Fuchsia Fox: "The Strike of the Sidewinder"

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[Parts of this may seem familiar (mainly chapter 2), because to be perfectly honest, I got the idea from Supbond's "Wonder Woman versus The Mercenary". That was a good story, but it left me wondering "What happens next?" I tried to make my Sidewinder character different enough, but if I didn't manage it, I sincerely apologize. This is another "retro" story, taking place when the Fox was still establishing her reputation.]

Fuchsia Fox: "The Strike of the Sidewinder"

Chapter 1 -- Ronald Reagan National Airport, Washington, D.C.

When the flight attendant announced that the seat belt signs were lit and the plane would shortly be landing in Washington D.C., Jennifer Traylor let out an audible sigh of relief. The pretty 22-year-old brunette had been leaning against her window, resting her eyes and pretending to sleep.

"What did I tell ya?" said her seat mate to her left. He was a lean, athletic man of about thirty-five or so, with a blond crew cut, wearing a light gray shirt unbuttoned enough to show off a gold chain hanging down his chest, and over it a darker gray sport coat and slacks. And he never seemed to stop talking. "Almost there. Won't be long now. Need help with that, sexy?"

"I've got it, thanks," Jennifer said with a weary smile as she fastened her seat belt, knowing that after a more than three hour flight she couldn't possibly be all that attractive. She had dressed for comfort -- wedge heels, faded blue jeans, a white teeshirt and one of her boyfriend's shirts with the cuffs rolled up -- but after the trip from Augusta, Georgia, where she had spent Thanksgiving with her father and her step-sister Ashley, she was starting to feel a bit frazzled.

Jennifer felt nervous about traveling by air these days anyway. There was no way she was going to leave her Fuchsia Fox costume or her bracelets of Ishtar in her luggage. She only felt safe wearing the costume under her clothes, but with airport security getting more intrusive all the time, she worried that they would somehow detect the Zumerian technology that her accouterments were made of. She could imagine so vividly being caught by TSA officers and forced to strip, revealing her secret identity! How embarrassing would that be?

Her anxiety had not been helped a bit by "Leisure-suit Larry" in the seat beside her, hitting on her and smoking... that is, "vaping" his electronic cigarettes. "I've been working out of South America these days," he said, lighting up another one. "But I try to take connecting flights to come in by Reagan instead of Dulles when I can. Less crowded, less hassle all around." He paused to blow white mist through his teeth. "Just flying in for a quick job, then I'm out again. Hey, maybe we can get together while I'm in town, huh? Dinner and dancing? What do ya say, sexy?"

Jennifer was on the verge of telling him that her boyfriend was an Army Ranger, but in the end just decided to ignore the overture.

The plane landed and taxied in, and then there was the usual hustle and bustle about disembarking. "Take it easy, sexy," said Jennifer's seat mate, giving her a wink as he vanished into the jostling crowd. She took her sweet time getting her carry-on bag down from the overhead compartment, so that she was almost the last one off the plane.

Martin Fletcher was there to meet Jennifer at the arrival gate, looking scrumptious in jeans and a pin stripe shirt. He slipped one arm around her waist and kissed her -- nothing too ostentatious here in a public place, but warm enough and deep enough to get her heart thumping and her juices flowing, a reminder of how much he had missed her and a promise of more once they were alone.

"So how was your trip?" Fletcher asked, with one hand underneath her over-sized shirt and touching her denim-clad booty.

"Mmmmm... the usual..." Jennifer said huskily, feeling a warm surge of arousal. "There was this guy in the seat next to me... you'll never believe..."

By a startling coincidence, the man with the blond crew cut was coming up the escalator from baggage claim, only he was now wearing the uniform of an airport security officer -- white shirt, black trousers, weapons belt and everything!

"That's odd," Jennifer said quietly as he took up a position where he could watch everyone coming and going. "That's the same guy, in the TSA uniform."

"He came in on the plane with you?" Fletcher asked suspiciously. "Are you sure?"

Jennifer bit her lip, certain there was no mistake. His nervous energy looked all too familiar as he rocked forward and back on the balls of his feet, scanning the crowd as if waiting for someone. Her instincts immediately told her that something wasn't right. And all she wanted right now was to go home to her apartment and relax.

She sighed. "Martin, something tells me I need to find a place to change."

***

Special Agent Zachary Hardcastle got off the flight from New York along with the white-haired older man in a blue-gray suit he was escorting. He took a quick glance at his wrist-watch. A few minutes behind schedule, but nothing major.

"Are you Hardcastle?" said a TSA officer with a blond crew cut. "The Director needs to speak with you urgently. This way."

"Why couldn't he call my cell phone?" the agent replied impatiently. "We're on our way to the White House now. What's it about?"

"Search me, man," the officer said with a shrug. "All I know is they have a video conference set up in the V.I.P. lounge. You coming or not?"

"All right," Hardcastle sighed, turning to the man he was escorting. "I'm sure it's nothing to be alarmed about, colonel."

The other man frowned. "Let us hope so," he said in an Eastern European accent. "If the Cartel have found out I am here..."

The officer led them into an empty waiting room, about twenty feet by twenty, with one section of clear window looking out over the taxiway and interior walls made of frosted glass and fiberboard. About a dozen upholstered chair units were scattered about. The officer followed them inside and quietly locked the door behind him.

Hardcastle looked around the room. There was a flat plasma screen mounted on the wall, but it was not even turned on. "What the hell--?" the agent said, just as the officer pulled a Taser and zapped him. Hardcastle dropped to the floor almost before he knew what hit him.

