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Message-ID: <47405asstr$1081728604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Imagineer <imagin8r47@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Cruel Summer 27 {Imagineer} (nosex reluc viol exhib ScFi)
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Date: Sun, 11 Apr 2004 20:10:04 -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/


// 27: Converged


  Officer Mahoney stepped up to the driver's window and looked inside.
Jackpot!

  Legs. No, wait, tits. No, wait, face. Sensory overload. Intellect
shutdown.

  Mahoney grinned like an idiot as he watched the young woman behind
the wheel crank the manual window down, her tits tumbling to and fro,
threatening to break free of the gauzy top that lay over them.

  "D-did I do something wrong?" an angelic voice asked.

  Dressed the way she was, she could only be a stripper. He flashed his
Maglite into the back seat. Yep, there was her street outfit, some kind
of green dress. She was probably late for the next bachelor party and
hadn't had time to change from the last one. Her top and skirt were
almost see-through, even by flashlight, and the edges were frayed.


  "Oh wait, I recognize you," the uniform said. "You're the Avenging
Angel." Angela froze, unable to breathe. She was caught! The world
began to spin...

  "Yeah," the officer continued, "I hate to break it to you, but you're
not the only stripper doin' her."

  The 'stripper' insult shocked Angela into the relieving realization
that this policeman wasn't about to arrest her as the city's most
wanted violent criminal. She resumed breathing.

  He'd never stopped talking. "This chick last night at this guy's
bachelor party, she had the same kind of costume. She had kind of a
halo thing in her hair, though, instead of a beauty-queen thing like
you got. But hey, wherever you're goin' the guys won't care, will they?
Especially not with a rack like that. I bet that costume won't last ten
seconds."

  Angela blushed fiercely. Somehow she'd hoped her disheveled state
hadn't been so obvious. And why did he have to keep staring at her
chest? It wasn't right...

  "Um, the reason I stopped you is... um, you were speeding, and your
car was weaving a little. Have you had anything to drink?" Angela shook
her head emphatically.


  "Well I'm going to have to conduct a field sobriety test just to be
certain. Could you step out of the car, please?" Mainly he just wanted
to get a good look at her.


  So intimidated was she by this authority figure that it never
occurred to the poor girl that she might use her assets to gain a
little favor. Fortunately, her assets weren't asking her permission. 


  Officer Mahoney took a step back, one hand reflexively on the butt of
his pistol.

  The door opened. A delicate foot clad in an invisibly-slight
stiletto-heeled slipper settled onto the gravel between door and car.
As the foot flexed and the calf tensed, Mahoney noticed a glittering
jewel on the mesh toe strap. The shoe looked expensive and impractical.
He'd met this kind of girl before; she probably spent every dime on
high fashion and couldn't afford to pay her share of the $20 utility
bill.

  Above the foot climbed a smooth, slender leg, bare all the way up
to... all the way up to... way way up to... Damn! The short skirt
seemed scarcely bigger than a napkin and was as translucent and
ragged-out as her top. The clear plastic strap of a Victoria's Secret
string bikini arched clear of the sagging waistline. He could just see
the curve of her ass as she swiveled her hips up out of the car seat;
the prickly old vinyl seemed reluctant to let the tiny garment go.

  Flaring hips gave way to a slender waist. Soft smooth tummy, cute
little belly button. Damn that skirt hung low. Arced torso, neither
flabby nor ribby, the bottom of the ribcage a subtle indentation.
Breasts seemed to lunge as she leaned forward to clear the roof.
Shadowed spheres peeked out when she stood up straight. Damn that top
was cut short. Slender fingers curled gracefully around the top of the
window frame; another improbably-bright jewel shimmered from its perch
on a mesh wristband that formed the cuff of some oversized split
sleeve. Her other hand remained fixed to her waist; that explained how
the skirt was staying in place.

  Artfully disheveled dark hair spilled around a shiny princess tiara
and fell to her shoulders. A ribbon tied into a bow ineffectually held
a few strands together down her long neck. It took several seconds of
her rapid blinking and a raised arm to remind him that he was shining
his flashlight directly into her eyes. He couldn't help it; she was
beautiful. And professionally made up, a little heavy for an innocent
teenager but certainly not overdone considering her apparent
profession. Indeed, her perfect makeup lent an air of class that almost
seemed out of place. Dramatic blended eyeshadow, thick natural lashes,
eyeliner, thin arching eyebrows, high-yet-soft cheekbones, liquid lips,
flawless skin. Worthy of a Revlon ad.

  The other foot slipped out from the footwell and joined its mate on
the crunchy gravel. He beckoned her to join him behind the car.
Motioned for her to stand up straight. Even stilted on those heels,
feet together, tummy in, chest out -- oh, heaven! -- she was
considerably shorter than his 6'2" frame.

  He motioned for her to walk along the white line at the edge of the
pavement. Surprisingly, she didn't kick off her heels -- almost as if
she was more comfortable in those skyscrapers than out of them --
toeing the line perfectly. Or so it seemed every time he could peel his
eyes away from her deliciously-oscillating hips to check. He motioned
for her to turn around and go back to her starting point. She spun on
one foot like a dancer, then strutted away from him purposefully. With
each step her skirt swished, flashing just a hint of her perfect
half-moons. Her almost-bare back flexed and swayed with each
click-click-click of the heels. Mahoney stifled an appreciative grunt.
He stepped toward her, surprising her when she turned back around to
face him.

  Mahoney took a deep breath, then motioned an arms-out, eyes-closed,
head-back, fingers-to-nose test and bade her repeat it.

  She mimicked his deep breath before duplicating the maneuver. Her
twin spheres struggled to free themselves of their inadequately-draped
covering, the uneven frayed hem of the tube blouse rising as she
stretched her arms out and arched her back, rising, rising, almost to
the nipples... before the curtain slowly fell again as her fingers came
together on her skyward-pointed nose. Mahoney thought his eyes would
pop. If his zipper didn't pop first.

  Out of tests, the green officer was struggling to maintain his
concentration. She was just so damn cute! Most strippers he'd seen had
that injected too-taut look that came from surgery and crash diets, and
a bad "don't call me a whore" attitude that blunted arousal. But this
girl looked fresh out of high school with a naturally slender-yet-soft
physique that only innocent youth could provide. She reminded him a lot
of his best friend's younger sister, whose image had been the source of
many a lonely night's relief. In fact, she was giving him the same
"please don't hurt me" look the sister had always given him when he'd
come over. Like he could help being a big guy. Like he could help that
he was getting bigger...

