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Message-ID: <47404asstr$1081728602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Imagineer <imagin8r47@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Cruel Summer 26 {Imagineer} (nosex viol exhib ScFi)
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Date: Sun, 11 Apr 2004 20:10:02 -0400
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Cruel Summer

copyright 2001-2004 by Imagineer.

comments to 
imagineer 47: yahoo green eggs com ham
but without the green eggs or ham

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Imagineer/www/


// 26: Revisited


  Five victims. All under tight security. But security did not concern
Max. Max asked a guard to let him pass, and he passed. He asked to be
forgotten, and he was forgotten. The amulet bent minds around his
presence as gravity bent light around an object. Amulet in hand he
could be as a shadow.

  Five victims. None conscious. Three dead. Two comatose. All teeming
with the energy of the stones. But none able to grant him vision. The
energy of the deceased three was consumed quickly; it felt cold and
black but nonetheless left Max invigorated. He'd been tempted to feast
on the two who waited between worlds, but as much as he'd wished to
consume the sapphire essence he'd known he could not. In the minds of
these two lay the route to the stones. The route to his queen. The
route to his ascension.

  So Max withdrew and waited. Days passed with no activity, not a
quivver from the amulet and no new victims. But still he waited, using
the time to learn the new rhythm of this foreign metropolis. He knew
his next step would become clear when it was time to take it.

  The car he obtained made attuning to this rhythm easy. He drove the
streets of the city. He met people, engaging in friendly conversation.
Always with each meeting hopeful but not expectant that the amulet
around his neck would awake. But his journeys were not entirely random.
Between forays to other districts he found himself drawn to two places.

  One was Happy Donuts in Twisted Oaks.
  The other was a suburban QuickMart.

  Happy Donuts was where one of the comatose sapphire victims had been
found -- or, at least, Happy Donuts occupied the building adjacent the
alley where the victim had been found. From what Max could gather two
of the other victims had been found within a few blocks of the sugar
haven.

  The QuickMart was where the sapphires had first announced themselves.

  As they had announced themselves now.

  He approached the young man, uncharacteristically struggling to
maintain calm in anticipation of what he sensed was about to happen.

  "Excuse me," he interrupted, "I overheard your fascinating and
disheartening story while I was inside. Is there more? My name is Max."
He held out his hand for a handshake.

  The young man eyed the outstretched hand suspiciously for a moment,
but then his caution fell. "I'm Dirk," he said as he grabbed Max's hand
firmly --\par
  -- and Max felt whole again.

  The amulet around his neck danced with hot excitement as it connected
Max with the memories and feelings imbued in this boy by a Sapphire
encounter. The taste was delightfully sweet, and still potent. Oh, how
wonderful it felt to pull the sapphire energy from this boy. Max's mind
told him to go slowly, savor the taste, and truly immerse himself in
the detail of this boy's encounter with the jeweled one. But it had
been too long since he last tasted the gemstones' nectar, and his heart
pulled strong and fast. Brief, vivid images lunged at him through the
stream:

  Very female form bathed in orange light. Shimmering bands barely
covered curves. Petite size, standing close but face in shadow. Angry
words.

  Confrontation. Impact. Resiliance. Defiance.

  Flying leap. Dark cloak flapping. Still flying! A quick flash of
cloth at the junction of legs. A flash of white-hot pain at the
junction of ribs. Collision. Pinned, girl looming. Beautiful girl. Sexy
girl. The heat of her skin through his clothes. Struggle.

  Release. Reversal. The girl pinned. So small. So sexy. Squirming
against him.

  Firm breasts in hand. Squeezed. Rutted. The girl reacting, turning.
Rutting becomes thrusting.

  Thrusting becomes climax.

  Climax becomes collision. Chest afire with pain. Frozen gasps.
Collapse. Weightlessness, then impact. Writhing, gasping, clutching.

  Reversed defiance. Unsteady stance. 

  Girl unscathed. Powerful.

  Angry.

  Fury becomes force. Impossible invisible impact. Disorientation.
Blackout.

  Awake. Asphalt in the mouth, dry and acidic. Assistance rejected.

  Searing pain. Fear.

  Retreat. Escape.

  Humiliation.


  Then, revenge. Others. 

  Max forced himself to stop, letting go the young man's hand. He
immediately felt a longing to resume feeding. But if he was to feel
that again, he would have to find out what this youth knew.

  Drained, the young man was bent over, hands on knees, wobbling. His
breath was fast and shallow; he fell to one knee. "Mister, phlease,
I'll ghive you whadever you want, jus' don' do that anymore."

  Max bent down beside the laboring boy. "Who are the others you sent
after her?"
  "Wha? My friends. Teammates. Raymon' an'... ohhfuggk I think I'm
gonna throw up."

  Max touched a hand very gently on his source's shoulder; a sliver of
energy tempted him to grip harder but he resisted, exhaling a long
controlled breath at the effort. "Teammates?"


  "Varsidy foo'ball, Eas' Valley High," Dirk mumbled. Why was he
telling this stranger anything? Why was he so tired?


  Max probed deeper; the energy flowed more strongly again.

  "They found her?"
  "Ohhh, they called her out... but zhe ambuzhed them... khigghed thur
azzez... they won' ahdmidt it bud I know..."

  Max pulled harder; he inhaled sharply at the energy hit. He saw a
hazing... "And the two small ones?"
  "Rigghy an' Jjimmee? I ddunno, they livve aroun' here... Oww. They
know 'er. They khin get 'er for yuh..."

  And too quickly, it was over. The boy collapsed, lifeless. This had
not been Max's intent.

  Max turned to the boy on the bike. Max's face wore the look of a man
with a distasteful task to perform. 

  The boy on his bike grew dinner plates for eyes. Then adrenaline
thawed fear and he began pedalling furiously. Midway across the parking
lot, feet slipped from pedals. A toe dragged the asphalt. The bike
skewed. The rider toppled. Slackened face skidded to a stop.

  "I must have a word with Azmid," Max said to no one.


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  "I only know what happened from watching the tape. I don't know why,
but I don't remember seeing it happen."
  "I appreciate you calling me directly." Detective Rubio picked up the
videocassette and put it in his coat pocket. He then picked up a
"People," slipping two $20 bills underneath as he dropped it on the
counter with a sleight of hand that Azmid found unsettlingly practiced
for a law enforcement officer. "This is the only copy?" Azmid noticed a
predatory look in Detective Rubio's eyes. 
  Azmid rang up the magazine, palming the two twenties as he slipped
the pop pulp into a bag. He cocked his head to one side in "of course,
why wouldn't it be?" overdramatic surprise. "Yes."
  "Okay, I'm gonna go have a word with the kid, um, Conner."
  "Is he all right?" Azmid wouldn't want anything to happen to a
regular customer.
  "He's fine. Except that he doesn't seem to remember anything either."


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  "After a week-long silence, the Avenging Angel has struck again! The
sexy but deadly vigilante, who some have dubbed 'Black Widow' for her
tendency to fatally attack strong men, has claimed the life of East
Valley High star quarterback Dirk Hurley. The attack occurred just one
hour ago at the same QuickMart where the Angel attacked two men who
were allegedly robbing the convenience store; a week ago those men were
found dead in a nearby warehouse. This latest attack raises the Black
Widow Angel's death toll to six, with four more in unexplained comas at
Valley General Hospital.

  "The Black Widow Angel was apparently determined to finish what she
started; Channel 8 News has just learned that this was the second
attack made by the woman on the high school student. An attack in front
of the convenience store over a month ago went unreported to police;
according to Hurley's father, the heroic young man was apparently
concerned at how news of that first attack would affect morale at the
school. Only by the young man's athleticism and physical conditioning
was he able to escape that earlier viscious attack, albeit with serious
injuries. The second time he was not so fortunate. 

