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Message-ID: <47407asstr$1081728606@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Imagineer <imagin8r47@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Cruel Summer 29 {Imagineer} (FF reluc viol exhib ScFi)
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Date: Sun, 11 Apr 2004 20:10:06 -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/


// 29: Snared


  Angela kicked herself for even being here. She'd just come in hoping
to stitch together another quick Sapphire costume, but her boss had put
her to work. How could Angela explain that she couldn't stay because
she had to save the city from an evil duo? Why wasn't this problem
covered better in comic books and superhero TV shows?

  "Stock these returns for me."

  Angela went one by one through the accumulated pile of bags. Most of
the returns were too small to be saleable except in the bargain bin,
but there were a few full spools of thread or ribbon.

  In the last bag came her salvation. Someone had returned a complete
garment. Probably furious that the pattern's size six was actually a
size six and not the size ten the customer refused to acknowledge as
her true size. She pulled out the pattern's carton; it was a knockoff
of a designer dress worn by a Hollywood starlet to the MTV Movie
Awards. A blue chiffon wraparound sheath dress with delicate buttons
all the way down the front; underneath a two-layer irridescent-blue
translucent silk halter top with behind-neck tie, and a gathered
cleavage seam; the sides of the halter dipped to the hips, where they
tied to the sides of a matching bikini panty. A monokini, they called
it. Certainly an eye-popper at the awards show, but not really
practical anywhere else. Except perhaps as Sapphire...

  Angela pulled the dress itself out of the bag and made her way
furtively to the employee restroom for a test fitting.


  She looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She was
mesmerized. It seemed quite revealing even in the pale uneven light of
the small room, but the fabric's irridescent blue reminded her of her
sapphires. And with three layers of such thin fabric it seemed perfect
for her unique requirements. And technically it did cover more than her
own simple camisole-slip combo. And whatever the size the seamstress
had intended, it fit Angela perfectly. Well, if the papparazzi shot of
the original was any indication, it fit perfectly; conservative Angela
would have preferred a slightly more comfortable, less bound-tight fit.
But at least it covered her. The way she saw it she'd worn a lot more
risque outfits in her career as a crimefighter. Of course, the way she
saw it was rarely as it was, a fact that would be her undoing later.

  Angela checked the clock. She'd put in two hours. That was all she
could stand. The Black Widow and the Hunter would hardly agree to sit
idle whenever Sapphire happened to be working. Angela had built up
enough favors; they could get someone else to come in. She wasn't even
supposed to be working today.

  She quickly stripped out of the unique dress and back into her own
jumper. Stuffing her new uniform in her oversize purse, Angela headed
home. If she was lucky, her mom wouldn't have to pull another double
shift and Angela could have the car again.


  Noel reflexively ducked low in the car as he saw Angela leave the
fabric store.
  This was the girl that had put up a wall between him and his son. She
was just a girl. A captivating, curvacious, sexy, seductive, perfect...
No! Just a girl. He wasn't going to lose his son over a girl. Tonight
he was going to tear down that wall that temptress had built. From now
on they had to stick together. He hoped against hope that Ricky had
gotten the hot little tramp out of his mind. Because his father sure
couldn't.


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


  "Thanks for the movie, Dad. That was great!"
  "Yeah, it was pretty good," Noel admitted. "I never figured Ed Norton
for an action hero, but he had me convinced."
  "Yeah, but the real attraction was Jennifer Love Hewitt as his
girlfriend," Ricky gushed.
  "I hadn't noticed," Noel deadpanned. "So you still haven't told me
where we're going for dinner."
  "I got reservations at GB's. It's on-"
  "I know where it is," Noel interrupted. "You sure you want to go
there?"
  Ricky gave his father a suspicious look. "Dad, you said I could pick
the restaurant."
  "I did."
  "So let's go."
  Noel wasn't about to risk what could be his only chance to make peace
with his son over a baseless fear that something might happen at the
notorious crimelord's restaurant. If any night was safe, this would be
it, with both police and private protection everywhere, no doubt.
Besides, the place was supposed to have great steak...


