The Ultimate Superheroines Forum

Well, finally got around to starting my first story here. Been working it around my head for awhile. Hope you enjoy! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Thanks! (Some backstory and info on the character and the world can be found here if anyone's interested- http://brainy525.deviantart.com/)




Monolith City- 1:05am

The white van crept up to the gutted warehouse. With a screech of rusty brakes, the vehicle ground to a stop, its highbeams spotlighting the main gate. The three men inside the van didn't worry about anyone hearing or seeing. There was a reason it was called The Hollows. Ten city blocks of burned out and abandoned buildings. Nestled between the garment district to the north and the newly gentrified Autumn Hills to the south. A casualty of the heavy industry downturn in the 90s, the area was one vast wasteland. In fact, the only new thing for miles around was the bright shiny bit of padlocked chain dead center in the glare of light thrown off by the van.

The creak of the rusty passenger door opening and then being SLAMMED closed. A shadowed figure emerging to unlock and pull back the chain link. The van rolled inside, wheels grinding on gravel, the shadowed figure scurrying to close and re-lock the gate behind it. Another gate, this time corrugated metal, was rolled up, allowing the van to enter the warehouse itself. The gate was lowered by way of a hook, the vehicle's ignition turned off and the other two men exited with boisterous shouting.

"Man, that was AWESOME! I still can't believe we pulled it off!"

"Hey, didn't I tell ya the phones would be there!" Kev pointed both hands at the shadowed figure hurrying to rejoin them. "MY MAN, CHRIS! Dude! You had that security system nailed! You made that system your BITCH!"

"YOU KNOW IT! Told you I knew what I was doin'!"

"Hey, lets not forget who found out those phones were going to be there in the first place!"

"Aww...we love ya, bruh!" Kev grabbed Darryl and started pummeling him with playful punches.

The three young criminals walked to the cargo doors at the back of the van and opened them. Heaving, they carted out several heavy, red and black cardboard boxes. "MICROCOM- DO NOT OPEN BEFORE 5/12" repeated all along the tape sealing the boxes as well as being printed in heavy block letters on the side of the boxes themselves.

Pulling out a wicked looking folding knife from his jeans, Kev slit open one of the boxes. "THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING 'BOUT!" He pulled out one of the many smaller cartons tightly packed inside and held it up. The new MEE-7. The new smartphone that everyone would be lining up for and killing each other over. Not on sale until next week, hell, they weren't even supposed to have been shipped yet. But somehow, SOMEHOW, a Big Deals store on 7th had gotten a shipment by mistake. And...just so happened that Darryl had a friend that worked there. Darryl got the tip, Chris cracked the security and Kev organized and oversaw it all as always. Smooth as a baby's ass. The three of them had been busting into stores and hijacking shipments for months now and making a pretty penny doing it but this was a whole new ballgame. These new MEEphones would bring in a fortune!

"Where's that Chinese? I'm starving!"

As a well-deserved thank you for a job well-done, they had stopped at Mr Chin's on the way back. The all-night carryout had the best Chinese in Monolith City! In fact, they were in such a good mood that they actually paid for the food this time. Even gave a big-ass tip! Darryl got two large bags of steaming hot, delicious-smelling Chinese takeout from inside the van, along with a case of beer, and brought it over to the table. Kev had found this place, this empty warehouse, a few months ago. They'd been using it as their hideout ever since. Stacks of HDTVs, blu-ray players, stereos and other high-end electronics attested to their success. Who said that crime didn't pay? Kev hoped to meet the chump that said that and pop him in the mouth!

Illuminated by the weak moonlight streaming in through the cracked skylight high above, the three young street toughs started digging into their food when...

"CRIME HASN'T SOURED YOUR APPETITE I SEE. THAT'S SOMETHING I'LL HAVE TO...CORRECT."

"WHAT THE %$#@ WAS THAT?!!"

The thugs pulled out their pieces and started firing. Shots ricocheted in the dark recesses of the warehouse where the voice was coming from.

They heard...laughter. Cold and cruel.

"I HOPE YOU FIGHT BETTER THAN YOU SHOOT."

The mocking female voice came from the other side of the warehouse!

"I'LL SHOW YOU SHOOTING, BITCH!!!"

More gunshots, more laughter.

"It's HER..." Darryl whispered, fear on his face.

"Shut up!" Kev spat back. They pointed their guns in all directions. Straining to see in the gloom.

A blur. "OWWW!!!" Clutching his hand, Chris saw his gun on the floor and...something else. Black and curved. Almost like a boomerang only smaller.

"AHHHHH!!!" Chris and Kev turned as Darryl was yanked into the rafters! He disappeared, firing blindly. They heard grunting, the impact of fists and then silence.

"%$#@ THIS!!! I'M GETTING THE $#@% OUT OF HERE!!!" Chris sprinted for the van. Made it inside, turned the ignition. Sighed in relief...