  "It is still unknown what specific vendetta the Black Widow Angel may
have had against the upstanding student, whose profile bears little
resemblance to the Angel's previous victims; police refuse to speculate
whether this may be the beginning of a much broader victim profile, or
who may now be at risk. Our hearts go out to Hurley's family in their
time of loss.

  "When we come back, Gabe will have all the scores and highlights, and
Bunny has good news on the weather front. Stay with us."


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  "Angela!"
  Angela looked up from the sewing machine. "Yeah?"
  "Phone! It's your mom! Line Two!"

  Mom sounded shaken. "What's wrong, mom?"
  "Honey, did you know Dirk Hughly?"
  "You mean Dirk Hurley? No, not really. He's a year younger than me. I
just know he was on the football team or something. Why?"
  "Well, he's on the news, something's happened to him at the QuickMart
by the house. Do me a favor, honey, humor your mom and don't go there
anymore, at least not for a while. It seems a lot of bad stuff is
happening near there. Okay? Please, honey?"

  "Mom..." Angela felt really uncomfortable; it wasn't like her mom to
get all sappy and freaked out like this. And even if her mom had no
idea about her daughter's alter ego, it was still unnerving to hear her
talk about something Sapphire had done. The further away her mom's
thoughts were from those horrible experiences, the better. Besides,
Angela really needed to get off the phone and find out what had
happened to Dirk. If her sapphires had really claimed another victim,
she had to... well, she had to do something.

  But her mom kept rambling.
  "I try not to intrude in your life, I know you're a grown woman now
and it's not 'cool' to have your mom tell you what to do, but indulge
me just this once. I've got a bad feeling the likes of which I haven't
had since your father..." She took a deep breath. "Well, anyway, humor
an old woman. It would just break my heart to be watching the news and
see my baby's name..." Angela could hear her mom choking up.

  "Mom. Mom... relax. It's okay. Don't worry. I'll be fine. I never
really went down there that much anyway."
  "Promise me you won't go there anymore."
  "Mom..."
  "Promise me, baby."
  "Okay, Mom. I promise."
  "Thank you, honey.  I feel so much better knowing my Angela is safe.
I love you."
  "I love you too, Mom."
  "Okay, I have to go now honey."
  "Okay."
  The voice on the other end was little more than a whisper. "You'll
always be my little Angel."

  Angela's heart skipped a beat.


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  The late afternoon sun streamed in through the storefront windows,
casting a harsh light on the dingy gray speckled industrial tiles. A
path was worn, smooth if not clean, between the double doors, a surface
polished to a glaring sheen so bright that Azmid had to shield his eyes
from it. But the convenience store clerk continued to stare, through
smokey-orange lenses, around the attached price tag, over his
outstretched hand shield, under the 99-cent Freezie sign, through the
doors' handprint collection, past the thick greasy parking stains, out
to an unremarkable spot on the asphalt in the middle of the front lot,
a few feet short of the school-bus yellow remains of a directional
arrow.

  Dirk Hurley's breath had kissed that spot. The image from the
surveillance tape, grainy and streaky and snowy along the bottom but
otherwise disturbingly clear, played over and over in Azmid's head. A
handshake held too long. Dirk broken down to his knees. A gentle hand
on the shoulder.  Dirk prone and motionless.

  Someone rushing out to help the fallen youth. No, not someone, him.
It was so strange, seeing yourself do something you didn't do. 

  Him, hesitating when a second boy, leaving in a hurry, grinds to a
halt. Standing still as the man who'd touched Dirk approached him.
Disappearing into the store together. A stranger, and yet not a
stranger.

  Why couldn't he remember?

  "Azmid. Hello, Azmid? Are you with me?"
  Azmid seemed to keep coming and going.
  "My apologies, Detective Aquino. How is your son?"

  That was odd. What made him think of Ricky? The non-sequitur made
Noel forget his intended question. "Ricky's fine, Azmid. But we were
talking about what happened yesterday."
  "We were?"
  "*I* thought so."
  "Oh. Yesterday. I don't remember what happened yesterday."
  "But you know what happened."
  "Yes. I saw the tape."
  "But you told Detective Rubio that there was no tape."
  "I told him no such thing."
  "I thought you didn't remember what happened yesterday."
  "I remember very well what happened *after*. Your partner asked me
for the tape. He told me that it was important to capturing the killer
that I tell anyone who asked that there was no tape. He asked me if
there were any copies. I told him there were not."
  "He took the original?"
  "Of course not."

  Noel was floored. Azmid just stared out the window...
  "Azmid." Still staring. "Azmid!" The clerk turned his gaze to the
police detective. He blinked as if to verify whether the man standing
in front of him was real.
  "Azmid. You have another copy of the tape?"
  "I cannot say." Azmid reached under the counter and produced an
unmarked videocassette. He placed it on the counter. 
  Noel just stared at it for a moment. Finally he picked it up.
  "Does anyone else have a copy?"
  "You would have to ask my cousin when he returns from his trip to
Channel 8."
  Noel was surprised. Did Azmid know what he was getting into by
crossing Rubio?
  Azmid answered the silent question. "Detective Rubio can kiss my ass.
He does not scare me. I work in a convenience store."

  Noel grinned and shrugged. Okay... The clerk resumed his faraway look
into the late afternoon sun. Noel took that as his cue to exit.

  As he reached the door, he turned back; he'd almost forgotten. "Hey,
Azmid, how's the arm?"

  Azmid blinked; nearing his focus to the detective. His hand
reflexively reached up to touch his other bicep, where he'd been shot
in the last attempted robbery. The robbery that Noel had walked in on.
"Oh, fine. Thank you again." 
  "Listen, I'm really sorry about that. I didn't mean to spook him. I
didn't even know he had a gun."
  "Apology accepted. Again." Azmid went back to his distant stare. Noel
nodded and turned to go.

  "But for future reference, this store already has a guardian angel.
And she didn't get anyone shot. She's better looking, too."
  Noel smiled thoughtfully. "True, but as I recall she did make a bit
of a mess of the place."
  "Nobody's perfect."


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  "Hey, what the fuck you doin' here?"
  A normal person would have asked "Can I help you?" But Tree was not a
normal person. Especially during a morning weight session.

  A guy -- kinda tall for an oriental dude -- dressed in all black was
standing in the doorway to the weight room. His hand touched his throat
momentarily. "Ahh, how convenient." He gave Tree a weird look. "They
call you 'Tree.'"

  Tree had already started another set; the bar dropped to his chest a
little unevenly when he heard his name.
  "Whaddya want?" he hissed as he pressed the bar back up.


  Max studied the slab of young beef lying prone on the bench; his face
reddened with each slowing cycle of the bar; he hissed and spat with
effort. His belly mounded higher than his chest; his jelly-roll middle
sagged down over the sides of the bench. It quivered with effort.

  A half-eaten box of powdered donuts lay open on the floor within the
lifter's reach. Max noticed traces of white around his mouth.

  This would be too easy.

  Without a word, he crossed the room toward the struggling giant. The
bar lowered, but did not raise. Tree's face relaxed, but his eyes
bulged with fear.


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  Noel Aquino found Detective Miguel Rubio talking to a hooker in the
alley behind Happy Donuts. The hooker hurried off when she saw Noel
approach, leaving the two men alone. 

  "Detective Aquino. So good to see you. Here to compare notes?"
  "I found a copy of a surveillance tape from the QuickMart last night.
The clerk there said he gave you the original."
  That double-crossing mother-fucker... 
  "He also said he had no memory of what happened," Rubio shot back.
"He's a fucking liar."