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


  "Stop here. I'll walk the rest of the way in."
  "Valerie-"
  "Stop the car." Val's tone was firm. Max did as instructed. Her mind
was once again impenetrable.
  "Don't follow me. Just pull around to the alley a block up and wait
for me. If I'm not there in a half-hour it means I've found my own way
home."
  "Or it means you are in need of assistance."
  "Max, stop it. There is nothing you can do to help me." She tapped
the choker. "Remember what happened the last time you played hero."
  "You are not the only one with gifts."
  "I know, Max. You told me. You have experience with men like this."
  "That is not all."
  "I'm sure it isn't. But you can help me by waiting for me. And you
can help me by getting me out of here once I'm finished. I'm about to
go poke a hornet's nest."
  "You could still wait until the hornets are sleeping."
  "This won't wait." Val opened the door and stepped out. The door
slammed. She gave Max a commanding look through the front passenger
window; the taxi pulled away.


  The Black Widow's heels clicked a confident rhythm up the concrete
stairs, well-lit by a nearby streetlamp. A departing patron jumped out
of her way when she pulled open the door. Several couples stood or sat
in the waiting area; they all took notice of the dramatically-dressed
young woman silhouetted before them. A turbulent swirl of air equalized
inside with outside, making Black Widow's long thin sweater-coat mirror
her black tresses in their angry wind-dance. Before the tossed fabric
settled all eyes had taken in the tall slender form wrapped from
cleavage to clit in tight black velvet. The brazen beauty made no
attempt to pull down the too-short skirt as she stepped boldly up to
the hostess' station, nudging aside the older man checking on his table
without acknowledgement.

  "Excuse me, Miss, I was helping this gentleman; I'll be with you as
soon as I'm done with him." The buxom hostess, chest emphasized by her
starched-white dress shirt and laughably-narrow black tie, glared at
the intruder. The Black Widow ignored her, never making eye contact,
but instead looking over the ledge of the station at the seating chart,
studying it for layout.

  Muffled conversation and clinking tableware veiled the dimly-lit room
beyond. Black Widow looked out over the room momentarily, then returned
to the chart. A dashed line bisected the room on the chart, with a door
indicated at one end. Black Widow correlated that with the door in the
corner and the beefy-looking sportcoated pair guarding it. He was here.
Her eyes flashed rage.

  "EXCUSE ME," the hostess raised her voice momentarily, "but I cannot
seat you without a reservation." She stepped to the side of the podium,
an obvious blocking motion intended to both draw the rude young woman's
attention and discourage her from further trespass.

  Black Widow reached behind her, underneath the thin knit coat. When
her arm reappeared it ended in a menacing black barrel. She quickly
pushed the gun between the hostess' big breasts, the end of the barrel
poking between the halves of her shirt and pressing into her skin.


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


  Sapphire shifted about on the roof of the row of low shops. Being a
superheroine seemed to be mostly waiting around for something to happen.

  The knot behind her neck began to loosen again. Darn it! She cursed
the unknown seamstress as she reached back to retie the ends more
tightly. She hadn't left enough fabric on the ends to make a good knot
that would stay; Sapphire had had to retie the knots at her hips twice,
tying the knot further up the end each time. Those knots finally proved
secure, but they drew the top tightly across her chest, straining the
gathered seam between her breasts, and pulled the bikini bottom quite a
bit higher up on her hips than she'd have liked. She tied the neck knot
firmly, pulling another inch of each side into the knot, stretching the
fabric over her breasts even more tightly. She hoped it would finally
hold; she didn't know how much tighter she could stretch the gauzy
material.

  And she needed them to hold, because the dress was little more than a
wraparound cape now. All but three of the tiny buttons near the waist
had pulled off, leaving the dress to flap open top and bottom to her
belly button. Not that it mattered; the whisper of fabric had proven
quite transparent once out in the light of day. Or under a streetlamp.

  Beyond the continued frustration with her new outfit, it had been a
trying afternoon and evening, hopping from building to building
following Detective Rubio on his rounds. Mostly he seemed to be
visiting other beat cops, exchanging a few whispered words before
moving on to the next one. But finally he'd pulled up here and parked.

