The Return of Gingerloxx

[mistuhgone10]

IT HAS BEEN FOUR AND A HALF LONG YEARS SINCE DR. BONNIE DISALVO HAD GIVEN UP A LIFE OF CRIMEFIGHTING, AND MOVED TO THE QUIET BURG OF SAN ENRICO, CALIFORNIA TO START HER LIFE ANEW. UNDER HER GOVERNMENT-ISSUED ALIAS, SASHA SYMMS, SHE HAS TAKEN A JOB TEACHING EUROPEAN HISTORY AT SOUTH BAY UNIVERSITY, AND STILL MANAGES TO HUSTLE EXTRA SCRATCH ENGAGING IN BILLIARDS, HER FAVORITE PASTTIME. HER DYED RED HAIR LOCKS HAVE GIVEN WAY TO THEIR NATURAL BLONDE. IN A SHORT PACE OF TIME, OUR HERIONE HAD ADJUSTED TO A LIFE MORE BENIGN, EVEN OBTAINING TENURE AT SBU. ALL SEEMED TO BE RIGHT WITH WITH WORLD UNTIL ONE FATEFUL NIGHT IN APRIL...

Sasha was seated in a stool at Vossburg's Sports Bar & Grill, the local pool hall. Tonight was the Monthly $3,000 Tournament where the grand prize was $1,000.00. In her fifty-some odd months in town, Sasha had won it a record 43 times (recently 16 times in a row), took home the $500.00 second prize seven times, and the $250.00 third prize purse the remaining four times she entered. As she patiently waited her turn at the table for the first round, the recently-turned 28-year-old nursed a bottle of O'Douls as she and other patrons and remaining contestants watched two competitors in the seventh match face off in what was the ninth game of the best-of-nine affair. It came to a sudden conclusion when one player accidentally banked the 8-ball into the right side pocket while going for the 13-ball.

"Ooh, Trescadecophobia!" Jimmy Vossburg called out on the P.A. system as the player sheepishly slinked out of the bar after unscrewing and putting away his cue stick, and the crowd cheered. "Let's give a hand to Gus Richmond, our seventh and penultimate confirmed quarterfinalist!" He announced, and the audienced clapped as the other man took a bow as he was putting away his cue stick. After waiting for the applause to subside Jimmy continued, "See you next week, Gussy. Now, for our final match-up of the night, the main event!" as Sasha rose from her stool and put down her beer. "Ladies and Gentleman, allow me to introduce our returning champion, in her 17th straight title defense, here she is. We all know her and love her, The Professor, Sasha Symms!" Jimmy proclaimed as the crowd cheered. "Symms!" Jimmy repaeated as she unpacked and assembled her cue. "Her challenger is a newbie to our tournament. Coming all the way from Central Falls, Rhode Island, let's give warm Vossburg's welcome to Paulie Antonucci." Jimmy said, pointing to a wispy middle-aged man with graying hair wearing a leather motorcycle jacket that looked two sizes too big, a tee shirt and blue jeans whom held in his hand one of the house cues. The crowd lightly clapped for the newcomer. "Antonucci!"
"Hmm, where do I know that name from?" Sasha thought to herself as he sized the older gentleman up and down. "Okay, Fonzy, rack 'em." She said aloud to her opponent as she shook his hand firmly. He nodded his head and grabbed the rack, then proceeded to set up the balls.

"I hear you're pretty good," Antonucci said. "Finished third or better every week."

"That's right." Sasha said. "Professor isn't just a nickname. I teach history at SBU. The youngest woman ever make tenure."

"No kidding?" Antonucci asked and Sasha nodded with a self-satisfied smile. "Save the head games, Sasha. I know your rep. It don't scare me a bit."

"Scare you?" Sasha asked, positioning the cue ball at a 38-degree angle and crouching down to complete lining the shot. "What put that in your head? I'm just making small talk."

"Just shutup and shoot," he snorted hostilly crossing his arms. The crowd ooed at the surly remark.

"All right, Jeez." Sasha remarked and made her shot, the cueball hit the others with a loud clack and sent them in various directions. Three solids, two stripes, and finally the 8-ball each sailed into different pockets. "I just figured I let you get to know me since you'll have such a narrow window of time. One-nil!" Some of the crowd laughed and others cheered and clapped.

