Fuchsia Fox: "The Fox and the Hunter", By Centurion

[flirty_but_nice]

Fuchsia Fox: "The Fox and the Hunter"
By Centurion


Chapter 1 -- Richmond, Virginia


Wind and rain lashed at the reporter's raincoat as he stood by the raised parapet of a parking lot with the Boulevard Bridge in the background. "As Tropical Storm Florence bears down upon Richmond," he said, "the James River is already at the flood stage and many roads are closed. As you recall, the storm made landfall at Wilmington, North Carolina and turned north through Virginia. Forecasters had already downgraded it to a tropical depression when the storm unexpectedly picked up speed again. In twenty years in the weather business, I've never seen anything like it. Tornado watches are in effect for Powhatan, Chesterfield and Prince George Counties. Citizens are advised to remain in their homes."

While the reporter had been speaking, his cameraman had begun panning across the swollen James River and the bridge. There was very little traffic in the nearby flooded streets, mostly SUV's and trucks, moving slowly through water almost up to their axles, but as they crossed the relatively dry bridge, they attempted to go faster. The camera picked up a big hook-and-ladder firetruck starting across with its red lights flashing, responding to an emergency somewhere.

Suddenly a white SUV coming the other way went into a skid, hydroplaning on the rain slick surface of the bridge. The firetruck swerved in a desperate attempt to avoid collision, skewing sideways across the northbound lane. The SUV smacked into the flank of the firetruck, deflecting its slide and sending it crashing head first through the railing, where it hung with its front half dangling over nothing but a sheer drop into the churning river far below.

Tires screeched on the surface of the bridge as the vehicles in both lanes came to a halt, their progress blocked by the pileup. The four firemen who had been riding on the body of the hook-and-ladder quickly jumped off the truck, leaving only the two men who were now trapped in the cab. The loss of their weight made the truck teeter precariously on the edge of the bridge.

"Holy cow did you see that?" the reporter shouted as the cameraman zoomed in on the accident. "That was a close one! A little more and he would have gone right over!" He started toward the bridge at a fast walk, his cameraman following him while struggling to keep the accident in focus.

The rain was still coming down hard. The brawny firemen tried to hold onto the sides of the firetruck, hoping to at least hold it steady for a few moments while they came up with a plan. A police cruiser stopped, its blue lights adding a note of urgency to the situation as the two officers got out to see what they could do to help. With a groan of metal, the firetruck began to slide over the edge. The firemen let go and jumped back. The people waiting in their cars could only watch in horror.

Suddenly a beautiful young woman appeared from out of the gray, rain-drenched sky and landed on the bridge. The men gasped in complete astonishment, their eyes drawn to the girl's deliciously buff curves adorned with in a two-piece, reddish-purple costume. Her elegant legs were bare except for ankle boots, her arms sheathed in elbow length gloves. Snugly fitting briefs caressed her supple waist, while above her toned midriff, a halter top hugged her youthful bust, displaying a triangular fox-head chest emblem.

"Are you seeing this?" the weather reporter enthused, starting to jog faster along the bridge. "It can only be the Fuchsia Fox!"

Without hesitation the stunning young superheroine grabbed hold of the rear bumper of the firetruck, her luxurious brunette tresses whipping in the wind around her smooth shoulders as her super strength, endowed by her bracelets of Ishtar, arrested the massive vehicle's slide. The metal chassis groaned in protest, but it held. The firemen gaped in disbelief, leaping forward to add their muscles to the task. Some of the onlookers began to get out of their vehicles for a better view.

"Okay now," the Fox said to herself, "gently..." Lifting the rear end of the firetruck to waist level, she began to walk it backwards, feeling the underside grind against the edge of the bridge. Just then a particularly violent squall of wind and rain swept the bridge. With a rending moan, the firetruck began to slide again, a few inches at a time. The spunky young heroine struggled to maintain her hold, her ankle boots sliding on the asphalt surface of the bridge.

"You can't hold it!" shouted one of the firemen standing beside her. "It's going to go!"

"Not if I can help it!" the Fox replied. It wasn't her strength that was lacking; it was just that her slim 110 pound frame was simply not enough to anchor the fifteen-ton firetruck by one end. If she held on, the truck was going to plunge into the river anyway and yank her slender body right off the bridge with it. She had to get closer to the truck's center of gravity.

"Stand back! Give me some room!" the Fox shouted. Burly firemen were not inclined to take orders from a slender, twenty-something year old girl whatever her reputation might be, but when the saucy superbabe lifted the rear end of the truck to her chest level and then over her head, they didn't have much choice but to back away.

The firetruck was slanted at an angle now, which made it even more inclined to slide as the wind caught it. Grimly the Fox slowly walked her way forward, one hand in front of the other, every sinew of her lean, luscious body straining. She was almost there! Just a few more feet...

KRUUUNNKKKK! The firetruck began to slide over the edge! The Fox threw herself forward, engaging her flying powers as she pushed the truck clear of the bridge, taking its entire twelve tons onto her soft, feminine shoulders. The firemen and the bystanders let out cries of anguish as the daring girl dropped like a stone under her burden toward the rushing river.

But then the truck halted just above the surface of the water. There was a brief pause as the Fox shifted the weight to balance it, and then it was rising, flying back over the railing. The crowd cheered as she set it down and rushed to the driver's side door to check on the two men inside.

"I thought we were goners for sure!" the driver said, as he stumbled weak-kneed onto terra firma.

"Oh pish!" the Fox said, her two marvelous coconuts rising and falling as she caught her breath. "It wasn't even close!" But as all of the hunky firemen gathered around, she realized that her nipples were as hard as bullets from the adrenalin rush of that close call, and all too visible since she was drenched to the skin from all the rain she had been flying through all morning, trying to give assistance wherever she could. And she could see the weather reporter jogging toward her with his television camera!

"Sorry to rescue and run, fellas," the heroine said hastily, "but I've got to be shoving off."

"Hey, wait a second," said one of the policemen. "We just heard a call a few seconds ago. Something about a power outage at the Petersburg Prison."

"Thanks, officer. I'd better check that out," the Fox said, shooting upward into the sky before the reporter could arrive.


***


Chapter 2 -- Petersburg Federal Prison


The same rain was lashing through the exercise yard of the prison as three guards in riot gear hurried along, hugging the shelter of the building as they made their way to a side door. With the power outage, the prison was dark except for emergency lights. Electronic locks were shut tight, but they could still be forced manually. There were reports that at least some prisoners had managed to get their cell doors open, but were still confined in their cell blocks. The guards were spread thin covering every possible exit, just in case.

"Dispatch, this is Minard," the leader of the little squad said into his helmet radio. "Almost in position." As he took one hand off of his shotgun to reach ahead for the door handle, the man behind him tapped him on the shoulder. Getting his attention, he pointed up.

They were at a corner where two wings of the building met. A beautiful young woman was standing on the roof two stories above them, ignoring the howling wind of the storm that blew around her. She had a heart-shaped Asian face, framed with short, jet-black hair. Her nubile young body was dressed in a long-sleeved, sky blue leotard of clingy latex, caressing the lissome curves of her body and her smallish breasts as if it was painted on. It ended with a pleated miniskirt which whipped around her silky bare legs in the wind, giving the men tantalizing glimpses of white panties. Her dainty feet were clad in blue slippers and white leggings to her knees. A long, white silk scarf was draped around her lovely neck, looping around each shoulder and leaving the ends blowing in the wind. A shorter white scarf encircled her trim, alluring waist like a sash.

In her left hand she was carrying a Japanese katana with an ivory handle, its blade covered in a blue sheath. The girl looked down at the men and smiled.

