feels...."
This time her mental effort redoubled, trapping the word at the tip of her tongue. Her forehead wrinkled, a visual display of the war with herself. No. She had to fight...she could not admit the truth. She was an angel, and had a reputation to maintain!
"You can't fight it, you know." the man smirked. "Those are microscopic Synturions that have been injected into your body and brain, latching on to the part that controls your motor functions...including your sexual appetites. Also...my little wives can manipulate your neurons...basically, you will unconditionally tell me the truth. I have created the ultimate truth serum! Now finish what you were saying!"
"I...I..." Gabriella tried to grit her teeth, but failed miserably. "I...it...it feels...good! I...am a...virgin...you...can have...me!"
Very nice.
You have my seal of approval for what it's worth.
I think it's funny, and appropiate, that you have her playing the Yuri role for the partnership. I also found the twinkie scene both amusing and appropiate.
Looking forward to the next few chapters =D>
You have my seal of approval for what it's worth.
I think it's funny, and appropiate, that you have her playing the Yuri role for the partnership. I also found the twinkie scene both amusing and appropiate.
Looking forward to the next few chapters =D>
Awesome. Thanks, Kitten!Kitten wrote:Very nice.
You have my seal of approval for what it's worth.
I think it's funny, and appropiate, that you have her playing the Yuri role for the partnership. I also found the twinkie scene both amusing and appropiate.
Looking forward to the next few chapters =D>
I was worried a little about portraying Gabriella, but decided to go with my gut.
Glad you liked the twinkie scene, I loved writing it.
Sadly, probably just one or two more parts.
There were a few things that were a little of, or that i might have done differently but that's okay. It was really enjoyable to read. Even if she doesnt get any more time in your story it was still fun to read. Looking forward to seeing how the rest of the story unfolds.The UG wrote: I was worried a little about portraying Gabriella, but decided to go with my gut.
Glad you liked the twinkie scene, I loved writing it.
Sadly, probably just one or two more parts.
I'm really glad you liked it.Kitten wrote: There were a few things that were a little of, or that i might have done differently but that's okay. It was really enjoyable to read. Even if she doesnt get any more time in your story it was still fun to read. Looking forward to seeing how the rest of the story unfolds.
Sadly, since I'm so focused on getting my professional writing off of the ground(How can I say this without coming off pompous #-o #-o #-o )("Blackout '77" introduces the main protagonist of my novels) that future "Overmaster Wars" stories like "Delta City Doomsday" are basically spontaneous and stream-of-conciousness. So, usually no first or second drafts, just words pouring out of my mind like overflowing rivers from a dam.
But, feel free to send me more info! Gabriella is a big part of the new "Overmaster Wars" continuity and universe, and a major part of The new version of The Protectors of Justice!
Oh, yeah :-Dvalugi wrote:by the way the heroines are in a situation they have no control
The man in the devil-horned armor silently watched the malicious proceedings before him, motionless, an adorned metal statue. Below him, the humilated heads of the criminal underworld endeavored to escape from their cruel and unusual punishment, but it was not meant to be.
The Synturion standing over the beaten Golden Angel grasped the hilt of her embedded Golden Katana and liberated it from the floor. Cooly, it put the blade across its skeletal shoulders and walked to the human throne of its master. Kneeling meekly on one ball-and-socket knee, it held the wonderous weapon on both outstretched palms in silent presentation.
The armored lord took the weapon in one taloned hand, inspecting its otherworldly craftsmanship. In the meantime, the third Synturion had picked up the flaccid body of its owner in a full nelson, both icy metal hands cuffing now nude breasts. Covered with noticeable cuts and abrasions, the unconcious form of the Martial Arts Maiden resembled a bloodied rag doll, accented by glistening slivers of glass still embedded in her skin.
Gabriella, on the other hand, was still lying on the floor, squirming uncontrollably, in the throes of the Nano-Synturions controlling her brain and body. Her words had deteoriated into babble seconds ago, no doubt a last desperate mechanism of her heavenly will to regain dominance.
But no matter. These two Protectors, this "Dirty Pair" would soon be...
A streak of yellow gold interrupted the armored man's silent ponderance.
Slender, alabaster fingers wrapped around his metal-clad neck in a time that had yet to be measured by humankind. He was lifted bodily out of his chair in a nanosecond, and shoved against the stripper pole directly behind him. It gave easily, and his uncontrollable push was finally halted by the large mirror display of the stage itself. The resulting cacophony from the shattered mirror was loud enough to drown out "Stuck In The Middle With You."
Still human, it took a precious minute for clarity to reassert his senses.
The streak had formed into a gorgeus female form, slender and easy on the eyes, with the exception of mammoth breasts clothed in a reflective golden yellow bra top. A matching pleated microskirt, epaulets, and platform stripper sandals were all that adorned her practically naked form. Shimmering green eyes were framed by a blonde pageboy haircut, which in turn was complimented by a golden phoenix-designed tiara on her forehead.
She was Sundancer, formerly Lady Solaris...currently one angry Protector.
"I don't understand." she growled through perfect teeth. "Why the hell would you want to lead me here...with practically no defenses against me?"
She suddenly felt the attention of six spotlights on her, and the glow of sapphire across her face. A blue lance of light was held mere inches from her cheek.
"Solarin. Extraterrestrial. Planet of origin, Solaris." the Synturion holding the lance droned mechanically. "Gifted with genes to transform solar energy into conduits for powers of super strength and flight."
"What? I'm suppose to quiver in my panties because Easy Baker Oven studied my physiology?" Sundancer snarled at the armored man in her chokehold. "All I have to do is crush your windpipe..."
"You really don't realize who you are dealing with...do you?" the man chuckled sinisterly.
"A King Arthur reject who got lucky with my friends?" she retorted sarcastically.
His response was silent, and unseen, delivered by the Synturion who quickly sliced into Sundancer's body with the blue lance. The effect was instant. Her whole body fell numb, completely paralyzed. With a cry of anquish and astonishment, her flight ability abandoned her, sending her limply crashing to the stage.
She landed with a scream among the mirror shards, partly of embarassement, partly of bewilderment. Above her, the armored man slowly floated to the ground, the nature of his self-propelled levitation revealed by glowing discs at the bottom of his boots.
"Neuro-Lancers." he said as he landed gently and knelt down, grabbing a fistful of Sundancer's blond hair. "Every Synturion has them. The lances enter your body by transforming into hard light and completely disrupt the nervous system. Even yours. All it took for you is adjusting to that precious solar energy in your cells..."
"Who...who...are you?" Sundancer tried to put on a brave front, but failed.
"Have you heard about the Capitol City Massacre?" the man let her head fall to the hard ground and rose to his feet, staring down at her. "It happened twenty years ago. Your hot shot leader, Thunderbolt Woman, knows about it."
"By the Goddess Solaria..." the Solarin Protector marveled. "I've heard only the most minor of whispers about it...and most from the dasdasterly criminals of this world..."
"For the sake of waiting for the effects of the Lance to wear off..." the man stepped over her, crunching the shards under his feet as he regally returned to his human-made throne. "Let me tell you a story."
With a motion of his finger across his neck, he silenced the ad hoc DJ in the booth.
"Twenty years ago, there was a Protectors of Justice team like there is now." he began. "Capitol City was their base of operations, and they went about the country, cleaning up the streets of crime. Thunderbolt Woman, Shining Star, Rohanna...the list goes on and on, right? So...they brought utopia to the cities, and all was well with the world."
Sundancer began to slowly feel her fingers regain their feeling and some means of control. "So, what happened?" she pressed.
"I happened." he said. "I could care less about crime. That's not why I became me. I became me...the devil...because superheroines were and still are a menace to society. The Protectors...this all-star group of superfriends...represented the epitome of my hate and rage. They had to be crushed. They had to be shown the error of their ways-"
"So..." Sundancer trailed off, making a fist with her hands with much effort.
"My wives and I attacked on December 4, 19-something. D-day, anniversary of Pearl Harbor." he said, rubbing his armored chin thoughtfully. "Drew those Protectors out and one-by-one, snuffed them. Ever heard of Eletra-Chick? Wondra?"
"No."
"Because I captured them, Solarin. And after your predecessors defeated me, they erased everything...they got together with the news media and wiped me out of existance."
Feeling control returning to her arms and legs, Sundancer submissed a moan as she shakily rose up on her haunches. Two Synturions stood over her, their glowing blue lances held in both hands, ready to slice the heroine if she moved once again.
The armored man turned on his seat to face her. "Ask some of the older Protectors, Solarin, when you see them again. Let those whispers become full-blown horror stories. The wounds are there...the thousand-yard-stares, the tortures, the perils...they are still fresh. They thought they could kill me...kill the immortal superheroine bogeyman."
Sundancer could only look on weakly as her adversary stood up and declared with an horrible cackle, "They thought they could kill...The Overmaster!"
The Synturion standing over the beaten Golden Angel grasped the hilt of her embedded Golden Katana and liberated it from the floor. Cooly, it put the blade across its skeletal shoulders and walked to the human throne of its master. Kneeling meekly on one ball-and-socket knee, it held the wonderous weapon on both outstretched palms in silent presentation.
The armored lord took the weapon in one taloned hand, inspecting its otherworldly craftsmanship. In the meantime, the third Synturion had picked up the flaccid body of its owner in a full nelson, both icy metal hands cuffing now nude breasts. Covered with noticeable cuts and abrasions, the unconcious form of the Martial Arts Maiden resembled a bloodied rag doll, accented by glistening slivers of glass still embedded in her skin.
Gabriella, on the other hand, was still lying on the floor, squirming uncontrollably, in the throes of the Nano-Synturions controlling her brain and body. Her words had deteoriated into babble seconds ago, no doubt a last desperate mechanism of her heavenly will to regain dominance.
But no matter. These two Protectors, this "Dirty Pair" would soon be...
A streak of yellow gold interrupted the armored man's silent ponderance.
Slender, alabaster fingers wrapped around his metal-clad neck in a time that had yet to be measured by humankind. He was lifted bodily out of his chair in a nanosecond, and shoved against the stripper pole directly behind him. It gave easily, and his uncontrollable push was finally halted by the large mirror display of the stage itself. The resulting cacophony from the shattered mirror was loud enough to drown out "Stuck In The Middle With You."
Still human, it took a precious minute for clarity to reassert his senses.
The streak had formed into a gorgeus female form, slender and easy on the eyes, with the exception of mammoth breasts clothed in a reflective golden yellow bra top. A matching pleated microskirt, epaulets, and platform stripper sandals were all that adorned her practically naked form. Shimmering green eyes were framed by a blonde pageboy haircut, which in turn was complimented by a golden phoenix-designed tiara on her forehead.
She was Sundancer, formerly Lady Solaris...currently one angry Protector.
"I don't understand." she growled through perfect teeth. "Why the hell would you want to lead me here...with practically no defenses against me?"
She suddenly felt the attention of six spotlights on her, and the glow of sapphire across her face. A blue lance of light was held mere inches from her cheek.
"Solarin. Extraterrestrial. Planet of origin, Solaris." the Synturion holding the lance droned mechanically. "Gifted with genes to transform solar energy into conduits for powers of super strength and flight."
"What? I'm suppose to quiver in my panties because Easy Baker Oven studied my physiology?" Sundancer snarled at the armored man in her chokehold. "All I have to do is crush your windpipe..."
"You really don't realize who you are dealing with...do you?" the man chuckled sinisterly.