"Now, Colonel Jasnowski," said the officer as he holstered his Taser on his left side. "We're all alone." His TSA uniform rippled and vanished like a hologram. Underneath the illusion, he was wearing a sandy brown full body suit made of some sort of metallic mesh, with a black zig-zag pattern up and down his chest, pads on the shoulders and a close-fitting hood half-covering his head. Half a dozen flat, square objects were arranged along his belt.

"Who are you?" the white-haired man said nervously, backing away against the wall.

"You don't need to know my name, pops," the blond man said with a grin. "You can just call me Sidewinder!"

"I warn you," Jasnowski said, "the American State Department--"

"You can save your warnings, too," Sidewinder sneered. "The Cartel ain't impressed." As he raised his right arm, it became apparent that molded to the back of each glove was a flat box with a slim beam emitter, and a cable running from it along his arm and down his torso to connect with the power packs on his belt. He took aim and pointed the emitter straight at Jasnowski's forehead, where a tiny red bead of light appeared.

"In about ten seconds, you're gonna be dead as a doornail. Any last words?"

***

Chapter 2 --


CRASH!!!! Suddenly the glass wall behind him shattered. Sidewinder flinched involuntarily just as he fired, causing the laser beam in his glove to miss his target and carve a smoking path across the plyboard ceiling.

"What the hell?" the would-be assassin cursed.

Jasnowski dove for safety behind a chair unit, from where he looked up cautiously as a slender female figure darted swiftly through the opening she had made and took up a protective position between him and his attacker.

She was an extremely beautiful woman, with short brunette hair dancing around her face. Her sleek young body was dressed in a clingy, two-piece costume of vivid purplish pink spandex... briefs and a halter top dominated by a triangular fox-head chest emblem stretched across her nubile bust. Her gorgeous bare legs ended in matching ankle boots, while her arms were clad in elbow length gloves. From his position behind her, Jasnowski had a pleasant view of the rounded curves of her pert little tail.

"Put down your weapons and surrender," the girl commanded sternly, putting her hands on her trim, shapely hips.

Sidewinder grinned as he drank in the sight of her. "Where did you come from, sexy? Nobody briefed me about you."

"I'm the Fuchsia Fox," the heroine scowled, her brown eyes warily scanning his metallic mesh suit and the unknown devices on its belt. "Put down your weapons."

"Can't do it, buttercup," the villain said, shifting his outstretched arm so that the little red laser bead appeared squarely in the center of her beautiful chest. "Seriously. They're built into the outfit." He gently shook his head. "I got business with Jasnowski here. Man talk. Be a good chick and go powder your nose or something before you get hurt."

"Not going to happen," the stunning superheroine retorted, standing her ground and tossing her short brunette tresses haughtily.

"I don't wanna shoot a skirt," the villain smirked as he lowered the aim of his laser, the red bead tracking down the Fox's heavenly torso, her belly, and along her shapely hip to rest on her smooth, bare thigh. "But I'll just wing ya to get ya out of my way, and maybe we can have some fun after..."

From the emitter on the back of his glove, a searing red laser beam shot out, glanced off the heroine's flawless body, and struck the frosted wall, simultaneously melting and shattering the glass.

"You're from out of town, aren't you, sport?" the Fox said smugly. "I've got a force shield." The gallant girl quickly sprang forward and punched him in jaw, or tried to. Her fist actually passed straight through him. His image rippled like an illusion and vanished.

"It ain't as good as a force shield," Sidewinder said calmly, now standing a yard or two away, "but it'll do. The suit's imaging processors displace light waves randomly anywhere from 20 to 60 degrees. I don't wanna bore you to death, but the upshot is I'm not really standing where it looks like I'm standing."

"Do tell?" the Fox said. Whereupon the sexy supergirl spun around and leaped nimbly into the air, lashing out with both lovely legs in opposite directions. One high heel connected with the assassin's chest, slamming him to the floor.

"Yeah, that felt like about a 30 degree displacement," she said, landing catlike on her feet. "You ready to call it a day?"

"Real cute, superbabe," Sidewinder said, grimacing as he made a quick adjustment to his equipment. "How does that funky force shield stand up to Rapid Fire?"

Bracing his right wrist with his left hand, he fired a burst of laser pulses, ten per second, each one carrying the same energy as the initial beam. The Fox held firm, her pretty eyes narrowed in concentration as she repulsed the attack. The strain was unbelievable, the energy pulses hammering at her force shield, glancing off and ricocheting around the room. Jasnowski put his head down and hugged the floor as laser fire sprayed in all directions, riddling the walls and the furniture.

Amazed that the girl was still standing, Sidewinder increased the rate of fire to twenty per second. The spunky superheroine strained with the mental effort required to keep up her force shield. One pulse got through, grazing her right hip on the side of her briefs. "AHHH!" As the Fox cried out, a second struck her left shoulder, searing her flesh and snipping through the strap that held up her halter top. Recoiling from the pain, she tumbled backwards over a chair unit and hit the floor.

Her assailant ceased fire and got to his feet. "Let that be a lesson to ya, buttercup," he sneered. "Nobody beats the Sidewinder."

"Hold it! Hands up!" Two TSA officers with sidearms appeared at the opening that the Fox had made by her dramatic entrance. In fact, much of the room's walls had been chewed to pieces by ricochets, so that there was a nearly 360 degree view through offices on one side and the airport terminal on the other. More security guards were moving in through a crowd of gathering sightseers.