  Aquino continued. "It clearly shows an Asian man attacked Hurley and
the other boy. But you issued a statement to the press that pinned it
on the Avenging Angel anyway. Excuse me, Black Widow. Of course you
think they're one and the same. You came up with the 'Black Widow'
label, and now you're plastering every violent crime in the city with
it. You're twisting the facts to fit your own personal agenda."
  "Look, it's irresponsible to scare the public unnecessarily. We don't
know for sure that the figure in the tape's not the Black Widow. Shit,
it's a surveillance tape from a convenience store at night, how clear
could it be? I'm just saying the public is better off thinking this is
a lone nutcase until we know positively otherwise. We don't need to go
chasing a conspiracy when there isn't one. That's what I say. And the
Captain agrees."

  "You may have the Captain's favor now, but you're hanging it way way
out there, and if you're not careful somebody's going to cut it off."

  Rubio got in Aquino's face. "Look, old man, you're way out of your
league. You're a good cop, or at least I'm told you were a good cop
once, but that's not enough anymore. I've got everything under control,
in spite of that clerk's little stunt. The Black Widow will be in my
custody in time to make tomorrow night's eleven o'clock news. So you're
going to stay out of my fucking way or the next tape on the news will
be one of you stalking an innocent girl." Aquino turned white. 

  "That's right, No-el. Ramirez may trust you, but some friends of mine
on the force don't. Out of concern for the safety of our city's
children they've been watching you very closely in their spare time,
and I must say the footage of you driving past that girl's house,
following her to work, and hanging out all day in the parking lot is
disturbing." Aquino felt his blood boiling, but held himself in check.
He didn't doubt for a second that Rubio had tapes -- Aquino had been
terribly sloppy lately -- or that the younger detective would use them,
no matter who it might smear. He forced a calm visage.

  "So, like I told you before, go take some time off and make up with
your son while you still can. With the Black Widow killing teenagers,
who knows what tomorrow brings? Maybe if you're lucky Ricky'll let you
have sloppy seconds with his girlfriend."

  Noel Aquino was not a man to lose his cool. So Rubio was stunned to
find himself suddenly spun around and tasting brick. His arm buzzed,
pinned behind his back, wrenched upward, pushing him up on his toes.
His heart raced; for a split second he was unsure of his immediate
future. But when he felt no further movement behind him, he regained
his composure.

  "I wonder who's watching you now," he said coolly.

  After a moment's hesitation, Aquino threw Rubio to the ground. Rubio
stayed where he'd been tossed, looking up with a sinister sneer. Aquino
had no words, but eyes burning with hatred bored into the younger
detective. Neither man moved for uncountable moments. Finally Aquino
pointed a condemning finger, then backed away and returned to his car.


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  "And now, the Channel 4 Six O'Clock News with Dixie, Rex, Shawn, and
Parker."

  "Startling new footage delivered to this station just moments ago
reveals that the recent death of high school star quarterback Dick
Hurley was not in fact the result of an attack by the Avenging Angel,
but by an unidentified Asian man. In this exclusive footage taken
directly from QuickMart surveillance cameras last night, we can see
Hurley shake hands with an unidentified Asian man, here, and moments
later mysteriously collapsing, here. It was clear from the footage that
Hurley knew the man, but friends and relatives are unable to provide
further information on his identity or whereabouts. The cause of his
collapse has been identified as the same as previous QuickMart victims.
Experts are now speculating that the Avenging Angel, who some are now
calling the QuickMart Killer, is not an individual but a terrorist
group working to, uh, spread... terror. More after this."

  It's not me!
  Angela was elated. It hadn't been some reaction to the sapphires that
had killed those men. The tape on the news was clear enough: someone
had attacked Dirk. Dirk was a jerk and a lowlife, but he didn't have
the kind of enemies that would kill him. His death was not a
coincidence; she could feel it in her bones.

  It's not me. And it's not the Black Widow. It was a man. What would
he want with Dirk? Angela's mind raced as she gradually began to put it
together. The guy at the airport. The QuickMart robbers. They'd both
been in the paper as criminals thwarted by Sapphire (well, Avenging
Angel, but she hated that name); it wasn't until later that they turned
up dead. Who else had Sapphire been associated with in the press? That
serial rapist had gotten a little press... but he was still locked up.
Angela bet if she checked it out she'd find that he was still alive and
well. (A small part of her was disappointed at that prospect.)

  Someone was looking for her, to get back the sapphires no doubt.
Using her well-publicized exploits to home in on her.

  So what about Dirk? There'd been no mention of him in the World News
Weekly, or anything else for that matter. Well, he'd spent all that
time hanging out at the QuickMart where it all started; anyone looking
for clues there would surely have run into him. And he did have a big
mouth.

  Fortunately Dirk hadn't recognized her. So where would the trail lead
next? What was the hunter's next stop?

  Dirk's teammates? Raymond and the rest of them. They were the next to
come in contact with her. They couldn't identify her either, so she
still had some time to figure out what to do...

  Angela's blood ran cold. No, Raymond didn't know who Sapphire was,
but he'd been told how to get to her. By Dirk. The trail would lead
back to Jimmy.

  And Ricky!

  The rip of velcro unveiled four powerful sapphires and marked the
return of a heroine's dedication.


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  "Ricky?"
  The door from the garage slammed behind Noel Aquino. He turned his
head to listen; the house was silent.
  "Ricky?" he called again, more urgently.
  Silence.

  Noel flashed back to his last conversation with Miguel; his hand went
to his gun.

  The kitchen was dark. The TV was on but muted in the living room, the
couch empty but for a pair of Ricky's shoes on the armrest. Down the
hall; Ricky's door was closed. Noel burst through it.

  Ricky lay on the bed, his back turned to the door.

  "Ricky!" the father shook his son. "Ricky! Wake up!"

  The 15-year-old blinked and turned over toward his father. "Oh, hey,
dad." He noticed the gun still in hand; he shrunk back a bit. "What's
wrong?" he said in a hushed voice.

  Noel holstered the gun. "Sorry, Ricky, I thought something had
happened." He resisted the temptation to grab Ricky in a bearhug. His
heartrate gradually ramped down.

  "Naw, I've just been resting." Ricky rubbed his hand through his
sleep-jacked hair. "What time is it?"
  "It's almost seven."
  "Woah! Where'd the day go?"
  "Oversleep a little?"
  "Yeah, I'll say. Last thing I remember I was watching TV on the
couch... that was this morning..." Ricky scrunched his face in confused
concentration. "I don't even remember coming back here to lay down.
Shoot."

  Noel's concerned look returned. "Stay here a minute." He left Ricky
on the bed to do a more thorough sweep of the house.

  No sign of forced entry, nothing obviously moved or broken or
missing, nothing out of the ordinary...

  "Hey, dad, what's up?"
  "I told you to stay in your room."
  "Sorry. Something wrong?"
  "No, nothing." He had to tell Ricky something; it wasn't every day
that Noel entered the house with his gun drawn. "I... I saw somebody
suspicious-looking outside driving away as I pulled up, and it's been a
stressful day, I guess I'm just a little on edge. Everything's fine
now."

  "Um, okay. Well, I'm hungry; I'll fix us a couple of burgers, okay?"
  "Yeah, okay. Thanks Ricky." Noel's son padded off into the kitchen.
Noel took another look around, surveying the living room and foyer for
any detail that wasn't right.

  The front door's deadbolt was unlocked.

  "Ricky, did you leave the house today?"
  "No, dad, why?"
  "Are you sure? Did you go out front to get the paper?"
  "No."
  "Are you sure?"
  "Yeah, I'm positive. What's the big deal? You sure there's nothing
wrong?"

  Noel crossed the foyer and snicked the deadbolt locked.

  "No, nothing's wrong. I just thought the deadbolt was unlocked, but
it's not. Never mind."

  Someone *had* been in the house. It was a warning.