"A King Arthur reject who got lucky with my friends?" she retorted sarcastically.
His response was silent, and unseen, delivered by the Synturion who quickly sliced into Sundancer's body with the blue lance. The effect was instant. Her whole body fell numb, completely paralyzed. With a cry of anquish and astonishment, her flight ability abandoned her, sending her limply crashing to the stage.
She landed with a scream among the mirror shards, partly of embarassement, partly of bewilderment. Above her, the armored man slowly floated to the ground, the nature of his self-propelled levitation revealed by glowing discs at the bottom of his boots.
"Neuro-Lancers." he said as he landed gently and knelt down, grabbing a fistful of Sundancer's blond hair. "Every Synturion has them. The lances enter your body by transforming into hard light and completely disrupt the nervous system. Even yours. All it took for you is adjusting to that precious solar energy in your cells..."
"Who...who...are you?" Sundancer tried to put on a brave front, but failed.
"Have you heard about the Capitol City Massacre?" the man let her head fall to the hard ground and rose to his feet, staring down at her. "It happened twenty years ago. Your hot shot leader, Thunderbolt Woman, knows about it."
"By the Goddess Solaria..." the Solarin Protector marveled. "I've heard only the most minor of whispers about it...and most from the dasdasterly criminals of this world..."
"For the sake of waiting for the effects of the Lance to wear off..." the man stepped over her, crunching the shards under his feet as he regally returned to his human-made throne. "Let me tell you a story."
With a motion of his finger across his neck, he silenced the ad hoc DJ in the booth.
"Twenty years ago, there was a Protectors of Justice team like there is now." he began. "Capitol City was their base of operations, and they went about the country, cleaning up the streets of crime. Thunderbolt Woman, Shining Star, Rohanna...the list goes on and on, right? So...they brought utopia to the cities, and all was well with the world."
Sundancer began to slowly feel her fingers regain their feeling and some means of control. "So, what happened?" she pressed.
"I happened." he said. "I could care less about crime. That's not why I became me. I became me...the devil...because superheroines were and still are a menace to society. The Protectors...this all-star group of superfriends...represented the epitome of my hate and rage. They had to be crushed. They had to be shown the error of their ways-"
"So..." Sundancer trailed off, making a fist with her hands with much effort.
"My wives and I attacked on December 4, 19-something. D-day, anniversary of Pearl Harbor." he said, rubbing his armored chin thoughtfully. "Drew those Protectors out and one-by-one, snuffed them. Ever heard of Eletra-Chick? Wondra?"
"No."
"Because I captured them, Solarin. And after your predecessors defeated me, they erased everything...they got together with the news media and wiped me out of existance."
Feeling control returning to her arms and legs, Sundancer submissed a moan as she shakily rose up on her haunches. Two Synturions stood over her, their glowing blue lances held in both hands, ready to slice the heroine if she moved once again.
The armored man turned on his seat to face her. "Ask some of the older Protectors, Solarin, when you see them again. Let those whispers become full-blown horror stories. The wounds are there...the thousand-yard-stares, the tortures, the perils...they are still fresh. They thought they could kill me...kill the immortal superheroine bogeyman."
Sundancer could only look on weakly as her adversary stood up and declared with an horrible cackle, "They thought they could kill...The Overmaster!"
"And with that...I must withdraw for tonight..."
The man revealed as Overmaster gathered his cape around him and took a step forward. Before Sundancer's astonished eyes, hundreds of spotlights suddenly shone from in front of him, rendering him a silhoutte before a blinding field of white light.
"Running away?" she cried angrily.
"Yes." his shadowy horned head turned to the left, looking over his shoulder. "If it will make you and your friends fight with all of your might, draw all of your attention to me, then yes, I am...ahem, 'running away'..."
"You fiend!" Sundancer slowly rose to unsteady feet, fists balled. "This is a game to you, isn't it? That's why you had your creepy little robo-slut lead me here-"
"And it scares you, doesn't it?" he smirked. "To denote that this is a game means that I have more control over the proceedings than you would like to admit."
"I'm not afraid of you!" the Solarian beauty declared.
"You have it all wrong, my dear." the Overmaster only chuckled. "Fear is a good thing; it brings caution, scrutiny; all the things you would need to successfully overcome that which causes it in the first place."
His hand stretched to the right, towards the DJ booth. The redheaded stripper in the star-spangled bikini gulped nervously, shaking her fiery-tressed head furiously.
"Come." the armored villain ordered. "I have a stripper pole with the view of Delta City in my new headquarters. You will look marvelous practicing your profession with it."
Sundancer did not move when silvery hands roughly grabbed the poor stripper. She did not move when said stripper screamed her name, begging to be rescued from the silver horde, the decades-old menace whose clutches she was now trapped in. She tried to lie, blaming the after-effects of the Neuro-Lance, and the slowly return of the solar energy to her cells.
However, both her feet hovered an inch off of the ground.
The stripper was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the blinding light, followed by the armored man in the long, regal cape. He seemed to pause, glancing over his shoulder with a flourish of his cape one last time, before vanishing into the white.
And then all of the spotlights shut off at once, leaving her just as disoriented as before.
Yoshiwara was now deserted, save for the other two Protectors and herself. Various tables lay about in splinters, chairs were tossed about, and the stage and bar was in shambles. The chair, made up of all of the criminal bosses of Delta City, was gone as well. With courage bestowing momentum in her limbs again, Sundancer quickly flew over to where Gabriella lay, still squirming violently.
"You're going to be okay!" she reassured her softly, brushing her cheek with her hand. The Angelic Angel could only nodded meekly, her face and hair wet with tears. With great effort, Sundancer gently helped her friend into a fireman's carry, and soared over the messy floor to the still body of the Golden Angel.
Propping Gabriella against one of the still whole tables, Sundancer knelt down to inspect Golden Angel. Although a myriad of crimson wounds and bruises, the Golden One's sweaty nude breasts still rose and fell steadly. She was still alive.
"GA...joked...a-a-about devil...worshippers today..." Gabriella stuttered, nursing her left arm. "T-to get m-m-m-me to c-c-come..."
"I would have done the same thing..." Sundancer said matter-of-factly.
"N-n-no...y-y-you don't understand..." the angelic being whispered. "I...I-I-I think w-w-we met the d-d-devil today. Not the one I-I-I already knew...a new one. A human one."
Sundancer said nothing, only reaching over to offer Gabriella a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. Meanwhile, a record scratch heralded a new song being played on the strip club's speakers.
It was Alice Cooper's "He's Back, The Man Behind The Mask".
TO BE CONTINUED!
The man revealed as Overmaster gathered his cape around him and took a step forward. Before Sundancer's astonished eyes, hundreds of spotlights suddenly shone from in front of him, rendering him a silhoutte before a blinding field of white light.
"Running away?" she cried angrily.
"Yes." his shadowy horned head turned to the left, looking over his shoulder. "If it will make you and your friends fight with all of your might, draw all of your attention to me, then yes, I am...ahem, 'running away'..."
"You fiend!" Sundancer slowly rose to unsteady feet, fists balled. "This is a game to you, isn't it? That's why you had your creepy little robo-slut lead me here-"
"And it scares you, doesn't it?" he smirked. "To denote that this is a game means that I have more control over the proceedings than you would like to admit."
"I'm not afraid of you!" the Solarian beauty declared.
"You have it all wrong, my dear." the Overmaster only chuckled. "Fear is a good thing; it brings caution, scrutiny; all the things you would need to successfully overcome that which causes it in the first place."
His hand stretched to the right, towards the DJ booth. The redheaded stripper in the star-spangled bikini gulped nervously, shaking her fiery-tressed head furiously.
"Come." the armored villain ordered. "I have a stripper pole with the view of Delta City in my new headquarters. You will look marvelous practicing your profession with it."
Sundancer did not move when silvery hands roughly grabbed the poor stripper. She did not move when said stripper screamed her name, begging to be rescued from the silver horde, the decades-old menace whose clutches she was now trapped in. She tried to lie, blaming the after-effects of the Neuro-Lance, and the slowly return of the solar energy to her cells.
However, both her feet hovered an inch off of the ground.
The stripper was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the blinding light, followed by the armored man in the long, regal cape. He seemed to pause, glancing over his shoulder with a flourish of his cape one last time, before vanishing into the white.
And then all of the spotlights shut off at once, leaving her just as disoriented as before.
Yoshiwara was now deserted, save for the other two Protectors and herself. Various tables lay about in splinters, chairs were tossed about, and the stage and bar was in shambles. The chair, made up of all of the criminal bosses of Delta City, was gone as well. With courage bestowing momentum in her limbs again, Sundancer quickly flew over to where Gabriella lay, still squirming violently.
"You're going to be okay!" she reassured her softly, brushing her cheek with her hand. The Angelic Angel could only nodded meekly, her face and hair wet with tears. With great effort, Sundancer gently helped her friend into a fireman's carry, and soared over the messy floor to the still body of the Golden Angel.
Propping Gabriella against one of the still whole tables, Sundancer knelt down to inspect Golden Angel. Although a myriad of crimson wounds and bruises, the Golden One's sweaty nude breasts still rose and fell steadly. She was still alive.
"GA...joked...a-a-about devil...worshippers today..." Gabriella stuttered, nursing her left arm. "T-to get m-m-m-me to c-c-come..."
"I would have done the same thing..." Sundancer said matter-of-factly.
"N-n-no...y-y-you don't understand..." the angelic being whispered. "I...I-I-I think w-w-we met the d-d-devil today. Not the one I-I-I already knew...a new one. A human one."
Sundancer said nothing, only reaching over to offer Gabriella a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. Meanwhile, a record scratch heralded a new song being played on the strip club's speakers.
It was Alice Cooper's "He's Back, The Man Behind The Mask".
TO BE CONTINUED!
Overmaster Wars:
Delta City Doomsday: Part II
By M. Hadley
She felt like Daniel before the mouth of the lions' den, or the three men staring at Nebuchadnezzer's fiery furnace, preparing for their doom. Although not of the religious sort, the woman known as Patricia "Trish" Sanders could not help but draw parallels between the biblical situations and her own current one. She was staring down an insurmountable task, an exercise in the impossible. Yet, just as in those tales, where Daniel and the trio were rescued by faith, she hoped to overcome the unconquerable through belief in herself.
She stood timidly before the decorative glass doors of the Silva Tower, formerly the headquarters of Don Silva, Delta City's crime emperor. The highlight of the city's impressive skyline, it was the epitome of human architectural achievement; however, it was also a concrete and glass spire of crime, where many henious acts of inhumanity were carried out. Yet, when the human devil was dethroned from his perch in the criminal underworld, the Tower was not transformed into a haven of goodness.
Instead, an even more wicked devil took Silva's place...and the human-built hell on Earth, 90 stories of compartmentalized chaos, took on even more sinister connotations.
The name the citizens of the fair city knew it by now was Overmaster Tower.
Overmaster. Her friend and teammate Halo had whispered the name so many times that it had been burned into Trish's mind. Even now, the blond could picture the angelic heroine, maintaining an everpresent vigil by the hospital bedside of their fellow comatose friend, the Golden Angel. Trish had visited them constantly, and tried to coax Gabriella to take a rest. After all, she herself had been in a similar situation, when the love of her life, Jack Mactaggert, had been placed in a coma by one of her greatest enemies, the Silk Vixen.