A black wraith CRASHED THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD!

Kev looked on, eyes wide, paralyzed, as Chris was pulled into the back of the van, screaming all the way. His hands shaking, Kev slapped a fresh clip into gun and emptied it into the side of the van. Fifteen shots. No way nothing could survive that! Loading his last clip, he approached the van. Taking a deep breath, he opened the cargo doors.

Nothing.

No Chris. No..."UGGGHHH!!!" His head struck the van. Again. The gun fell from his fingers as he collapsed. He felt a knee bearing down on his throat, strangling him. Barely conscious, groaning, he looked up. Eyes, red like a demon's, stared down at him.

"IF I WERE YOU...I'D PREY TO GOD THAT I NEVER COMMIT ANOTHER CRIME AGAIN!"

A fist rushed at his face and thankfully Kev knew no more.

This was a really fun read! Thought it was cool that your heroine was introduced with such an air of mystery, she comes across like a real bad ass. The douchebro dialogue of the crooks was fun- focusing on them was a fun direction for this story, and lends to the mysterious quality of the vigilante that stops them, in the end.

Looking forward to reading any further installments, hoping to learn more about Nightingale as a character!

Good job! Nicely paced and well written . Good plauaible dialogue and well written action

Only one bit didnt gel for me . The initial reveal where they sufdenly start randomly shooting is a bit quick. It would read better if she speaks they draw, listen, maybe a few frantic whispers to set them all on edge , then she speaks again it echoes around the warehouse and they all open fire. To me that plays out better than the way you have it - its all a bit fast as is.
But its a nice start and bravo on doing a character other than SG, BG or WW.
Well done I look forward to more.

Thanks so much, BD and Tallyho! Glad you liked the mystery aspect, Betty, that's exactly what I was going for. But don't worry, now that I've given Nighty her badass intro, you can expect to learn a lot more about her in the next chapter! And "douchebro". Love it!

Thanks for the criticism, Tally. You're right, it is a bit rushed but I really wanted that sudden intense over-reaction, immediately opening fire like that, to punch things up, give it that jolt of action, rather than a slow build of tension with them talking.

Thanks again you two for commenting. Believe me, it means a lot to me!

Quite a punchy scene you wrote there RG, straight into the shooting and the fighting with the villains getting picked off one by one. Nicely done.

I really enjoyed the superb descriptive quality of this story. Your visual and auditory cues put the reader front and center with sparkling clarity. Nicely done!

Congratulations! I too enjoyed your descriptions. They really brought the scene to life...but I agree with Tallyho - the gunmen shot way too quick. Having said that, I'm eager to see what comes next and, especially, to learn more about your heroine. Good luck and, again, congrats on a great start.

Thanks for the kind words, Abductor, Dr. D and Girlofsteel! Straight to the action, that's my motto! I'm not a gal that likes to wait around!

The story continues...

She wore a bodysuit. Actually, a compression top that blended into a pair of tights, the partition hidden by her utility belt. Anyone that got close enough to notice usually got knocked out before they could tell the difference. The outfit was black with silver highlights along the calves and upper arms. Not the glittery silver a Vegas stripper might wear. More a matte grayish/white. Classy, not sleazy. And of course, there was the stylized silver bird in flight emblazoned on her chest, easily the most distinctive feature of her costume. Her namesake.

A pair of opera gloves, the same grayish/white, and acrobat boots covered her hands and feet. The boots sported steel toes and hardened rubber soles perfect for climbing. One thing they did not have were heels. They were designed for running and kicking ass, not strutting like a runway model. Her utility belt was true silver, both in color and composition. Sleek and thin, ringed by an assortment of compartments and cylinders, it hung low around her waist, riding her hips. And completing the entire ensemble was the domino mask, black with silver trim and made of the same ballistic spandex as the rest of her costume, that covered her dark brown eyes. And that was it. No cowl blocking her peripheral vision or covering her short, glossy black hair. No cape to weigh her down or trip over. Her entire costume was a hallmark of sleek, menacing efficiency.

What about the woman herself? She was neither tall nor especially short. 5'6". Yet, she presented such an imposing, self-assured presence that she easily made men a full foot taller cower before her. One would best describe her form as lithe, that of a ballet dancer, although her bosom was a bit too full for the Bolshoi. Hard lean muscle attested to her training. Her stance, movement and alertness to her formidability. Nightingale was truly every inch a superhero.

With a satisfying CRACK!, she knocked out the last of the douchebros. The look of fear on his face before her fist struck was priceless. With no one looking, she smiled. More like a smirky little grin before turning serious once more. She turned off the blazing red 'specter eyes' emitted by her combat lenses. Quickly, she frisked the young thug. Folding knife, wallet, phone. Turning him over on his stomach, she zip-tied his hands and feet. Wrapping her arms underneath his armpits, she dragged him away from the van. Dropped him a few feet away in a clear area of the floor.