  Ricky popped his head around the corner. "Well, yeah, I remember you
locking it this morning. You're losin' it, Dad."
  "Yeah, I know. You will too when you get to be my age." It was nice
to hear Ricky in such a light-hearted mood. Things had been tense
around the house ever since... well, he didn't want to think about that
anymore. That girl was bad news even as a passing thought. She'd come
between him and his son at a time when they needed to be close.

  "Hey, how about you and me go out to dinner tomorrow night? Someplace
nice."
  "Yeah?"
  "Yeah."
  "Okay, but I get to pick the place."
  A chill went up Noel's spine as he imagined the exposure of an
unfamiliar public place. He had to remind himself to calm down; as long
as he stayed out of Rubio's way everything would be fine. And then
after the whole Avenging Angel thing blew over, Noel could quietly work
on putting the dirty junior detective behind bars.

  "Okay, Ricky, sure. Anywhere you want."

  As the smell of frying hamburger wafted in from the kitchen, Noel
settled into his favorite chair and tried not to think about Angela,
the Avenging Angel, the mysterious killer caught on tape, or how
Detective Rubio was so sure he would catch his Black Widow in little
more than 24 hours... 


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  Sapphire came down hard on the roof of the RV, taking several quick
stutter-steps to regain her balance. She had already lost the ribbons
she'd hastily tied around her feet to keep her heels on, and her skirt
kept slipping. Her costume was in no condition to do battle with a
supervillain, especially one she didn't know anything about. But her
modesty meant nothing when someone's life was at stake. Ricky's life.

  She hobbled to the end of the RV and bent down in a crouch. She felt
her thinning top fall away from her shifting breasts as she leaned
forward. Just over the fence, that back window was Ricky's bedroom. The
shade was up, and she could see it was empty.

  In retrospect, racing over might not have been the best idea. For all
she knew the hunter had already come and gone. Sapphire shook her head
in denial. No, Ricky had to be okay, he just had to. She was here to
protect him.

  A look over to Ricky's next-door neighbors confirmed there was no one
out in the yard -- it was still daylight, she had to be careful not to
be seen, or she would be useless as a bodyguard -- so she pushed
herself into the air, traveling in a perfect slow-motion arc. She
lighted gently on the neighbor's roof, crouching next to the chimney to
avoid as many idle neighbors' eyes as possible. In front of her was the
glass door from the patio to the living room. The curtains were drawn.
Was anyone home? Was she too late? Calm down now; you don't want to go
barging into a policeman's house, even if you are bulletproof.

  The air shimmered above the kitchen vent. Someone was cooking. The
careful heroine slowly stood up on the neighbor's roof, looking all
around her for any sign of activity. She float-stepped up to the roof's
peak, being as stealthy as possible in case the neighbors were home.
Scanning up and down the street: a car approached. She backed down the
roof a few clumsy steps, ducking behind the peak, craning her neck just
enough to follow the car. It passed Ricky's house and turned left at
the next block. Okay, enough pussy-footing around.

  The air flapped her skimpy costume and caressed her sapphire-kissed
skin on her graceful arc from neighbor's rooftop to Ricky's porch.
Their front yard was mostly secluded, ringed by tall shrubs. Someone
would have to be walking right past, or spying on the Aquinos, to
notice Sapphire here. She tiptoed three steps to the foyer window next
to the front door and peeked inside.

  From here she could see past the wide foyer into the living room. She
couldn't see the TV, but she could see both the couch and Mr. Aquino's
favorite chair, a worn old leather recliner. She had to suppress a
happy squeak when she saw Ricky on the couch.

  He was okay.

  Mr. Aquino was sitting, well, laying really, in his recliner. He
still wore what she guessed to be his work clothes, creased pale gray
dress pants and a pale pink dress shirt. He still wore his shoulder
holster, and his pistol was still in it. Actually, he was kind of cute
for somebody's dad. Like father, like son. She smiled and breathed a
sigh of relief. Maybe things were going to be okay after all.

  Though now might be a good idea to come up with a better plan than
"hang out until he shows up," she thought. After all, look how well
that one worked with Dirk. Being somebody's bodyguard 24/7 just wasn't
practical, not even for a superheroine. She'd have to eat and sleep
eventually. She hoped this hunter showed up soon. Well, actually, she
hoped he didn't show up at all. She hoped he'd just disappear.

  It hadn't even been five minutes and already she was antsy. She
shifted her weight back and forth; she should probably get off the
front porch. But it was so nice to see Ricky again, even if it was just
through a window. Like a stalker. With an armed, overprotective father
only a few feet away. Yeah, better take up watch at a safe distance.

  Sapphire stepped back to clear the porch overhang. Her foot struck
something, and she nearly tripped. She bent down to pick it up; it was
today's paper. Mr. Aquino must have forgotten it.

  The rubber band broke, and the paper unfolded in her hands. She
looked at the headlines on the front page. 

  Top story was about her, unfortunately; the now-dated story about how
she (or Black Widow, not that the papers made a distinction) had
mercilessly stolen the life of promising young football prospect and
model student Dirk Hurley. Sapphire rolled her eyes. His death was
tragic, to be sure, but he was still a jerk and a punk and a
recreational drug dealer. And she'd heard that if it hadn't been for
the coach pulling some strings, he would have been held back a year and
ineligible to play football.

  The story had a sidebar and map plotting the Avenging Angel / Black
Widow's "reign of terror." Well, she was famous now; if only they could
get her story straight. Sapphire snickered at how much like a comic
book her life had become. Well, an X-rated comic book, anyway.

  Sapphire saw movement through the window; startled, she leapt
straight up, calming down enough to glide back down onto the Aquino's
garage. She eyed the porch anxiously, but no one ever came outside.
Eyes scanned suspiciously up and down the street, but aside from a
couple of cars pulling into driveways up the street, there was no
activity.

  The sun was dropping fast, but it wouldn't be dark for another hour.
She hoped people in this neighborhood weren't in the habit of looking
out their windows and up at other people's roofs; she didn't need
someone to be calling the police, not with all the attention she was
starting to get in the news. That wasn't going to be good for keeping
hidden from whoever Scott had tried to tell her about. So much for
keeping a low profile. The only TV and newspaper articles she'd seen
lately had been about her; wasn't anything else going on in the world
that everyone had to focus on a scantily-clad girl who flew through the
air and kicked bad-guy butt and her cross-town nemesis who liked to
screw scumbag-guys silly? Of course, when she put it that way it did
sound pretty spectacular... still, wasn't there a war happening
somewhere, or some big corporate scandal, or a sensational trial? She
looked down at the paper, still in her hands. Well, let's see. She
flipped it over to see the bottom half of the front page. Weather, the
mayor caught taking money from somebody, and somebody being let out of
prison on parole that people were mad about. Oh wait, she'd heard of
this guy. Gerald Bates, some kind of crimelord or mobster or something.
She didn't really remember much; she was only twelve or thirteen or
something when he'd been caught, and though his trial was all over the
news for months after that, she hadn't exactly kept up on current
events at that age... or now, for that matter.

  Sapphire was startled by voices -- someone was coming this way! She
backed down the side of the roof, doing her best to hide behind the
peak. A pair of men, in their forties she guessed, out for a power walk
around the block. Her ears pricked up when she heard what they were
talking about.

  "Yeah, really sad. Big kid, I think he played center." "I thought he
played nose tackle." "Happened just a couple hours ago; they found him
trapped under the barbell." 
  They were walking away from her now, oblivious of anything going on
around them. That was good; had they simply looked up at the Aquino's
garage they would have seen a provocatively-dressed girl cowering on
the rooftop.

  But their conversation had piqued her curiosity; she flitted to the
next house over to stay within earshot.