"What the fuck is this, a set-up?" Antonucci shouted. "Are you some kind of ringer hired by the bar to keep us regular schmucks from winning the big pot?"

"What?" Sasha asked in disbelief. "No! I went to Brown, for Christ Sakes! Yale is where the cheaters come from. I mean, look at our last President." The crowd laughed again.

"Brown, you say? Get out! My little neice goes there now." Antonucci said as he took out the balls and re-racked. "You know, you look familiar! Have we met before?"

"I thought you weren't interested in small talk," Sasha teased, again garnering laughs from the growing audience. "No, I don't think so," she answered verbally, but mentally noted, "Perhaps."

"It's just that you look like the daughter of some bean-counter at this company in Providence I used to invest in back in the '90s."

After hearing this Sasha immediately froze, as if lost in thought, but she was actually in a state of shock. "Could this be one of Daddy's old clients?" she wondered as she absently positioned the cueball. "Nah, couldn't be!" She said aloud, returning her concentration to the game. "My Dad is a furniture salesman in Warwick." Sasha explained, feeding Antonucci the line the witness protection program had advised her to use, should the question of what her parents do ever come up." She quickly took the shot, the balls clacked, and this time only four solids fell into the pockets. "Looks like I'm solids."

"Are you sure?" Antonucci asked as Sasha circled the table, assessing where the balls are situated and lining up her next shot. "I'd swear you look and talk just like her. She could tear ass on a pool table, too, and she was pretty damn smart. The girl was 15, and already had her master's degree."

"Well, you know what they say." Sasha replied as she sank into her stance after deciding what her shot would be, and firing a three-bank 6-2 combo, with the 2-ball sliding into the side pocket. "Everybody has a twin somewhere. Besides, I got my master's when I was 14, soooo..." Sasha added as if she was one-upping herself, but actually was in reality correcting Antonucci while we positioned herself for her next shot, a straight shot at the 6-ball, tapping it into the pocket with authority as Paulie watched in an expressionless face while rubbing his chin.

"There was a couple more things you got in common with her."

"What's that?"

"For starters, she was a huuuge Raiders fan!" He replied, pointing to the oversized men's Warren Sapp jersey Sasha had on. "And she liked wearing men's shirts alot."

"What a co-ink-ee-dink!" Sasha remarked, and made her next shot, a bankshot of the left-middle cushion that knocked the 5-ball into the right-middle pocket.

"Yeah, and she said that a lot, too!" Antonucci shouted and pointed at her, then paused. "Wait, no! You're right, she had red hair, and you're a blonde. My mistake." The remarked made Sasha put too much English on her shot on the 8-ball, sinking it and the cueball into the rear-left corner pocket. "One-all."


AND AFTER A TIME...

Sasha quickly recovered from Antonucci's nerve-rattling observation which caused her to make the game-ending gaffe and beat Paulie in the next three. Now, in game six, both had played to a draw with only the 8-ball remaining on the table, near the front-right pocket--ahead of the two-dot-line. The cueball sait three inches to the left, and four inches ahead of it. Were it any other ball, this would have been a straight gimme shot. But, since this was the 8-ball, Sasha could not shoot backwards. She would have to shoot the cueball in the other direction, and bank it at a precise angle with the precise amount of speed to hurtle it toward the 8-ball and knock it in without the cueball following it in the pocket and scratching. Paulie stood with his arms folded again, a sneer curling his lip as if to say, "Try to get out of this one. I dare you!" Sasha calmly shrugged her shoulders and calmly positioned the cue ball three inches to the left of the 8-ball. The sneer got curlier as Paulie supressed a chuckle. "No way is gonna make it with the ball that close." He thought as Sasha aimed her cue at the left-middle buffer. "Is she serious?" Sasha fired. The cueball hit the left-middle buffer, sailed over the rear buffer, careened into the right-middle buffer, then sailed straight toward the 8-ball, knicking it slightly. The 8-ball slowly rolled closer to the pocket and seemed to halt on the lip of the pocket. The crowd groaned in disappointment, but promptly changed to a brox cheer when the ball suddenly dropped in the pocket.