Trish had blamed herself, and had stayed by Jac Mac's bedside twenty-four hours straight, practically ignoring her crimefighting duties and nearly all of her life. She was also burning with an all-consuming desire for vengence, wanting to permanantly stop the Vixen. The hatred and obessession was almost on the verge of transforming her, before her best friend White Venus stepped in to intervene.
Now she was fulfilling that role for Gabriella, who seemed to be rendered unresponsive as well. Only Sundancer seemed to want to talk about what had unfolded in the confines of the Yoshiwara strip club. It was a tale so macabre that even now Trish wanted to second guess her bold undertaking.
*Well, why don't you?* a wizened female voice spoke in her head.
Trish cooly adjusted her eyeglasses while slyly glancing down at her pantyhosed legs. They were shimmering brightly. Danger. She was in a danger zone.
*Superhose, we've been through this-* she mentally spoke back.
*We have to put more planning into this, Star!* the voice argued. *The things I'm sensing...even the great Shining Star won't be able to overcome this challenge!*
*Superhose-*
*Okay, I maybe laying it on a little thick. Even I have doubts sometimes, kid...I'll have to tell you about how your Gran Evie and I worked our way through them-*
*That's why I'm Trish and not Star, Superhose. Remember?*
*Yeah, but still...this...this is crazy, kid!*
*Crazy as when Sister Octavia threw us out of the window of the Diamond Exchange?*
*And you flew for the first time?*
*It was because of my faith in you, Superhose. You saved my life many times over. We've overcame many challenges. So what is stopping us here?*
*You're right...* the wondrous garment mentally admitted.
*But if this plan is going to work...you have to be more discrete* Trish stared at the brightly shimmering pantyhose on her well shaped legs.
*I'll try, Trish. But, the danger here...it is immense. Overwhelming!*
"I know..." Trish whispered audibly, watching as the Wonderous Superhose on her legs dimmed its shimmer to "normal" levels. The impressive garment, an heirloom from her grandmother, gave her the abilitiy to transform into the Sleek-Legged Beauty known as Shining Star, the champion of Capitol City, and the possessor of the most powerful legs in the world.
Now, she was acting also in the capacity of leader of the Protectors of Justice...and admittedly, needing to prove herself was possibly the reason she agreed to so risky a plan in the first place.
*Ready?* she mentally asked Superhose, brushing a dull strand of blond from her bespectacled face.
*To the ends of the Earth, Trish.* the Uberhosen replied.
Trish swallowed as her hand slowly drew toward the ornamental glass door handle. Just as her fingers were about to touch it, the door suddenly pushed open, and three figures roughly shoved past the young woman. All three were clad in Delta City police uniforms, with one portly, another wiry, and the remainder muscular.
"The son of a bitch won't tell us what he did with 'em!" the wiry policeman growled.
"Fuck that, Chief...did you see that huge freakin' statue?!" the muscular one marveled with wide eyes. "In fact, how the hell did he get it in there? Hell, how the hell did he get all the rooms to be so enormous?!"
"The guy is one step away from a Fantasic Four comic...how the hell should I know?" the portly Police Chief spat. "All I know is that there is now this huge vacuum in the underworld-"
"Little far from home, aren't you little lady?" the muscular policeman took notice of the young lady standing mere inches from them. His eyes scanned her attractive form, from her tight t-shirt and short skirt, to her slender legs and high heeled sandals. His eyes lingered on her pantyhosed stems for an uncomfortable long time.
"Oh, I'm here for an...interview..." Trish stuttered a reply.
The trio exchanged bizarre looks before exploding into laughter.
"Seriously, you don't want to be around here..." the Chief's face suddenly turned solumn. "This building...something is wrong with it...some of that Mxyplick stuff-"
"Who the hell?" the wiry cop gave him a puzzled look.
"That little elf/Great Gazoo thing from the Superman comics." the Chief told him. "He came from the Fifth Dimension and could do all of this reality bending shit because he had two more dimensions over us."
"And this is reference to?" the wiry cop scratched his head.
"Reference?" the muscular cop cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.
"The two more dimensions on top of three dimensions. How does that work?" the wiry cop asked.
"Get in the car, bozo." the Chief ordered his subordinates before turning his attention to Trish.
"Look, Miss...this is a dangerous place, so I'm warning you not to enter." he said.
"I'm not the type to shrug off authority figures...but like I said before, I have an interview." Trish told him.
"That stripper is still there in his office, honey." the Chief sniffed.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't see any need for anything else. All of those silver fucktoys he builds run everything else. And its a lot, little lady. That Darth-Vader-wannabe has like a whole fucking city in a building. Its insane...I don't even think it is possible to arrest him..."
Trish reached into her pocketbook and withdrew a small business card, handing it to the Chief. He looked over it and responded with a clueless grin.
"Computer Consultant...Instructor..." he read. "Open mouth, insert foot."
"I don't know what...er...silvery things you are referring to." Trish smiled slightly. "But I am simply trying to recruit a client in this building. He told me over the phone of no such...changes to his offices."
"Little lady...you can't-" the Chief started.
"Good day, sir." Trish spat, flinging the glass door open and walking in without a glance behind her.
"Mysgonistic moron..." she growled after a few steps forward. On her legs, the Superhose began to shimmer brightly, the sensing of impending danger inevitable.
Delta City Doomsday: Part II
By M. Hadley
She felt like Daniel before the mouth of the lions' den, or the three men staring at Nebuchadnezzer's fiery furnace, preparing for their doom. Although not of the religious sort, the woman known as Patricia "Trish" Sanders could not help but draw parallels between the biblical situations and her own current one. She was staring down an insurmountable task, an exercise in the impossible. Yet, just as in those tales, where Daniel and the trio were rescued by faith, she hoped to overcome the unconquerable through belief in herself.
She stood timidly before the decorative glass doors of the Silva Tower, formerly the headquarters of Don Silva, Delta City's crime emperor. The highlight of the city's impressive skyline, it was the epitome of human architectural achievement; however, it was also a concrete and glass spire of crime, where many henious acts of inhumanity were carried out. Yet, when the human devil was dethroned from his perch in the criminal underworld, the Tower was not transformed into a haven of goodness.
Instead, an even more wicked devil took Silva's place...and the human-built hell on Earth, 90 stories of compartmentalized chaos, took on even more sinister connotations.
The name the citizens of the fair city knew it by now was Overmaster Tower.
Overmaster. Her friend and teammate Halo had whispered the name so many times that it had been burned into Trish's mind. Even now, the blond could picture the angelic heroine, maintaining an everpresent vigil by the hospital bedside of their fellow comatose friend, the Golden Angel. Trish had visited them constantly, and tried to coax Gabriella to take a rest. After all, she herself had been in a similar situation, when the love of her life, Jack Mactaggert, had been placed in a coma by one of her greatest enemies, the Silk Vixen.
Trish had blamed herself, and had stayed by Jac Mac's bedside twenty-four hours straight, practically ignoring her crimefighting duties and nearly all of her life. She was also burning with an all-consuming desire for vengence, wanting to permanantly stop the Vixen. The hatred and obessession was almost on the verge of transforming her, before her best friend White Venus stepped in to intervene.
Now she was fulfilling that role for Gabriella, who seemed to be rendered unresponsive as well. Only Sundancer seemed to want to talk about what had unfolded in the confines of the Yoshiwara strip club. It was a tale so macabre that even now Trish wanted to second guess her bold undertaking.
*Well, why don't you?* a wizened female voice spoke in her head.
Trish cooly adjusted her eyeglasses while slyly glancing down at her pantyhosed legs. They were shimmering brightly. Danger. She was in a danger zone.
*Superhose, we've been through this-* she mentally spoke back.
*We have to put more planning into this, Star!* the voice argued. *The things I'm sensing...even the great Shining Star won't be able to overcome this challenge!*
*Superhose-*
*Okay, I maybe laying it on a little thick. Even I have doubts sometimes, kid...I'll have to tell you about how your Gran Evie and I worked our way through them-*
*That's why I'm Trish and not Star, Superhose. Remember?*
*Yeah, but still...this...this is crazy, kid!*
*Crazy as when Sister Octavia threw us out of the window of the Diamond Exchange?*
*And you flew for the first time?*
*It was because of my faith in you, Superhose. You saved my life many times over. We've overcame many challenges. So what is stopping us here?*
*You're right...* the wondrous garment mentally admitted.
*But if this plan is going to work...you have to be more discrete* Trish stared at the brightly shimmering pantyhose on her well shaped legs.
*I'll try, Trish. But, the danger here...it is immense. Overwhelming!*
"I know..." Trish whispered audibly, watching as the Wonderous Superhose on her legs dimmed its shimmer to "normal" levels. The impressive garment, an heirloom from her grandmother, gave her the abilitiy to transform into the Sleek-Legged Beauty known as Shining Star, the champion of Capitol City, and the possessor of the most powerful legs in the world.
Now, she was acting also in the capacity of leader of the Protectors of Justice...and admittedly, needing to prove herself was possibly the reason she agreed to so risky a plan in the first place.
*Ready?* she mentally asked Superhose, brushing a dull strand of blond from her bespectacled face.
*To the ends of the Earth, Trish.* the Uberhosen replied.
Trish swallowed as her hand slowly drew toward the ornamental glass door handle. Just as her fingers were about to touch it, the door suddenly pushed open, and three figures roughly shoved past the young woman. All three were clad in Delta City police uniforms, with one portly, another wiry, and the remainder muscular.
"The son of a bitch won't tell us what he did with 'em!" the wiry policeman growled.
"Fuck that, Chief...did you see that huge freakin' statue?!" the muscular one marveled with wide eyes. "In fact, how the hell did he get it in there? Hell, how the hell did he get all the rooms to be so enormous?!"
"The guy is one step away from a Fantasic Four comic...how the hell should I know?" the portly Police Chief spat. "All I know is that there is now this huge vacuum in the underworld-"
"Little far from home, aren't you little lady?" the muscular policeman took notice of the young lady standing mere inches from them. His eyes scanned her attractive form, from her tight t-shirt and short skirt, to her slender legs and high heeled sandals. His eyes lingered on her pantyhosed stems for an uncomfortable long time.
"Oh, I'm here for an...interview..." Trish stuttered a reply.
The trio exchanged bizarre looks before exploding into laughter.
"Seriously, you don't want to be around here..." the Chief's face suddenly turned solumn. "This building...something is wrong with it...some of that Mxyplick stuff-"
"Who the hell?" the wiry cop gave him a puzzled look.
"That little elf/Great Gazoo thing from the Superman comics." the Chief told him. "He came from the Fifth Dimension and could do all of this reality bending shit because he had two more dimensions over us."
"And this is reference to?" the wiry cop scratched his head.
"Reference?" the muscular cop cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.
"The two more dimensions on top of three dimensions. How does that work?" the wiry cop asked.
"Get in the car, bozo." the Chief ordered his subordinates before turning his attention to Trish.
"Look, Miss...this is a dangerous place, so I'm warning you not to enter." he said.
"I'm not the type to shrug off authority figures...but like I said before, I have an interview." Trish told him.
"That stripper is still there in his office, honey." the Chief sniffed.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't see any need for anything else. All of those silver fucktoys he builds run everything else. And its a lot, little lady. That Darth-Vader-wannabe has like a whole fucking city in a building. Its insane...I don't even think it is possible to arrest him..."
Trish reached into her pocketbook and withdrew a small business card, handing it to the Chief. He looked over it and responded with a clueless grin.