  "Oh, geez, that's awful. You know the high school's gonna get sued
for letting that kid in the weight room by himself." "Yeah, well you'd
think the kid would know not to work out without a spotter." "I don't
know if anybody was big enough to spot him. You know they called him
'Tree?'" 

  Sapphire's heart leapt into her throat. Tree! Number 64, one of the
five football thugs who'd pushed Jimmy and Ricky around, and who'd been
pushed around by Sapphire as a result. He would certainly have been
tainted by sapphire energy, and a likely target for the mysterious
hunter. But these two were talking about a freak accident... She leapt
to the next house.

  "That's no excuse. Man, I wonder who found him?" "His coach. Went in
to get ready for the team's evening practice and found him." "Damn,
that's gotta be rough." "Yeah, one of the kids on the team lives next
door to me; I heard him talking about it when he came home early."

  It couldn't have been an accident. That was just too freakish a
coincidence. At a minimum, it bore investigating. And if the hunter
*was* behind it, what did it mean about Ricky? Sapphire thought back
hard; Ricky had never actually been exposed to the sapphire energy,
unless the... ahem, episode in his room counted, and she didn't think
it would since she never touched him with her force and they never...
"did" anything.

  Maybe the hunter wasn't interested in finding her. Maybe he was just
interested in feeding off her victims, like some kind of energy vampire.

  Or maybe he was just being very thorough.

  Sapphire was torn. On the one hand, if something had happened to
Tree, surely the rest of his gang were targets too, and for all their
faults they hardly deserved Dirk's fate. They hadn't asked to be marked
for death. Well, they'd asked her for trouble, but not this serious.

  On the other hand, if she left Ricky and the hunter came looking for
him... she couldn't live with herself. Ricky was a sweet kid. More than
that. He was... special. Her heart ached at the thought of anything
happening to him.

  This was one of those tough choices that superheroes in comic books
always had to face. Save the strangers in danger, or protect those
closest to you? This sucked!

  The sun was starting to set. Sapphire looked up and down the street,
as if there might be some clue in the yards or the houses or the parked
cars. Her eyes rested on the big Mercury in the Aquinos' driveway. It
looked like a cop car. Well, it was basically a cop car.

  In a single graceful flying arc, Sapphire made her way back to the
Aquinos' front porch. She hesitantly peeked around the door into the
foyer window. Ricky appeared from the kitchen; she jumped back in
surprise. She peeked again -- he was sitting on the couch, laughing.

  And his dad was laughing with him. The recliner was now upright, but
Mr. Aquino -- Noel -- still had his piece on him. Somehow he knew, she
decided. He sensed something, and he was ready.

  Angela brought two fingers up to her lips, kissed them gently, and
touched them to the glass. I'll be back soon, Ricky. Take good care of
him, Mr. Aquino.

  With a soft whoosh, Sapphire took to the air, the mantle of the
heroine firmly in hand.


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  Max leaned against the bleachers. He could see the coach sitting on
the hood of his car, waiting for his players to arrive for evening
practice. The coach was visibly crushed. Just fifteen minutes ago he'd
gone into the locker room, and just five minutes ago he'd come out, his
face wearing the stony expression of a man who wanted to cry but had
long ago forgotten how. Seeing your player asphyxiated by a bench press
would do that, Max surmised. A small part of Max was saddened and
horrified by the wicked acts he'd performed since arriving here, but
that was easily masked by thoughts of his mission. Of course, his
assigned mission was little more than a thin veil for his new
motivation. The amulet was his call to power, and he would answer it.

  Soon, a group of young warriors would gather around their leader. And
among them were four that would make him stronger.

  Like their teammate did this morning.

  And unlike the two fragile boys who'd been the focus of the warriors'
derision and fear.

  Jimmy hadn't known anything; it was a chore looking through his mind,
and Max was disappointed at the waste of energy. When Ricky too proved
cold to the amulet, Max hardly deigned look into his mind; every second
spent looking he felt his blessed energy leaving him. Ricky's thoughts
were full of images of a girl; his love for her clouded his every
thought. The boy had impressed the image of this girl upon the image of
Valerie, or 'Sapphire' as he, like Dirk, had thought of her. Dirk's
belief that this boy knew Valerie was obviously mistaken, and he had no
energy to waste on romantic daydreams.

  Through the vision of others, Max had seen the sapphire-wielding
woman hold sway against two men with guns, best a larger and more
athletic opponent in hand-to-hand combat, and move impossibly in
defiance of the forces of nature. He still sought her, but now that he
felt sure he could reach her at will, he chose to defer. Sapphire,
Avenging Angel, Black Widow, Valerie -- by any name she was a force to
be reckoned with, and the amulet seemed to be pulling him away from
direct confrontation and toward those who'd crossed her.

  Max looked up. A group of young warriors had gathered around their
leader. And among them were four that would make him stronger.

  Max watched them hungrily. An eerie silence filled the air as the
coach broke the news. Max moved along the edge of the lot, behind the
trees, closer to his prey. The amulet hummed more excitedly with each
step.

  As the football players dissapated across the parking lot in various
states of shock, the amulet's vibration faded. One by one cars drove
off. Four of the players lingered, collected around a wildly painted
import. They spoke in hushed tones, looking around nervously; after a
moment they retreated to the locker room.

  Driven by the prospect of engorging himself and emboldened by a
growing sense of control over his amulet-given abilities, Max entered. 

  The four young men were speaking in hushed tones. "What are we gonna
do?" "Yeah, she fuckin' killed Dirk and Tree!" "Maybe Tree was just an
accident." "Fuck you, it was her; she just made it look like an
accident."
  One of them spoke more calmly than the others. "She didn't do it; she
hired someone." Max flashed back to Tree's visions. This one was the
leader. Raymond.

  Raymond continued. "I just saw the news. It wasn't a girl that
attacked Dirk. They showed a tape from the surveillance cameras. It was
a Chinese guy." As he said the last words, he became aware of a
presence in the room, as if someone was staring at him. He looked up
and turned ghostly white.

  "It's you," he said quietly.

  Max stepped forward into the light. "You all have something that
belongs to me. I've come to collect it." He shrugged off his coat.

  The four football players looked the intruder up and down. He was
smaller than any of them. They could see that he wasn't armed. But he
had the smile of a killer, a look that said he was going to enjoy
taking them on.


  It was a look the atheletes understood. Each of them stood slowly and
fanned out across the wide foyer between the lockers and the showers,
bodies coiling and flexing, ready to spring. Even if he possessed the
same disturbing abilities that the Sapphire chick had, he was insane to
take on the four of them at once in here.


  Max hadn't had a good scrap in a long time. Ordinarily he would have
considered it insane to take on four young men half his age in such a
confined space, martial arts training notwithstanding. But through the
frantic heat it gave off, the amulet steeled him now, whispering to him
to trust his own ability, just as it had whispered to him moments ago
not to mask his presence or still their minds. He watched his
adversaries as they shifted their positions, slowly circling around
him. There was an instinctive cooperation among them; they moved as one.

  Then without so much as a glance between them, they all lunged for
him at once.

  Max sprang forward, directly toward the bald one. His foot alighted
on the player's meaty thigh for an instant, using it like a step,
pushing himself up and back. His other foot found the shoulder of the
player to the right.The tall one to the left was about to reach around
his torso; he thrust his forearms down, behind and out as he rose and
the other two fell, easily blocking the grab. Left foot back, finding
the wall, pushing him forward again. Crouching to clear the ceiling,
propelled forward beyond the front three toward Raymond. The player's
arms were up, chest forward, legs lifting him airborne, singular focus
on a calculated midair collision. Max could see that contact was
unavoidable, but chose where it would occur. Right leg kicked forward,
the knee his battering ram. It landed square in the atheletes chest; he
felt arms circle his thigh and waist and hold tight even as the blow
took effect. The two came straight down, landing hard on the concrete
floor, Max bent over Raymond's head and right shoulder, Raymond bent
around Max's right knee.