"Oh crap," Sidewinder cursed disgustedly, checking his armament. "Taking down the skirt drained my power cells. Where ya at, Jasnowski?"

The white haired man stuck his head up from behind his precarious refuge.

"I'm not done with you," the assassin said, as he reached around to his back and unslung a flat object that looked very much like a skateboard without wheels. "You're a dead man. I'll catch you later."

"Are you deaf?" the TSA officer in the doorway called. "I said HANDS UP!"

"Go frisk yourself," Sidewinder sneered, leaping onto his hoverboard and taking off through the window that overlooked the runway. The TSA officers both opened fire, but because of the displacement effect still active in his suit, the bullets passed right through his image.

"N-no..." the Fox groaned, picking herself up off the floor. "Come back here!" Clutching her torn halter top in front of her, the spunky girl tried to give chase, but the stabbing pain in her side stopped her from getting very far.

"Hold it, lady! Put your hands behind your head!" Four more TSA officers with Tasers had arrived, along with two men in dark suits armed with handguns, who she took to be Air Marshals.

Jennifer grimaced. She could probably overpower them and escape. With her force shield, Tasers and ordinary sidearms were no threat. But that was not the way superheroines were supposed to act. She wasn't some kind of out-of-control vigilante. How could the authorities ever trust her if she did things like that?

"Okay," the Fox said meekly. "Take it easy. I surrender."

"I said hands behind your head!" the man repeated, keeping the scantily-clad superheroine covered with his Taser.

Everything seemed to freeze for a moment as the Fox stood there surrounded by security agents, her arms wrapped across her chest holding her halter top up to her sweet young bosom. A crowd of bystanders had also gathered, straining to see what was going on. It dawned on the men that if she complied with the order and raised her hands, her top would fall open and they would all get a free look at her two ripe, delicious coconuts, unrestrained and unprotected. You could almost feel their pulses speed up and their hormone levels rise in anticipation as they waited to see what she would do.

"Not a chance, boys," the Fox said at last, her cheeks flushing slightly.
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Excellent! Excited to read more!
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tallyho
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Nice job Mr C.
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digitalbleh
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good story, look forward to more.
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Nicely done. Different enough from Mercenary that it's not an issue in my mind. Of course, the hover board is straight out of Back to the Future, so you may have to pay royalties on that. :smile: In any cae, looking forward to more.
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I much appreciate the kind words from all. Now on with the next installment...

***

Chapter 3 --

"I told you, my name is the Fuchsia Fox."

The guards had escorted the stunning superheroine through the crowd of onlookers to the TSA offices. In passing, Jennifer had received a reassuring nod from Martin, who was holding on to her carry-on bag and her street clothes (funny to think of them that way). She had given him a quick shake of her head in return. There was no point in him being compromised, too.

Now inside a well-lit, white paneled conference room, the Fuchsia Fox sat at one end of a table with her gloved arms crossed in front of her supple bust to keep her halter top from falling. The angry red burn on her bare left shoulder had been dressed and bandaged. The wound on her hip smarted where it rubbed against her briefs, but the heroine dared not move her hands to touch it. With her halter torn like this, she couldn't help feeling vulnerable with three male TSA officials standing and glaring down at her, none of them in the best of moods.

"You can call yourself the fairy Tinkerbell for all I care, young lady," grumbled the man who seemed the oldest and highest in rank. "I want to know who you really are, and how you got inside my airport in that provocative little outfit without passing through the security detectors!"

"That's kind of a trade secret," the Fox said. "Is Mr. Jasnowski all right?"

"How did you and your cohort smuggle all those weapons inside?" said the second man.

"He's not my 'cohort'," the heroine retorted. "I stopped him from murdering someone, in case you didn't notice."

The third man gave a scornful snort. "It looked to me like you were the one getting her pretty little tail spanked, buffed and waxed, sweetheart. Look, who are you really? You might as well tell us. You're not even wearing a mask anyway."

The Fox's cheeks colored. "You have pictures of me off your security cameras, don't you?" she replied a bit nervously. "Has your face recognition software matched me yet?" One of the properties of her Zumerian costume was to enhance her beauty and sex appeal, incidentally making it impossible to capture a 100% accurate image of her face. But damaged as it was, would it still work?

The grin vanished from the man's face, putting her mind at ease on that score. Meanwhile the first man said, "You don't seem to realize how serious this is, young woman. Under the Patriot Act, we have the authority to confiscate your weapons and remove your gloves, by force if necessary, so that you can be fingerprinted."

The Fox narrowed her eyes. "I advise you not to try it," she said dangerously.

The door opened suddenly, and a man in a dark suit walked in carrying a file folder. "What's going on here, Rivers?" he demanded. "Why wasn't I told about this?"

"Agent Hardcastle!" the Fox cried, glad to see a familiar face. "Is Mr. Jasnowski all right?"

"He's fine, Fox," the FBI man said. "No thanks to the TSA, I might add."

The senior security man bristled. "Do you know this young woman?"

"Of course I do," Hardcastle replied testily. "Remember the Zennakova incident, where the White House nearly got blown up? The explosive device was found and neutralized at the last second. That was her." The three TSA men stood up straight, looking a little red in the face and impressed in spite of themselves.

Hardcastle plopped the file folder down on the table and opened it. Right on top was a photograph of "Leisure suit Larry", alias the Sidewinder! "Todd Fairbanks," the agent said. "Ex-CIA. Five years ago, he went into business as a killer-for-hire, using technology stolen from a lab in California. Last seen in Los Angeles, then he dropped out of sight."

"Try South America," the Fox said without thinking.