  Across the street was a fancy restaurant. GB's. Detective Rubio's car
sat not ten feet away below her. He'd been sitting there for two hours.
As had she. About a half-hour ago he'd been joined in the car by a
uniformed (and body-armored) young officer. Sapphire had been able to
pick up most of their conversation through the open passenger window.
Fifteen minutes ago they'd wired someone up and sent him in undercover.
There were four officers awaiting a signal in a van two doors down from
the restaurant, and four more around back near the side entrance. And
apparently they weren't all supposed to be here. It was a lot of
resources dedicated -- and a lot of favors cashed in for Detective
Rubio, it seemed -- to guarding one man, even if he was a notorious
crimelord just out of prison. They were waiting for something.
Something big.

  A large battered sedan wallowed up the street, coming to a stop one
block up from the restaurant. Sapphire wondered if the police would
notice it from their earthbound position.

  Wait, I know that car. It's that gypsy cab.

  Sapphire became dizzy with fear. It was the Hunter. How had he found
her? As her mind raced through the possibilities, the back door opened.
A tall, slim young woman got out. A long black flowing sweater mostly
covered a scandalously short black dress.

  The cab hesitated a moment and then drove off; Sapphire breathed a
sigh of suspicious relief as she watched the cab turn away two blocks
up.

  Her gaze returned to the familiar woman now walking across the street
in a beeline for the GB's entrance. Her sapphire choker glimmered in
the light of the streetlamps. If only the police weren't here, she
could make her play now and subdue the deadly vigilante. As it was she
couldn't risk being caught herself, at least not until she figured out
what everyone's part was.

  Spike-heeled pumps tapped out a defiant rhythm quickened by the
stairs. A moment later the raven-haired vixen was inside.

  Black Widow was here! What was she doing here? Why would the city's
most wanted vigilante (not counting Sapphire herself, not that the
police considered them two different people anyway) walk into a
restaurant surrounded by the police? A restaurant owned by a well-known
criminal kingpin just released from prison, a man under heavy private
and police protection, a man who (the papers said) had been involved in
everything from extortion to drugs to money-laundering to...
prostitution...

  Of course. Black Widow was here for Gerald Bates.

  And Detective Rubio... somehow he must have known. Why else provide
(unauthorized) police protection for a crimelord who surely knew how to
take care of himself? Guys like that had an army of bodyguards, didn't
they? This was a trap for Black Widow and she was walking right into
it. Sapphire didn't know how to feel about that.

  But what kind of trap used innocent civilians? If the street parking
and the regular comings and goings through the front door were any
indication, the place was packed.

  If the police knew Black Widow would show up, why didn't they grab
her out front? Why did they let her go inside? Didn't they recognize
her? Of course they recognized her. What were they thinking? She was
going to kill Bates. Were the police just going to let her do it? Or
were they going to wait until she tried something, like some kind of
sting operation? Did they really think they could stop her? Didn't they
know what she was capable of? Sapphire's head spun in confusion. This
didn't make any sense!

  She had to do something.

  But... what? Barge in and take on Black Widow herself? Even if she
weren't worried about her... distracted present condition, she didn't
think a lethal vigilante would surrender at the very sight of her. It
wasn't like Sapphire's presence would exactly strike fear into the
hearts of evildoers. (Lust was more like it.) Particularly not the way
she was dressed now. (As if anything else you've ever worn was any
better, her conscience scolded.) She'd given little thought to exactly
how she'd subdue Black Widow, and none at all to the, what was it
called? Collateral damage. Maybe the police were willing to gamble with
the lives of innocent bystanders, but Sapphire couldn't be so
capricious.

  This was what she'd wanted -- what she'd set out that afternoon to
find -- and yet it was all wrong.

  Feeling as helpless and frustrated as ever, Sapphire could do nothing
but sit and wait.