She dived gracefully forward from the roof, performing a full somersault as she landed amongst them, her hands and feet seeming to strike in all directions at once, using her sheathed sword as a blunt instrument. In spite of their Kevlar body armor, the girl took all three of them down with ease, then slipped inside through the door.

Turning to her left through a wide cinderblock hallway, the beautiful Japanese girl came to a heavy cell block door, still locked tight, behind which she could see the shadowy figures of at least a dozen inmates in prison uniforms.

"The Blue Dragon!" said Damien Devlin, in the forefront of the group. "I couldn't be sure that my lawyer had reached you. But when we saw on the news that the storm had changed direction, I said to the boys that you were on your way to spring us."

"Let me get this straight," said a beefy prisoner with a shaved head. "Are you trying to tell me this bimbo created this hurricane?"

"I did not create it," the girl said, as she drew her katana slowly from its sheath. "I merely seized control of it, intensified it and redirected to my own ends. Step away from the door."

Damien Devlin did as she instructed, but the man with the shaved head gripped the metal bars and thrust his face forward belligerently. "You didn't say 'please'," he smirked.

The girl called the Blue Dragon tilted her head to one side, raising one arrogant eyebrow. "Allow me to rephrase. Step away from the door if you desire to continue living."

Something about her tone of voice made the prisoner let go of the bars and back away. The girl slipped her sword's thin, razor-sharp blade through the gap of the door lock. A lightning bolt seemed to race along the sword and melt the lock, allowing the door to slide open.

"This way," the Blue Dragon said tersely, re-sheathing her katana as she turned and led them back the way she had come. The prisoners all rushed forward, following her tempting figure out into the rain-swept exercise yard, where they paused to get their bearings.

"You can fly me out of here, right?" asked Devlin, flinching from the wind and the rain.

"I myself can ride the winds," the Japanese girl replied, looking him over. "But I could not carry you while doing so. This way." She ran swiftly along the wall.

A few minutes later, the rain suddenly slacked off to a mere drizzle. A big gray prison transport van crashed through the gates of the rear service entrance, forcing the guards at the gate to hurriedly leap out of the way, then scramble to their feet firing their sidearms as the vehicle kept going into the dreary, wet afternoon.

The van had only gone about a mile when an energy beam came from out of nowhere, slicing right through its engine block. The vehicle swerved and tipped over onto its side, skidding to a dead stop on the rain-soaked street. A dozen prison inmates clambered out of the wreckage, looking around in every direction. Three of them cocked the shotguns they had picked up from the three guards, ready to aggressively challenge whomever had tried to stop them.

Then one of them happened to look up. "Aw hell no," he said incredulously as the Fuchsia Fox touched down on the street not ten yards in front of them. "Did I wake up in the middle of a beer commercial where Victoria's Secret models are dropping out of the damn sky?"

The beautiful superheroine planted her long, alluring legs to brace herself in the water still flowing swiftly some two or three inches deep over the asphalt. Then she interlaced her gloved fingers together and delicately cracked her knuckles.

"I'm going to give you guys one chance," the Fox said, "to walk back to the prison and surrender peacefully. But I warn you -- I'm wet, and I'm tired, and I'm not in a good mood."

"Oh yeah?" smirked a big, tough-looking black inmate, lowering the shotgun he was carrying. "I'll give you one chance to suck my meat. Maybe that will put you in a good mood." The others laughed.

The Fox sighed. Why was it always like this? She was famous, but a lot of men were just too macho to back down from a girl. Others had heard about her exploits on television and couldn't believe that she could really be all that powerful. They always had to learn the hard way.

Abruptly she charged, flying straight at the three who were armed. The stunning super-lady smacked into the first guy like a missile, tossing him several feet, then touched ground with a graceful backwards spin that brought the heel of her boot into the beefy neck of the second guy. As he toppled over, the third one raised his shotgun to firing position. The heroine completed her spin and switched legs, plowing her silken knee into his chest and knocking the wind out of him, the shotgun blast firing harmlessly into the sky. Grabbing the inmate by the front of his shirt, she whirled around and threw him into two others who were trying to rush her.

WHAM! Something hard suddenly struck the Fox in back of her head, hard enough to make her see stars even though blunted by her invisible force shield. What the--? The cocky heroine staggered to her knees, feeling a pair of hands grabbing her lissome waist from behind. Her attacker was superhumanly strong, pinning her arms and yanking her backwards, dragging the gallant girl into the deep, muddy ditch at the edge of the street and dunking her head under, holding her there.

The Fox popped to the surface moments later, soaked to the skin and gasping precious oxygen into her lungs while the man who held her captive grabbed the front of her halter top, groping her pert breasts through the clingy material of her costume. Before the heroine could do anything to stop him, he had yanked her top upward, exposing her gorgeous perky B-cups in full view of the dozen sex-starved inmates who had her surrounded. Taken off guard, Jennifer couldn't suppress an involuntary surge of arousal, her nipples stiffening up like little bullets.

"I know that you remember me," her captor smirked with a Middle Eastern accent, giving her firm tits a squeeze. "I am Manticore!"

The Fox felt an icy shiver of dread run up and down her spine. He was seven feet tall, his dark hair a thick mane like a lion. Shirtless, his bare skin seemed to have the texture of rhino hide, and she knew from past experience that he was nearly as strong as she was, able to bench press several tons. And although she was pinned with her back against his muscular chest, out the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of his long, spiked tail at it thrashed at the air. That was what had hit her!

"I thought..." the heroine gasped, feeling more than half stunned as the villain massaged her pliant orbs, "you were in the military prison... at Fort George Meade?" Suddenly the task of recapturing these prisoners didn't seem quite so easy.

"They moved me here when I renounced ORCUS," Manticore said. "Meanwhile I dreamed of encountering you again, Handmaiden of Satan."

"It's flattering... to be remembered," the Fox said breathlessly.

Spitefully the escaped prisoner shoved the heroine back down under the surface of the muddy water. Jenn struggled desperately, her lungs straining but helpless to break free of his superhumanly powerful grip. At last he allowed her up again, sputtering and drawing air into her lungs, her bare breasts jiggling freely, exposed.

"Don't take no backtalk like that, Manticore," the black inmate said as he moved forward, his eyes glued to the Fox's succulent, bouncing coconuts. "It been a long time since my willy's tasted a pussy this juicy. Let's strip her!" The other inmates, gathering around, seconding the motion.

"What do you think, Whore of the Devil?" Manticore asked her. "Maybe after you have serviced all of us, you will meet your Maker with your soul purified?"

"Don't count on it," the Fox said, catching her breath finally. Suddenly she kicked off from the muddy ground, both high heels smacking squarely into the black inmate's chest and sending him flying. Her lean, spectacular body continued the spin up and over, twisting free of Manticore's grasp and landing astride his broad shoulders, her creamy thighs tightening around his neck as her glove-sheathed fist connected with the side of his head.

"Get off of me!" the villain roared, spinning angrily around in an attempt to dislodge the sassy super-girl. His spiked tail flailed blindly into the pack of prisoners who were rushing up to help him, sweeping them aside like so many bowling pins, but the Fox kept a firm grip around his head, squeezing her shapely stems around his neck and choking off his air.

Straining his utmost, Manticore shrugged his massive shoulders, bucking the spunky superheroine off. As she landed catlike on her feet, he swept his spiked tail around, catching the girl across the middle and slamming her thirty feet into the side of the overturned prison van. The Fox grimaced with the impact, staggering forward a few paces as the thug was upon her in an instant, grabbing her swanlike neck and then tossing her body across the rain-drenched street like a rag doll.