  Despite the chest-cracking collision and the bone-breaking landing,
Raymond would not let go. Max was about to strike a kidney-punch but
something inside him buzzed alarm. Reacting to an unknown sense, Max
rolled his torso to Raymond's left shoulder, swinging his left arm up
and around as he twisted, and simultaneously driving his left heel
straight out. He watched as reality caught up to his reaction. His hand
struck Chad, lunging from Max's left to pile on, square on the side of
the head, smacking it sideways with sickening force. His heel collided
with Scarecrow's kneecap, bending the leg grotesquely backward. Both
attackers collapsed on him like bags of dead limbs, Chad in silence and
the tall one in a shriek of pain.

  Raymond's grip was unrelenting even as the last of his breath left
him like a burst balloon. Max struggled to free his right arm from
under the tall one, who was slowly rolling off Max's right side. Not
fast enough -- the fourth team member, bald chocolate head rising as he
picked himself up off the hard floor where he'd careened from Max's
first step, was resuming play. Marcus bore the look of a wild animal,
pure adrenaline reacting to terrifying circumstance; he had to finish
this deadly intruder.

  Max's vision flashed; for an instant he saw Marcus already over him,
foot raised and driven down toward his exposed chest. Then he saw
Marcus in the present, still two steps away. The vision spiked an
instant of fear through the older man, slipping his focus.

  And the amulet, unrestrained, reached out through Max to the three
bodies pressed against him, and pulled.

  Max's eyes rolled back with the unanticipated rush of energy, his
whole body gripped in a singular explosion of power. His mind clamped
down hard and fast, bringing the influx under control.


  Marcus was over him now, left foot poised like a hammer over the
center of the frozen form's chest, already pushing off with his right
leg...

  STOP

  ...and his body shut down.


  The dead weight still crushed the air out of Max's chest, but it was
a broad, distributed, crumbling force, not the sharp deadly blow his
attacker had intended. Max found himself in the middle of a dogpile,
surrounded by an orgy of sweet sapphire energy. He let go, opening the
floodgates, throwing his head back in a scream of rapture.


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  "Hello? Anyone here?"
  Sapphire stepped tentatively into the locker room. The door had been
open; not a good sign, since practice had supposedly been cancelled.
The place should have been locked up.

  Maybe the hunter was still here.

  The katick-katick of her stiletto mules echoed loudly throughout the
damp room. So much for the element of surprise...

  A locker suddenly swung open; a pasty white bundle of limbs exploded
from within. Sapphire jumped back, collecting herself for
counterattack...

  "Awwk! Don't hit me! Don't hurt me!" the skinny thing shrieked. It
cowered against the row of metal lockers, shivering.

  Sapphire looked around, grabbing a towel off the center bench. She
held it out to the frightened creature. "Here."

  When the thing had determined that she was not an immediate threat,
an arm extended from the quivering mass to grab at the towel. She let
go too early and it wafted to the floor. The thing -- a teenage boy,
she surmised -- bent over to pick it up. Sapphire took a step back to
give him space, her shoe percussion serving notice of her movement to
anyone in the complex. The boy looked up as he picked up the towel; his
jaw dropped as his torso raised, innocently-lustful eyes scanning every
inch of Sapphire's smooth petite curves. Something else began to raise
as well; Sapphire averted her eyes. "Um, towel?" she prompted.

  "Oh! Oh, sorry!" he crossed his legs awkwardly as he spastically
attempted to wrap the cotton sheath around his naked form. His member
formed a distinct bulge that his open hand failed to adequately cover.

  "Are you the only one here?"
  "I think so now. Uh, except for you, that is."
  Sapphire looked around, peeking around the corners. "Are you sure?"
  "Yeah. It's been quiet for almost an hour."

  "I'm looking for the football team," the leggy little beauty said. He
could only imagine why... the towel tented outward.
  "Uh-uh-uhh, practice was cancelled."
  "I know. I heard. There was an accident in the weight room."
  He suddenly stepped forward. "Ohmygod, it's you! You're Sapphire!"
The towel gapped open in front.
  "Yeah. Um, towel?"
  "Oh gosh, sorry! I'm just so excited to meet you."
  "I can see that." The young man's face turned bright red.
  "Well, they were here. And that guy was here too. I heard them
fighting in the shower."

  Sapphire suddenly tensed; she began to step past him, toward the
showers...
  "Relax, it's over. Like I said, it's been quiet for almost an hour."
  "What happened? Are they still in there?"
  "I don't know. I've been afraid to look. That guy is really bad news,
Sapphire." He tried out using her name conversationally; it was cool,
like he knew her.
  She turned back toward him. "Stay here a minute, let me go check it
out." She put her finger up to her lips to motion for quiet. As if it
mattered now that their talking and her heels had bounced into every
corner of the complex.
  He watched her tiptoe as quietly as she could -- reducing the sound
of her shoes on the cold tile floor from firecrackers to fingersnaps --
down the row of lockers. Her little low-slung skirt danced to and fro,
threatening to flash her tight little ass with each step. The light at
the end of the hall shone through it whenever it came away from her
body. He wondered if the front was as see-through, and resolved to make
that determination on her return trip. His eyes wouldn't blink on a bet.

  "Oh... my..."
  "What is it?" the horny lad called out.
  "Stay there!" she barked. He heard an uneven rhythm of clicks and
pauses. "I'm too late. They're all gone," she said, her voice low and
shaking. A moment later, she returned. The teen's jaw dropped again, as
did his only modesty. Sapphire was too shaken to ask him to fix it.

  "He killed them."
  "Really? Ohmygawd. That's horrible." He sat down. "I always used to
think, 'I wish they were dead.' Now they are. I think I'm gonna be
sick. I thought maybe that's what happened, but I was too scared to
come out. I mean, if that one guy could come in here and dispatch four
varsity football players in a few seconds, I wouldn't last a heartbeat."

  "What are you doing here?"
  "I was in the showers, making some... repairs, when-"
  "What kind of repairs? I didn't know they had students doing
maintenance work."
  The geek looked sheepish. "I was putting a hole in the wall to the
girls' showers."
  Sapphire smirked. "You little pervert." She turned serious again. "Go
on."
  "So I heard somebody coming. I hid in one of the lockers. It was
Coach. I heard him go into the weight room, then he screamed and came
running back out to his office. I couldn't quite hear what he was
saying on the phone. Then he went outside. It wasn't until later when
the other four came in and I heard them talking that I found out what
happened."
  "You were in that locker the whole time? Why didn't you get out after
the coach left?"
  The geek looked sheepish again. "I was... stuck."

  Sapphire tried hard not to laugh. Her body jiggled pleasantly with
her suppressed chuckles. He noticed that in the right light her top was
in fact just as translucent as her skirt. And it was even shorter; the
bottom curve of her firm breasts was just visible... 

  She noticed he was staring at her chest. She put an arm across her
chest. "Um, towel?" He covered up, turning beet red. She turned serious
again. "Then what happened?"

  "They were saying that you killed Dirk. Only I saw the tape so I know
it wasn't you," he added quickly, as if she might attack him on the
spot. "Raymond saw it too; he said you hired somebody to hit Dirk." He
saw her raise an eyebrow. "And that you killed Tree but made it look
like an accident. But I don't believe it. I've read everything about
you, and I know you're a real superheroine. You wouldn't do anything
bad. The Black Widow, and this Chinese guy, people are saying it's all
one person, but I didn't believe it. And now I know. Wow, you're really
real. And you're really beautiful."
  "Thank you." She couldn't help but be flattered.
  "You're after them, aren't you? The Black Widow and the Chinese guy,
I mean."
  "Yes."
  "Wow. This is some heavy shit. It's cool and all, but... damn. People
are dying and stuff. Fuck..." He collected himself. "Oh, sorry. Excuse
my French."
  "I've heard worse. Listen, I need you to tell me what happened here.
I don't have a lot of time."
  "Oh, right! Sorry! Um, like I said, Raymond was saying he saw the
tape and it was some Chinese guy. Then it got real quiet, and he just
said, "It's you."