"Now for your friends." Edd was lying unconscious behind the driver's side door of the van. Classic misdirection. A holo-talon through the windshield, followed by a flash-bang in the back while grabbing Edd through the door. Dickhead shoots up the back, gets a surprise. Viola! She dumped Edd, similarly restrained, by his bruh and went to get Eddy. The last of the trio was hanging by his feet 30 feet off the ground. She activated the descender reel on her grapnel gun hooked around the base of a support column and slowly brought him down.

Three for three. Now that Ed, Edd and Eddy were trussed up and secured, she could concentrate on the bigger fish. Namely The Walrus. "Okay, sea mammal...sheesh." The vigilante pulled out her NightPhone and pressed it against the first creep's phone. "DOWNLOAD IN PROGRESS..." appeared on her screen. Underneath a bar slowly filling green. Texts, photos, contacts, anything on his phone would be copied on hers. 160 seconds later, she repeated the process with the other two phones.

That done, she placed a call. "15th and Bane. Old HomeWell Appliance warehouse," she told the gruff voice on the other end. She hung up in the middle of his bitching. She turned her attention to the stolen MEEs. One of her snitches had told her about the early shipment. Real sloppy on MicroCom's part. Not like Morrow at all. The woman must be having a hissy fit right now knowing that her phones had been shipped out by mistake, let alone stolen. Nightingale smiled at the thought. The heroine didn't dwell on the hows or whatfors, let Morrow sweat that out. The phones had made good bait and her three guppies here were the proof.

She picked up the stray MEE carton that had been lifted out of the box. She was sorely tempted to take it with her. Or at least to unpack it and try to download its OS and firmware. Try to find out what malware and other shit was loaded on it. "Yeahhh...like that's gonna work." She remembered what happened the last time she attempted something like that with one of Morrow's devices. She ended up having to smash one of her NightPhones. She wasn't too keen on repeating that experience anytime soon. No, she would wait until next week and just buy one like everyone else. Send it to her labs. The heroine gritted her teeth at the thought of giving Madelyne Morrow a single cent but if she could take down that bitch it would be worth it.

She returned the MEE to its fellow comrades inside the box. Given the response time, the cops would be here in less than three minutes. Just enough time to grab her gear and find a perch. The throwing talon she had used to knock the thug's gun out of his hand at the start of her attack was easy enough to locate. For the small speakers however....

She blinked twice. Her contact lenses switched to ultraviolet. The warehouse turned black except for about half a dozen bright pinpoints that shone like scattered stars throughout the structure. All her gadgets were tagged with marker dye. Afterall, it wouldn't do to leave her crap behind for the cops or criminal dirtbags to find. She returned the last of the micro-speakers that had thrown her voice and spooked her quarry to her belt just as she heard the first police siren. She made for the rafters when she saw the food. Two full bags of Mr. Chin's Chinese. A couple cartons lay open on the floor along with a few cans of beer but the rest of the food hadn't been touched. She thought it over. Yeah, she had time if she hustled.


*************************************************


Harris and Halbeck were the first on scene. "10-10," Harris spoke into her radio, gun drawn. She saw the men, the stacks of high-end electronics. "Possible stolen merchandise. Three suspects on the ground. Request EMT." Her partner knelt in front of the fallen perps, checked their pulses. "Seems alright. Just knocked out." At that moment, a second patrol car pulled up. Back-up had arrived. Lee and Westerbrooke. As Sergeant, Harris had rank. "Okay," she commanded. "Hal, watch the perps. Westy and Lee, you two with me. I wanna sweep this building. Lee, take the left si..." A shouted voice over the radio cut her off. "Stand down! Building is secure!" "Building is NOT secure," Harris objected. "Building is SECURE. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR." "Yes, Lieutenant," Harris responded through gritted teeth. "I'll be there in five. Just cool ya heels til I get there. Chandler out."

"Great, it's Clubhouse. Know what THAT means, " Halbeck quipped, holstering his sidearm.

"You mean, it's...HER?" Lee asked in breathless awe.

"What gave it away, Inspector Gadget? Oh, iunno, maybe the three tied up baddies?" Harris gave Lee a withering look.

"Hey, ease up, Sarge," Westerbrooke grinned. "Rookie's just excited. First time?" he asked Lee.

"Yeah. Think she's, er...still around?"

"Oh, she's still around," Westy told his young partner who began starring intently into the dark corners of the warehouse. "Ha, trust me, son, you ain't gonna see her unless she WANTS ya to. Trust me, I know from experience," the old veteran advised Lee.

"Well, Clubhouse got one thing right," Halbeck chimed in. "This place is secure. Probably the safest spot in Monolith City right now."

"Speak of the devil..." Harris muttered.