"Beg your pardon?" All four of the men were staring at her.

The girl's cheeks colored slightly. She couldn't very well admit that as Jennifer Traylor she had shared the seat next to him on the plane. "Um... South America. Just a hunch, but sometimes my hunches are good."

"I'll make a note."

The Fox frowned. "Could I ask... why is Mr. Jasnowski so important? Why was the Sidewinder trying to kill him?"

Hardcastle shook his head. "I wish I could tell you, Fox. But it's a matter of national security. You understand."

***

Inside a safe house in East Alexandria, Sidewinder checked over his equipment to make certain it hadn't been damaged. While his power cells were recharging from the wall socket, he sat on the bed vaping an e-cig, Googling "Fuchsia Fox" on his tablet. After a couple of false starts due to poor spelling, he was now staring at several recent news items. He whistled softly as he watched news footage of the beautiful superheroine in action stopping a bank robbery and effortlessly dealing with a gang of five armed men. "Whoa, buttercup," he muttered, "I'd love to climb inside your hip-huggers."

His phone line beeped. Sidewinder knew who was probably calling, but to be on the safe side he activated a security program which bounced his signal over three different cell towers and a satellite to St. Louis and back. "Start talking," he answered, "it's your nickel."

"I've been listening in to the TSA's communications," said an electronically disguised voice. "You did not complete the hit."

"You guys didn't warn me to watch out for superheroes," the assassin replied easily.

"That is not our problem. You are supposed to be a professional."

"Hey, don't get your shorts in a bundle, ace. I can still do the job. I'll just need another few hours is all."

There was a slight pause. "You have until midnight, Greenwich Mean Time."

"That's what... seven o'clock local time? Solid! Listen... how about the girl? This Fyoosha chick. Is there a price on her head, too?"

The voice paused again. "The Fuchsia Fox? She has seldom crossed paths with our interests before today."

"No sweat, ace," Sidewinder said. "If she butts in again, I'll put her out of the way at no extra charge, just to show what a sweetheart I am."

"Do whatever you like with her," the voice said, "as long as Jasnowski is dead by midnight."

As the line disconnected, Sidewinder got up and crossed the room to the window. For the plan he had in mind, he was going to need some extra equipment and a better base of operations. Now what could he get hold of quickly and cheaply?

***

Chapter 4 --

"My God, Jen," Fletcher said when he saw the bandage on the Fuchsia Fox's shoulder. "What happened? Are you all right?"

The stunning superheroine had spotted his car waiting for her in the airport parking lot and deftly slipped into the passenger seat before anyone could really be sure she was gone. "It's nothing," she said, trying to sound light and unconcerned as she held her halter top up with one hand. "Just a flesh wound. Did you get my bag?"

"In the back," he said, still staring at her shoulder. He watched her turn and dive head first in between the bucket seats, her wide hips holding her hung up long enough to give him a fairly intimate view of her pert little bottom. He noticed her hiss of pain as she squeezed through, then he was admiring her long, silken legs and slim ankles as she wriggled her way into the rear seat.

"Uh... We didn't see much of the battle from out in the terminal," Fletcher said, as he put the car in gear and drove toward Arlington. "But those shooters had an awful lot of firepower. I'd be interested in knowing where they got their lasers." As would his boss, General Haines at the Pentagon, but he didn't need to say that.

"Him. Singular," the Fox said tersely.

"One guy did all that?" Fletcher said incredulously.

"Yep," she said. "And he got away. I couldn't stop him." In the back seat, Jennifer had already stripped off her bracelets and gloves. She removed her halter top and was gingerly touching her wounded shoulder. Fletcher couldn't help admiring the perfect unadorned shapes of her perky breasts even now, their nipples momentarily as hard as little bullets as she pulled on her shirt.

"Sometimes I wonder if Ishtar made the right choice, picking me as her champion," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "What am I thinking? I'm just a college student." She curled up in the seat and lapsed into a morose silence.

Fletcher studied her face in the rear-view mirror as he drove across town toward her apartment. He'd seen it happen in combat situations before. No matter how well trained you were, it was so easy to lose your confidence when things went wrong. You lost your nerve. If it happened to a soldier under his command, Fletcher wouldn't think twice, he'd put the man right back into action as soon as possible. And yet...

Could he deny feeling a little bit glad? This was really the first time he had seen Jennifer hurt in one of her battles. His every instinct said that girls were supposed to be soft; the man was supposed to be the strong one. The man was supposed to be the protector. She was finally seeing how dangerous it was playing at being a superheroine. Maybe she'd give up this crazy idea of being the Fuchsia Fox, and then he could have just plain Jennifer all to himself. Was it selfish of him to want to keep her safe? Or was it just sexism?

Arriving at her apartment, Fletcher carried her suitcase up and set it down inside the small living room, while Jennifer followed him inside. "Sidewinder's not going to give up," she said softly, as she removed her ankle boots. "He's going to try to kill that Mr. Jasnowski again. What if I can't stop him?"

She was standing there barefoot, without her power-enhancing bracelets, wearing nothing but his shirt over her skimpy fuchsia briefs. The over-sized shirt hung unbuttoned, showing a narrow, tantalizing strip of bare skin starting at the valley between her breasts and going down the front of her torso. She looked like a frightened little girl, so soft and vulnerable.

Fletcher slipped both arms around her trim waist. "Remember that time the Black Storm held me hostage?" he asked, as her body, tense at first, melded into his embrace like a hand into a glove. "Were you scared then?"