"Computer Consultant...Instructor..." he read. "Open mouth, insert foot."
"I don't know what...er...silvery things you are referring to." Trish smiled slightly. "But I am simply trying to recruit a client in this building. He told me over the phone of no such...changes to his offices."
"Little lady...you can't-" the Chief started.
"Good day, sir." Trish spat, flinging the glass door open and walking in without a glance behind her.
"Mysgonistic moron..." she growled after a few steps forward. On her legs, the Superhose began to shimmer brightly, the sensing of impending danger inevitable.
The change was overpowering as Trish continued her trembling stroll down the silent corridor, which was a straight shot into an oblivion of black. The heels of her sandals were thunderous as they clicked against the marble floor, the only sound in the high arched hallway. The overhead lighting was dim, but still adequate enough to make out the paintings that lined the walls on both sides.
As the petite blonde’s eyes settled on one portrait, a small gasp escaped her dull red lips.
The scene was of a beautiful blonde in the red, gold, and blue uniform of Shining Star, with both arms and legs tied together on a bizarre torture-rack like device. However, the device was not of ancient design, but instead of a futuristic science-fiction variety, a clear tube was where the poor woman was tied standing straight up, with glowing pink strings bonding her wrists to the top and ankles together to the bottom. Her breasts pointed forward vigorously while her body contorted violently, her mouth was opened in silent scream. Tears flew from her eyes and seemingly matted her wild golden hair.
“Shimmering Stars…” Trish quietly whispered in astonishment. “That’s…that’s…”
*Evie…* The Superhose finished for her. *That’s your Gran Evie…*
At that, the Superhose began to shimmer brightly, uncontrollably, overcome by a memory that had long remained dormant.
*The Graviton Tube…* it whispered harshly in Trish’s mind. *It used gravity and anti-gravity to pull…to pull your body apart…he…he was trying to get me off of your Gran, Trish…”
*Overmaster?*
*Yes.* Superhose replied ashamedly. *I’m sorry, kid. I guess even I…even I can be foolish at times. I was hoping it was a mistake that someone or something else was behind the incident at Yoshiwara…*
*Superhose…* Trish reached out to gently caress the artistic rendering of her precious grandmother. She wanted to forget the horrifying image, but it was already smoldering in her mind.
*I should have warned you.* Superhose reprimanded itself. *I should have warned all of you. But…I thought he had died, destroyed forever…”
*Did you-?* Trish quickly turned away from the terrible image, blinking back tears.
*No, Trish.* The wondrous garment answered. *Not I or Evie. But…I can’t say that it was not enticing. Although I don’t condone murder in any form…it’s just…*
*Superhose, I trust you.* Trish mentally responded as she continued down the hallway. *Don’t you dare think you have to explain yourself to me.*
*Trish…* Superhose trailed off, not knowing what to say.
As the partners continued down the corridor, another pictorial atrocity caught Trish’s eye. This one displayed a quartet of strikingly beautiful superheroines being drowned in an ocean of green liquid. All were trapped in the various poses of life preservation: clawing furiously for the surface, clutching fruitlessly at their throats with bulging eyes, or floating lifelessly in the emerald murk.
“Oh my God…” Trish covered her lips in shock.
*Trish…turn away…* Superhose said quietly, its own voice breaking. *Keep walking. Don’t look, kid.*
*What was that, Superhose?*
*Keep walking. Please. Don’t ask me what-*
*What was that?!* Trish angrily asked.
*One foot in front of the other.* Superhose replied quietly. *Just keep walking…and I’ll tell you. And no tears, Trish. I will protect you…and you will protect me.*
Trish raised her glasses and wiped the tears from her eyes. With a deep exhale, she continued to slowly make her way down the corridor to the ominous black before her.
*Those four Protectors lost their lives when Overmaster trapped them in a special peril in one of his many lairs around the world.* Superhose told her. *It was a coliseum-sized affair…one of them tripped a switch and slammed the entrance shut, sealing them inside. The whole area was flooded with his unique chloroform, sending them to their graves…*
*I can’t…can’t let that happen to my friends…* Trish’s face hardened, her fists balling at her sides. *I won’t, Superhose.
*That’s why we are here.* Superhose reassured her. *In civilian guise, we can get info on his defenses of his new lair, and at the Citadel, Nightfall and White Venus can gain the schematics of the whole thing through the special earrings you are wearing.*
Trish was about to respond when her eyes fell on another portrait, this one the last before the darkness before them. Unlike the others, which showcased Overmaster’s mayhem decades ago, it displayed a young boy standing before a two story house completely engulfed in flames. The boy’s physical features were absent, silhouetted by the giant flame before him.
*This seems-* Trish started.
*-out of place.* Superhose finished her thought. *Back when Overmaster first appeared, we saw this picture in many of his lairs. Thunderbolt Woman used to think that it was a link to his past…*
*Maybe we can use this…against him.* Trish mused.
*Maybe.* Superhose agreed reluctantly.
Trish turned, staring into the darkness before her. *Superhose. What can you tell me about this monster?*
As the petite blonde’s eyes settled on one portrait, a small gasp escaped her dull red lips.
The scene was of a beautiful blonde in the red, gold, and blue uniform of Shining Star, with both arms and legs tied together on a bizarre torture-rack like device. However, the device was not of ancient design, but instead of a futuristic science-fiction variety, a clear tube was where the poor woman was tied standing straight up, with glowing pink strings bonding her wrists to the top and ankles together to the bottom. Her breasts pointed forward vigorously while her body contorted violently, her mouth was opened in silent scream. Tears flew from her eyes and seemingly matted her wild golden hair.
“Shimmering Stars…” Trish quietly whispered in astonishment. “That’s…that’s…”
*Evie…* The Superhose finished for her. *That’s your Gran Evie…*
At that, the Superhose began to shimmer brightly, uncontrollably, overcome by a memory that had long remained dormant.
*The Graviton Tube…* it whispered harshly in Trish’s mind. *It used gravity and anti-gravity to pull…to pull your body apart…he…he was trying to get me off of your Gran, Trish…”
*Overmaster?*
*Yes.* Superhose replied ashamedly. *I’m sorry, kid. I guess even I…even I can be foolish at times. I was hoping it was a mistake that someone or something else was behind the incident at Yoshiwara…*
*Superhose…* Trish reached out to gently caress the artistic rendering of her precious grandmother. She wanted to forget the horrifying image, but it was already smoldering in her mind.
*I should have warned you.* Superhose reprimanded itself. *I should have warned all of you. But…I thought he had died, destroyed forever…”
*Did you-?* Trish quickly turned away from the terrible image, blinking back tears.
*No, Trish.* The wondrous garment answered. *Not I or Evie. But…I can’t say that it was not enticing. Although I don’t condone murder in any form…it’s just…*
*Superhose, I trust you.* Trish mentally responded as she continued down the hallway. *Don’t you dare think you have to explain yourself to me.*
*Trish…* Superhose trailed off, not knowing what to say.
As the partners continued down the corridor, another pictorial atrocity caught Trish’s eye. This one displayed a quartet of strikingly beautiful superheroines being drowned in an ocean of green liquid. All were trapped in the various poses of life preservation: clawing furiously for the surface, clutching fruitlessly at their throats with bulging eyes, or floating lifelessly in the emerald murk.
“Oh my God…” Trish covered her lips in shock.
*Trish…turn away…* Superhose said quietly, its own voice breaking. *Keep walking. Don’t look, kid.*
*What was that, Superhose?*
*Keep walking. Please. Don’t ask me what-*
*What was that?!* Trish angrily asked.
*One foot in front of the other.* Superhose replied quietly. *Just keep walking…and I’ll tell you. And no tears, Trish. I will protect you…and you will protect me.*
Trish raised her glasses and wiped the tears from her eyes. With a deep exhale, she continued to slowly make her way down the corridor to the ominous black before her.
*Those four Protectors lost their lives when Overmaster trapped them in a special peril in one of his many lairs around the world.* Superhose told her. *It was a coliseum-sized affair…one of them tripped a switch and slammed the entrance shut, sealing them inside. The whole area was flooded with his unique chloroform, sending them to their graves…*
*I can’t…can’t let that happen to my friends…* Trish’s face hardened, her fists balling at her sides. *I won’t, Superhose.
*That’s why we are here.* Superhose reassured her. *In civilian guise, we can get info on his defenses of his new lair, and at the Citadel, Nightfall and White Venus can gain the schematics of the whole thing through the special earrings you are wearing.*
Trish was about to respond when her eyes fell on another portrait, this one the last before the darkness before them. Unlike the others, which showcased Overmaster’s mayhem decades ago, it displayed a young boy standing before a two story house completely engulfed in flames. The boy’s physical features were absent, silhouetted by the giant flame before him.
*This seems-* Trish started.
*-out of place.* Superhose finished her thought. *Back when Overmaster first appeared, we saw this picture in many of his lairs. Thunderbolt Woman used to think that it was a link to his past…*
*Maybe we can use this…against him.* Trish mused.
*Maybe.* Superhose agreed reluctantly.
Trish turned, staring into the darkness before her. *Superhose. What can you tell me about this monster?*
As they approached the edge of the blackness, Trish held her breath, waiting apprehensively for the Superhose to begin its story. But, as soon as the wondrous garment was about to begin, Trish took one shaky step into the dark and froze.
A square illuminated where her foot touched the floor. Suddenly, twin blue spotlights flared up, dazzling the petite blond’s senses. With a cry, she threw a protective hand to shield her eyes, shaking her head vigorously to clear the white floaters from her sight. As her vision cleared, her mouth dropped in astonishment, emotionally overwhelmed by what was unfolded before her.
She was standing in a giant hall of sorts, with a Grecian/Roman architectural theme and a ceiling that seemingly stretched upwards into the clouds. Directly before her was a giant wooden check-in kiosk, similar to those seen in office buildings. Behind it was a skeletal figure, reflective silver in color, with only a well-sculptured womanly bosom to suggest some kind of gender. The burning spotlight eyes of the inhuman were focused on her, scanning her body from head to toe. It lingered on the shimmering pantyhose on her well-defined legs for minutes before glancing down at the desk.
“Identify yourself.” It droned in a feminine, though heavily modulated monotone.
Trish’s lips tried to form words, but it was still agape, her attention seized by the astonishing sight that loomed over the silver skeleton and its desk. It was a mammoth statue, literally exploding from the marble-like wall, of a skeletal hand wrapped around the mouth of a masked superheroine in the process of chloroforming her. The gargantuan woman’s eyes were rolling in the slits of her mask, frozen at the moment when her poor mind was sent over the abyss into unconsciousness.
*Trish!* Superhose hissed in her mind, reeling her into reality. *Trish!!*
“Er…ahem…” Trish coughed nervously, clasping her hands before her stomach apprehensively. “I…I must be in the wrong…building. I was looking for the Silva Tower-”
“This was formerly the Silva Tower.” The skull head looked into her eyes, blinding her with its spotlight ones. “It is now my master’s domain.”
“Master?” Trish babbled innocently.
“Yes.” The skeletal being replied. “Have you come to venerate yourself before him?”
*Say yes, kid.* Superhose coached. *Say yes!*
Trish’s face twitched, her lips at war with her thoughts. “Yes.” She half snarled, half cooed.
“What faction of this city do you represent?” the strange creature asked.
“Faction?” she nervously bit her lips.