An unmarked Crown Vic pulled into the warehouse, its dark blue paint job scratched and scuffed up. The car's condition matched its driver to a tee as Lt. Chandler shambled out, bread crumbs falling off his pants. Six feet, two inches, two hundred and eighty pounds of police detective lumbered toward the uniformed patrol officers. "Harris!" he bellowed. "What 'a we got here?"

"Three males in their early twenties. Unconscious and restrained. Kevin Randolph, 22. Darryl Johnson, 24. And Christopher Hicks, 21. All have priors. B&D, armed robbery, assault. Three semi-autos. A Smith & Wesson .45 and two Glock 17s. Folding knife. A van shot to hell. We ran the VIN. Reported stolen three months ago. And a warehouse full of electronic goodies. Including, "Harris pointed a finger to her left, "three whole boxes just stuffed full of brand-spanking new MEE-7 smartphones."

"MEE-7? What's that?"

Harris rolled her eyes. "It's a phone. It's very popular. Just trust me." She gave the lieutenant a side glance. "Looks like your girl's been busy."

"She's not my girl," Chandler growled, annoyed, before grudgingly adding, "Good work, Sergeant."

"Thanks," Harris responded, softening.

"Ya waiting for EMT?"

"Yeah."

"When they get here, the four of you ride back with 'em. Lemme know when our sleeping beauties here wake up. I'll stay here until Crime Lab and Robbery arrive. Any questions?"

"No, sir."

"Good." Something caught the lieutenant's eye. Tensing, gripping her sidearm, Harris swung around to see what it was! When she did, she relaxed her hold on her gun, sighed, and rolled her eyes once more. "Now if you'll excuse me," Chandler grinned, "I see a carton of Chinese food with my name on it." The detective walked over and surprisingly for a man of his size and girth, deftly snatched up the open carryout container. Pork lo mein. And how convenient, there was a plastic fork stuck halfway down the noodles. And what was this? An open can of Coors? Even better! Noodles in one hand, beer in the other, he headed for the far end of the warehouse. He found a particularly nice spot, dark and secluded, and started digging into his food. He waited, guzzling down the beer, until...

"I thought there were rules against drinking on the job," a low voice spoke from the shadows behind him.

"Who's drinking?" Chandler responded, taking another long gulp of beer. Burped. "So, how's your night been, Skintights?" He didn't bother to turn around to look at her.

She ignored him. "They got those phones from the Big Deals on 7th. Bypassed the store's security system. They're good. They're also responsible for the Naiwoo Electronics hijacking on the McKinney Bridge last month. Also the Precision Tool Systems and Stereo Bros heists not to mention a half dozen other robberies. Check your email. I sent a file with all the evidence you'll need."

"Is this where I'm supposed to say thank you?" Chandler asked, slurping down a forkful of noodles.

There was an uncomfortably long silence.

"Do you have a problem with me?"

"Problem?" Chandler wondered. "No problem. Spoiled little rich girl decides to come down from her mansion to teach the rest of us slobs about justice. Prancing around in spandex, shaking her cute little ass. Playing with the bad guys. Leaving the paperwork and the rest of the shit work to the lowly peons to take care of. Why would I have a problem with that?"

"You're right. You do clean up my shit." Her voice was cold and calm. "Because, Detective Chandler, that's all you're good for. Why do you think Commissioner Douglas gave you this job? Being my...liaison. Because you're a slob and a drunk. I can go home tonight knowing that I stopped a gang shooting, three armed robberies, two attempted rapes and this hijacking ring. What did you accomplish tonight? I can read your accomplishments from the food stains on your shirt. You know why you're such a pariah on the force? Why no other detective will work with you? Why you're 'unassigned'? Why...everyone calls you Clubhouse? Trust me, It's not because you testified against those dirty cops. It's because you're a fat, lazy asshole wallowing in self-pity waiting to collect his pension."

He downed the rest of the beer. Crushed the can and tossed it aside. Said nothing. Continued eating in silence. And then, "I love these talks of ours. Thanks. I don't know about you but I, for one, feel a whole lot better. Skintights? He turned around but this time, there was no one in the darkness. He finished the rest of the noodles and threw the container on the ground.

Fuck.

He needed another beer.

Hey Betty, 'douchebros' was so awesome, I had to use it. Hope you don't mind.

Nice chemistry, albeit negative, between Nightingale and Chandler. Should make things interesting. Captivating stuff.

RiotGrrrrrl wrote: ↑

9 years ago

Hey Betty, 'douchebros' was so awesome, I had to use it. Hope you don't mind.

Haha, of course not! And again, great story! Really enjoying Nightingale as a confident, cool & ass-kicking heroine! Seconding DrDominator's comments on the dynamic between Nightingale and Chandler being super compelling. Neat to see them being antagonistic like that, without being actively working against one another! Looking forward to seeing where things go from here!