"Of course I was," Jennifer replied, snuggling closer. "He was stronger than me, tougher than me, and he was going to kill you. I was scared out of my mind."

"But you came for me anyway," he said, kissing her forehead. "And you beat the ever-loving crap out of him."

That wrung a wry smile out of her. "Thanks."

"I've seen you in action," he added. "I know what the Fuchsia Fox can do."

Jennifer rose up on tip-toe to kiss him, as his hands slid downward and rested on her round bottom. Their lips met, tongues gently venturing to touch and mingle.

Fletcher could feel her heart beating against his chest, her B-cups pressing softly, and another thing getting hard and stiff down inside his jeans. His hands tightened on her pert caboose, squeezing her cheeks, pulling her against his growing erection, which brought a delicate, feminine moan of lust to her throat. Her lissome body was so warm and so sweet. Without another word (his mouth was too busy anyway), he slipped the shirt over her soft, slender shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

Their kiss finally broke up as Jennifer's hands found the tail of his shirt and urgently pulled it and his undershirt upwards. Martin threw the garments aside as her fingers caressed his muscular naked chest and rock hard abs, searching frantically downward for the fastening of his pants. His arms encircled her waist again and together the two of them groped blindly backward onto the sofa, where his mouth latched onto one of her tender rosebuds, gently sucking at her hard pink nipples.

"OhhhhhhhMartin," Jennifer moaned, lying on her back completely defenseless while his mouth moved from one breast to the other, leaving trails of white heat on her supple flesh. "Please... please darling..." Her skin seemed to be tingling all over, her whole body quivering with helpless carnal longing for him. Lost in passion, she felt his fingers fumbling with the waistband of her skimpy little briefs, stripping them quickly down her legs and throwing them aside...

***

Later that afternoon, Zachary Hardcastle was in a meeting when he felt his cell phone vibrate. He surreptitiously glanced at the name of the caller and then ignored it. Colonel Jasnowski, Deputy Minister of State Security from the Baltic Republic of Krasnovia, was meeting with President Obama and some of his cabinet, and although Hardcastle himself was just an observer, he didn't need the distraction.

The meeting concluded, Hardcastle took the colonel out the East entrance, where two black SUVs were waiting, along with three other agents, to escort him over to the State Department for another meeting. Since the three agents had been out of his sight, Hardcastle took the precaution of checking everyone's identification again. Putting Colonel Jasnowski in the back seat of the lead vehicle, he himself got into the passenger side, just as he received another phone call, from the same person as before.

"Hardcastle here," he acknowledged. "What can I do for you, Captain Fletcher?"

"Hey, Hardcastle," Martin said. "I've been calling your office trying to locate you."

"I've been in the White House," the agent replied. "What can I do for you?"

"We heard about the brouhaha at the airport today. General Haines wants to know if you had any idea yet how this Sidewinder smuggled his laser weapons through security."

"It looks like it was with the luggage," Hardcastle said. "TSA found an empty foot locker with a routing tag near baggage claim. But don't be coy, captain. That's not really why you called, is it?"

"I don't know what you mean. Why else would I call you?"

"Let's dispense with the malarkey, Fletcher. I know you're friendly with the Fuchsia Fox. You can tell her for me that while I appreciate her concern, this is not her business. We've got this."

"The way I hear it, she didn't do too well," Fletcher said lightly, "and she may not want to tangle with Sidewinder again. But if I see her, I'll give her the message."

Hardcastle hung up the phone, already putting the matter out of his mind. Traffic down 17th Street was hopeless this time of day, and there was construction along G Street, so that left H Street as the most reasonable route to the State Department. Just before Georgetown, they took a detour down a narrow side street, where they were blocked by a stalled garbage truck jammed right across the middle of the road.

Laser bursts suddenly began to rain down upon the SUVs from above. The first shots hit the tires of the rear vehicle, disabling it. More shots in rapid succession spattered the roofs and hoods of both cars. "Get down!" Hardcastle shouted, slipping out his side of the vehicle and into the shelter of the SUV's massive body. From there, he could make Sidewinder's position on the roof of the three story building across the street.

"Stay in the vehicle, Colonel," he ordered, drawing his sidearm. "These cars have a limited laser-reflective coating, so you should be safe for a little while. MacDaniel, stay with him. The rest of you come with me. We'll try to surround him."

Hardcastle led the other two in a reckless dash across the street, zig-zagging in the teeth of a fusillade of constant laser fire. Rushing into the building, the agents split up and swarmed up the stairs.

At the top, Hardcastle kicked open the door and charged out onto the roof, his gun ready in front of him as the other agents followed. What they found was a dummy -- one of Sidewinder's laser gloves set up on the end of a boom with a computerized tracking and firing program. It stopped firing on the cars at the same time they arrived. "Damn it!" Hardcastle cursed, running to the parapet.

He looked down just in time to see MacDaniel fall unconscious from a Taser zap. With an impudent wave, Sidewinder slid behind the wheel of Colonel Jasnowski's car and drove off, straight through the garbage truck, which turned out to be just a hologram.
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Nice action. Good pacing. Realistic dialogue. Very entertaining.
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I actually very much like how you handled the love scene between Fletcher and Jennifer. Classy. :-)
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Lovely job all round, well done.
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Centurion
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Thank you all for the kind words. I try to read my dialogue aloud several times to see if it sounds real. My pacing is more or less by instinct, and it's nice to hear that it works.

I've long wanted to throw in a consensual love scene, just to remind us that while superheroines may be good girls, that doesn't necessarily make them nuns! Being healthy young women with healthy libidos, they must make out with their boyfriends occasionally, and this seemed like a good occasion.