"And, there you have it!" Jimmy procliamed. "The bracket is all set for Next Wednesday's Quarterfinal Match. The winner, and defending champion, Sasha Symms will face Gus Richmond, along with our three other pairings..." He continued on indistincly as the flabergasted and speechless Antonucci calmly set the house cue on the table, then angrilly turned around, worked his way through the crowd and left Vossburg's.

"You lying bitch!" He muttered under his breath. "I know it's you, Bonnie! Nobody else could make a shot like that. Nobody."

Meanwhile, back inside, Sasha continued to celebrate her latest victory. She clanked bottles with other patrons and finished off her non-alcoholic beer. After exchanging a few more hi-fives and fist-bumps, Sasha grabbed her 3/4-length black belted jacket, put it on, zipped it, and tied the front. It was almost midnight, and she had a class to teach at 9:45 in the morning. After saying good-bye to her fans and fellow patrons, she exited the bar and walked around the corner to the parking lot where her black 2006 Escalade awaited. She knew someone had put money in the jukebox because she could hear Canned Heat blaring from inside the bar out into the crisp night. The parking lot had six cars left in it, but was completely deserted. Outside for the sporadic meowing and hissing of a couple alley cats that echoed from the nearby dumpsters, the parking lot was whisper quiet. Sasha could even hear the footsteps of her black Doc Marten oxfords hitting the asphalt as she fished in one of her pockets for her keys. She was only ten feet away as she took them out, disabled the alarm, unlocked the driver's side front door, and pressed the remote starter, all the while becoming overwhelmed by the feeling she was being watched. As she pulled open the door, she felt the urge to turn around and sure enough there stood Antonucci. Sasha screamed as she jumped back.

"Christ, Paulie!" She shouted as she put her hand over her heart and panted. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"Yeah, sorry about that." Antonucci replied. "I just came out here for awhile to cool off, then I saw you coming out, and decided to apologize for taking that beatdown so hard." He added as he extended his hand. "I'm usually a more gracious loser than that, and I'm sorry. No hard feelings, I hope."

"Actually, being a 16-Time defending champion, I get that a lot." Sasha said, giggling modestly as she clasped his hand. "It's no biggie. Thank you for coming back and being a gentleman about this, though." She added as the two former opponents shook hands. "Well, I gotta go home and get some rest. I'll see you around, Paulie." She continued as she noticed Antonucci's grip getting progressively firmer as he continued shaking her hand. "Paulie? Paulie, I have to go now. Paulie? Paulie-ow! Now that's eenough! Let go of my hand. You're hurting me." Sasha began to notice the same expressionless look on he had earlier returning to his face. "Paulie, are you okay? Is...Is...everything all right?"

"Oh, I'm sorry I was miles away." Antonucci said as she stopped shaking her hand, but continued tightening his grip. "There was something else I wanted to tell you. You ain't foolin' nobody, Bonnie."
His blank look instantly matamorphosized into a devlish grimmace as he squeezed Sasha's hand harder.

"Ahh-ow! Paulie, you're starting to scare me, buddy." Sasha said, realizing her cover had been blown and frantically tried to tug her hand free. "Ahhh-sss!" She hissed as she tugged even harder. "Paulie, who's Bon-ahhh-owww! Paulie, who's Bonnie? Paulie? Ahhhh! Paulie, let me go!" Sasha wailed in agony, gradually tugging more frantically. "Unh! Unnnnnnh! Paulie, let go! You're hurting me! Paulie, stop it! You're freaking me out! You're hurting meee-ahhh! Let me go! Paulie, let--gahh!" She grunted. "Errrgh! Let go of me! Let go!" She snarled through gnashed teeth as she continued to frantically tried to pull away from him. She swung wildly at his face in an attempt to slap him with her free hand, but he blocked it and started to squeeze that one tightly.

"No more fucking games, you cunt!" Paulie roared, and clasped her hands together into his right hand. "You see, I tricked you back in the bar. I knew you got your Master's when you were 14. That vain prick of a father of yours sent his 'esteemed clients' a Christmas card that year, and he just couldn't help bragging about his little 'Bon-Bon, the genius girl wonder!' " He replied, doing air-quotes with his free hand. "Now it's time to for that theiving bastard to pay what he owes." He added as he proceeded to drag her away from the car.