“Surely you should know what faction you are representative of.” The metal thing droned. “For example, the Delta City Police are a faction of your city’s society-”
“I represent the…er…people.” Trish replied.
“In what capacity?” the thing asked.
“Capacity?”
“Surely you must provide a function as a ‘people’ representative…”
Trish withdrew a business card from her purse and shakily held it out for the being to inspect. “My name is Tatric-Patricia Sanders…computer consultant and instructor.”
The skeletal being did not reach for the card, but instead scanned it with its spotlight eyes. “There is no need for my master to engage in discussions with ‘computer consultant’. As an expression of his genius, it is a grave insult for you to perceive his epitome of creation as flawed.”
“Excuse me?” Trish’s eyes widened behind her glasses.
*Just say you are a reporter!* Superhose hissed. *You are a reporter for a very popular blog of some sort. One thing about our enemy…he is egotistical!*
“I am…not just a computer consultant…” Trish verbally stumbled. “I…am also a reporter. Online. For a blog. That…keeps up with all of the new happenings in town. For the people.”
The silvery creature seemed to stare at her for a moment, emulating the very human motion of considering. Then, a rumbling sound was suddenly heard from behind it. The wall directly behind the being became liquid as a giant skull face suddenly slid downward from the giant statue. As it gently stopped at the ground floor, it opened lengthwise, revealing a small elevator-like room. Inside was another skeletal creature, although it was slightly greater in size than its counterpart before it. It also lacked legs, being no more than a torso connected to long green tubes to the back of the elevator.
“Come.” It beckoned Trish towards it in the exact same monotone as its fellow abomination.
The disguised superheroine hesitated, a normal reaction considering the extraordinary circumstances. However, the ever faithful Superhose gently coaxed its mistress forward with baby steps. Inching her way into the bizarre elevator, Trish failed to hide the expression of terror on her cute face as the “door” closed lengthwise before her, effectively trapping her within the skull head.
The eye sockets of the skull head lit up as it flowed through the wall upward, carrying its precious cargo to its demonic creator on the upper floors.
A square illuminated where her foot touched the floor. Suddenly, twin blue spotlights flared up, dazzling the petite blond’s senses. With a cry, she threw a protective hand to shield her eyes, shaking her head vigorously to clear the white floaters from her sight. As her vision cleared, her mouth dropped in astonishment, emotionally overwhelmed by what was unfolded before her.
She was standing in a giant hall of sorts, with a Grecian/Roman architectural theme and a ceiling that seemingly stretched upwards into the clouds. Directly before her was a giant wooden check-in kiosk, similar to those seen in office buildings. Behind it was a skeletal figure, reflective silver in color, with only a well-sculptured womanly bosom to suggest some kind of gender. The burning spotlight eyes of the inhuman were focused on her, scanning her body from head to toe. It lingered on the shimmering pantyhose on her well-defined legs for minutes before glancing down at the desk.
“Identify yourself.” It droned in a feminine, though heavily modulated monotone.
Trish’s lips tried to form words, but it was still agape, her attention seized by the astonishing sight that loomed over the silver skeleton and its desk. It was a mammoth statue, literally exploding from the marble-like wall, of a skeletal hand wrapped around the mouth of a masked superheroine in the process of chloroforming her. The gargantuan woman’s eyes were rolling in the slits of her mask, frozen at the moment when her poor mind was sent over the abyss into unconsciousness.
*Trish!* Superhose hissed in her mind, reeling her into reality. *Trish!!*
“Er…ahem…” Trish coughed nervously, clasping her hands before her stomach apprehensively. “I…I must be in the wrong…building. I was looking for the Silva Tower-”
“This was formerly the Silva Tower.” The skull head looked into her eyes, blinding her with its spotlight ones. “It is now my master’s domain.”
“Master?” Trish babbled innocently.
“Yes.” The skeletal being replied. “Have you come to venerate yourself before him?”
*Say yes, kid.* Superhose coached. *Say yes!*
Trish’s face twitched, her lips at war with her thoughts. “Yes.” She half snarled, half cooed.
“What faction of this city do you represent?” the strange creature asked.
“Faction?” she nervously bit her lips.
“Surely you should know what faction you are representative of.” The metal thing droned. “For example, the Delta City Police are a faction of your city’s society-”
“I represent the…er…people.” Trish replied.
“In what capacity?” the thing asked.
“Capacity?”
“Surely you must provide a function as a ‘people’ representative…”
Trish withdrew a business card from her purse and shakily held it out for the being to inspect. “My name is Tatric-Patricia Sanders…computer consultant and instructor.”
The skeletal being did not reach for the card, but instead scanned it with its spotlight eyes. “There is no need for my master to engage in discussions with ‘computer consultant’. As an expression of his genius, it is a grave insult for you to perceive his epitome of creation as flawed.”
“Excuse me?” Trish’s eyes widened behind her glasses.
*Just say you are a reporter!* Superhose hissed. *You are a reporter for a very popular blog of some sort. One thing about our enemy…he is egotistical!*
“I am…not just a computer consultant…” Trish verbally stumbled. “I…am also a reporter. Online. For a blog. That…keeps up with all of the new happenings in town. For the people.”
The silvery creature seemed to stare at her for a moment, emulating the very human motion of considering. Then, a rumbling sound was suddenly heard from behind it. The wall directly behind the being became liquid as a giant skull face suddenly slid downward from the giant statue. As it gently stopped at the ground floor, it opened lengthwise, revealing a small elevator-like room. Inside was another skeletal creature, although it was slightly greater in size than its counterpart before it. It also lacked legs, being no more than a torso connected to long green tubes to the back of the elevator.
“Come.” It beckoned Trish towards it in the exact same monotone as its fellow abomination.
The disguised superheroine hesitated, a normal reaction considering the extraordinary circumstances. However, the ever faithful Superhose gently coaxed its mistress forward with baby steps. Inching her way into the bizarre elevator, Trish failed to hide the expression of terror on her cute face as the “door” closed lengthwise before her, effectively trapping her within the skull head.
The eye sockets of the skull head lit up as it flowed through the wall upward, carrying its precious cargo to its demonic creator on the upper floors.
“Star? Do you read me? Star?!”
It was taking all of the will of the Amazon Princess, known to the World of Man as White Venus, to contain her overwhelming trepidation. Within the highly advanced Protectors’ War Room, located deep within the heavily fortified bowels of the tower-like Citadel of Heroines, she was fortunate to be surrounded by friends. The dark avenger known as Nightfall, the Solarin Siren Sundancer, and Venus's personal assistant Julian were crowded around the massive meeting table, watching the holographic display intensely at its center.
The display was a red gridlike diagram of Overmaster Tower, determined by the information picked up from Trish’s earrings. The true nature of the jewelry was that they were miniature stationary probes, utilizing a combination of sonar and laser to construct the interior of their enemy’s new lair from the inside. Although one of the pinnacles of the Venus Foundation’s Tech Division, its superheroic CEO was finding it very hard to summon up any pride in its capabilities. In fact, she prayed for a failure; an apprehensive glance to the empty seats of Halo and the Golden Angel only reinforced her desire.
She could not bear it if her very best friend was captured by this unknown menace.
“Julian?” she glanced over to the handsome bespectacled man in a dapper business suit, who was her right hand in all things Foundation.
“I…don’t know what to say, Ms. Lane…” the eloquent personal assistant inspected the screen of a PDA-styled device in his palm. “The Earspies are working just fine here. It’s like she just disappeared-”
“Impossible!” Nightfall stood up, slamming both black leather gloved palms on the table. Her bountiful breasts bounced vigorously within the confines of her skimpy black and red-trimmed reflective bikini top, which matched the skimpy bikini shorts on the lower part of her curvy anatomy. Black gladiator-styled sandals adorned her feet, and tied up her shapely calves.
Julian walked over to the redhead and forcefully held the PDA device to her face. The one thing he hated more than anything was to be second guessed.
“You’re right.” The Nocturnal Maiden admitted reluctantly, tilting her head bashfully.
“We’re all worried, my friend.” Sundancer floated over and wrapped a comforting arm around Nightfall’s shoulders. “But now…we have to leave it in the hands of the Goddess Solaria and see what befalls us…”
The ebony-haired White Venus sighed in frustration, with hands on her shapely hips. Her own breasts were rising and falling rapidly in the confines of her form-fitting white leotard, adorned with a shimmering golden “V” below her cleavage. Sleek white pantyhose accentuated well-defined legs that ended in white platform sandals. These were the Sandals of Venus, the source of her extraordinary abilities. Golden bracelets symbolized her Amazonian status, while a white chocker glistened around her neck.
“We have to go in.” she said, more to herself than the others. “We have to rescue her.”
“She knew the risks, Ms. Lane.” Julian said briskly, maintaining professional calm. “But when Ms. Sanders sets her mind to something, she will move heaven and earth to obtain her goal.”
“But she’s doing it for the wrong reasons!” White Venus bit her lower lip. “She has this insane notion that we do not accept her as leader, when the general consensus is contrary. With or without Pam Wilson’s blessing, Shining Star is the perfect leader of the Protectors. The name is simply not just the title of a proud superheroine legacy…but a role that Trish embodies. She is the brightest of us all…”
“A role that you, as the Avatar of Venus, could fit as well.” Sundancer smiled at the Amazon Princess. “You were trained by the Amazons of the Island of Myth and are the agent of the Earth goddess Venus in ‘Man’s World’. You are the better warrior and leader.”
“My duties as CEO of the Venus Foundation are overwhelming enough.” White Venus shook her head with a mild smile. “The magnitude of warriors changes from situation to situation, Astrul. I would say leadership as well. Just because my skills are good in one condition doesn’t mean they are good in all conditions.”
“If I may be so bold to speak, Ms. Lane.” Julian cleared his throat. “Leadership isn’t just about the physical or the mental. It’s not about organization and focusing your subordinates. It’s about the spiritual as well, inspiring hope, ‘rallying’ those troops so to speak.”
“In that case…I should be leader!” Nightfall spoke up.
All eyes in the room fell on the Dark Avengeress for a few seconds, as if considering the possibilities. Then, they all resumed conversation as if nothing was uttered.
“Shining Star is the most down-to-earth of all of us.” White Venus said with a grin. “She has the most ‘human’ heart and experience. In this ragtag bunch of nocturnal crusaders, Solarin beauties, angels, and Amazonian warriors, she can be that guiding light that we all need in the infinite fight against injustice.”
Sundancer nodded in agreement. “So what is the battle plan, Amazon?”
White Venus’s expression darkened as her eyes returned to the red-grid holographic diagram on the tabletop. Her toes curled within the Sandals of Venus, her whole being wanting nothing more than to rip out of the Citadel in a battle frenzy and tear downtown to that Tower to rescue her closest companion.
She slowly walked towards the door of the room, with the others waiting on her answer with bated breath.
When she reached the door, she said over her shoulder, “I’m flying to the hospital to check on Gabby and Golden Angel. Somebody needs to talk sense into that angel to rest, and I guess I’m that girl. Hail me on the communicators …if…if something comes up.”
With that, the Avatar of Venus continued to her destination, her hands tied, her wits at an end. There was no way to move forward without more information at the current time, and all of the waiting was driving her stir crazy anyway. Right now, it was up to their collected assortment of deities to provide them with a light at the end of a tunnel.