Six of the prisoners rushed forward and tried to grab her. The heroine was resilient, acting like a human whirlwind, punching and kicking in all directions while the inmates' own blows seemed to glance off her delicious body harmlessly. As soon as a prisoner would manage to get a hold on her somewhere -- her alluringly shapely torso or her silken leg -- he would find his grip broken and the dauntless superheroine grabbing him and tossing him several yards like a sack of dirty laundry.

Once more Manticore charged, swinging his spiked tail at her. This time the Fox ducked smoothly under it, tucking into a roll and coming up with her right fist plowing into his groin region.

"UNGH! I will break you in half for that, wench!" the villain bellowed, reaching out with both hands to grab her.

"Only if you catch me, sparky!" the heroine taunted, taking hold of his wrists and rolling onto her back, bringing her gorgeous gam up and flipping him over her into the muddy ditch.

Manticore landed hard but immediately stumbled to his feet, coming at her again. The Fox caught his arm in a judo hold and flipped him again over her hip onto the hard asphalt street. Once again he got up, only to meet a gloved fist right into his jaw. The villain staggered as the Fox kept pummeling him with a series of roundhouse kicks to the tough hide of his abdomen, driving the villain steadily backward. Desperately he caught her alluring leg in his ham-like hand, but the spunky heroine merely spun around and brought up her other leg, landing her high-heeled boot right between his eyes. The prisoner dropped like a sack of bricks.

The other eleven inmates were lying around semiconscious and groaning. When they saw that the Fox had taken out Manticore, those that were able to get to their feet tried to make a run for it, but they ran straight into a bus full of prison guards, coming out to pick them up.


***


Chapter 3 –


Roughly twenty minutes later, with the power restored and the prisoners back in their cells, Karen Holt, senior female guard at Petersburg Federal Prison, was standing watch inside the women's locker room, trying to keep her eyes averted as she listened to the shower running behind her. She was keeping her attention fixed on a pair of ankle boots, elbow length gloves, boy-cut briefs, and a halter top with a fox head emblem. Those revealing little garments had been washed thoroughly in the sink to get the mud out, and she was now applying a hair dryer to dry them.

"I really appreciate this!" the Fuchsia Fox called from the shower around the corner. "I would have hated to have to fly around the rest of the day with all that gunk on me."

"Think nothing of it," Karen called back. "It was the least we could do." She couldn't help thinking about the beautiful young superheroine's smooth, naked curves all lathered up as she stood under the cascade of hot, cleansing water, scrubbing those sweet little tits of hers and soaping herself between her creamy thighs and legs. Karen had to bite her lip in order to fight the temptation to turn around and peek. She paused to feel the clingy fabric of the halter top she was working on. "I think your suit's dry."

"Oh, great!" the Fox said. A moment later she turned the shower off. "Can you pass me a towel?"

Karen bit her lip again as she handed a white towel around the corner, getting a wonderful bird's-eye view of the superheroine's flawless breasts and alluring young body, still dripping wet from the shower.

"Any news on the storm?" the Fox asked as she briskly began toweling herself dry, starting with her brunette hair, which effectively prevented the guard from getting a good look at her face.

"It seems to have slacked off again," Karen said, quite unable to look away as the sexy super-girl began rubbing the towel over and between her pliant boobs. "Downgraded to just a tropical depression again. Still bouncing and jiggling-- I mean pushing north toward Washington."

The Fox blushed as she put aside the towel and slipped her ankles into her briefs, tugging them up her long, elegant legs. "You don't have to babysit me, you know," she said, wriggling into her halter top. "I mean, if there's something else you need to be doing."

Karen laughed. "You've never visited a 95% male prison before, have you?" she said.

The Fox pulled on her long gloves, tucking them under her gold bracelets which she had worn even in the shower. "But the prisoners are secured, aren't they?"

"Prisoners my ass," Karen smirked. "If I didn't have two women posted outside the door right now, every male guard who wasn't on duty would be finding excuses to 'accidentally' wander into the wrong locker room, trying to catch you in the shower." She shook her head. "Men are such pigs."

"And yet," the Fox sighed, thinking of her husband Martin, "what would we do without them?" Karen had to bite her lip again to keep from blurting out what she was thinking.

Once the heroine was completely dressed, they both emerged from the locker room into the corridor, where true to Karen's word, two female guards stood watch. "The Warden wants to see you," Karen said to the Fox. "Come this way." The four of them made a procession toward the administration wing, but they ran into Superintendent Carlson in the corridor.

"There you are!" the warden gushed, obviously relieved to see the stunning superheroine. "I can't thank you enough for helping us deal with the prison break, Miss Fox..."

"I was happy to help, Superintendent," the heroine said, modestly.

"But we've just done a head count," Carlson continued, wringing his hands, "and two prisoners are still missing. We think there was an outside person helping them -- a girl in a blue costume. They used the break-out as a diversion, cut across the infirmary wing, and got out through the main parking lot, where they stole a car." The warden paused uncomfortably. "My car, actually."

Karen and the other two women guards could barely contain their grins.

"That is bad news," the Fox said sympathetically. "What are the names of the two who escaped?"

"One is Damien Devlin," Carlson said, showing her a picture on his smartphone of a dapper, slightly balding man in his mid-forties. "He's a millionaire who had his hand in numerous shady deals. He was convicted for attempting the assassination of a Senator Dealy, if you remember the case."

The superheroine grimly folded her arms across her lovely bust. "I was the one who caught him and testified against him," she said. "Who is the other escapee?"

The warden flipped through files on his phone and showed her a photo of a brawny man with a shaved head. "A serial killer named Harold Trask. I believe he was also known as--"

"The Huntsman!" the Fox groaned, her face twisting into a grimace. "I remember him, too. What are you doing to find them?"

Carlson sighed. "We've alerted the sheriff's department, given them a description of the car. They're doing what they can, considering that a lot of roads are closed and they have their hands full with the storm. It couldn't have happened at a worst time."

"Knowing Damien Devlin," the superheroine said, "he planned it that way."


***


Devlin abandoned Carlson's silver Buick in a deserted shopping center in Powhatan County, where he and Trask broke into a department store and stole some clothes to replace their prison uniforms. Then they stole a dark blue SUV which had been left behind by its owner with a crack in its windshield from flying debris. All of this took place under cover of the tropical storm, which was still raging over the area as it moved northward at an uncannily slow pace.

It didn't take long for Trask, who was driving the SUV by then, to realize that the storm's pace was exactly matching theirs, moving when they moved and stopping when they stopped. The girl called Blue Dragon rode leaning out the sun roof and holding her sheathed katana aloft in her outstretched hand, and somehow the storm seemed to obey her every thought. Around the car was a circle of calm air about a hundred feet in diameter. When they came to a flooded road, the Japanese beauty waved her hand and the waters parted for them.

"How does she do that?" Trask grumbled. "It gives me the creeps."

"She claims it's magic," Devlin laughed, lounging back in the passenger seat. "Her sword contains the spirit of the god of thunder himself. I wouldn't worry about it."

Somewhere northwest of Richmond, they drove through a concealed door in the side of a building and found themselves in a hidden garage with a private elevator. Devlin punched a code into the control panel and the three of them rode the elevator several floors up to a plush office suite. "Ah, home at last!" Devlin said, slipping behind the teak wood bar and turning on a wide screen television set as he starting to pour gin and vermouth into a shaker. "You'll join me, won't you? This is a day to celebrate."

"Where is this?" Trask asked, looking all around suspiciously. Blue Dragon's eyes glanced across the room without interest.