"Paulie, listen to me, please! My name is not Bonnie! My name is not Bon-eeee! Paulie, listen! Paulie, you have to calm down and let me go! Paulie, pleeeeeease! Paulie, you have me mixed up with somebody else! Paulie, please let me go! Paulie, let me go! Let me go-ohhh!" Sasha pleaded in rushed and panicked pace as she planted her feet firmly on the ground to thwart his effort, only to be instantly uprooted as an unmarked navy blue van sped into the parking lot.

"No, you don't!" Antonucci growled ominously as Sasha momentarily broke free and started running toward the van. "Come back here!" He barked, chasing and immedieatly catching her.

"Help!" Sasha cried out to the driver and other occupant of the vehicle as they climbed out while struggling to break free of Paulie's vice-like grip he now had around her waist and left wrist. "Help me! I'm being kidnapped! I'm being kidnaaaaaapped!" She continued pleading as the heavy-set passenger, dressed in a black adidas jogging suit quickly rushed over to the young woman in mid-peril as if he were going to save the day, followed closely by the skinnier driver in a black adidas hoodie and blue jeans.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" the passenger asked, and Sasha sighed in relief. "We told you not to make a move until we got here!" He added, and just like that Sasha's relief turned into pure terror.

"No! Nooo!" She screeched in pain. "Somebody help meeee!"

"I couldn't help it, Ray," Antonucci replied. "She was making a break for it. Quick, slide the door open, Louie. I'm gonna have to shove her in there."

"Please, somebody help meeeeeee!" Sasha wailed as the driver ran back to the sliding door and pulled it open. "Somebody help meee! Let me go!" She tearfully hollered as Antonucci and his bulky accomplice dragged her toward the van. "Let me-gmmph! Sasha clamored before Antonucci locked his meaty hand tightly over her mouth. "HMMMPH! UMMMMPH!" Sasha grunted, letting out one more muffled squeal, hoping someone in the bar would come running to investigate. Sadly, even with all the commotion outside, nobody inside the bar could hear anything over the loud jukebox and din of three flatscreen TV's tuned into the ESPN family of networks as Ray picked her up by the legs. He and Antonucci successfully carried her into the van as the driver slid the door shut, then climbed back back behind the wheel.

"Go, go, go!" Ray called as the driver restarted the van and sped out of the parking lot, leaving Sasha's Escalade's engine running and driver's door ajar.

"Here, hold her until I can get the chloroform ready." Antonucci ordered, shoving Sasha into his cohort's arms.

Ray promptly grabbed tight hokld of her hand and twisted them behind her back. "Ahh-owww, okay! Okay, you're right!" Sasha said as she continued to sob, sniff, and struggle. "I am Bonnie DiSalvo, but I swear to you I had nothing to with the money my father stole, honest! Look, I...I...I make a fortune off my inventions. If it's your money back that you're after, I'll pay you back every cent, okay? Just please let me go. Pleeeease!"

"Oh, we got our money back when the feds seized all your Daddy's shit and sold it off." Paulie said.

"Then, why are you doing this to me?"

"The princple of it."

"What principle? You've gotten back every dime you sunk into my father's company, and yet you turned around and kidnapped somebody that has nothing to do with it? What the fuck does that have do with..."

"Not that kind of principle, you dumb bitch!" Louie interrupted. "Jesus, for a fucking genius, you are dumb as hell. We just got back the principle, you know what we invested in his bullshit operation. He promised us a high yield of interest, and we feel we should get that interest one way or another."

"But, I thought this wasn't about money."

"It's not. It's about the interest."

"You see, when your Papa sealed the deal with each of us back in '96, he swore on his daughter's grave that he was on the up and up." Ray replied.

"So, when his little scam went belly-up in '99, Me, Ray, and Louie here thought it would behoove us to put uour heads together and make sure he pays his end of that bargain...IN FULL!" Antonucci said as he liberally doused chloroform onto a white linen wascloth.