Now chapter 5. I'll try to post the final chapter Friday or Saturday.

***
Chapter 5 --

Sidewinder locked the doors to the rear seats and drove the black SUV hard and fast northward through the streets of Washington. "Just sit back and enjoy the ride, pops!" he said, grinning over his shoulder at his passenger. "It's gonna be your last!"

"Please," Colonel Jasnowski said. "Whatever the Cartel is paying you... my government will match. I assure you..."

"I'd like to accommodate you, old man," the assassin replied cheerfully. "You seem like a nice geezer. But think what that would do for my rep. You wouldn't wanna deprive me of my means of earning a living would ya? Shit, I'd have to go on Welfare!"

Less than fifteen minutes later, he pulled into an old automotive garage with a high ceiling showing iron support girders and pipes. The tires squealed on the oil-spotted concrete floor as Sidewinder braked to a halt. He immediately jumped out and pushed a remote button. There was a rumbling sound, echoing in the big, empty room as the garage doors rolled downward and locked.

"Get out, pops," he ordered. This proved difficult to do because the passenger doors were still locked. Sidewinder leaned into the SUV to unlock the doors. Jasnowski climbed out, looking around apprehensively. The garage was a good eighty feet long, with thick support columns at twenty foot intervals, lit by skylights. There were tool racks and bits of machinery in places, lengths of rusty chain hanging from the overhead girders like metal spiderwebs, but it was basically just a big, empty space.

"God I need a smoke," Sidewinder commented. "Where'd I put my smokes?"

Suddenly one of the skylights overhead shattered. A second later, the Fuchsia Fox gracefully alighted on the floor between the villain and his prey.

Sidewinder didn't seem very surprised. "You again?" he said, slowly backing away.

"Me again," the Fox confirmed, watching him warily. The Zumerian fabric of her costume had repaired itself in the intervening hours. The aura from her bracelets had even accelerated her healing to the extent that she had taken off the bandage on her shoulder. The skin there was still red, as if from a sunburn, its tenderness a reminder of her earlier defeat.

"I was wondering if you were gonna make it, buttercup," the villain said, taking a position like a gunfighter preparing for a duel. "How did ya find me?"

"A girl has to have some secrets," the stunning superheroine said haughtily. Actually it had been Martin's brainstorm. If they couldn't locate Jasnowski, they could locate Hardcastle instead, and he probably wouldn't be far away. From there it had been a matter of following from a discreet distance.

"You know," Sidewinder said, his right hand twitching loosely as if limbering up, "you gotta be the dumbest skirt to ever put on a pair of spandex tights. We both already know you can't take me."

"We'll see about that."

"Your funeral." Without another word, he raised his arm and fired. The searing laser beam reflected off the Fox's force shield and just missed Colonel Jasnowski, who prudently dove for cover behind the black SUV.

The sexy superlady charged forward, but Sidewinder had already switched to Rapid Fire. When multiple pulses of energy started hammering at the front of her force shield, Jennifer couldn't help herself, she flinched. Afraid of getting hit again, she swerved to one side and dodged for all she was worth. Spinning, twisting, evading with all the agility of her namesake, the Fox moved laterally across the garage until she ducked for shelter behind one of the solid iron support columns.

"You're only wearing yourself out," Sidewinder said, pausing in his attack to shift position. "I got a narrowband microwave relay tapped into the local power grid. I'm not gonna run out of juice this time. And this garage gives me lots more maneuvering room than I had at the airport. Why don't you just give up and save yourself some grief?"

"Will you let Mr. Jasnowski go?" the Fox asked, breathing heavily from the exertion, her beautiful chest rising and falling. "Take me instead of him?"

Sidewinder just laughed. "You ain't in a position to bargain. I'm gonna get ya anyway." He fired a quick burst of laser pulses, zapping the column behind which she was hiding. "Come on out and face me mano a mano."

The Fox considered her options. There weren't many. The airport V.I.P. lounge had been fairly close quarters. Here she had about thirty feet to cover to get close enough to hit him. But there was nothing else to do. She was just going to have to run the gauntlet. Taking a deep breath, she stepped boldly into the open, her elegant legs softly swaying, high heels clocking seductively on the concrete.

Sidewinder had made an adjustment to the image generators in his suit. There were now three identical villains, each standing about five or six feet apart -- too far for her to hit two of them at the same time, as she had done earlier in the lounge. "Come and get me, babe," he invited. "But you better guess right the first time."

While the sassy superheroine hesitated, he opened fire. Bursts of energy slammed against her force shield as the Fox moved forward. She had hoped that she might be able to tell his true position from the direction in which the beams struck her shield. After all, even though all three appeared to be shooting at her, only one of them was real; the other two were illusions. But the lasers were hitting her too fast to tell.

"Unnnn!" the heroine grunted as one of the pulses got through, barely nipping her on the right side along her ribcage. She charged forward and pounced on the center image. Not too surprisingly, her fist went straight through it. Kicking off from the concrete, the Fox threw her agile young body into the air, spinning like a whirlwind as she struck out with one gorgeous, lissome leg at the image on the right. Her boot also met empty air, just as another laser pulse penetrated her defenses and grazed her right arm.

"AHHHH!" the Fox cried, dropping to one knee from the agony.

"Gotcha again," Sidewinder said, ceasing fire while his three images mixed themselves up again. "You know, all you gotta do is surrender, buttercup. I don't wanna kill ya. I can think of things I'd much rather do with ya."