"One of my hidden assets which the lawyers obviously didn't find," their host explained, pouring martinis into three glasses and taking a satisfying gulp out of his. "When I was arrested, the stockholders of my corporation claimed that I was acting without their knowledge. The courts allowed them to appoint a new CEO and continue running the company."

"That's terrible," the brawny prisoner commiserated, picking up his martini and tossing it down.

"I don't hold any grudges," Devlin shrugged, pouring him another. "I would have done the same thing. But I had a few places like this stashed away that they didn't know about. This is a materials research laboratory I own under another name. We'll be safe here."

"Safe from whom?" the Blue Dragon said, raising one flawless eyebrow. The two men watched her lean body and pert caboose as she strolled over to an upholstered wing chair and sat down, drawing her silken legs up into the seat and crossing her ankles, with her katana resting next to her.

"I know," Devlin said. "You just want the money I promised. I have millions in the Cayman Islands. It might take a day or two to arrange the wire transfer, but have no worries about--"

On the television, the local news had been covering the big story of the tropical storm as it moved out of the area. Devlin broke off because the attractive girl on the screen was now reporting on the break-out at the Petersburg Federal Prison. "Fortunately the Fuchsia Fox, the Washington-based superheroine, was in the area helping out with the storm. Twelve prisoners were returned almost immediately, including the terrorist known as Manticore. Still at large are Damien Devlin and Harold Trask." Photographs of the two of them appeared on the inset screen. "Trask in particular is considered dangerous," the reporter continued. "Law enforcement officials warn that if seen, he should not be approached. Report it to the sheriff's department immediately..."

"That's disappointing," Devlin frowned. "I was counting on Manticore drawing all of their attention for at least a couple of hours. That would have given me time to regain control over more of my company's assets. We can forget about that now."

"Interfering bitch!" Trask grumbled. Gulping down his second martini, he grabbed the bottle of gin and drank straight from the bottle.

"Who is this girl?" Blue Dragon asked, "this Fuchsia Fox?"

"She's a royal pain in the butt," Trask said. "She's responsible for putting us both in prison in the first place. If I could just get my hands on her..."

"What if you could?" Devlin said thoughtfully. "I think it's high time somebody did something about the Fuchsia Fox."


***


Chapter 4 -- Washington, D.C., six days later...


Jennifer Fletcher paused for a moment inside the Rotunda of the National Archives, looking at the orderly lines of tourists from all over the nation, young and old, as they came to view the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence. It was the middle of the afternoon, the busiest time of the day, and the sight always gave the young brunette a warm feeling of pride to know that she was a small part of it.

Mike MacCormick from the Restoration department lingered next to her, admiring Jennifer's fresh, youthful body. She was wearing an ivory white camisole top with a hint of lace around the bodice, set off by an onyx necklace circling the base of her swanlike throat. Below the waist her black skirt clung tight to her slender hips and flirted loosely around her pretty, silken knees. Jenn was quite young to be an assistant curator, and at one time Mike had felt resentful because of it. But she had proven to be so good at her job that she had disarmed all his objections. He could relax now and simply be grateful that they were part of the same team. This wasn't to say that like any red-blooded man he didn't sometimes entertain erotic fantasies of enjoying her nubile body across the worktable in the Restoration room. He was hesitant to act upon those fantasies, though, since she was married to a U.S. Army Special Forces officer.

"I'm sorry, Mike," Jennifer said briskly, as she resumed walking. "You were saying something about the Mayflower Compact?"

"Um... It's the case I'm worried about," Mike said, coming out of his daydream as together the two of them walked across to the glass case where that document was on display. As the tourists jostled past, they were soon deep into a technical discussion of how much disruption would be caused by removing it so that repairs could be made.

Jennifer made a decision. "Okay, we'll be closing in less than two hours. Why don't you take care of it tonight? I'll clear it with Dr. Pace."

"Thanks, Jennifer," MacCormick said. "I really appreciate it. Would you like to come downstairs and see the restoration of that colonial map we got from the Grimsley estate?"

"Oh, I'd love to!" the brunette gushed, her cheeks flushing as she went with him to the elevators. There they ran into Diana Prescott from I.T., who was looking at something on her smart phone.

"Have you seen this?" she asked, showing them both the screen. A hand-shot video was playing, captioned, "A New Super-chick in Town?" and it showed a beautiful, dark-haired young woman walking along the edge of Reflecting Pool in front of the Lincoln Memorial. Her face had Asian features, her lissome body dressed in a blue latex leotard that ended with a pleated miniskirt swishing about her pert bottom. A long white silk scarf draped around her neck and shoulders like a boa, and she seemed to be carrying a sheathed Japanese sword.

"Wow," Mike said, sounding unimpressed. "Is there a comic book convention in town?"

"Keep watching, Tiger," Diana said smugly.

The girl in the video was naturally attracting a lot of attention with her skin-tight outfit. Men kept trying to talk to her, but she stoically ignored them. At last she spun around impatiently, brandishing her still-sheathed sword. Suddenly a whirlwind seemed to whip up from out of nowhere, carrying the girl into the air, skirts and scarf flying around her delicious body as she flew onto the roof of the Lincoln Memorial. She stood there for a moment with the wind whipping around her, and the video ended at that point.

"Do you think she might be one of the Fuchsia Fox's friends?" Diana asked.

Jennifer shrugged. "No way of knowing. Has she done anything?"

"This video was made half an hour ago," Diana said. "I haven't heard of anything happening since."

"Well then, it's not our problem," Jennifer said, slipping her hand into the crook of Mike's elbow. "We were going down to Restoration. Care to join us?"

In spite of her elaborate show of nonchalance, Jennifer was secretly worried. Anyone who would so casually show off superpowers must be trying to draw attention to herself. But whose attention was she trying to attract, and why? The answer to the first question seemed pretty obvious -- she wanted the Fuchsia Fox's attention. Jennifer had to wonder if it had anything to do with the escape of Damien Devlin and the Huntsman from prison almost a week earlier. But she could hardly drop everything and go chasing this woman, as long as she wasn't making a nuisance of herself.

At 5:30, the Archives closed to the public. With no tourists in the way, Jennifer watched for a while as MacCormick and his team started moving the heavy case out of the Rotunda. Tonight, they were only going to move it down to Restoration so that they can start the repair work in the morning. Jenn didn't need to supervise a simple operation like that.

"Okay, I'll see you guys tomorrow," the attractive brunette said, waving good night, somehow sensing that all eyes were following her as she left. She said good night to George, the guard at the rear door, as she trotted lightly down the steps, her skirt whispering around her exquisite legs as she pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

"Hey, Angel," her husband answered. "Is it that time already?" His voice suddenly became apologetic. "Listen, I know I didn't warn you about this, but Oscar and I are going to stop by the sports bar tonight. Does that mess up any plans you had?"

"Oh right," Jenn said. "It's the playoffs, isn't it? That's fine, sweetheart. I'll just--"

Just then out the corner of her eye, Jennifer caught a glimpse of blue. It was the girl from the video, soaring slowly over the National Gallery of Art. "Um... It looks as though I might be a little late, too. Something just came up. Love you!"

It was six o'clock, about an hour before sunset. Jennifer quickly found a spot near the pedestrian underpass that wasn't covered by the CCTV cameras. From the thin golden bracelets that she wore around her wrists there was a discreet flash of light, and just that quickly her clothing vanished, instantly replaced by a reddish purple costume -- ankle boots, elbow length gloves, a scanty 14-inch miniskirt, and of course that tight little halter top with its famous fox head emblem emblazoned across the contours of her sweet, supple bust.