"Oh, My God." Sasha moaned, suddenly feeling very ill. "You three are fucking crazy!" She shouted. "You're cr-mmmph!" She cried before Antonucci muffled the young scholar's mouth and nose with the chloroform-saturated washcloth. "Hmmmmmph! Hmmmmmmmmph!" Sasha grunted as she struggled to wriggle free of both Antonucci's gag and Ray's unrelenting grip on both her hands.

"You see, I watched you on TV, making all that money playing pool. And, lo and behold, it turns out you lead a double-life as a superhero all this time. So while you were playing Supergirl with your two little hot lesbian girlfriends, that promise of you father's still rattled around in my noodle. That's why Louie here sent you that little dog as a present with that note telling you that you were next. I still didn't know you was a superhero back then, but kids grow up so fat these days, who can really keep up. I must admit you were a worthy challenger, Gingerloxx, keeping us guessing by faking your death and moving all the way out here to Calee-forn-eye-yay!. But alas, in the end, you got snagged by one of the most horry ambushes of all time. Heh, horry! I usually don't say three-dollar words like that. I was saving it just for you. I hope you liked it." Antonucci explained as Sasha's eyes bugged in disbelief.

Sasha was stunned by what she had just heard. It was these psychos that were stalking her back in River City all along, not Cronus. Gradually, she began losing the battle for her consciousness as Antonucci boasted. Before she finally blacked out, all she could hear was his distorted laughter echoing and slowing down until she was out cold.

SOMETIME LATER THAT NIGHT...

Sasha came to, groaning groggily and her vision was so blurry that she could only make out that wherever she was now, it was dark. Her head was throbbing. She tried to feel her forehead with her right hand but could not move it. Her eyesight finally cleared. She could see that was lying down in some kind of wooden trunk or box. She looked down and noticed her wrists were bound together with clothesline twine that became tighter the more she tried to move them. "Whmm mm umph?" She asked herself, then suddenly realized her mouth was still covered. With the top of her fingers, she felt along her mouth and confirmed she was indeed gagged with duck tape. Suddenly, she heard the sound of a church organ, and finally realized where she was. A coffin!

"Hmmph!" she cried, usin her bound hans to bang on the coffin, hoping to get anyone's attention. "HMMPH!" she grunted louder. Realizing this was getting her nowhere, she tried to use her long nails to try and peel off the gag. Lifting from the bottom up, she pryed off enough tape to free her mouth. "HELLLLLP!" she cried and resumed banging on the coffin. "Somebody let me out, I'm alive! I'm Aliiiiive!" The music suddenly stopped. The eerie silence filled her with doubt that anyone heard her. "I'm in the coffin! Somebody help me! Somebody help meee!" She continued to wail, her voice beginning to crack as a lump grew in her throat. Her eyes began welling up. She wondered if she'd see sunlight again. She tried to kick, but couldn't move her legs. She tried wiggling just her feet, and soon realized her ankles were also bound together. Her panic subsided with the sound of footsteps on creaky stairs. Someone did hear her. "Help, I'm in here! I'm in heeeerrrre!" She cried, resuming the pounding as she heard the footsteps getting louder, this time pounding what sounded like concrete. She was in a basement.

"Who goes there?" an elderly man asked. "What are you doing in my crematorium?"

"Please, you have to let me out! I've been kidnapped!" She cried. "They drugged and tied me up and put me in here. Please, Mister, let me out!"

The top of the coffin suddenly flung open and sure enough, an elderly black man stood over Sasha, mystified at what he was seeing--a young white woman tied up in the coffin. Sasha panted frantically, trying to take in as much fresh air into her lungs as she could.

"Holy Lord!" the mortician said. "Are you okay? Come on, come on, sit up!" He told her as he helped Sasha to a perpendicular base by hoisting her up by her bound hands.

"Oh, Thank You!" Sasha said as he began untying her. "You saved me!"

"Who did this to you? Do you know?" The mortician asked.

"No, I don't." She lied. "Some guy I just beat in pool tournament and his his two friends. He waited for me to come out of Vossburg's and grabbed me. I guess he brought me here after they knocked me out, then locked me in the coffin and took off. Okay, you'll have to help me all the way out. They tied my feet, too."