  "Do you mind if I search your vehicle?" Maybe he could score a pair
of panties. Maybe he could find something, and she'd ask him if there
was anything she could do to be let go with just a warning. Maybe he
was just stalling because he couldn't believe she hadn't asked that yet.


  "Is this yours?" Angela was mortified; what could he have found? He
held up a greenish piece of shiny fabric. Her Chinese dress! The one
from that night with Josh. Had it been in the back seat all this time?

  "Okay, Miss. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, and I appreciate your
cooperation. I'm gonna let you off with a warning. Please slow down; a
lot of homeless people camp out in the lots near here and they don't
always use the crosswalks."

  Angela had trouble finding her voice; this police officer sounded
nice enough, but the way he looked at her gave her chills; she tried
not to think about why, chasing away images of her handcuffed and
helpless in the back of his patrol car, legs splayed, inviting him to
lower his muscular body toward her... "Th-thank you officer," she got
out. "I promise I'll slow down."

  "All right then." The officer's radio crackled to life. She couldn't
make out anything at all, but he seemed to understand the garbled alien
tongue the dispatcher seemed to be using. "Shit, I've gotta take this."
He turned to hustle back to the patrol car. "You drive careful now!" he
called out just before ducking into the big black and white sedan. A
moment later the flashing lights and wailing siren came on and the
police cruiser roared off back the way it'd come.

  And Angela was alone. She walked back to the car, hitching up both
skirt and top repeatedly. Just as she got to the open door she yanked
on the top a little too hard and the side seam split apart; the top
came off in her hand, punctuated by a surprised squeal.

  She looked at the top in her hand, looked down at her exposed chest.
She collapsed in exhausted resignation into the driver's seat. Beyond
humiliation, beyond crying, she tucked her feet into the car and pulled
the door shut. A long, ragged sigh left her weary soul as she struggled
to collect herself and take stock of the situation.

  Angela's fingers were still sore from all the sewing she'd done over
the past few days, but she didn't have anything to wear. Four Sapphire
outfits finished, and none of them were for her. Now she was going to
have to go face her nemesis topless and wearing rags around her waist.
No, around her ankles, probably.

  "This fantastic power and I can't even stay decent long enough to use
it," she said softly. Her head fell to rest on her hands atop the
steering wheel. Her shoulders slumped with the weight of her emotions.
Shame at her predicament. Shame at her selfishness, being concerned
about her appearance when someone's life could be at stake. Despair at
how puppetlike her existence had become, succumbing to every whim of
the sapphires no matter what it did to her.

  Even now the interior of the car was bathed in a dim blue glow,
reminding her that she was forever under their spell.

  Angela steeled herself; her world was closing in around her, and all
she could do was sit in a car by the side of the road feeling sorry for
herself? If circumstances forced her to humiliate herself to save a
life and stop evil, so be it. 

  If I have to expose myself to do what's right, I'll do it. It's not
like anyone but the Hunter and Josh are going to see me anyway.

  Angela adjusted the rear-view mirror to look at herself. However her
clothes might look, she wasn't going to face her enemy looking like a
weepy little girl with runny mascara. Her heavy makeup still looked
flawless. She batted her eyelashes. See? Things aren't all bad.

  As she adjusted the mirror back to its normal position, something
shiny on the parcel shelf caught her eye. She turned around. The police
officer had made a bit of a mess of the back seat. What was that he'd
thrown up there against the back window? Of course, the dress!

  She reached into the back seat, trying to ignore the way her breasts
stretched the sagging neckline of her top, reaching for The Dress. It
was the green Chinese hooker dress made of that synthetic silk
substitute fabric that she'd worn to get her sapphire shoes back from
Josh. (Though by the feeble dome light it now looked kind of light
blue-green; the sun must have really faded it.) The memory of the
humiliation gave her a bad taste in her mouth even now. What a
coincidence that she'd be wearing the sapphires with the same dress to
save his hide.

  Well, It was hardly prim and proper but it beat going in buck naked.

  Just then a car heading the other direction approached, its
too-bright headlights bathing the girl in pale blue light. Angela
wasn't about to change in the car -- there was no telling when the next
car would come by, or who might decide to stop and watch, and she did
have a secret identity to protect. The row of tall bushes off the
shoulder just behind her car would afford a little more privacy. Dress
in hand, she closed up the car and set off toward the bushes some ten
yards back.


  Shit, she was headed this way! Andrew ducked down quickly. Had she
noticed him following her? Fuck, he thought he'd been pretty subtle
about it, even if she did know she was being watched at the house. He
slowly lifted his head, just high enough to see over the dashboard.
Whew! She wasn't heading for his car; she'd turned and was going off
behind the row of bushes ahead. Probably had to pee after all that
excitement. Even from this distance he could see the pronounced sway
her high heels gave to her walk; she certainly was sure-footed on such
stilts in the loose gravel of the shoulder...

  Hmm, she was carrying something in one hand. A jacket, maybe. Just
before she disappeared behind the bushes she held up her hand and let
the item unfurl. No, not a jacket. A long dress, maybe.

  Andrew adjusted the fit of his jeans as he imagined her changing
behind the bushes. If only he could sneak over and get a peek. No
matter; she was plenty sexy no matter what she was wearing or not
wearing. He'd get another look in a minute...


  Angela struggled to squeeze herself into the dress. Had she gained
weight? Or had the dress somehow shrunk? In the flickering headlights
of passing cars, Angela remembered the dress as she had first made it
-- daring but not indecent -- not as it had ended up the last time
she'd worn it, with seams split to scandalous lengths.

  She hadn't made this dress with Sapphire duty in mind. "I hope it
doesn't cover too much." Despite its almost backless nature, dramatic
cleavage, and high side slits, the hem did reach past her ankles, and
would drag the ground were it not for her tall heels. Even so, she felt
the wild grass tug at the hem as she moved. She remembered back to her
night rescuing Jimmy from Dirk's jock friends -- who, she remembered,
she'd just seen piled up like crash test dummies in the locker room, as
much as she wanted to forget. She'd worn a long skirt that night too.
But she figured that as long as she kept her legs clear -- not a
problem with this dress' ridiculous side slits -- she'd be fine.

  "Don't dawdle, girl, Josh isn't going to wait up there all night."
She'd wasted precious time on vanity. No, not vanity -- confidence.
Still, she had to get going. The Hunter wasn't going to wait for her.
Fortunately Josh's house was only a few blocks away.

  With a last look around, Sapphire crouched slightly, legs spread to
clear the dress, and sprang skyward.