The Fuchsia Fox shot into the air like a sleek, beautiful missile, arcing gracefully toward the National Mall. Once there, she found the woman in blue perched on a bench in front of the Sculpture Garden, holding her sheathed sword cradled against her right arm. There was still a couple of dozen tourists lingering around, and although they seemed wary of the woman armed with a sword, they couldn't resist snapping pictures of the Fox as she alighted on the sidewalk.

"It's alright, I've got this," the lovely superheroine assured them, walking up toward the woman in blue. "Are you looking for me?" she asked.

The young Asian woman got up from the bench and politely bowed. "I am known as the Blue Dragon," she said. "Even in my far-away land, I have heard of the most esteemed Fuchsia Fox. It is an honor to at last meet you."

Jennifer nodded in return. "Now that we know one another," she said, "is there anything in particular you want to talk about?"

"Does the name Damien Devlin mean anything to you?" the Dragon said. As the Fox's brown eyes widened with interest, she smiled. "Ah! I see that it does. Recently I was contacted by him and my services engaged for a grandiose scheme which he had in mind. I very soon realized that he was merely another man full of delusions. I would much rather have the reward for his arrest." She paused. "I assume there is a reward?"

The Fox felt a bit flabbergasted at the idea of getting Devlin back in custody so soon and so easily. "Uh, I'm sure there is. But why didn't you take him straight to the authorities?"

"In my land," Blue Dragon said with a demure nod of her head, "I am what you might call a bounty hunter. I was not certain how well I would be received by your authorities."

"I understand," the heroine said. "I'll help out with that. Do you have him close by?"

"He is in a very secure location, never fear," the Japanese woman said. "Perhaps an hour away. Is this acceptable?"

"Oh sure. Lead on."

Blue Dragon raised her sheathed sword into the air and immediately a wind whipped up, lifting her desirable body smoothly into the sky and carrying her southward over the city. The Fox followed under her own power as together the two super-powered goddesses traveled along the course of the Potomac River for several miles. Then the Dragon swerved west, skirting the city of Fredericksburg and continuing in the direction of the foothills.

Dusk was falling as they approached a series of long, low greenhouses, which Jennifer recognized as an experimental hydroponics farm. At the end of the complex was the rigid steel frame of an enormous geodesic dome which seemed to cover several acres. The size of it was such that a small forest of trees could very well be growing inside.

Blue Dragon landed and dismissed her wind. The two of them were standing beside an octagonal steel door set into the side of the dome, labeled Portal H. The Japanese girl punched numbers into the control pad while holding her sword leaning at a casual angle across her shoulder. With a deep hydraulic hiss, the door opened by separating into two halves. Inside, the Fox could see a short entryway lined with hanging sheets of translucent plastic -- to keep the humidity inside, she supposed.

The superheroine hesitated. It was an odd place to keep a prisoner, wasn't it? "Damien Devlin is in there?" the Fox asked.

"Most assuredly," the Blue Dragon said with an inscrutable smile.

The Fox stepped cautiously through the portal, feeling a powerful air curtain blowing downward over her body. Once inside the entryway, the atmosphere was much warmer and damper, like a hothouse. She reached forward to brush aside the plastic sheet on the far side of the entryway, and suddenly the two halves of the door slammed shut behind her with a CLANG! The heroine whirled around as simultaneously two small canisters burst open near her feet, filling the entryway with thick, pale blue gas!

Caught by surprise, the superheroine couldn't resist breathing some of it in. Almost instantaneously, a wave of weakness seemed to travel down her spine and into her lissome arms and legs. Frantically the Fox held her breath and threw herself at the steel door, feeling for the gap between the two halves as she struggled to pry them open. Her arms felt like rubber. For some reason, she couldn't seem to focus on summoning any strength from her bracelets of Ishtar. Her hands were trembling, her knees quivering as shivers of fear rippled over her skin.

Desperately the Fox hammered her fists at the immovable steel. She couldn't hold her breath any longer. Wheeling around, she stumbled through the gas-filled entryway, running and diving through the plastic curtains, landing on her face in moist soil.

The change in heat and humidity, now that the heroine was inside the dome proper, was like stepping straight into the tropics. Thick plants and tall canopy trees loomed on every side as though the Fox were in a jungle, while far above she could just make out the tracery of the dome's geodesic framework. Lights attached to the dome illuminated her surroundings about like a three-quarter moon. The pale blue gas was dispersing as it leaked through the gap in the plastic, but she had breathed it deeply while she was in it, and her body was still shaking, all of her courage and resolve gone. Jennifer remembered feeling this way before, and she didn't like it.

"Look up, witch!" a male voice said. "Look up and face your death!"

On a broad path about five yards away stood a man dressed all in black -- black riding boots, black breeches, a black leather jerkin with full sleeves. Hanging from his black leather belt on his left side was a longsword and hanging from a baldric on his right side was a pistol crossbow. His right fist was clenched around the haft of a hunting spear. But his shaved head was bare, leaving his face all too visible. He was Harold Trask, the Huntsman!


***


Chapter 5 –


The Fuchsia Fox trembled as the Huntsmen stuck his spear upright in the soft ground, reached down and grabbed hold of the front of her halter top, and yanked the slim superheroine to her feet.

"The gas you have been breathing is concentrated DS gas," he smirked. "It was developed for riot control. It doesn't knock you out, but it does suppress your will to fight." He grinned. "You could say, It turns foxes into pussycats."

Jennifer's body shivered all over with hopelessness and fear, unable to even think about resisting, let alone summoning her powers. "P-please," she whimpered, gasping for breath. "Please don't..."

"Don't worry, wench," Trask continued, reaching over with his right hand and cupping her left breast through the thin fabric of her clingy top. "It will wear off in half an hour or so. Provided you're still alive." He suddenly pointed down the path. "In that direction, about half a mile, is Portal D. It's unlocked. If you can reach it before I catch you, freedom is yours. If you don't..." He smirked. "Well, let's just say that being in prison the last few years, I've got a lot of pent-up lust I need to work out of my system."

The Fox stared dumbly down the pathway into the depths of the hothouse dome, feeling bewildered and overwhelmed by the conflict of emotions. Her instincts were telling her to fight, and yet the chemicals in her bloodstream squelched any aggressive drive before it bore fruit.

"To be sporting, I’ll give you a two-minute head start. I suggest you RUN!" the Huntsman said impatiently, giving her shoulder a shove.

The Fox bolted, unable to stop herself. Submissiveness had taken over, forcing her long legs to carry her blindly away from him, her lungs pumping, body tingling with irrational fear. But the path wasn't a straight line from one end of the dome to the other. Before long it forked, then forked again. Jennifer knew that the Huntsman had killed at least three women this way -- by turning them loose in a park and hunting them down. Her chances of actually getting away from him were between slim and nonexistent. The only thing she could do was buy herself time until the gas wore off.

Another octagonal door suddenly loomed ahead of her, but it was clearly labeled Portal A. The beautiful heroine paused, leaning against the rough bole of a tree while she caught her breath. Huntsman had implied that all the other doors were locked. She was tempted to try it anyway just in case he was lying. But with only a two minute head start, she didn't dare let herself get caught in a cul-de-sac beating helplessly on a locked door.

Suddenly a crossbow arrow thudded into the trunk of the tree, in between her thumb and index finger. "I told you to run, witch!" the Huntsman growled, unseen in the thick, damp foliage. "If you make this too easy, I'll punish you severely before I kill you!"

Once again, the Fox sprinted away, crashing through cultivated plants, feeling vines and creepers snatching at her costume. The heat and humidity were starting to take their toll. Her skin felt wet and clammy from perspiration. The air felt too thick to breathe. Abruptly she found the path again and followed it, desperately trying to regain her bearings.