It was taking all of the will of the Amazon Princess, known to the World of Man as White Venus, to contain her overwhelming trepidation. Within the highly advanced Protectors’ War Room, located deep within the heavily fortified bowels of the tower-like Citadel of Heroines, she was fortunate to be surrounded by friends. The dark avenger known as Nightfall, the Solarin Siren Sundancer, and Venus's personal assistant Julian were crowded around the massive meeting table, watching the holographic display intensely at its center.
The display was a red gridlike diagram of Overmaster Tower, determined by the information picked up from Trish’s earrings. The true nature of the jewelry was that they were miniature stationary probes, utilizing a combination of sonar and laser to construct the interior of their enemy’s new lair from the inside. Although one of the pinnacles of the Venus Foundation’s Tech Division, its superheroic CEO was finding it very hard to summon up any pride in its capabilities. In fact, she prayed for a failure; an apprehensive glance to the empty seats of Halo and the Golden Angel only reinforced her desire.
She could not bear it if her very best friend was captured by this unknown menace.
“Julian?” she glanced over to the handsome bespectacled man in a dapper business suit, who was her right hand in all things Foundation.
“I…don’t know what to say, Ms. Lane…” the eloquent personal assistant inspected the screen of a PDA-styled device in his palm. “The Earspies are working just fine here. It’s like she just disappeared-”
“Impossible!” Nightfall stood up, slamming both black leather gloved palms on the table. Her bountiful breasts bounced vigorously within the confines of her skimpy black and red-trimmed reflective bikini top, which matched the skimpy bikini shorts on the lower part of her curvy anatomy. Black gladiator-styled sandals adorned her feet, and tied up her shapely calves.
Julian walked over to the redhead and forcefully held the PDA device to her face. The one thing he hated more than anything was to be second guessed.
“You’re right.” The Nocturnal Maiden admitted reluctantly, tilting her head bashfully.
“We’re all worried, my friend.” Sundancer floated over and wrapped a comforting arm around Nightfall’s shoulders. “But now…we have to leave it in the hands of the Goddess Solaria and see what befalls us…”
The ebony-haired White Venus sighed in frustration, with hands on her shapely hips. Her own breasts were rising and falling rapidly in the confines of her form-fitting white leotard, adorned with a shimmering golden “V” below her cleavage. Sleek white pantyhose accentuated well-defined legs that ended in white platform sandals. These were the Sandals of Venus, the source of her extraordinary abilities. Golden bracelets symbolized her Amazonian status, while a white chocker glistened around her neck.
“We have to go in.” she said, more to herself than the others. “We have to rescue her.”
“She knew the risks, Ms. Lane.” Julian said briskly, maintaining professional calm. “But when Ms. Sanders sets her mind to something, she will move heaven and earth to obtain her goal.”
“But she’s doing it for the wrong reasons!” White Venus bit her lower lip. “She has this insane notion that we do not accept her as leader, when the general consensus is contrary. With or without Pam Wilson’s blessing, Shining Star is the perfect leader of the Protectors. The name is simply not just the title of a proud superheroine legacy…but a role that Trish embodies. She is the brightest of us all…”
“A role that you, as the Avatar of Venus, could fit as well.” Sundancer smiled at the Amazon Princess. “You were trained by the Amazons of the Island of Myth and are the agent of the Earth goddess Venus in ‘Man’s World’. You are the better warrior and leader.”
“My duties as CEO of the Venus Foundation are overwhelming enough.” White Venus shook her head with a mild smile. “The magnitude of warriors changes from situation to situation, Astrul. I would say leadership as well. Just because my skills are good in one condition doesn’t mean they are good in all conditions.”
“If I may be so bold to speak, Ms. Lane.” Julian cleared his throat. “Leadership isn’t just about the physical or the mental. It’s not about organization and focusing your subordinates. It’s about the spiritual as well, inspiring hope, ‘rallying’ those troops so to speak.”
“In that case…I should be leader!” Nightfall spoke up.
All eyes in the room fell on the Dark Avengeress for a few seconds, as if considering the possibilities. Then, they all resumed conversation as if nothing was uttered.
“Shining Star is the most down-to-earth of all of us.” White Venus said with a grin. “She has the most ‘human’ heart and experience. In this ragtag bunch of nocturnal crusaders, Solarin beauties, angels, and Amazonian warriors, she can be that guiding light that we all need in the infinite fight against injustice.”
Sundancer nodded in agreement. “So what is the battle plan, Amazon?”
White Venus’s expression darkened as her eyes returned to the red-grid holographic diagram on the tabletop. Her toes curled within the Sandals of Venus, her whole being wanting nothing more than to rip out of the Citadel in a battle frenzy and tear downtown to that Tower to rescue her closest companion.
She slowly walked towards the door of the room, with the others waiting on her answer with bated breath.
When she reached the door, she said over her shoulder, “I’m flying to the hospital to check on Gabby and Golden Angel. Somebody needs to talk sense into that angel to rest, and I guess I’m that girl. Hail me on the communicators …if…if something comes up.”
With that, the Avatar of Venus continued to her destination, her hands tied, her wits at an end. There was no way to move forward without more information at the current time, and all of the waiting was driving her stir crazy anyway. Right now, it was up to their collected assortment of deities to provide them with a light at the end of a tunnel.
In the cold, antiseptic room that resembled an elevator, Trish held her ground in one corner facing forward, not daring to move. Her trembling left hand held her right arm as she stared straight at the featureless wall, her whole body trembling uncontrollably. And while Superhose whispered reassurances to her thoughts, the wondrous garment itself was steadily increasing in luminosity, as the sheer danger it sensed in proximity was omnipresent.
There were no buttons to push for motion. Instead, it seemed the silvery monstrosity of bones and tubes behind her was the controller of the bizarre vessel, transporting her to God knows where.
A sound interrupted her mental panic, but not for the better. From unseen speakers, a song suddenly reached Trish’s ears, serving only to unhinge her even more.
It was the rock group’s Queen worldwide hit, “Another One Bites The Dust”.
*Don’t give in to the fear, Trish!* Superhose chanted, rallying courage in its owner. *That’s what he wants you to do, to succumb!!*
*How did Gran Evie handle him, Superhose?* Trish asked desperately.
*With faith, kid. Faith.* Superhose assured her.
Just as the pigtailed blonde was about to ask her partner another question, a tiny part of the wall before her suddenly turned transparent. Forming a minuscule circle of clearness, it began to spread slowly, growing bigger by the second. In under a minute, the elevator had become something of a glass box, revealing an expansive fantastic world that was more horrifying to the disguised Protector than astonishing.
While they were within something resembling a typical elevator shaft, speedily ascending to the sky, the levels displayed before them were in measurements impossible by human standards. It was as if each level of the building was simply a peek into a city or countrywide landscape, unfeasible to fit on a typical building floor. However, while each floor had a unique focus, all shared the same frightening theme: the subjection of women.
One floor consisted of a gargantuan ivory maze, with half-naked frightened women racing for their lives from silvery skeletal androids with harsh spotlight eyes. Another had screaming and thrashing women staring into giant eyeball-like machines, which forcefully hypnotized them and forced them to either fight or make out with each other. Yet another floor had women, these in various superheroine costumes, having their naked breasts being strapped into bizarre devices.
*Trish…my goodness…* Superhose marveled. *The Milk Machines.*
*Those poor ladies…* Trish sighed in agony.
The peculiar elevator’s surface suddenly became solid again as it came to a gentle halt. The door opened lengthwise with a woman’s scream, sending chills racing down Trish’s spine. She was a mass of goosebumps when she exited the elevator, not looking back for a second at her inhuman host. Her sandaled foot hit linoleum, or what resembled linoleum.
“Look up, girl.” She whispered to herself, and obeyed her self-command.
Gone was the usual plush, typically CEO-styled office of the Don of Delta City. In its place was a monstrous mutation, a manifestation of mad science gone wild. Like everything else in the Tower, its space was impossible to determine from the outside. Although normal compared to the floors she had witnessed before it, Trish determined that it was at least half a football field, a deduction confirmed by the Superhose measuring it. Gigantic computer screens and multi-colored mainframe panels covered the bulk of the wall space, along with a couple of towering bookcases filled to the brim with literary works. A huge golden desk set directly in the center of the gargantuan room, empty. Behind it was a stripper pole on a raised circular platform, overlooking an extraordinary view of the world famous Delta City skyline. Sitting by the stripper pole was a woman in an Ultra Woman costume and stripper heels, chained to said pole with a golden dog collar and chain.
Immediately before Trish was six clear tubes that she recognized from Superhose’s reminiscence as “Graviton Tubes”. Each one held the statuesque form of a masked heroine beauty, bound by the wrists and ankles by pink energy ropes and pulled violently by the clash of gravitational forces.
“Shimmering Stars!” she exclaimed, slowly walking up to one of the tubes. The poor heroine being held inside made painful eye contact. A scream escaped her bleeding lips.
“You gotta help us!” she sobbed, flexing wildly in her fantastical bonds. “Please!”
Just as Trish’s hand was about to touch the glass surface of the tube, a silvery skeleton landed before her with an earthshattering thud.
“The master will be meeting with you in a few minutes.” It droned with a curtsey. “Please, take a seat.”
Trish’s eyes lingered on her poor fellow crimefighter in dire straits, while Superhose had to nudge her onward. The six Graviton Tubes seemed to form a pathway of sorts, leading to two small chairs directly before the great golden desk. Reluctantly, Trish took a seat, crossing her legs nervously. The silvery skeleton stood behind her, become a still, silent sentinel as it awaited its creator.
The measurement of time became lost to the undercover Golden-Haired Crimebuster as she sat paralyzed in the very throneroom of Hell on Earth. The exasperated screams of the trapped occupants of the Graviton Tubes, combined with the disturbing imagery she had witnessed so far was taking its toll on the poor soul, nearly succeeding in breaking her resolve.
But it was not enough. Trish pressed her lips together, causing a stoic expression to overtake her charming features. She was the champion of Capitol City, and leader of the Protectors of Justice. She wore the legendary Superhose, or Uberhosen, passed down from her grandmother before her, a shining star of her own generation if there ever was one. This creep, this “Overmaster” was simply another madman, like the dozens she had faced in her adventures back home. Lady Chlorofoot, Constricta, her own Don De Cienzo…they had all fallen before her sleek pantyhosed feet.
That train of thought also brought out her one true failure, the Silk Vixen. Detective Sgt. Jack MacTaggert was still months away from a full recovery from her horrendous attack, and while the Sleek-Legged Beauty brought the French miscreant to justice, the damage was still there. From there, her thoughts lingered on Halo, who seemed to mirror her own single-minded vigil at Jac Mac’s bedside all those weeks ago. It seemed down right hypocritical to talk the Angelic Avenger away from her self-induced post by the comatose Golden Angel’s side, but it had to be done.
For Trish had a first hand experience of the darkness of revenge consuming one’s soul.
*Trish!* Superhose ripped her from her mental reverie. *Look at that!*
The pigtailed blonde obeyed her partner’s cerebral nudge, glancing down at her feet, and gasped audibly. The floor was an amber color and transparent. Below her very feet was a giant pool of sorts, with no visible bottom. Swimming inside that pool, an inch beneath the floor’s clear surface was a giant silvery leviathan, resembling a fat snakelike creature. Its gargantuan head was a silvery skull, just like the silvery skeletal creatures, with laser-red spotlight eyes. Swimming frantically before it was a long-haired beauty with a stunning upper female form and a sleek fishlike body with jewel-like green scales.