The Fox clutched at her arm, gasping from the searing pain, dark spots appearing before her eyes. There had to be a way to beat him! "I... I can't do that," she said shakily, rising defiantly to her feet.

"But you can't win, ya stupid skirt," the villain said tauntingly, as the sexy young heroine eyed the three images warily, calculatingly. "Which one am I? The one on the right? The one on the left? The one in the middle?"

The Fox tensed herself to spring, but before she could, a bolt of electricity unexpectedly struck her in the back. Since her whole concentration had been on her front, the surprise attack found a weak spot in her protection, overwhelming the gorgeous girl and knocking her senseless.

"Or am I the one behind ya?" Sidewinder smirked as the Fox dropped to the floor. The three false images disappeared as the villain hefted the electric stun rod he had used on her. "That'll teach you not to turn your back on a rattlesnake."
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Centurion
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Chapter 6 --

Pain. As she regained consciousness, the Fuchsia Fox felt it flooding back into her right arm where she had been hit by the laser, making her groan out loud.

"Welcome back, buttercup," said Sidewinder cheerfully.

The beautiful young superheroine was pinned upright against one of the building's iron support columns, with her arms extended above her head. An inch thick chain had been wrapped twice around either forearm just below the wrist and pulled taut around the column, holding her helplessly in place. A second chain was wrapped around her bare calves, just above the ankles, and similarly fastened tightly around the column, holding her legs spread slightly apart. The Fox flexed her arms experimentally, but the very movement caused such agony to her hurt arm that she stopped. She still had her bracelets of Ishtar, but her brain was so fuzzy, she couldn't concentrate enough to summon her power aura from them.

"Hey! Answer me when I'm talking to ya, slut!" the villain snapped angrily, reaching up to grip her painfully by the throat. "Where'd you learn your manners?"

"What... what do... you want me to say?" the heroine said falteringly, lips trembling with the pain in her arm.

"That's better," he said. Mollified, he let go of her throat, but stood with his eyes wandering lewdly over her defenseless, scantily clad form. She was breathing raggedly, her shapely chest rising and falling, her nipples making hard little points through the flimsy fabric of her halter top. Just the way he ogled her body made her feel slimy.

To distract herself, the Fox looked around. Jasnowski was sitting on the concrete floor against the opposite support column, tied up and gagged. She cast her gaze upward to the chains binding her to the column, and further upward towards the pipes, girders and skylights, but there was no inspiration to be found there.

"I don't know how long it's gonna take Hardcastle to track down his SUV," Sidewinder said, turning towards Jasnowski, "so this is gonna have to be short and sweet." He raised his arm, letting the red targeting bead come to rest right between the captive's eyes. "It was nice knowing ya..."

"You're just going to gun us down like this?" the Fox blurted out, tugging at her bonds, so hard and inflexible through her gloves. "Helpless and unable to defend ourselves?"

"For you I got something different in mind, superbabe," Sidewinder said, snapping off the laser.

"Wh-what do you mean?" she stammered, glad that she had won Jasnowski at least a temporary reprieve, but apprehensive about what price she was going to pay for it.

He walked back to her, standing so close that she could smell his breath, feel the heat of his body. "I'm gonna let you live. But I'm gonna peel that supersuit off of ya and leave ya like that. When Hardcastle gets here's he's gonna find the precious Fyoosha Fox trussed up like a Christmas goose in nothing but her birthday suit."

The heat of humiliation coursed over Jennifer's lissome young body at the very thought of it, her cheeks burning, her heart thumping with pure fear. She felt too breathless to speak.

"And just to make sure," the villain continued, "I'm gonna call up the local TV station and give 'em a hot tip! I betcha that would make everybody remember the name Sidewinder, wouldn't it? Whaddaya think?"

The Fox couldn't help struggling uselessly in her chains, pain shooting once again down her arm and wringing another cry from her. A part of her wanted desperately to protest, to plead with him not to do that to her, but on a deeper level she knew that this was just what Sidewinder wanted, to underscore her defenselessness and enslavement to his will. She refused to give him that satisfaction.

"Come to think of it," the villain said with an evil gleam in his eye, "why not give Jasnowski one last thrill? Give him a nice memory to take with him to the afterlife."

He reached up, laying his rough hands on the Fox's sleek, sexy body. "Now don't squirm, buttercup. I'm pretty handy with bra clasps. This won't take long..."

"No! Don't touch me!" the helpless heroine cried, forgetting her resolution. She tried to raise her force shield to repel his touch from her, but her pain and fear combined made it too difficult to focus. "Get your hands off of me! You can't..."

"I think I can do pretty much what I wanna at this point," Sidewinder gloated, as his strong hands slid across her silken curves, wormed their way behind her and quickly undid both straps of her halter top. With sinking sensation of helplessness in the pit of her stomach, the Fox felt the upper part of her costume sag and come off, letting her shapely young breasts thrust out free and unprotected.

Tied up on the floor, Jasnowski's eyes widened with appreciation at the sight of the nubile superheroine's two succulent boobs in full view, dark pink nipples standing out like bullets. Sidewinder's rough hands cupped the underside of her soft but firm, grapefruit-sized globes, squeezing them upward the way a push-up bra would. "Look at that, Jasnowski," he observed, his fingers squashing them together. "Nice and perky, just the way I like 'em!"

The Fox, vulnerable and trembling with fright, desperately tried to ignore the villain manhandling her tits and urge her numbed brain to focus on her bracelets of Ishtar. She had to get out of this! Please, Ishtar! she thought. Give me strength!