  Almost five minutes passed. What was she doing back there? There was
nothing on this side of the road for a half-mile in either direction
but empty fields and concrete slabs. Six minutes. Okay, that's it.
Andrew got out of the car, four-cell Maglite in hand, and tiptoed to
the edge of the gravel. Once in the wild grass off the shoulder he
picked up his pace. Swish, swish, swish, he moved further off the road
into the empty field, beyond the dimmest spill of the streetlamp,
looking ahead to the row of bushes. He didn't see movement. He turned
toward the bushes now, picking up the pace, stumbling occasionally on
the soft uneven ground. At ten yards, he raised his flashlight and
clicked it on, frantically sweeping back and forth over the bushes.

  Where the hell did she go?

  He moved around the other side of the bushes and checked her car. No
sign of her. He dropped to the ground to check under the car. Nope. Up
and down the street. Nothing. Not even another car, moving or parked.
The industrial district truly was deserted at night.

  Back behind the bushes, flashlight scanning the empty field. Moving
up and down the chain link fence that marked the other side of this
group of huge empty lots. He could barely see it. There was no way she
could have made it that far. Not in those heels. Not barefoot. Was she
hiding in a hole or behind some bushes? What hole? What bushes? The lot
to either side was solid concrete slab surrounded by asphalt moats;
this lot was a sea of short wild grass with the occasional dandelion.

  Fuck!

  Back in his car, Agent Dean fired up the engine. The low rumble
helped him think.

  She's crafty - she gets around
  She's crafty - she's always down
  She's crafty - she's got a gripe
  She's crafty - and she's just my type

  Click! The song didn't.

  Ring. "Hey, Andy. It's Chuck. What's up?"
  Andrew slammed his forehead down on the steering wheel as he held the
cell phone up to his ear. "You're never going to believe this," he said
with monotone dread.
  "What happened?"
  "I lost her."
  "What happened, you get separated by traffic?"
  "No."
  "She spotted you and you had to break off."
  "No. At least I don't think so."
  "So what happened?"
  "She got pulled over by a cop. After he left, she went behind some
bushes to change clothes. And then she disappeared."
  Chuck couldn't contain his laughter. "Oh, dude, that's fucked up.
What'd she do, jump a fence? Lose you in an alley?"
  "I'm out in the old industrial section. There's nothing on this side
of the street but empty lots."
  "So what happened?"
  "I *don't* *know* *what* *happened*. Quit asking that. She just
fucking disappeared."
  "People don't just disappear. Maybe she's hiding. Maybe she slipped
past you somehow. Maybe-"
  "She. Just. Fucking. Disappeared."
  "Well, you did say I'd never believe it. Look, you better have a
better explanation than that. What are you gonna tell the boss, she
*flew* away?"


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


  The cabbie was quiet; it made Josh nervous. His hand felt a newspaper
on the seat next to him; he picked it up, angling it out the window to
catch the light of passing streetlights. The cabbie flicked on the
cab's reading lights unasked.

  It was an old World News Weekly. He'd read it already. So had his
dad. It had given them an idea. Twenty-four hours and a thousand bucks
later they had themselves an adult website. 

  Josh read the headline out loud. "'AVENGING ANGEL STRIKES AGAIN! Cops
Baffled - Can't Stop Heavenly Vigilante.' You heard about this?" he
asked the cabbie.

  "Yes. A fantastic tale."
  Josh turned to the inside spread, holding up the full-page photo of
the Avenging Angel kicking a thug's teeth. "She's hot, isn't she? I
mean, you can't really see much in these pictures, but you can see
enough to know she's hot."
  "She does seem to have considerable presence, yes."

  "You wanna see more pictures?" Silence. "Hey, would you like to see
more pictures of the Avenging Angel? Because I got connections, yo. I
know where you can download lots of pictures of this chick. And she's
doin' a lot more than lettin' a guy kiss her foot, if you know what I
mean. A *lot* more."

  The cabbie's interest was piqued. "How did you come to get these
photographs?"
  "Well, I kinda know her. You could say I'm her official photographer."
  "I would very much like to meet her."

  Josh begged off broadly. "Well, I'm sorry I can't help you there.
She's very serious about her privacy. Makes me blur out her face on all
the pictures I take, and even changes her hairstyle and dyes her hair
from one shoot to the next so people won't figure out who she is." So
people won't figure out that the "genuine exclusive" photos of
"Sapphire, the real Avenging Angel" are of several different girls, all
paid models. "But she just can't help taking it all off and gettin'
nasty in front of a camera. Hell, most of the time I have to stop
takin' pictures and join her before we can finish the session."

  The cabbie seemed *very* interested. He touched his chest again; he
was a little weird, but that was probably a good thing in this
business. Josh's dad had told him to talk up their new business to
anyone who would listen.

  "I got a sample picture with me. You wanna see it?" He didn't wait
for a response, whipping open his wallet and pulling out a business
card. On one side was a printed photograph -- one he'd surreptitiously
taken of Angela the last time she'd been over, though her face was cut
off just above the lips. It showed her wearing the sheer robe and
matching panties, the bottom being cut off just below the crotch, perky
round breasts plainly visible through the thin veil of fabric above a
perfect-smooth abdomen. On the flip side the card read:

  Real superheroines don't say no!
  eXXXclusive photos
  www.sapphireexposed.com

  He offered the card to the cabbie. The asian driver reached over his
shoulder and took the card slowly, his fingers lingering over Josh's
hand just long enough to make him feel a little weird about the
contact. A little bit queasy, even. But judging from the way the cabbie
studied the card for several long moments between glances at the road,
he definitely wasn't gay. Josh's greedy thoughts about the business
this cabbie could send to his new pay porno site quickly extinguished
any uneasiness he may have felt about the brief physical contact.

  "We just started the site, so there's only a few teaser images up
now, but I've got a couple hundred totally hot hardcore pictures that
I'll be putting up, exclusive for charter members. Maybe we can work
out a trade, a ride for a free month's membership, whaddya say?"

  "I think we can come to an agreement."

  Like taking candy from a baby...


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


  She hadn't actively been Sapphire for so long a stretch before. She
was being careful not to waste her energy, and she felt none of the
telltale signs that she was in trouble, but still the uncertainty of
her power's longevity combined with the mystery of her deadly opponent
put her on edge. (In truth Sapphire was far from able to judge her
energy level. Careful though she'd been, her sapphires were more than
half gone, slowly draining with each passing minute and already
beginning to feed back subtly-arousing energy, well-masked by her
inexperience and nervousness.)