It was an actual mermaid of legend.
*That is a Surfacer Synturion.* Superhose reported in a frightened tone. *They can seem to swim through concrete as well as water because of their burrowing capabilities. They can capture a superheroine by swallowing her whole and then squeezing her either into unconsciousness or death.*
*Oh my goodness…* Trish marveled. *Like that “Tremors” movie?*
*Oh, Trish, my dear…please, please forgive me. There was a pact between your Gran Evie and I to forget the war we fought in all those years ago. And I guess it had succeeded. It should have fallen into place when the Dirty Pair was attacked in Yoshiwara…but here…everything is coming back…*
*So what are those skeleton things?*
*Trish…they are the thing of nightmares. Chloroformed-powered gynoids, the horrifying personification of perversion and mad science. Built to be mockeries of superheroines, our mirror duplicates, though horrifically caricatured…Synturions. The Heroine-Hunters. Tireless. Deadly. And like myself…indestructible…*
*Nothing evil is indestructible, Superhose.*
*And yet, your conviction is lacking, kid.*
As the mental exchange was unfolding, the mermaid had led the Surfacer Synturion on a frenzied chase in the murky water, and had even disappeared from view for a moment. But suddenly, as Trish watched helplessly, the blonde creature of myth had returned, her tail fin a blur as she soared up from the depths to where the heroine was sitting. She pounded on the surface beneath Trish’s feet, her frantic small fists making no noise for the petite blonde to hear.
“I’m sorry!” Trish choked back a sob, shaking her head frenetically. She glanced away from a moment, trying not to make eye contact with the mermaid directly below her.
But curiosity returned her gaze to the floor, where the mermaid was in tears, her hands covering her eyes. Directly below her, huge red twin spotlights lanced out of the gloom, heralding the head-on charge of the mammoth Surfacer threat.
“Below you!” Trish fell to her knees, slapping the floor madly, trying to gain the attention of the mermaid. Sadly, however, the watery maiden was engrossed in her sobbing, oblivious to the menace that loomed seconds away.
*We can’t save her, Trish.* Superhose said sadly. *At least…not right now…*
“We can’t give up!” Trish shouted audibly, smacking the floor frantically. The mermaid still did not budge from her position. It seemed that she had relinquished herself to her fate.
The silvery skull face of the abomination opened wide, revealing a hole darker than the water surrounding it. Just as it was about to consume the water nymph whole-
“My apologies for my tardiness.” A deep, eloquent masculine voice, mechanically filtered, startled Trish. Welcoming the interruption, the young woman’s bespectacled eyes fell upon the newest visitor to the room. A black caped armored figure appeared, emerging from a skull’s mouth that had spontaneously formed from the wall itself. It, or he was followed by two Synturions, pushing along the limp, lethargic form of an attractive young woman. A third Synturion emerged thereafter, reading a clipboard in one skeletal hand and holding a cup of steaming tea in the other. When it had fully stepped into the room, the mouth of the skull closed. The giant cranium, displaying a horrifying grin, melted into the wall, reverting it to its original solid form.
Sighing, the armored man removed his flowing cape and hung it on a metal coat rack that had risen out of the floor behind his desk. The two Synturions holding the sluggish beauty threw her harshly on the desk and stepped back, taking positions on both sides of their master’s massive red chair. Her mind initially in a haze, Trish paid no attention to the woman lying drowsy before her. Then the familiarity began to overtake her senses, rendering her speechless.
The beauty had a richly tanned skin, with her luscious raven hair twisted in unique braids, accentuated by red beads at the tips. A thin golden tiara with a single ruby gem at the center adorned her forehead, coordinating with the ruby diamond that hung from a golden necklace around her slender throat. Her gorgeous, athletic form was clad in leopard skin, consisting of a mere one strap bra and bikini briefs. Her strong, shapely legs and pretty feet were covered with sleek shimmering pantyhose, adorned with straps that started at her ankles and tied at her knees.
Besides White Venus, this unfortunate champion of justice was also Shining Star’s best friend and ally.
She was known as Malkia Msaka…The Hunter Queen.
Trish’s fists clenched, taking every fiber in her being, as well as Superhose’s coaxing, to maintain her composure.
The armored being sat in his great chair slowly, visually taking great joy in inspecting the dazed crimefighter on his desk before him. He opened her legs wide, painstakingly sliding his metal talons her muscled, pantyhosed limbs.
“You don’t mind if I answer your questions while working, do you?” His flaring red eyes locked on the quivering woman in his midst.
Trish shook her head meekly, fighting every urge to leap over the desk and kick the monster’s head off of his shoulders.
“Good.” His gaze returned to the Hunter Queen’s legs, specifically her pantyhose. “The famous ‘Wonder Hose’…created by James Haversham…thought to have been lost in the wilds of Africa…”
A moan escaped from the lethargic Jungle Queen’s lips, muddled words that sent both Trish and her Superhose cringing in horror.
“Perfume…” she whispered, her head thrashing about on the cusp of unconsciousness. “I smell…Star’s perfume…”
TO BE CONTINUED!
There were no buttons to push for motion. Instead, it seemed the silvery monstrosity of bones and tubes behind her was the controller of the bizarre vessel, transporting her to God knows where.
A sound interrupted her mental panic, but not for the better. From unseen speakers, a song suddenly reached Trish’s ears, serving only to unhinge her even more.
It was the rock group’s Queen worldwide hit, “Another One Bites The Dust”.
*Don’t give in to the fear, Trish!* Superhose chanted, rallying courage in its owner. *That’s what he wants you to do, to succumb!!*
*How did Gran Evie handle him, Superhose?* Trish asked desperately.
*With faith, kid. Faith.* Superhose assured her.
Just as the pigtailed blonde was about to ask her partner another question, a tiny part of the wall before her suddenly turned transparent. Forming a minuscule circle of clearness, it began to spread slowly, growing bigger by the second. In under a minute, the elevator had become something of a glass box, revealing an expansive fantastic world that was more horrifying to the disguised Protector than astonishing.
While they were within something resembling a typical elevator shaft, speedily ascending to the sky, the levels displayed before them were in measurements impossible by human standards. It was as if each level of the building was simply a peek into a city or countrywide landscape, unfeasible to fit on a typical building floor. However, while each floor had a unique focus, all shared the same frightening theme: the subjection of women.
One floor consisted of a gargantuan ivory maze, with half-naked frightened women racing for their lives from silvery skeletal androids with harsh spotlight eyes. Another had screaming and thrashing women staring into giant eyeball-like machines, which forcefully hypnotized them and forced them to either fight or make out with each other. Yet another floor had women, these in various superheroine costumes, having their naked breasts being strapped into bizarre devices.
*Trish…my goodness…* Superhose marveled. *The Milk Machines.*
*Those poor ladies…* Trish sighed in agony.
The peculiar elevator’s surface suddenly became solid again as it came to a gentle halt. The door opened lengthwise with a woman’s scream, sending chills racing down Trish’s spine. She was a mass of goosebumps when she exited the elevator, not looking back for a second at her inhuman host. Her sandaled foot hit linoleum, or what resembled linoleum.
“Look up, girl.” She whispered to herself, and obeyed her self-command.
Gone was the usual plush, typically CEO-styled office of the Don of Delta City. In its place was a monstrous mutation, a manifestation of mad science gone wild. Like everything else in the Tower, its space was impossible to determine from the outside. Although normal compared to the floors she had witnessed before it, Trish determined that it was at least half a football field, a deduction confirmed by the Superhose measuring it. Gigantic computer screens and multi-colored mainframe panels covered the bulk of the wall space, along with a couple of towering bookcases filled to the brim with literary works. A huge golden desk set directly in the center of the gargantuan room, empty. Behind it was a stripper pole on a raised circular platform, overlooking an extraordinary view of the world famous Delta City skyline. Sitting by the stripper pole was a woman in an Ultra Woman costume and stripper heels, chained to said pole with a golden dog collar and chain.
Immediately before Trish was six clear tubes that she recognized from Superhose’s reminiscence as “Graviton Tubes”. Each one held the statuesque form of a masked heroine beauty, bound by the wrists and ankles by pink energy ropes and pulled violently by the clash of gravitational forces.
“Shimmering Stars!” she exclaimed, slowly walking up to one of the tubes. The poor heroine being held inside made painful eye contact. A scream escaped her bleeding lips.
“You gotta help us!” she sobbed, flexing wildly in her fantastical bonds. “Please!”
Just as Trish’s hand was about to touch the glass surface of the tube, a silvery skeleton landed before her with an earthshattering thud.
“The master will be meeting with you in a few minutes.” It droned with a curtsey. “Please, take a seat.”
Trish’s eyes lingered on her poor fellow crimefighter in dire straits, while Superhose had to nudge her onward. The six Graviton Tubes seemed to form a pathway of sorts, leading to two small chairs directly before the great golden desk. Reluctantly, Trish took a seat, crossing her legs nervously. The silvery skeleton stood behind her, become a still, silent sentinel as it awaited its creator.
The measurement of time became lost to the undercover Golden-Haired Crimebuster as she sat paralyzed in the very throneroom of Hell on Earth. The exasperated screams of the trapped occupants of the Graviton Tubes, combined with the disturbing imagery she had witnessed so far was taking its toll on the poor soul, nearly succeeding in breaking her resolve.
But it was not enough. Trish pressed her lips together, causing a stoic expression to overtake her charming features. She was the champion of Capitol City, and leader of the Protectors of Justice. She wore the legendary Superhose, or Uberhosen, passed down from her grandmother before her, a shining star of her own generation if there ever was one. This creep, this “Overmaster” was simply another madman, like the dozens she had faced in her adventures back home. Lady Chlorofoot, Constricta, her own Don De Cienzo…they had all fallen before her sleek pantyhosed feet.
That train of thought also brought out her one true failure, the Silk Vixen. Detective Sgt. Jack MacTaggert was still months away from a full recovery from her horrendous attack, and while the Sleek-Legged Beauty brought the French miscreant to justice, the damage was still there. From there, her thoughts lingered on Halo, who seemed to mirror her own single-minded vigil at Jac Mac’s bedside all those weeks ago. It seemed down right hypocritical to talk the Angelic Avenger away from her self-induced post by the comatose Golden Angel’s side, but it had to be done.
For Trish had a first hand experience of the darkness of revenge consuming one’s soul.
*Trish!* Superhose ripped her from her mental reverie. *Look at that!*
The pigtailed blonde obeyed her partner’s cerebral nudge, glancing down at her feet, and gasped audibly. The floor was an amber color and transparent. Below her very feet was a giant pool of sorts, with no visible bottom. Swimming inside that pool, an inch beneath the floor’s clear surface was a giant silvery leviathan, resembling a fat snakelike creature. Its gargantuan head was a silvery skull, just like the silvery skeletal creatures, with laser-red spotlight eyes. Swimming frantically before it was a long-haired beauty with a stunning upper female form and a sleek fishlike body with jewel-like green scales.
It was an actual mermaid of legend.