"That brings us to the panties," Sidewinder grinned, as his hand moved down her bare torso, over her smooth belly, flirting for a moment with the waistband of her clingy briefs before sliding in between her creamy thighs to her grab her crotch.

NO!!! The Fox barely suppressed a squeak of feminine outrage as Sidewinder's fingers began to rub back and forth over her sensitive labia, stroking her through the flimsy fabric of her briefs. Nnnnnnnn! Now added to the fear and the pain was the humiliation of intimate contact, the enticing quiver in her clit as it was stimulated. Her blood was singing with sexual arousal now as well as fear...

"I betcha you're as juicy as a clam under there, buttercup," the villain said. "Whaddaya say, Jasnowski? You wanna see her pussy as bad as I do?" The captive diplomat could only grunt into his gag; whether he meant yea or nay was a matter for speculation. The Fox could only squirm against the rigid, inflexible iron pillar as Sidewinder's fingers hooked into her briefs and began to tug them down. Jennifer's spine shivered as she felt her waistband begin to slide over her butt...

"But you know," Sidewinder said, looking down her legs at the chain wrapped around her ankles, "it might be better to cut 'em off. Whaddaya think?"

Come on, concentrate, you stupid, useless girl! Jennifer admonished herself sternly. Are you a worthy champion of Ishtar or aren't you?

"I know I saw a knife somewheres," Sidewinder said, letting go of her briefs and moving toward the SUV.

With a loud SNAP!! the Fox's chains broke, both of them, spilling her forward onto the concrete floor. The weakened young girl landed on one knee, arms caressing her smooth, bare upper body, bashfully trying in vain to hide her tender breasts from view.

"Aw come on, buttercup," Sidewinder said, turning back to her. "We're not going to do this dance again, are we? You know I'm just gonna beat ya again. You're spent."

He was right, damn him. It had taken just about all she had to break free of the chains. If she couldn't find some way to neutralize his advantage, she might as well just surrender. Her brown eyes darted up longingly to the skylights above the pipes and girders. Or turn tail and run like a cowardly little wuss. Leave Jasnowski and her precious costume behind and just save her skinny ass. And never dare show her face as the Fuchsia Fox ever again. Jennifer felt ashamed of herself for even thinking it, but what other choice did she have? She was...

Wait a minute. Pipes?

Sidewinder marched toward her as the false images split off making a sinister triplet. "Okay then," he smirked, as all three raised their arms and pointed their laser gloves at her. "Don't say I didn't give ya fair warning."

Kicking off from the concrete, the Fox soared straight upward just as the villain opened fire. As she arced over his head, sidewinder spun around, tracking her with a fusillade of laser bursts which the agile young heroine dodged and evaded like a dancer.

The hot laser beams clipped one of the overhead pipes. Immediately the sprinklers activated, loosing a fine spray of water down all over the garage. "What the--?" Sidewinder sneered, pausing in his attack. "Rain? Is that the best ya can do, pussy? Come down here and take your medicine!"

The Fox swooped. Too late, the villain realized what she was up to. The invisible low-level lasers that ran his suit's holographic imaging system were being refracted into rainbows by the fine water droplets in the air, surrounding him with a distinct, multi-colored aura. The false images, by contrast, faded to poorly-focused shadows.

The spunky young superheroine plowed into him like a 110 pound missile, leading with her left fist. The blow caught him in the upper chest, slamming about ten feet. As he was getting to his feet, the Fox was on him again mercilessly, keeping her hurt right arm cradled against her body while her left punched him again and again and again.

"Hey stop!... UNFF!" the villain protested. "A skirt can't... ARRGH!... beat... OOF!... I'm Sidew-- UNNK!!!" The last blow to his chin threw him against the support column, where he sagged to the floor unconscious.

"You're name is Mudd," the Fox stated, standing proudly over his fallen body as the sprinklers continued to rain down all around her, soaking her brunette hair, streaming over her breasts and down her alluring body.

***

Epilogue --

Agent Hardcastle rolled up not long afterward with three more SUVs full of agents. The Fuchsia Fox had managed to put on her halter top, untie Jasnowski, separate Sidewinder from his laser blasters and power belt, chain him up securely, and finally get those blasted sprinklers turned off. Although she and Jasnowski were both soaked to the skin by that time, the man looked bedraggled and limp, whereas the Fox looked like a supermodel who had just stepped from a bracing dip in the pool. Moisture clung to her flawless skin like a dewy kiss from heaven. Even her arm was feeling better.

Hardcastle was a bit sheepish. "I suppose you're going to say you told me so."

"I would never say that," the Fox replied, cocking her shapely hips. "I don't care about politics. But it would be nice to know what this was all about."

The agent sighed. "Colonel Jasnowski comes from Krasnovia, in the Baltic. For years during the old regime, it was used as a diplomatic pipeline by the Russian Cartel to smuggle drugs and weapons to America. The new head of state sent Jasnowski to negotiate a deal for our help to stop all that."

"I see," the gorgeous superlady said thoughtfully. "If he had been assassinated by the Cartel on American soil, the deal would have been off."

"It would have been a disaster," Hardcastle admitted bluntly. "But thanks to you, another drug pipeline has been closed."

"Not a bad day's work," the Fox agreed, fluffing out her damp brunette tresses with her hands. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a nice hot bath."

>>>>>THE END
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tallyho
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Really nice job! Clever takedown (my money was on the shadows from the skylights revealing him). Great little yarn, well told.
Bravo! :thumbup:
How strange are the ways of the gods ...........and how cruel.

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