  Sapphire shifted her weight from one leg to the other. The waiting
was getting to her. Crouched on the roof of the house across the street
from Josh's, she eyed the street suspiciously. The long halves of her
dress spread out over the roof in front and behind. With each fidgety
movement, a different part of the brittle sun-damaged fabric would
briefly catch on a roof shingle. It was a subconscious reminder of her
weakness and her bondage to the sapphires. She considered trying to rip
the too-long skirt off at the knee, but knowing her luck she'd end up
ripping the whole dress off somehow.

  Might as well have a seat; there's no telling when he'll get here.

  Not a second after she relented and took a careful seat on the rough
shingles, a large sedan appeared from around the corner. Faded-yellow
headlights preceded it into The Ramseys' driveway. Sapphire snapped to
attention, barely noticing the momentary snag of the seat of her flimsy
underwear on a shingle edge. 

  "Something must have happened to Josh's car," Sapphire reasoned.
After a few long moments, Josh got out and gave a dramatic thumbs-up to
the driver, holding it as the car backed out of the driveway. Now in
the halo of a streetlamp, Sapphire noticed the sedan had several dents
and scrapes all over, and a hand-lettered sign in the passenger-side
corner of the front window, though she couldn't quite make out what it
said from this distance. "Unlicensed taxi," the girl surmised. Why
would Josh take a *gypsy* cab? Was he trying to hide something from his
dad?

  Sapphire relaxed a bit when the cab backed out of the driveway and
drove off down the street. Back to waiting. She tugged at the front of
the dress, trying to give her breasts a little breathing room; for a
supposed synthetic silk, the fabric seemed awfully scratchy on her
nipples...


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


  Outwardly, Max remained calm; inside he bristled with excitement.
Josh had felt the sapphires' touch; if he was indeed the girl's lover,
Max's path had just become much easier. He would have a steady source
of sapphire energy, and when the amulet allowed that he was ready to
claim his prize, it would be right at hand.

  But he would have to regain his self-control and learn to draw the
energy slowly. He could not afford to damage the vessel. And he could
not afford to raise Valerie's suspicions. He sensed that he was not
ready to face her. His own instinct was to simply dispense with this
boy as he had the others before him; surely that would get her
attention and bring her to him. But these thoughts were accompanied by
a chill. As powerful as she was, he could ill afford to meet her
unprepared. He'd not yet found the limits of his amulet's abilities,
but he suspected it would take more than a brute-force attack to subdue
her. No, if she was to be his queen, it should not be by conflict. At
least, not yet. The amulet would guide him.

  As it had guided him earlier, staying the urge to suck the life out
of Josh with one great breath. And as it guided him now.

  Max slipped from the top of the fence to land quietly behind the
house. Quiet steps took him to the back porch. He bowed his head in
concentration; a moment later the glass door clicked unlocked and slid
open. Josh stood there, the welcoming sweep of hand a marked contrast
to the mildly befuddled look in his eyes.

  "You could have just come in the front door with me; nobody's out in
this neighborhood after dark." 

  Good, the boy was convinced this was about his fledgeling business.
Max should not have doubted his influence on such a weak mind. "It is
my nature to be discreet," he replied.

  "Ya okay," Josh dismissed. "Come on back to my room. I'll get your
account set up, and give you some business cards you can give your
customers when you tell them about it."


  "So when will you see Valerie next?"
  "Who?"
  "Sapphire."
  "Which one?" Josh mistakenly assumed that his new friend and salesman
had already figured out that there was more than one model; he'd
probably ferried girls to the shoot Josh's dad had set up. "Oh, you
mean Angela? Yeah, the girl on the card. She's a real hottie, ain't
she? I was supposed to meet her tonight, actually, but she stood me up.
Girls are just flaky like that, right? They spot a zit and they want to
hide in their room for a week. I'll give her a call tomorrow and see
when I can reschedule. She's a little skittish sometimes, so like I
said you won't be able to meet her, but I'll give you a call as soon as
I get some more photos." 


  Something seemed out of place. 'Which one?' If he had Valerie (by
whatever name), why would he waste time with others? Which one? Was
there more than one girl? That was impossible; the sapphires were
unique, and no one would divide or share such power. But Josh *was*
imbued with sapphire energy, and he clearly *did* know of her exploits.
It seemed unlikely that such a weak mind would have control over the
sapphire-wearer, yet he spoke so casually, almost dismissively, as if
she and the stones were insignificant, just one of many silly girls he
used for pleasure and profit.

  Subtlety be damned, he cursed the amulet, I must know more.


  Josh froze in mid-step; the cabbie had clapped a hand on his shoulder
and immediately Josh felt an icy numbness there. He began to turn
around, but slumped back against the wall of the hallway. "Ow! That
hurts, man, cut it out."

  The cabbie released his grip. "I am sorry; I do not know my own
strength. Here, you do not look well. You should lie down."
  "Yeah," Josh agreed dimly as he staggered down the hall and into his
bedroom. He collapsed into his desk chair. "Was that some kind of
kung-fu grip?" he said, starting to recover.
  "In a manner of speaking, yes." The guy was starting to freak him
out. He had a calm-yet-intense look. "Tell me what you know about
'Angela.'"

  Josh sat, unable to move, as Max crossed the room. His eyes widened
in fear as they followed the cabbie's hand reach out to him. His skin
went cold as the hand grabbed him firmly by the side of the neck. His
jaw went slack as a rush of unbidden memories flooded his consciousness.


  Oh, sweet sapphires, come to me...

  A dark street. Sexy young thing stumbles. Ulterior motive to a
gallant act. The girl's bare skin hot against his. Rushed home. Union
in the dark. Clothing ripped. Blinding climax.

  Disorientation. Interruption. Another time. A girl. Angela. The same
girl the other boy pined for. Old lusts renewed. Hesitant, unwilling.
Undressed, redressed. A heroine fetish. This girl was weak; none of the
strength Valerie so clearly possessed. None of the expected defiance or
dominance.

  Another time. A fat girl. Giggling. Drunk. Huge drooping mammaries.
But her face became Angela. Her body became Angela -- slender, petite,
smooth.

  Max's heart grew darker. Another foolish boy obsessed with the same
girl. Promiscuity had led to a chance encounter with the sapphires, but
everything in this mind was clouded with sexual attachment to this
Angela. What good was reading such a mind?

  With a bellow of rage, Max reached into the young man's soul and
ripped the life out of him.

  As Josh's lifeless body slid off the side of the chair and thumped to
the floor, Max heard a droning mechanical noise echo through the house.
It had stopped by the time he got to the main room of the house. He
paused, listening intently. A muffled impact, like a car door closing.
Then the droning again. The garage door.

  Max preferred not to waste any energy on disguising his presence; he
slipped out the back door, sliding it shut just as he heard a man's
voice. And a woman's.