ABOUT 45 MINUTES OR SO LATER...

A uniformed police officer took Sasha's statement and gave her a lift back to her Victorian 4-bedroom house on Elam Avenue. "Thank you for the lift, Officer." Sasha said as she stepped out of the police cruiser. "Is my car going to be okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, Mr. Vossburgh already had it towed. They'll drop it off sometime in the morning. Are you sure you don't need me to walk you to the door?" The officer replied.

"I'm fine, thanks again." Sasha replied and walked up the porch steps and into the house.

She sighed as she peeled off her coat and threw it on an empty hook of her coat rack. As she entered the living room, she peeled off her Sapp jersey, revealing the short-sleeved white leotard she wore underneath it. After unfastening her belt, she let her blue skinny jeans slide down to the floor, then stepped out of her Doc Martens and the jeans that lied around her ankles. Now in only her leotard and light grey tights, she sprawled out on the couch, drained past the point of exhaustion by her ordeal. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the flashing red light of her answering machine. She lethargically reached behind her and pushed the replay button.

"You have...two..new messages." The machine said. "Message one." (beep)

"Professor, this is Special Agent Anya Birchwood of the FBI. It is very important that you call me as soon as you get this message to set up an meeting with me." A female voice said. "Your life is in danger! You already have the number to the San Jose Field Office, so I'll only say that my extension is 1153. Please call me right away. It's about your father." (beep)

"Wednesday...April...seventh...at...7:54 p.m. Message two." (beep)

"Professor, it's Agent Birchwood again! Where are you? It's after midnight! We have received word that a trio of your father's disgruntled investors have been spotted in the area. This may be nothing, but I reccommend you stay with friends or colleauges tonight to be on the safe side. Again, please call me the moment you get this message." (beep)

"Thurday...April...eighth...at...12:26 a.m. End of messages."

Just then, the telephone rang, then went straight to voicemail. "You've reached Professor Symms." Sasha's voice played. "Please leave a detailed message and I will get back to you. Bye." (beep).

"Professor, I just heard that the police have dropped you off at your home and that you're unharmed." Agent Birchwood said. "I'm not sure if you're asleep--"

"No, no, I'm still awake." Sasha answered as she grabbed the receiver of her cordless phone. "Agent, what else can you tell me about these men?" She asked sitting up on the sofa indian style.

"The Antonucci Brothers, Louis, Raymond, and Paul, sunk a little over $2 Million into your Dad's company overall from the 1991 until he got busted by the SEC in 1999. The three men still make a living using contracting schemes on the elderly. They traveled from town-to-town doing it in addition using their wives and kids in grifting and shoplifting schemes. This is the first time I've ever encountered an Italian family doing this. It's usually Irish or Gypsy families. Anyway, after your father's trial, they still swore vengance on him, even if they had to come after you to get it."

"I know, I remember." Sasha said. "So that's why that name sounded familiar. Paul, and a lot of other angry people kept calling me at Brown and sending me death threats. That's why I took off to River City right after I got my Ph. D. Before he knocked me out tonight, Paul told me that Daddy swore on my grave that he was legit. You don't suppose that because of this tight-knit family loyalty they thought he literally meant it, do you?"

"Professor Symms, I recommed you get out of San Enrico at once and meet me at the Field Office. I'm pretty sure by now that if they were clever enough to find you after all this time, that they're clever and resourceful enough to know that you've been rescued."

"No. I'm not running anymore."

"But, Professor, you--"

"With all due respect Agent Birchwood, this has gone far enough. You're right. They are clever, and the only way for me lose these slimeballs for good is to fight back." Sasha interrupted as she stood up. "Good Bye, Agent Birchwood." Sasha said. "I have some work to do."

"Professor, if you try to go after these guys yourself, the FBI will carry no responsib--" The agent said, but was cut off by a dialtone.

Sasha ran to the hall closet and pulled out an old steel trunk. She opened it to reveal her old costume. As she donned the eyemask, she looked at herself in the mirror, and asked, "Hey, Buddy? Did you miss me?"

[SGWriter]

Nice start!