Without warning, the Fox tripped over a thick, leafy vine which snaked across the path in front of her. The lithe young heroine's natural agility asserted itself, allowing her buff body to go into a roll and land on her feet. As she did so, though, the vine inexplicably leaped upward, wrapping around her waist!

A mobile plant? What kind of things were they breeding in this place?

Thankfully the DS gas didn't completely suppress the Fox's instincts for self-preservation. Quickly she did a backwards somersault, tearing her gorgeous body out of the plant's clutches before it could get a good grip. Another thick vine darted toward her like a snake, its "head" bristling with spikey thorns. As the vine curved around her torso, rubbing over the hills of her breasts, Jenn squirmed free and did a cartwheel to one side, evading its attack and backing away out of its reach.

Her high heel suddenly stumbled over a root or something. The Fox tumbled backward onto what felt like a soft, leathery surface. Instantly two great leaves began to close over her from either side like a trap! The spunky heroine thrust outward with both arms and legs, desperate to prevent the trap from completely closing on her. Along the rim of each leaf were a series of long spikes, interlacing as they closed like the bars of a cage.

It was a giant Venus flytrap!

The soft, almost fleshy interior pressed hard against the Fox's scantily-clad body on either side, covering her with slippery, mildly sticky fluid, digestive fluid! Frantically she pushed back against the trap, forcing it partly open. It snapped shut again.

If only Jennifer had her full strength, she could break out of this easily, but the chemicals in her bloodstream were still preventing her from focusing on her bracelets of Ishtar. To make matters worse, she could feel the digestive fluid beginning to tingle on her exposed skin. Desperately she began to rock her body back and forth, shifting her weight one way, then the other. At first nothing seemed to happen, but then the plant suddenly tilted over on one side. Now the Fox could brace her back against one leaf and push upward with both arms and legs against the other. Slowly, little by little, the upper leaf gave way. When it was open far enough, the heroine quickly rolled clear, landing on a bed of soft grass, her exquisite body still dripping with that tingling slime.

"You're doing pretty well, Fox," said a male voice. Jennifer looked around sharply. There was no one around, and then it dawned on her that the voice had the tinny quality of a voice over a speaker, echoing slightly from multiple locations around the dome.

"Yes, it's me, Damien Devlin," the voice said. "I'm watching the whole thing from the control room. These greenhouses belong to a company I own. They breed exotic plants, mainly for the toxins in their sap. It's a good thing you got away from that venomous tentacula." The Fox lay there without responding, gradually trying to regain her strength.

"Trask is enjoying himself," Devlin's voice went on. "You're giving him a run for his money. He thought you would run the other way, so he's waiting to head you off as you come down the east path." He laughed suddenly. "Oh! Did I just give him a clue where you were? That was mean of me. I shouldn't be giving him any help, should I?"

Jennifer felt a surge of panic as she realized that the Huntsman would be hurrying toward her right now. Quickly she got to her feet. "I'll... I'll beat this thing, Devlin..." she gasped.

The villain laughed. "Is that the best you can do? Because of that DS gas, you can't even bring yourself to make a verbal threat, can you? How can you take on the Huntsman?"

The Fox took off running, adrenalin making her heart pound like a drum. Soon she came to another fork in the path and hesitated. Were those footsteps she could hear running toward her, or just the thumping of her own heartbeat in her ears? Suddenly a crossbow arrow whisked past her face, narrowly missing. The heroine bolted in panic, taking another fork and yet another. By now she was hopelessly turned around and no longer knew in which direction the exit was.

Another arrow thudded into the ground at her feet. Leaping to avoid it, the Fox missed her footing and tumbled through some wet, green foliage, rolling down a slight bank and into a pool of water. The pool was only two feet deep, and as her head broke the surface, the heroine could see a small waterfall trickling over rocks and feeding it. At least her dunking had washed the slime from the Venus flytrap off of her.

But standing on the far bank was the Huntsman!

"You've led me a merry chase, wench," he smirked. "But it's all over. Come out of there."

The Fox swallowed hard. Slowly she got to her feet, knee deep in the water, struggling to psych herself up to fight. Even without her powers, she had martial arts skills. But thanks to the drug in her system, she still felt weak-kneed and spineless. He was a man, so much bigger and stronger than her in her current state. What chance could a she possibly have against him?

As the superheroine climbed up onto the bank, the Huntsman grabbed her halter top and hoisted her up like a child. "Please," she heard herself say, hanging suspended by her stretchable halter top, her toes barely grazing the ground. "Please don't hurt me."

"Hurt you?" he mocked. "Witch, you're about to learn what it's like to be taken by a real man. I'm going to throw you down on the grass and yank your panties down those mouth-watering legs of yours. And then I'm going to plow my cock right into that tight, juicy little cunt. Your girl cum is going to be leaking down your legs. That orgasm will be your best one every, but also your last act on Earth.” After a pause drinking in her delectable sight, he added, “At least you'll die happy. But first I'm going to make you suck my flesh torpedo."

Hearing him say that caused a surge of unwanted wetness inside the Fox's pants. Overcome with a feeling of subservience, her body trembled with an unexplainable longing to be taken. Defying her sensibilities, her blood sang at the very idea. She could hardly catch her breath. The Huntsman set her feet down and then started to peel her top upward over her pliant, perky tits.

No! The Fox suddenly pulled away, defiantly. The Huntsman's right arm reached around her slender waist, but the heroine twisted out of his clutches.

"Oh no you don't!" Trask snapped, sweeping his left hand in a slap toward her face. Acting upon pure instinct, the Fox's caught his wrist and spun around, twisting his beefy arm behind him and flipping him forward to the ground. For a second the heroine was stunned that she had actually successfully resisted his advances.

But a simple defensive maneuver was a far cry from fighting back. The Fox turned and ran, crashing through the thick foliage until she found the path again. Her feet pounding, she tried gain as much distance as possible. And then, there it was, directly in front of her -- Portal D! The plastic curtains had even been pulled back from the entryway, giving her a clear approach to the door. She rushed forward to the control panel, the flat of her hand punching the big red button marked Open.

Nothing happened!

As she repeatedly slammed the button, she noticed an amber light blinking on the panel. She squinted in the dim light to read the little icon -- "Security lock engaged". Gasping out loud, the Fox slowly sagged to her knees in despair.

"Oh yeah," said the Huntsman, strolling up behind her a few moments later. "When I said that the door would be unlocked, I lied.” Wih a shrug of his shoulders, he then added, “What can I say, you can't trust killers, Fox. Now come over here and take your punishment."


***


Chapter 6 –


The Huntsman took the Fuchsia Fox by the arm and dragged her away from the door, shoving her down onto the grass. "I don't why you had to be so stubborn," he said, tossing aside the baldric with his pistol crossbow. "It would have been easier on you to just submit. Now I have to punish you."

He unbuckled his sword belt and dropped it beside the crossbow. Next, he unbuttoned the front of his breeches and stood over the supine superheroine, bracing his legs apart. "Get up here and suck my cock, slut!"

The Fox's brown eyes opened wide at the sight of his thick, meaty schlong, hanging limp and flaccid between his legs. Her heart was fluttering. Somehow, she had to buy more time for herself. But this?

Slowly she got up on her silken knees and inched forward, her hands reaching out on either side to caress up and down his muscular legs. Almost immediately, the villain’s penis began to stir and thicken like a snake awakening from sleep.

"You're stalling," the Huntsman growled, while reaching out and grabbing the Fox’s brunette hair, pulling her face close to his groin.