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


  Sapphire's waning attention barely noticed another car coming up the
street. It had only been a few minutes since the gypsy cab had dropped
off Josh, but in that time seven cars had gone by. She was surprised at
how much traffic a supposedly quiet suburban street could get at this
time of night. It wasn't until she heard the thumping music drifting
through the night air and watched the fifth car closely that she
realized there was some kind of party down the street. Josh would
probably be there now if she hadn't lured him away. Indeed, he might
still go; this worried her, because she couldn't protect him there
without exposing herself, and she desperately wanted the element of
surprise against her mysterious adversary.

  It wasn't until the car slowed near Josh's house that Sapphire really
took notice. Her heart beat faster for but a moment -- it was Josh's
dad, Matt. The black Porsche Turbo looked like a muscle-bound
cockroach, its polished body gleaming reflections of the street light.
The Ramsey's garage door opened and swallowed the sports car quickly.
Sapphire just saw Matt get out before the garage door closed again.

  Well, unless Josh's dad can turn into an Asian assassin at will, I
don't think he's a threat.


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


  "So you're sure your wife won't mind?"
  Matt smiled. "My wife's in Cleveland on business for three days. And
she thinks I'm in Miami until tomorrow afternoon." He dropped three
hundred dollar bills on the coffee table. She raised a haughty eyebrow.
Well, she was certainly pricey considering the neighborhood she'd been
in. Of course, to look at her now, she hardly looked like she'd come
from the heart of the dirtbag district. She was as clean and
well-groomed as any of the club chicks he picked up. She should be
doing outcall at the airport hotels for businessmen like him, not
hanging out in a slum alley where most feared to tread. No matter. It
wasn't like he was doing it without a rubber, and he knew how to keep
from getting rolled.

  He dropped another four bills on the table. "For the night," he said
with a grin. Fuck, she was worth it. Still a bargain, really, if she
fucked half as hot as she looked. More than he might drop in wooing a
club chick, but he wouldn't have to put up with any morning-after
half-hearted blackmail bullshit, either.


  So this was how they did it in the suburbs. Valerie looked around. No
pictures on the walls. "Kids?" she asked.
  "College," he said with a shit-eating grin.


  That deadbeat son better not come back from that study camp early.

  "Fifteen hundred and a ride to the airport day after tomorrow," the
willowy vision in the tiny black dress offered. The vinyl squeaked as
she put her hands on her hips. Take it or leave it.


  She didn't need the money -- not with the still-thick roll she'd
accumulated from her previous suitors -- but she could use a safe haven
for a couple of days. It wasn't like he'd last more than fifteen
minutes with her anyway, she reasoned. And if he did, she thought as
she observed his hunky build and jock-like confidence, so much the
better.


  Damn, they always know your limit. Matt dropped the rest of his cash
on the table.


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


  Max struggled to contain his excitement as he peered through the
window. The boy hadn't been lying. Not exactly. True, he didn't have
Valerie on a string as Max had hoped. But his father did.

  There, standing in the middle of the living room, a young woman
squared off against Josh's father in some kind of negotiation.

  It was Valerie. It had to be. Tall, slender, dark-haired,
fair-skinned, angrily beautiful. With a ring of impossibly-bright
sapphires around her neck.

  Strangely, the amulet was silent and cool. Judging from its reaction
to those that had tasted the sapphires, he would have expected it to be
mad with activity. Perhaps it didn't react to the gemstones themselves,
only to the energy they released through others. To the amulet, the
sapphires themselves were the eye of the hurricane.

  Still basking in the aura of energy the boy had bestowed upon him,
Max licked his lips. He would wait until the eye passed and revel in
the storm that followed.


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


  Matt lay back on the couch, hands deftly unbuckling and unzipping his
trousers. His lady of the evening gave him an admiring look when he
unveiled his manhood. Naturally.

  Looking every bit the predator, Valerie planted one knee to either
side of her man's hips. Falling forward, she planted her hands under
his armpits and bent down to bite the side of his neck. "Ow!" Matt
laughed -- he had a live one!

  Val propped herself up on one hand; the other snaked between her
legs. Matt expected her to grab a hold of his pole and give it a good
squeeze, but whatever she was grabbing, his dick was just waving about
in empty air. Was she getting her own motor running? He heard a tearing
sound, then another; he felt her jerk sideways. Her hand pressed
something into his. Warm, wet cloth. Her panties. "A souvenir," she
grinned. "You can buy me new ones later."

  Before he could offer a witty reply, he felt something hot and wet
touch the tip of his erection; he surged in response. Val moved around
above him, capturing his cock in her folds again, then rocking her hips
forward, pushing his flagpole toward vertical.

  "Woah, hold on baby, don't you want to use protection?"
  "I trust you," Val cooed. And with that, she dropped her hips, taking
an inch of him.

  And Matt's resistance dissolved. As did any rational thought. By the
time his whore had taken all of him, his eyes had rolled back into his
head. Her cunt muscles rippled up and down his shaft, milking him of
his will.

  Valerie's eyes flashed in triumph. It felt good to be on top again.
Her sapphires burned brightly.


  "Matthew Jason Ramsey, what in God's name are you doing?" Linda
Ramsey stood in the doorway to the garage, shock having given way to
jealous rage. She'd said it for effect; she knew perfectly well what
they were doing. Or what they were working up to doing. And she wasn't
having any of it in her house.


  Matt's eyes bulged open. He looked up at Valerie in terror; Val's
eyes were closed, her face a mask of the wolf who'd found her prey. She
showed no signs of letting up. He squirmed underneath her, but she only
gripped him tighter, almost painfully so. He began bucking up and down
desperately trying to knock her off him, but her knees only dug into
his sides more urgently.

  Linda Ramsey couldn't believe her eyes; her husband had completely
lost it. Here was this slut, little more than half her own age locked
onto him like some kind of leech, grinding away like there was no
tomorrow, and he wasn't doing anything to stop her.

  The cuckolded woman leaped across the room, screaming like a banshee.
She was ready, willing, and more than able to fight for her man. She
drove her shoulder straight into the younger woman's torso, knocking
her to the back of the couch and pulling her free of the stunned
husband, who rolled to the floor and scrambled to get clear. By the
time he turned to see what had happened, his wife had his
mistress-of-the-moment in a chokehold.

  But far from afraid, Valerie simply pulled the smaller woman forward,
up onto her back. Surely the force would have crushed her windpipe, but
there was no fear in her eyes, only anger. She struggled to stand as
Linda yanked back with all her might again and again. Why wouldn't this
bitch go down?