*That is a Surfacer Synturion.* Superhose reported in a frightened tone. *They can seem to swim through concrete as well as water because of their burrowing capabilities. They can capture a superheroine by swallowing her whole and then squeezing her either into unconsciousness or death.*
*Oh my goodness…* Trish marveled. *Like that “Tremors” movie?*
*Oh, Trish, my dear…please, please forgive me. There was a pact between your Gran Evie and I to forget the war we fought in all those years ago. And I guess it had succeeded. It should have fallen into place when the Dirty Pair was attacked in Yoshiwara…but here…everything is coming back…*
*So what are those skeleton things?*
*Trish…they are the thing of nightmares. Chloroformed-powered gynoids, the horrifying personification of perversion and mad science. Built to be mockeries of superheroines, our mirror duplicates, though horrifically caricatured…Synturions. The Heroine-Hunters. Tireless. Deadly. And like myself…indestructible…*
*Nothing evil is indestructible, Superhose.*
*And yet, your conviction is lacking, kid.*
As the mental exchange was unfolding, the mermaid had led the Surfacer Synturion on a frenzied chase in the murky water, and had even disappeared from view for a moment. But suddenly, as Trish watched helplessly, the blonde creature of myth had returned, her tail fin a blur as she soared up from the depths to where the heroine was sitting. She pounded on the surface beneath Trish’s feet, her frantic small fists making no noise for the petite blonde to hear.
“I’m sorry!” Trish choked back a sob, shaking her head frenetically. She glanced away from a moment, trying not to make eye contact with the mermaid directly below her.
But curiosity returned her gaze to the floor, where the mermaid was in tears, her hands covering her eyes. Directly below her, huge red twin spotlights lanced out of the gloom, heralding the head-on charge of the mammoth Surfacer threat.
“Below you!” Trish fell to her knees, slapping the floor madly, trying to gain the attention of the mermaid. Sadly, however, the watery maiden was engrossed in her sobbing, oblivious to the menace that loomed seconds away.
*We can’t save her, Trish.* Superhose said sadly. *At least…not right now…*
“We can’t give up!” Trish shouted audibly, smacking the floor frantically. The mermaid still did not budge from her position. It seemed that she had relinquished herself to her fate.
The silvery skull face of the abomination opened wide, revealing a hole darker than the water surrounding it. Just as it was about to consume the water nymph whole-
“My apologies for my tardiness.” A deep, eloquent masculine voice, mechanically filtered, startled Trish. Welcoming the interruption, the young woman’s bespectacled eyes fell upon the newest visitor to the room. A black caped armored figure appeared, emerging from a skull’s mouth that had spontaneously formed from the wall itself. It, or he was followed by two Synturions, pushing along the limp, lethargic form of an attractive young woman. A third Synturion emerged thereafter, reading a clipboard in one skeletal hand and holding a cup of steaming tea in the other. When it had fully stepped into the room, the mouth of the skull closed. The giant cranium, displaying a horrifying grin, melted into the wall, reverting it to its original solid form.
Sighing, the armored man removed his flowing cape and hung it on a metal coat rack that had risen out of the floor behind his desk. The two Synturions holding the sluggish beauty threw her harshly on the desk and stepped back, taking positions on both sides of their master’s massive red chair. Her mind initially in a haze, Trish paid no attention to the woman lying drowsy before her. Then the familiarity began to overtake her senses, rendering her speechless.
The beauty had a richly tanned skin, with her luscious raven hair twisted in unique braids, accentuated by red beads at the tips. A thin golden tiara with a single ruby gem at the center adorned her forehead, coordinating with the ruby diamond that hung from a golden necklace around her slender throat. Her gorgeous, athletic form was clad in leopard skin, consisting of a mere one strap bra and bikini briefs. Her strong, shapely legs and pretty feet were covered with sleek shimmering pantyhose, adorned with straps that started at her ankles and tied at her knees.
Besides White Venus, this unfortunate champion of justice was also Shining Star’s best friend and ally.
She was known as Malkia Msaka…The Hunter Queen.
Trish’s fists clenched, taking every fiber in her being, as well as Superhose’s coaxing, to maintain her composure.
The armored being sat in his great chair slowly, visually taking great joy in inspecting the dazed crimefighter on his desk before him. He opened her legs wide, painstakingly sliding his metal talons her muscled, pantyhosed limbs.
“You don’t mind if I answer your questions while working, do you?” His flaring red eyes locked on the quivering woman in his midst.
Trish shook her head meekly, fighting every urge to leap over the desk and kick the monster’s head off of his shoulders.
“Good.” His gaze returned to the Hunter Queen’s legs, specifically her pantyhose. “The famous ‘Wonder Hose’…created by James Haversham…thought to have been lost in the wilds of Africa…”
A moan escaped from the lethargic Jungle Queen’s lips, muddled words that sent both Trish and her Superhose cringing in horror.
“Perfume…” she whispered, her head thrashing about on the cusp of unconsciousness. “I smell…Star’s perfume…”
TO BE CONTINUED!
I decided to consolidate the new Overmaster Wars stories under one thread. I planning to continue the story here, so I hope you all enjoy it.
Detachment was the next feeling experienced by Trish, overwhelmingly physical as opposed to emotional. The world before her eyes became still as time seemingly crystallized around her. Yet her body was not her own; slender legs hardened into well-developed limbs of steel as they propelled her forward at the speed of sound. Her sandals literally disintegrated, although the Wondrous Superhose held strong, indomitable and invulnerable as ever.
After all, it was the Uberhosen that was taking the first strike.
The now not so petite golden blonde was riding shotgun in her own voluptuous form, watching as her left foot and leg drew back while her right leg extended forward, foot aimed directly for the horned head of her greatest foe(at least from Superhose’s perspective), ready to kick it off of his metal shoulders. Her civilian clothes was torn away as well by the burst of speed, revealing the sleek red, gold, and blue uniform of the Woman with The Most Powerful Legs in the World.
At the same time, a jumble of horrifying images overwhelmed the Golden-Haired Crimebuster’s mind. She saw Gran Evie, as the Shining Star before her, sobbing piteously on a rooftop, surrounded by the empty costumes of her fellow Protectors, all forever captured by the Synturions. She saw the Milking Machines and the testing grounds for new superheroine submission equipment. She saw superheroines begin dragged, kicking and screaming, into the shadows by skeletal silhouettes with spotlight eyes.
*Superhose, what are you doing?!* Trish’s awareness finally caught up with her body.
SSHHING!!!!!!!
Her sensual physique sung as it flew over the desk in the span of a nanosecond, a shimmering pantyhosed foot slicing through the air towards Overmaster’s head in an awe-inspiring high kick. However, the Synturions flanking the metropolitan tyrant demonstrated their speed as well, with one pulling him to the side to safety while the other took his place in the line of fire.
Even the adamantine skull of a Synturion could not stand against the mighty foot of Shining Star, which applied the force of one thousand pounds per square inch.
A powerful shockwave rippled through the building as foot connected to cranium. The floor quaked, and the delirious body of Hunter Queen was tossed from the desk, landing lifelessly before it. The stripper, who was cowering behind her pole, screamed as she was yanked in the air to the end of her chain and thrown to the ground just as quickly. The Synturion’s head snapped completely from its body and flew through the air, embedding itself in the window, causing an explosion of cracks.
*Superhose!* Shining Star admonished her incredible garment, feeling control of her body returned to her.
*Get away from the body, Trish!* Superhose ordered. *The chloroform can spurt out and affect you!*
The Pretty Powerhouse leaped backward clumsily, watching with horrified eyes as the headless robot danced a spastic jig before collapsing in a symphony of clashing metal. True to Superhose’s warning, jets of the lethal chloroform surged from the neck, arms, and legs of the defeated minion.
*Superhose! I thought we were going to play this cool!* Trish fussed.
*Trish…I…I’m sorry…* The wonderful garment whispered. The image of her grandmother crying returned to Trish’s mind eye once again, but with audible words. Gran Evie was talking to Superhose.
“Make me forget, Superhose…” she sobbed. “Overmaster…my friends…make me forget…please…”
“Evelyn…”Superhose trailed off.
*Oh my God, Superhose…* Trish fought back her own tears. *Is this what Gran went through?*
*I’m sorry I took control, kid.* Superhose told her. *This monster…so much pain he sent us through, so much torment…I let revenge cloud my judgement and nearly compromised your morals-*
*You don’t have to apologize, Superhose.* Shining Star reassured. *As I said before…I trust you completely.*
“You are the splitting image of your predecessor, Shining Star.” Overmaster grinned as he surveyed the scene. “Although she must not had warned you that I could easily detect the unique energy signature of the Uberhosen.”
After all, it was the Uberhosen that was taking the first strike.
The now not so petite golden blonde was riding shotgun in her own voluptuous form, watching as her left foot and leg drew back while her right leg extended forward, foot aimed directly for the horned head of her greatest foe(at least from Superhose’s perspective), ready to kick it off of his metal shoulders. Her civilian clothes was torn away as well by the burst of speed, revealing the sleek red, gold, and blue uniform of the Woman with The Most Powerful Legs in the World.
At the same time, a jumble of horrifying images overwhelmed the Golden-Haired Crimebuster’s mind. She saw Gran Evie, as the Shining Star before her, sobbing piteously on a rooftop, surrounded by the empty costumes of her fellow Protectors, all forever captured by the Synturions. She saw the Milking Machines and the testing grounds for new superheroine submission equipment. She saw superheroines begin dragged, kicking and screaming, into the shadows by skeletal silhouettes with spotlight eyes.
*Superhose, what are you doing?!* Trish’s awareness finally caught up with her body.
SSHHING!!!!!!!
Her sensual physique sung as it flew over the desk in the span of a nanosecond, a shimmering pantyhosed foot slicing through the air towards Overmaster’s head in an awe-inspiring high kick. However, the Synturions flanking the metropolitan tyrant demonstrated their speed as well, with one pulling him to the side to safety while the other took his place in the line of fire.
Even the adamantine skull of a Synturion could not stand against the mighty foot of Shining Star, which applied the force of one thousand pounds per square inch.
A powerful shockwave rippled through the building as foot connected to cranium. The floor quaked, and the delirious body of Hunter Queen was tossed from the desk, landing lifelessly before it. The stripper, who was cowering behind her pole, screamed as she was yanked in the air to the end of her chain and thrown to the ground just as quickly. The Synturion’s head snapped completely from its body and flew through the air, embedding itself in the window, causing an explosion of cracks.
*Superhose!* Shining Star admonished her incredible garment, feeling control of her body returned to her.
*Get away from the body, Trish!* Superhose ordered. *The chloroform can spurt out and affect you!*
The Pretty Powerhouse leaped backward clumsily, watching with horrified eyes as the headless robot danced a spastic jig before collapsing in a symphony of clashing metal. True to Superhose’s warning, jets of the lethal chloroform surged from the neck, arms, and legs of the defeated minion.
*Superhose! I thought we were going to play this cool!* Trish fussed.
*Trish…I…I’m sorry…* The wonderful garment whispered. The image of her grandmother crying returned to Trish’s mind eye once again, but with audible words. Gran Evie was talking to Superhose.
“Make me forget, Superhose…” she sobbed. “Overmaster…my friends…make me forget…please…”
“Evelyn…”Superhose trailed off.
*Oh my God, Superhose…* Trish fought back her own tears. *Is this what Gran went through?*
*I’m sorry I took control, kid.* Superhose told her. *This monster…so much pain he sent us through, so much torment…I let revenge cloud my judgement and nearly compromised your morals-*
*You don’t have to apologize, Superhose.* Shining Star reassured. *As I said before…I trust you completely.*
“You are the splitting image of your predecessor, Shining Star.” Overmaster grinned as he surveyed the scene. “Although she must not had warned you that I could easily detect the unique energy signature of the Uberhosen.”