The heroine gently took hold of his johnson with her gloved hands, slowly stroking his one-eyed monster. The feminine touch of her hands made him get harder and stiffer with each passing second. She felt the pressure of his hand on her head, pushing her closer so that her face rubbed against his cock, hot and throbbing with his blood coursing through it.

"Get on with it!" he snapped. "I can see you still need some more persuasion." His left hand took a firm hold on the back of the Fox's skull, while his right pushed aside her hair so that he could get at the fastener of her halter top. He undid the catch, both hands yanking the clingy garment down her front, snapping loose the rear strap as well and exposing both of her sweet little breasts to view. Tossing aside her halter top, he kept his grip on the back of her neck as his right hand cupped around her tender coconuts, thumbing her upright nipples.

Just then Portal D behind them opened with a hiss. "I had to see this for myself," Damien Devlin said, entering the dome wearing a light gray linen suit. The Blue Dragon followed behind him, her sword casually leaning against her shoulder. Devlin had a computer tablet, holding it so that he could film the scene digitally. "Just carry on with what you're doing."

Jennifer's heart was beating so hard, she thought that she might soon pass out. Wasn't it bad enough that she was going to be killed? To have her last act on Earth servicing a scumbag serial killer like Trask was too much! While her hand kept stroking his rod, her head pulled back.

"Don't stop now, wench!" the Huntsman warned, thrusting forward with his hips with his flesh torpedo aimed right in between her rosy, half-parted lips. The Fox turned her head aside just in time to avoid getting his cock in her mouth, feeling it slide along her cheek. She let go of his penis, rocking backwards on her haunches. As the Huntsman reached downward for her, the spunky super-girl rolled onto her back, kicking upward with both feet and catching Trask in the chest, shoving the villain backwards onto his ass.

"Somebody still hasn't learned her lesson," Trask said, buttoning his breeches back up. "Go ahead and run, babe. I'll hunt you across the dome again. There's no escape."

"I'm th-through with running," the Fox said defiantly, self-consciously folding her slender arms over her vulnerable bare B-cups. "It seems like all this adrenalin has helped my body to metabolize the DS gas faster than you expected."

"Oh really?" the Huntsman smirked, getting to his feet. "We'll see about that." Suddenly he made a lunge for his longsword, whipping the weapon out of its sheath and slashing at the stunning superheroine in the same movement.

The Fox saw the attack coming barely in time to sway backward, spreading her arms wide to keep her balance and forgetting all about keeping her luscious rosebuds covered up. She felt the blade slow down as it passed through her skin-tight force shield, its tip scoring a shallow cut along her smooth, bare abdomen. The shock of the scratch took second place to her elation that her force shield was actually back in operation, even if only partially! Then her lissome young body was spinning around with a high roundhouse kick to his broad, muscular shoulder.

The Huntsman responded with a lunge and another sweeping slash, the flat of his blade smacking into the Fox's ribcage. The sassy girl skipped gracefully from one leg to the other, evading his next slash, ducking the next and hooking her arm into his elbow, flipping him over with a hip throw.

"Blue Dragon! Get in there and help him!" Devlin ordered, still recording the fight with his tablet and grinning at the sight of the Fox's succulent, jiggling tits, and her exquisite body glistening with perspiration from the humidity inside the hothouse dome.

"NO! She's MINE!" Trask insisted, kicking upward and rolling to his feet with his sword poised to attack. "I will not let it be said that the Huntsman was bested by a mere woman."

The Fox closed her eyes for a moment, catching her breath. Little by little, she could feel power flowing into her body from her bracelets. "It's too late for that, sparky," she said, opening her eyes, smiling.

The Huntsman suddenly lunged, swinging his sword in a wide arc aimed at decapitating her. The sassy super-lady threw up her glove-sheathed forearm to parry the sword, while at the same time her spectacular body was spinning around and bringing her silken knee up into his breadbasket. The Huntsman dropped his sword, his burly arms reaching out and grabbing hold of the Fox’s slender, swanlike throat with both hands.

For a moment the Fox seemed helpless in his grip. She struggled in his clutches, half-strangled by the vise-like grip on her throat. But her strength was returning like an incoming tide now. Drawing on her returning power, she took hold of his wrists, twisting outward and breaking his hold. His ham-like fist flew toward her face, but the spunky girl ducked under it and slipped nimbly behind him, slamming the back of her fist into his kidneys. "Gahk!" Trask grunted, stumbling forward and dropping flat on his face in the grass.

Jennifer hastily summoned her halter top back onto her body, the clasps refastening themselves. "Next?" she said, brimming with renewed confidence, haughtily planting her hands on her gorgeous hips.

"I fear that would be me," said the Blue Dragon, slowly unsheathing her katana and assuming an en garde position with her sword held above her head. Delicate blue tendrils of electricity crackled along its naked blade.

The two sexy young goddesses clashed. The blade of the katana met the Fox's slender forearm, delivering a painful jolt of high voltage which made the Fox flinch, only partially penetrating her force shield. It was obvious from the start that they were evenly matched as far as fighting ability went. Back and forth they went, miniskirts swishing seductively around pert bottoms -- the Fox adroitly dodging or parrying the Dragon's katana with both arms crossed so that the double layer of force shield gave her more protection. Similarly, the Japanese girl just as skillfully evaded or deflected the American superheroine's punches and kicks with the flat of her sword. It looked more and more like this battle was going to come down to a question of which combatant slipped up first.

The Blue Dragon blocked one of the Fox's fists, kicked off from the bole of a tree behind her, and executed a beautiful mid-air somersault, her katana cleaving the air in a deadly arc toward the Fox’s neck. The Fox eluded the blade with a cartwheel which brought her into position, just as the Japanese girl landed again, to deliver a lateral kick straight to her abdomen. The Dragon flew backwards and smacked into the steel framework around the open portal, knocking most of the breath out of her. Just barely did she retain her grip on her sword.

"Well, I guess that takes care of that," the Fox said.

"Not so fast," Damien Devlin said. He was standing about fifteen feet away, having set down his tablet and drawn a pistol. "This is a gas gun," he said smugly, "and it's loaded with DS gas. What do you say I shoot you with this, wake the Huntsman up, and we do this all over again?"

The Fox raised one flawless, arrogant eyebrow. "How much would you bet that I can cover fifteen feet before you have the chance to pull the trigger?" she asked.

Devlin grinned as his grip tightened. "I'll take that bet," he answered.

Without warning, Jennifer dropped into a crouch, whipping up her right hand and firing off a concussion beam from her bracelet of Ishtar. It caught Devlin in the chest and blew him off his feet before he could pull the gun’s trigger. "You lose," the superheroine gloated.

"I can see now why Devlin was so obsessed with you," the Blue Dragon said, pulling herself to her feet. "The Fox out-foxes the hunters." She sheathed her katana and held it up with both arms in a salute, giving the Fox a polite bow. Then, with an inscrutable smile on her lips, she abruptly turned and darted through the open door.

Jennifer made as if to chase her, but quickly squelched that idea. Making absolutely sure that Devlin and Trask were secure was far more important. The heroine found a hefty coil of nylon rope and tied the two escaped cons back to back, along with fashioning a nice long harness that she could use to carry them back to Petersburg. She stood up to admire her handiwork, her hand automatically sliding over her bare midriff, where the shallow cut from the Huntsman's longsword was already starting to knit back together, thanks to her quick-healing Zumerian metabolism. She confiscated the gas gun, then looked around for anything else that might be dangerous to leave lying around.