  Then she was on her feet; Linda's shorter legs kicking madly in the
air, striking the coffee table, the end table, then nothing as Valerie
backed up, staggering under the elder woman's weight. Finally, the
chokehold was working.

  Or not. Valerie picked up speed, driving them both toward the far
wall.

  "Not the stereo!" Matt heard himself cry out.

  Crash!
  The chokehold weakened.
  Crash!
  The chokehold released.

  Valerie turned to face her attacker. She looked down with a sneer as
Mrs. Ramsey labored to reclaim the wind that had been knocked out of
her. But the wife was undeterred. She straightened up, planted herself,
and drove a ferocious kick in between the taller girl's legs with a
"Ha-YAH!" But except for a half-step back, the girl seemed unaffected;
she looked down curiously. Linda Ramsey drove a fist forward with all
her might, striking Valerie square in the solar plexus; Matt swore he
saw a blue spark at the point of impact. Valerie grabbed Linda's wrist
on the recoil, twisting and lifting it cruelly. Linda's torso exposed,
Val reached out and grabbed the shorter woman by the belt with her
other hand, taking first one and then two steps back and to the right,
long legs flexing, swinging her attacker around and past her. Linda
went flying, coming to land on the sturdy coffee table and sliding off
to a crumpled heap on the other side.

  Valerie crossed the room in a single long-legged lunge, reaching down
and grabbing her petite adversary by the back of her skirt. The
well-made garments held up to the torture, hefting the small woman up
like an oversized workout bag. Linda felt herself being dragged, face
and chest planted in the carpet, burning with the friction; her arms
flailed about uselessly, grabbing at but not holding the whore's ankle.
Valerie pulled her into the foyer, banging her head along the tile
toward the garage door, where she unceremoniously tossed the little
woman out and slammed the door shut.

  She looked back at Matt, more than ever a wild animal sizing up her
next meal. But when she saw the fear in his face, and the shrinkage
between his legs, she paused. "Nobody interrupts me when I'm working,"
she said finally.


  "I- I'm sorry," Matt gulped, visibly shaken by the outcome of the
brief tussle he'd just witnessed. He knew firsthand what a handful his
petite wife could be -- ten years of self-defense training and workouts
hardly made for a pushover -- but this admittedly tall but slender girl
had taken the fiercest attack he'd ever seen from his wife or anyone
else and brush it off like a minor annoyance. And the way she'd shoved
the older woman up against the wall, dragged her across the room and
literally thrown her out into the garage, all the while Linda's limbs
pistoning about and *bouncing* off the younger woman like she was built
from solid steel... no matter what he might have wanted two minutes
ago, he wanted no part of this girl now. He just hoped he could
convince her to leave before she decided to come after him.

  "I think you need to go."


  Valerie crossed the room toward him; curiously, he cringed, until he
saw that she was only interested in picking up the money off the table.
"I don't think so. Your wife is gone; I'm still here. You already paid
me, and I need a place to stay."

  "Linda will be back in a minute."
  "Not if she knows what's good for her."
  "Look, take the money. I'll call you a cab and get you a room at the
Lazy 8. Really. You don't know my wife. She'll kill you."
  Valerie raised an eyebrow. Not hardly. But things had already gone to
shit and she didn't need another episode with the cops. Suburbanites
called the cops at the drop of a hat. Hell, the wife was probably on
her cell phone in the car calling the cops right now.
  "Fine," she said. "But you tell your wife to steer clear of me. I
don't need a scene out on the sidewalk, and I don't think she does
either." With that she turned and strutted out the front door, leaving
it swinging open.

  Matt picked up the phone, speed-dialing the discreet cab service he
used for sensitive situations.


  Max jumped back in surprise when he felt a vibrating against his leg.
He calmed down when he realized it was his cell phone. Of course, Matt
would call him. He quickly retreated around the side of the house,
speaking in a hushed tone.

  "Taxi."
  "Where's Alan?"
  "He is on vacation. I am his cousin, Max."
  "Okay, Max. I've got a special fare. I need you to take her to the
Lazy 8 on First. Lemme give you the address here."
  "No need; I already have it. You are one of Alan's favorite
customers. Would you like me to wait around the corner?"
  "Not this time; she's already waiting out front. Come on in and I'll
give you your fee. How soon can you be here?"
  "As luck would have it I am in the neighborhood. I will be there in
three minutes."


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


  Sapphire spotted a young woman leaving the Ramsey house. How long had
she been there? Had she been there the whole time, waiting for Josh?
No, she'd checked the house; unlikely the girl would have sat there in
the dark. No, she must have come in with Josh's dad. Josh's mom kicked
her to the curb, no doubt.

  Well, at least if the Hunter doesn't show up, I got to witness some
family drama.

  Sapphire took a closer look at the young woman. She seemed tall and
slender, unlike Mrs. Ramsey. That was probably what made Mr. Ramsey
pick her out. Wow, her legs went on for days. The daringly-short vinyl
dress certainly didn't hurt that impression. Sapphire felt a twinge of
jealousy; she hated being short. At least her chest was bigger, or at
least it seemed that way from here. The strapless vinyl did all it
could to emphasize cleavage, but there just wasn't that much there. The
girl had her hair pulled back into an austere ponytail. As she leaned
against the tree in the front yard, one hand reached up to her neck to
play with her necklace. A small choker of brightly twinkling blue
stones...

  Sapphire's heart skipped a beat. It was the Black Widow! What was she
doing here? Was the Black Widow looking for her? Was she working with
the Hunter?

  The surprised superheroine felt her chest tighten; her breaths grew
shallow and quick. She'd come looking for a fight, and now that it
seemed imminent she found herself lacking resolve.

  If she'd come out of the house so calmly, it was probably too late
already. No doubt she'd done her damage. Sapphire hadn't made a single
move, and already she'd failed. All she could do now was apprehend the
violent criminal and get back the rest of her sapphires.

  But just as she worked up the nerve to make a move, a car screeched
around the corner; she ducked back down to get a read on this new
player. The car pulled to a stop in front of the Ramsey house; it was
the gypsy cab from before. Black Widow called out to the cab driver,
but Sapphire couldn't quite make out what she'd said. The cab driver
got out and walked toward the house; Black Widow turned and watched
him, hands on her hips.

  Sapphire took a good look at the cab driver. He wore all black. Her
heart beat faster still. As he reached the corner of the house next to
the garage, he turned and looked back at his fare. His face was dimly
lit in the glow of the streetlamp, but Sapphire could make out a smile.
He looked Chinese.

  It was the Hunter.

  Oh, no, they *were* working together! 