  "The hunter." It was the first time that Sapphire had said it out
loud.
  "Yeah, The Hunter. I guess. I mean, I couldn't exactly see much
through the vents. Anyway, he said something like "you have something
of mine, and I'm here to collect."
  "Collect? What did they have?"
  "I don't know. He didn't say. They didn't either. That was the last
thing anybody said. After that I heard some shuffling over there, like
they were backing him into the foyer there, or maybe he was backing
them in, I don't know. Then there was a lot of moving around and
grunting and yelling, but just for a couple of seconds. Then it got
quiet for a second. Then The Hunter let out this yell that- ... well, I
nearly pissed my pants."
  Sapphire looked down thoughtfully. "Except that you weren't wearing
any. I won't ask how it is that you wound up naked."
  "That's okay, I don't mind. I was in the shower, you know, and I
didn't want it to look suspicious if I got caught. My clothes are in
one of these lockers, but I don't remember which one. I thought it was
that one there, but it's empty."

  Sapphire returned to the task at hand. "Did you hear anything else?"
  "Yeah. It really freaked me out. I'm gettin' chills now just thinkin'
about it. I mean, I thought that scream was the scariest thing I'd ever
heard, but then after a couple of minutes he started talking to them.
That's why I wasn't sure if they were in there or okay or not."
  "What did he say?" 
  "'Thank you for gathering the sapphires' sweet nectar. With each drop
I grow stronger. I'm sorry you can't live to see the ascension.'"
  Sapphire leaned against the lockers in stunned silence, struggling to
decipher the full meaning. Stronger? Ascension? What kind of monster
had she created?
  The teen spoke. "Freaky, huh? I nearly shit myself."
  Sapphire's face screwed up. "That was more information than I needed."
  "Oh, sorry. So what's it mean? Is he like some kind of vampire? What
does he mean by your nectar? Does he mean what I think he means? He
doesn't mean that does he? Did you, um... with those guys, I mean...
Um, wait, that's none of my business. But is he like getting stronger
off you or something? And what's the ascension? Is it like the
Apocalypse?"
  "No, that's *not* what he means," Sapphire answered hotly, but he was
not entirely convinced. "I don't know what it all means. But I don't
think he's looking for me anymore. I just know I have to stop him."

  The geek was staring at her, but his lasciviousness had given way to
simple awe.

  "I need to go. Will you be all right?"
  "He's not gonna come after me now, is he? I mean, because we talked?
You won't tell anyone I was here, will you?"
  "No, it doesn't work that way. At least, I don't think it does. I'm
sure you'll be safe. I won't tell anyone I saw you, but you must do the
same for me."

  Wow, that was a lot to ask. After all, this was Sapphire talking to
him. She was like a legend, and she was real. But... he knew he had to
honor her request. It was the heroes' code. "I swear, I won't tell a
soul."

  "Thank you." She turned to go. "One more thing. Before you go, call
911 and tell them there's been another murder."
  "Should I tell them what I heard?"

  "It won't matter. It's up to me to find him."


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  Angela sat on the announcing booth perched at the top of the
bleachers. The Hunter wasn't after her; he was after her energy. If he
was after her, he would have gone after Ricky. He would have made Ricky
talk. Ricky would have led him to her, as Angela. Maybe he'd still go
after Ricky. But if he was feeding off her energy, if it was making him
stronger, why didn't he just come and get her already? Was he not yet
strong enough to face her? How much longer would it take? And wasn't
she helping him with each person she used the sapphires against? Like
dropping breadcrumbs, so that a monster can find you in the woods and
eat you.

  If he wasn't ready to find her, she'd have to find him first. He knew
about Ricky; he had to if he'd talked to Dirk. And if he hadn't talked
to Dirk, how would he have known about the other football players?
Their story had remained quiet; as far as Angela knew they hadn't even
told their friends about what had happened. They probably hadn't even
told Dirk about the beating she'd administered, though he'd probably
guessed the results on his own. And as far as she knew, Ricky and Jimmy
were the only other ones there.

  But according to the naked geek (she blushed at the thought of him
standing there 'at attention') Raymond and his pals hadn't been given
the chance to tell the Hunter anything. He just sucked them dry like
some kind of lifeforce vampire. Maybe that's what the Black Widow was
doing too. Maybe he was the Black Widow. Or maybe they were working as
a team. Though she'd been mercifully quiet the past several days.

  Angela's head spun at the possibilities. If the Hunter was so hungry
for her energy, and he didn't want to come to the source, why would he
kill the only people who might be able to tell him where to go next?
Unless he didn't need them to tell him. Maybe he could just smell it
somehow.

  She thought back to the first reports of mysterious fatalities. Her
mind suppressed her horror at the trail of bodies in order to focus and
try to understand what it meant. It was the only way she could stop it.
Where did it begin? At the airport. If the hunter fed off the sapphire
energy and was able to find those guys in the middle of a busy airport,
clearly he had some way of sniffing it out. And that meant he wouldn't
be heading to Ricky's -- or he'd already been there and found nothing
of interest; either way was fine with her. So what was left? If
Sapphire remembered her personal history correctly, the next stop would
be Josh. 

  Sapphire would be ready for him. 

  But the hunter might already be on his way. She had to make sure that
Josh wasn't there, at least until she arrived. She begged two quarters
from a young teenage boy who was more than happy to oblige -- why did
they all have to stare at her like that? Dropping the borrowed quarters
into the payphone, she dialed Josh's number.

  "This'z Josh."
  Angela swallowed hard; she never wanted to talk to him again after
the humiliation he'd subjected her to. And she wasn't even sure how
much of the sapphire energy he'd absorbed. But she didn't want his
blood on her hands.
  "This is Angela," she said finally through gritted teeth.
  "Angela, baby! I was beginning to think I'd never hear from you!
How've you been, babe?"
  She swallowed hard again. "Lonely without you babe. I... I need you."
  "Damn, Angela, I never figured you for the booty call type."
  God, Josh was revolting. But it was the right thing to do...
  "Can you meet me at the state college? In the parking lot behind the
administration building. It's quiet up there. Dark and romantic... and
isolated."
  Josh's hormones short-circuited his brain. He hadn't had much action
lately.
  "What time?"
  "Right away. Leave now; my mom'll just went to bed, and as soon as
she's asleep I'll meet you up there." Angela held her hand over the
mouthpiece, hoping the outside background noise wouldn't give away her
lie.

  "I don't wanna be waiting up there all night." But he would if it got
him between her thighs again. Anyway, maybe he could take the low-light
camera and set it up before she got there...

  "I won't be long, lover. Don't start without me -- I want everything
you've got!" Angela's stomach turned, but she knew no line was too
corny for Josh, and the better she primed him, the longer he'd wait
there. That would give her time to scout the neighborhood and set up
watch before he got back...

  "All right, Angela. Hey... wear something *sexy*. Like maybe
something Sapphire would wear."
  Angela almost choked. "I think I can manage that," she forced out
before hanging up.

  She did some quick figuring. She'd spent a lot of time "on" already.
How much did she have left? There was no telling what this hunter was
capable of; she needed to bring everything she had. Humiliating
fantasies notwithstanding, Angela had no desire to run out of gas when
she tangled with this one.