Devlin's computer tablet! The Fox picked up the device from where he had dropped it, brushing off the screen and checking over all the icons that were familiar to her. No doubt there would be records on here of phone calls and e-mails he had made since his escape. Superintendent Carlson would find it useful in tracing his movements while on the run and possibly rounding up other criminal associates of his.

Jennifer's eye alit upon the icon representing the video Devlin had taken of her while she had been at Trask's mercy. Taking a moment to watch the video, her cheeks flushed. That was close! The Fox was careful to delete that video and empty the recycle bin before she thought about surrendering it to the warden!


>>>The End>>>
By Centurion

[GeekyPornCritic]

Bravo! Fox's latest adventure was very intense. That was a very close call again! The Fox appears to be on course to a naughty defeat. I like the Blue Dragon's introduction and the source of her powers being an ancient sword is a neat concept. She should have known not to trust a serial killer, but I am guessing the gas affected her judgment. She was so submissive that she believed him when she knew she should not have trusted him.

I like the notice of small details. The Fox changes her costume to fit the situation. She wears hot pants during the storm instead of her skirt. Then, she wears the skirt a few days later during better weather.

I am noticing a trend of some public departments and media outlets do not have faith in The Fox. Some new channels do not have any good to say about her. The fire department did not have much trust in her abilities. The police and military have more respect for The Fox than other agencies.

[flirty_but_nice]

GPC, you never disappoint with your wonderful feedback. Thank you so much!

[flirty_but_nice]

From Centurion …

"Thank you for the feedback. The idea that some people like superheroes and other people don't goes way back to Spider-man and J. Jonah Jameson. I've mentioned it in passing once or twice, but haven't really used it much. Lately Flirty has been lobbying for more appearances by Vicki Ransom of channel 14, so that will probably happen. Plus I figure that the police and the military generally have more contact with the Fox than anyone else, so they have a much better idea of her capabilities than the average person (who, let's face it, basically just sees a hot chick in spandex).

Centurion"

[Clyde123]

Would love to see more of Vicki Ransom going after the Fox.

[DrDominator9]

This story was a home run into the bleachers section and I feel like I was the lucky fan who caught the ball out there!! What a great story, guys! It unwound beautifully, built in tension throughout and had fantastic scenes of peril. And that submissive gas? Wow! Can't get it out of my head. Not sure if it was C or Flirty who came up with it but use it again when you can. Loved it! Great! Great! Great job!! Thanks!

[flirty_but_nice]

Clyde, I'd like to see that too!

Dr.D, wow, such super kind words! Thanks. :x

[dodosony]

It is amazing to read three Fuchsia Fox adventure fantasies in such a short time. Sorry for the late reply due to my heavy workload in recent.

The creativity in Fuchsia Fox's bold adventures is amazing. Although the ideas like brainwash machine steal by Golden Lotus cult or superheroine versus serial women killer is normal, yet, the development of the story far exceeds the depth of the original ideas and also than readers’ expectations. It feels like you purchase a dollar burger from McDonald's but when you open the wrapping paper it contains a Serendipity 3’s Le Burger Extravagante that costs $295.

For instance, there is a perfect plot in Chapter 5 of Fuchsia Fox: Garden of Golden Lotus that Fox was restrained by the titanium clamps and laid on the table, also, Fox wriggled her butt to reject the sexual violation from Father Miklos. It should note that Miklos merely pull off Fox’s panties and insert a rubber phallus into Fox’s swollen clit — we can find mild to medium erotic descriptions here instead of describing how Father Miklos rape helpless superheroine in such situation. As a result, the tension of the story so compact and also it leaves lively, imaginary space that left by the writer’s careful consideration.

Another example can be found in Chapter 5 of Fuchsia Fox: The Fox and the Hunter, Fox runs away from her foe Huntsman due to her fear to be punished or even killed. It is no doubt a shame in the career of the superheroine, especially when Fox still wears her signs of Fuchsia Fox costume and her bracelet of Ishtar. Following the development of the plot at the end of Chapter 5 that Fox even begs her enemy Do Not hurt her! Well, it must an ingenious plot design that natually and logically shows the audiences even a superheroine has to face tremendous difficulties that made her not as “super” as they show it in public.

A question about Fox's personality, is Jennifer like/willing to be captured and dominated by thugs whether or not they have superpowers? There are so many plots from Fuchsia Fox adventures that the humiliation made by villains can easily turn the body of Fox hot. In other words, when Fuchsia Fox faces the difficulties, fear to be defeated and humiliated cause Fox/Jennifer’s body trembled with inexplicable eager to be taken. For example, at the end of Chapter 5 of Fuchsia Fox: The Fox and the Hunter, Fox’s vagina got wet when she heard Huntsman decided to make Fox sucks his flesh torpedo and then killed her in the end. Similarly, in Chapter 4 of Fuchsia Fox: Rumble in da Hood: Demetrius bound Fox with a pair of heavy-duty manacles that used to give the fox a painful energy jolt even Fox has her force shield. Both the masculine sexy physique and the helpless to resist sexual offenders in front of her finally prevail her willing to oppose that caused her ultimate submission — Fox and DVM reached climax simultaneously and Fox’s vagina squeeze every drop out of DVM’s shaft. Thus, just in my opinion, for Jennifer, to be a superheroine is not merely a secret life that establish a stage to show her sense of justice and raise her confidence, but also it provides dangrous places that satisfy her widest sex fantasies.

Also, it appears to me that Jennifer transforms to her superheroine alter ego Fuchsia Fox works as a "mask", which not only disguises her identity but alto it liberates Jennifer’s inhibition of personality or her preference on “open relationships” with people. In other words, as a superheroine with an image-enhanced halter top, Jennifer has less to worry about her identity to be exposed in public and thus she could enjoy being captured, defeated, and dominated by strong males. That is the reason we found in many of her adventure stories, Fox uses her intelligence and love to Martin beat back her opponents again and again. I don’t think Jennifer can control the situation very well in whenever Fox was captured by villains. However, it is so exciting to both Jenn and readers to expect how Fuchsia Fox tries her best to escape from grave dangers at each end — Fuchsia Fox “always" played as a winner to her rivals with flirt, tricky, and naughty means like a vixen, and also the "hunter of Fox" or Fox’s foes were never succeed in the end ; )

Thanks again for those fabulous Fuchsia Fox stories.

Dodo

[flirty_but_nice]

Here’s a reply from Centurion about the DS Gas ...

“DS "pacification" gas goes all the way back to the second Fuchsia Fox story I ever wrote. I just haven't felt the need to use it again until now. I'm rather fond of this story myself because of the cool visuals -- the battle with Manticore in the pouring rain (and mud!), the shower scene, and of course the chase through the giant hothouse (which was Flirty's idea). I always try to tell my stories in a cinematic fashion, but this one is particularly fun to picture as a video.

Centurion”

[flirty_but_nice]

Dodo, thanks for the excellent feedback. No worries on your being a bit behind. Your feedback is always welcome!

[flirty_but_nice]

Dodo, here’s Centurion’s reply to your feedback ...

“I appreciate the comments. The question you ask about Jennifer's personality is actually a bone of contention between Flirty and myself. Flirty likes the idea of Jennifer being submissive in the face of male domination. I'm forced to admit that in some stories I indulged her in this fantasy and had Jennifer succumb to their advances much more readily than I personally like. My belief is this -- in the situations that you describe, it would be difficult for a person's body not to react in arousal in some way. That doesn't mean that she enjoys being forced to have sex with a man she despises. In fact, she does NOT enjoy being taken against her will. In a lot of these situations, it can be seen that Jennifer is manipulating her captor just as much as he is using her. The Fox is sometimes forced to use every weapon at her disposal, even if it's her body.

Centurion”