  There was no way she could take them both on at once. But she had to
do something! She was a superheroine! If she didn't stop them, who
would?

  Come on, girl, think! 

  As Sapphire trembled with anxiety and indecisiveness atop the roof
across the street, she watched as the Black Widow finally made her way
to the cab, and the Hunter made his way inside. They both seemed so
relaxed. Maybe they didn't expect her. Or they just didn't respect her
abilities. Either way, it was her advantage.

  Sapphire stood resolute. She was not going to stand idly by while
these two terrorized her city and committed violence against its
citizens. Sneaking around and sullying her good name on top of
everything else. She didn't care if it was two against one; she was
going to stop them. She was going to save the Ramseys. She was going to
kick some butt. No, she was going to kick some ass.

  Her legs flexed, and in an instant she was airborne. The two halves
of the split skirt flapped like flags behind her as she descended to
the Ramseys' roof, pulling up short and landing with the lightest
touch. She turned around; it looked like Black Widow couldn't see the
front door from her seat in the cab. Divide and conquer; that worked.
Sapphire jumped down to the porch; the front door was open.


  "She took all of my cash. I'll have to write you a check."
  "Do not trouble yourself so. There is another way you can pay me.
Tell me what you know of this girl."
  "That's really none of your business."
  "Tell me," Max commanded. Matt Ramsey backed up and fell/sat on the
couch. Max towered over him, dropping his hand to the man's shoulder.
The energy hit him with an unexpected kick; there wasn't much there,
but it had a distinctly different -- spicier -- taste than he'd
experienced from the son. He breathed the energy in more deeply. It
wouldn't be long...

  "Hands off, asshole!"

  A woman's voice. The wife, surely. Max was unconcerned; he mentally
pushed a wave of calm behind him as he drained the last of the sapphire
energy from the palefaced husband.

  Imagine Max's surprise when he felt himself shoved violently forward,
up over the limp form and directly into the wall.

  Max's instincts kicked in. Quickly gaining his bearings, he stepped
from the couch to the sturdy coffee table, sweeping a leg around to
fell his attacker as he spun around. But there was no one there. His
eyes settled on a young woman crouched in the foyer, just inside the
doorway, arms outstretched in front of her, palms open, as if she'd
just shoved someone. And she had. A pair of sapphires hung down from
the girl's wrists, shining too brightly to be mere refraction. Matching
sapphires on each foot left no doubt as to her identity.

  She was Sapphire.

  There were two of them!

  Max heartbeat quickened. He was not ready. He would have to subvert
her will quickly. He stared her down, his look intensifying as he
mentally reached out to exert his will.

  But she was unmoved.

  Sapphire lowered one hand as she straightened up and took a step
toward him, then another to the side; she needed to get Josh's dad out
of the line of fire. "Get away from him, you sick Fuck!" she yelled.
Her hand thrust forward quickly, invisible force striking the Hunter
hard in the chest. He toppled backwards, slamming into a shelving unit
and falling hard to the floor; one of the shelves collapsed, spilling
fifty CDs over and around him.

  Did his power have no effect on her? He tried again, opening up his
mind to channel all the energy he could muster...

  ...still she raised her hand in anger, thrusting it toward him
again...

  ...but he felt nothing.

  She, on the other hand, clearly felt something. Something unexpected.
Her eyes went wide with surprise, as if someone had touched her where
she wasn't ready to be touched.


  What happened? Did she miss? She had him on the ropes. Sapphire
reached out, determined to deliver a knockout blow. Taking careful aim,
she thrust her her open palm forward directly at him once again...

  ...and again, felt a surprising surge of sapphire energy feed back
through her. Her eyelids fluttered at the sensation. It was not unlike
the feeling she got at the end of a long patrol. It was not unlike...
weakness. It was not unlike... pleasure.

  Sapphire staggered back a step; was he doing this? Or had her
sapphires simply run out of energy? She couldn't let him know her
strength had faltered. She did her best to strike a superheroine power
pose, feet shoulder-width apart, hands on her hips, butt thrust back,
chest thrust forward. "Give it up," she bluffed. "You're finished."

  But the Hunter smelled her weakness. And as he got to his feet,
clearing himself of musical debris, he saw her weakness. The way her
ankles wiggled ever so slightly as she tried to keep her balance atop
the strapless skyscraper-high heels. 

  He took a step forward.

  "I'm warning you."
  The way her skin was flushed. 

  "Come along quietly, or I'll have to get rough."
  The way her hands trembled. 

  "You can't defeat me. I'm Sapphire."
  The way her nipples poked at the tissue-thin silkiness of her dress.

  "Don't come any closer."
  The way her voice quivered.

  "Don't- Oh!"
  The way her long eyelashes fluttered over eyes half-lidded with
unwelcome lust.

  With each weakening force-blast she attempted to throw, her body
surged with rising sexual energy. She couldn't stop him. She couldn't
stop herself. Her sapphires had turned on her.

  Sapphire took an unsteady step back, then another, falling against
the corner next to the open front door. She felt dizzy, warm; the
sudden flames of lust engulfed her body and fought with her fear for
control of her mind. She lifted a hand weakly in defense as her feet
slid forward along the tile floor. Sapphire tried weakly to keep her
feet, but only succeeded in catching the front of her dress on a spike
heel; she vaguely heard it tear as her body continued sliding down the
wall.

  Sapphire felt a familiar sweet warm weakness wash over her, drowning
her in a flash flood of uncontrolled feeling. But this wasn't a fantasy
-- this was real. The man now standing only feet from her -- the Hunter
-- would be able to do anything he wanted with her. To her. And as her
mind thrashed in panic trying to keep reason above raging hormones, she
knew she would welcome it.


  Max smiled. The amulet had brought him to the sapphires. She -- and
the world -- was his for the taking.

  Linda Ramsey burst in from the garage, screaming. "I thought my
husband told you to get the fuck out of my house, bitch!" Her face
slackened in confusion as she found herself staring at a completely
different scantily-clad girl, quivering as she lay crumped on the
floor. Linda looked back toward her husband to find yet another
stranger in her house -- a dark-dressed Chinese man, looking surprised
and angry at the interruption.

  "Freeze!" she yelled, pointing the gun at his chest.
  "Be still," he said, his tone barely above a whisper. His hand
reached out to her in a "quiet down" motion.

  Matt watched in horror as his wife complied, her hands falling limply
to her sides. The gun fell from her grip and clattered on the tile
floor. Matt started to get up, still dizzy from whatever the cabbie had
used on him, but the mysterious man simply turned and glared; Matt
collapsed back to the couch, unconscious.