  She remembered the first night she'd hooked back up with Josh; after
flying across town and back and working over Raymond and his buddies --
she pushed the more recent memory of their demise out of her head --
after that she'd been close to spent. How much had she done tonight?
She wished her sapphires had some kind of meter...

  Better take the car. No reason to push it. Mom'll be pissed, but this
is an emergency. I'll think up an excuse later.


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  Andrew's cellphone rang.
  "This'z Dean."
  "Hey, she's on the move, headed in your direction. We need you to
pick up the tail. She's headed up Alvarez; if she keeps going she'll be
at Alvarez and Kennedy in about five minutes."
  "All right, I'll be there. The brown Corolla, right?"
  "Well, she ain't on her bicycle." Click.


  My little girl 
  Drive anywhere 
  Do what you want 
  I don't care 
  Tonight 
  I'm in the hands of fate 
  I hand myself 
  Over on a plate 
  Now 

  Oh little girl 
  There are times when I feel 
  I'd rather not be 
  The one behind the wheel 
  Come 
  Pull my strings 
  Watch me move 
  I do anything 
  Please 

  Sweet little girl 
  I prefer 
  You behind the wheel 
  And me the passenger 
  Drive 
  I'm yours to keep 
  Do what you want 
  I'm going cheap 
  Tonight


  Andrew's eyes were bombarded with bright lights. Flashing lights.
Shit! Was he speeding? Shit! He lifted off the gas, watching Angela's
car slowly pull away.

  Then to his surprise the police cruiser blasted by him...

  ...and settled in behind the brown Corolla.

  Andrew quickly killed his lights and pulled over to watch the
proceedings. The cruiser and Corolla were a couple hundred yards ahead,
the cruiser's floods turning a small piece of the side of the road into
bleached daylight.

  This should be interesting.


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  "Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck FUCK!" Josh screamed into the night. He heard
his own voice echo back to him. A dog started barking.

  "First I get stood up -- me, Josh Ramsey! -- then this Fucking Piece
Of SHIT strands me before I can get down the hill." He kicked the
low-profile tire in frustration, only to draw back and hop about in
pain.

  "Well, now what. Guess I better call a towtruck."


  "Whaddya mean, 'Expired??'"
  Well, it just wasn't his night. His auto club membership had expired.
And he wasn't about to pay a premium for a late-night long-distance
tow. Better to call his buddy Chad in the morning; he had a pickup and
a tow rope.

  "Guess I'll call a cab, then."
  Josh was about to put his auto club membership card back into his
wallet when he felt a sticky-note attached to the back. He flipped it
over. "CAB - DISCREET" and a phone number. It was the special cab
company his dad had told him to use if he ever got into a jam and
needed a cab with no questions asked and no records. Dad used them to
get the occasional hooker back to Twisted Oaks when Mom was away on
business.

  Well, he guessed he was in enough of a jam now...


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  Valerie watched the street traffic from her safe vantage point atop a
dilapidated tenement. That was the fifth patrol car to cruise the block
in the last half-hour. It was getting unbearable. Business on the
street had dried up a week ago when the manhunt, er, womanhunt had
started. The cops had been merciless, harassing anything on two legs.
Val would have hitched a ride out of town days ago, but Twisted Oaks
wasn't exactly a tourist mecca. As long as she had One-Leg Larry's
loyalty, which at $20 plus expenses and one mercifully-brief screw a
day was cheap enough considering her situation and her illicit
bankroll, she could hang out here pretty much indefinitely until the
heat cooled off. If she didn't die of boredom.

  Someone was coming up the steps. She heard a loud cough, then a
second later, another one. It was Larry with dinner. Anything other
than two appropriately-timed coughs and Val was over the side of the
building in a heartbeat. She'd done it twice since camping out up here.
Once more and the garbageman might start asking questions about who was
beating up the dumpster below...

  "It's Mayor McCheese with the keys to the city!"
  "That wasn't funny the first five times you said it either, Larry,"
Val chided. But the smile she cracked betrayed her.


  Cough. Pause. Cough.
  Larry eyed his young charge, sitting at the edge of the roof looking
off in the distance. She'd cleaned herself up, probably while he was
asleep just now. She looked stunning. Mile-long legs capped by
deadly-looking stiletto pumps, tight vinyl little black dress -- *very*
little -- and hair slicked back into a ponytail. Her everpresent choker
ring of large sapphires practically glowed in the refracted light from
the street below. 

  Larry adjusted the lump in his pants. He should have waited to fuck
her today.

  "You look good all cleaned up. Did you get hot water in my shower
today?"
  "I'm going out tonight, Larry."
  "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
  "I'm sure it's *not* a good idea, but I'm going stir crazy."
  "You're not going to hurt anyone, are you?"
  "Not on purpose, Larry."
  "Good. I know you mean well, and I know those men had it coming,
but..." 
  "You're not going to get too drunk while I'm gone, are you Larry?"
  "I sure as hell am. The only reason I'm ever sober is to tap that
ass, and we've already done it today. Since I know you're not going to
be around for seconds, Thunderbirds are Go."
  "You shouldn't drink so much, Larry."
  "I know. But it's the only thing I'm really good at."
  "To hear you tell it's the only thing you ever really tried."
  "Some people spend their whole lives trying to find their calling. I
got lucky, found it in my dad's liquor cabinet when I was fifteen."
  "That's sad, Larry."
  "I know. Will you be trying to find your calling tonight?"
  "Larry, I just live one day at a time. My calling is gonna have to
use 1-800-COLLECT."

  Val looked up and down the street. From here she could see six blocks
in either direction; if there was anyone stupid enough to go cruising
for companionship on this night, she would spot him.

  A black Porsche Turbo, looking like a gleaming cockroach under the
mix of neon and sodium and traffic signal, its whale tail a beacon of
machismo, roared up the street, slicing back and forth through slower
traffic. Great way to get a ticket, dumbass, Val thought.

  When he made a U-turn several blocks up and began making his way back
ever-so-slowly along the boulevard Val realized that the dumbass had
actually been laying bait for cops. Finding none responding to his
flagrant display, he knew it was safe to lay bait of a different kind.

  Val looked back up the street in the other direction. Well, the
tactic *almost* worked. A police cruiser was wandering its way along
the street. Val made a rough estimation. If the cruiser kept going
straight and both cars kept their pace, it would just pass the Porsche
right in front of Val's building. No way the Porsche could stop and let
her in within two blocks of a cop, and once he saw blue he'd probably
bug out. Shit! Here was a rolling wallet and a ticket to a safe evening
in the good part of town and Val wasn't going to be able to touch it.
Unless...

  Come on, get a donut. Get a donut. You know you want one. Donuts make
the world go round. Donuts make your belly round. Get a donut. Get a
donut. Get. A. Donut. Cops love donuts. Get a donut. Get a Donut! Yes! 

  The cruiser turned the corner and bounded up into the small parking
lot next to Happy Donuts. Val looked back up the street; the black
sports car was just a half-block away. If she was going to catch him,
she'd have to use the express elevator...

  "There's my ride, Larry. Gotta go!" Shoes in hand, Val hopped over
the edge of the roof; a second later, a booming metallic crash echoed
up from the alley. Larry hopped over to the building's edge and peered
over to see Val trying to put on her heels and run at the same time
toward the waiting Porsche's open passenger door.


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  Josh watched as the well-used blue sedan made a U-turn and pulled up
next to him. Well, it didn't look like much, but compared to the
traditional yellow or green-and-orange hacks, it was low profile. He
guessed it would be all right. It beat the alternative.

  "Hey, thanks for getting here so fast. Glenwood Estates; I'll give
you the address when we get there."
  "My pleasure," the asian cabbie said. He brought his hand up to his
neck, rubbing something underneath his shirt...




__________________________________
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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