  But Max's attention had been diverted. And with his focus elsewhere,
Sapphire stirred.


  Sapphire felt her hands working their way up her torso to her heaving
chest. Why hadn't he taken her yet? What was he waiting for? She needed
release... No, she needed to fight. This wasn't right. She didn't know
why her sapphires had turned on her so quickly and so forcefully, but
she wasn't just a puppet. She was a superheroine. The warm tides of
sexual heat receded ever so slightly, bringing her back to a foggy
approximation of reality. She forced herself up to her knees, one hand
on the floor to steady her. Her firm breasts swung slightly like bound
pendulums as she looked up at the room around her. Mrs. Ramsey stood,
but only barely, wavering back and forth, body slack and without will
to direct it. Max was in the middle of the room, looking over his
shoulder at the fallen Mr. Ramsey. He was turning back to face her...

  Sapphire raised her body up, leaning back on her haunches, and lifted
both arms. The Hunter had no time to react. She blasted him in the
chest with everything she had; his face lit with surprise that his foe
had something left, he soared backward, legs catching the coffee table,
back slamming against the couch, head snapping back over the top.

  Exhausted, Sapphire fell forward, barely catching herself with her
hands. Her body abuzz with unsatisfied sexual tension but without the
physical reserves left to relieve it, she crawled toward the collapsed
Mrs. Ramsey. She had to see if the woman was still alive. She had to
know she'd done some good.

  It seemed to take forever to reach the woman, though she was only a
few feet away. She was unconscious, but breathing gently. She heard a
stirring across the room; perhaps Mr. Ramsey was also still alive. She
looked up...

  ...to see Max getting to his feet, albeit slowly and stiffly. He held
his hand to his chest, a look of agony on his face. His breath was
raspy and strained. Clearly she'd hurt him, but he just wouldn't stay
down.

  And with each unsteady footfall toward her, she felt her last
remaining strength slipping away. She reached an arm out in desperate
hope of knocking him off his feet, but her attempt to use the Sapphire
force only made her shudder. Her vision went gray for a moment; she
couldn't do that again. She looked pleadingly at the sapphire strapped
to her wrist; it was uncharacteristically dark and lifeless. She
collapsed to the floor, defeated.

  She heard his footstep on the tile.

  She felt something cold and metallic under her outstretched hand.
Instinctively, her fingers gripped it. With the last ounce of her will,
Angela fought back the urges that threatened to consume her even now,
and focused on the thing in her hand. It was a gun. Linda's gun. A
heavy gun. A big gun. With great effort, she rolled her arm to the
side, lifting the gleaming semiautomatic to the vertical, and slid it
sideways to point it at her foe.

  "You won't use that," the Hunter wheezed dismissively. His eyes
flashed a wicked brightness, as if he were attempting to will her to
put it down, or at least push her body over the edge into orgasmic
unconsciousness.

  Maybe he could turn her power against her, but she bet he wasn't
bulletproof.

  She'd never used a gun, but she was pretty sure she knew how they
worked. Her finger squeezed.

  And there was a deafening explosion.


  Max stopped suddenly. There was a fire burning in his leg. The fire
turned cold. And he suddenly felt a weakness, not physical, but
elemental. The amulet fell silent.


  Angela's arm felt as if an elephant had grabbed it with his trunk and
tried to rip it off. But somehow she held on, bringing the gun to bear
on the Hunter once more.


  He took a half-step toward her. She rolled onto her side, raising the
gun with both hands now. Her chest heaved with panting breaths, but her
eyes were clear, and staring right down the gunsight at his. 

  Max stared down at the prone girl, who stared back at him with cold
determination. Whatever he'd been able to do to her before, he had
nothing left. She may be down, weakened, even powerless. But she still
held a gun. And he still bled.

  Max backed away stiffly, a hand pressing his gunshot wound through
the searing pain. Sapphire tracked him with the gun as she got to her
knees, then to her feet, hands trembling with the effort, but eyes
burning a hate that guaranteed she would not miss.

  The door to the back room was just a step away. Max lunged for it,
half-expecting another ear-ringing explosion. Not waiting to hear one,
he hobbled as quickly as he could out the back door.


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


  Valerie jumped; that sounded like a gunshot. Why did chaos have to
follow her wherever she went? Her hand went reflexively to the choker
around her neck; it was a good thing she'd found the sapphires. Then
again, it was right about the time she'd found them that all hell
started to break loose. Maybe they were more bad luck than badass.

  Regardless, she wasn't going to hang around and wait for the cops to
show up. She was still a wanted woman. She piled out of the back of the
cab and slid behind the wheel. It had been a long time since she'd
driven. Where was the brake release? Where was the shifter? The cab had
a bench seat; her right hand found neither of the things she knew she
needed to get rolling. She started looking around the steering column;
this must be the shifter. So where was the brake?

  The cabbie hobbled toward the car; he was holding his leg.

  "Did you get shot?"
  "Yes."
  "Oh, shit. What happened? Was it the wife?"
  The cabbie got in the back seat. "No. Someone who means to kill us
both."
  Valerie bristled at the suggestion. One foot was already out the
door. "We'll see about that." But already she heard a siren in the
distance. A neighbor must have called the cops when they heard the
shot, she reasoned. I guess they don't get much of that in these parts. 

  Val got back in the car; she didn't need another incident -- it was
exactly what she'd been trying to avoid.
  "Let's go get you fixed up. You have a place?"
  "Yes. Do you know where the old pasta factory is?"
  Val grimaced. It was just blocks from the run-down motel where she'd
spent the past week.

  Once more into the breach...


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


  Angela slowly made her way out the front door, each step more sure
than the last. The heavy gun was still firmly in her grasp. Her
strength was returning, and her gems glowed once more, but she still
wasn't taking any chances. Indeed, that she felt the warmth of her
sapphires again was an ominous sign. She hadn't simply run herself out
of juice. The Hunter had messed with her powers somehow.
Short-circuited her. The thought made her shiver.

  But she was still a heroine, and weakness or not, she wasn't going to
let him get away with this. Or Her. The cab was gone by the time she
got to the front yard, but not the memory of the Black Widow, minutes
ago standing feet from where Sapphire stood now.

  The flickering need of the sapphires still touched at her sensitive
spots; though her energy had returned, her focus was fading. She didn't
have much time. She had to get home to... recover. And wherever her two
foes had gone, she knew she couldn't just wait around until they came
for her. She would have to take the fight to them. It was up to her to
stop them.

  The wind whipped at the exhausted heroine's costume as she took to
the sky, seconds before the police cruiser arrived.


   


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