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


  "So, Dad, been working any interesting cases lately?" Ricky flapped
his napkin open and placed it on his lap.
  "Not really," Noel lied. "Things have been pretty quiet for me the
last few weeks." That didn't explain his long hours, though; he tried
to cover. "Lots of boring cases, though. A lot of paperwork and digging
through old files."
  Ricky sighed. "That's good, I guess." He wished his father would
share more about his work. Ricky was old enough to know the world
wasn't always a pretty place.
  "It is. Believe me, when you're in law enforcement, excitement is a
bad thing."
  "Don't you ever get tired of saying that?" Ricky teased.
  "Nope," Noel mugged. "So what's my son been doing with his summer
vacation? I haven't seen you much lately. Have you been doing a lot of
drawing?"
  "Yeah."
  "I'd like to see some of it sometime."
  "You know where my gallery is. Stop by any time." There was just a
hint of irony in the younger Aquino's voice.
  "Okay, okay, so I haven't been home much. But your door hasn't been
open much, either."
  "Can you blame me?" Ricky suddenly shot back, clearly hurt and angry.
  Noel saw that the subject was still very much a sore one. "Ricky, I'm
sorry. But you know she's... well, you should be dating girls your age."
  "Yeah, I know." Ricky looked off across the room. An uncomfortable
silence fell between them.

  Noel finally cleared his throat. "So, how was that comic book
convention? I saw that bag of stuff you brought home. Did you meet
anybody famous?"
  "Yeah. But even better, I sold a drawing."
  "Really! Tell me about it!"
  "Well, I took a break for lunch, and I was just finishing up a
drawing of..." Ricky held back; his Dad would think it was silly, "a
couple of characters of mine, when a bunch of guys walking by saw it.
They stopped and asked me about it, and then this one older guy wearing
a suit saw it and he asked me if I'd do a piece for him."
  "Right there, huh?"
  "Yeah. Charged him a hundred dollars. And that was just for an ink,
no color. Not that there's much color to the Black Widow anyway," Ricky
blurted out the character name in his excitement.

  Noel swallowed hard. Somehow he'd hoped the outside world would never
get its hands on his son, but Noel knew he couldn't protect the boy
forever. Besides, what was wrong with it? It was just drawing. "Well,
I'm proud of you. Your first commissioned piece. I always knew you were
good."
  "Thanks. I'm thinking of starting a web site for my work. Kind of
like an online resume." Actually, I've already started one, but it's
not for me.
  "That's a good idea," Noel nodded. "A toast to a professional
artist," he raised his glass; Ricky lifted his Pepsi in
acknowledgement. "May the only danger in your life be in what you draw."
  Ricky clinked glasses. It was kind of a weird toast, but his Dad had
always been very protective of him.
  "Thanks, Dad."

  There was a commotion at the front of the restaurant. Noel looked
over his son's shoulder toward the source of the raised voices.

  "*Now* will you seat me without a reservation?" It was a young
woman's voice. Someone stifled a scream.

  A moment later something tall and draped in black strode into view.
The girl's dress said escort; the long-legged strut said runway model;
the look in her eyes said scorned lover; the Glock said assassin.

  "Ricky, get down." Noel turned and flashed a look that his son dared
not question.


  Black Widow's hips kicked with each long stride; her pace increased
with every step. The two muscle-heads had noticed her; the shorter,
hard-bodied one moved forward to intercept her, puffing out his chest
in his tight turtleneck and throwing his shoulders back not unlike any
male answering a physical challenge to his domain. She noticed the
other one knocked on the door -- some kind of coded warning, no doubt.

  Good. Let him know I'm coming.

  She saw the aggressor-bodyguard glance to his left as he approached
her; she followed his glance to the service enclave. So his intent was
to redirect her into the shadows to neutralize her. She sized him up;
no taller than she was in her high heels. How convenient.

  He timed his approach to meet her at the right spot, turning his
shoulders and spreading his arms to force her to the right. His eyes
focused on hers, attempting to keep her attention. But Black Widow
ignored him, looking past him to the meatier bodyguard at the door,
fixing him with an icy stare. His eyes grew large at the anticipated
conflict.

  The blocker had braced himself, leaning forward at the last second
just as she reached him and tried to push through, using his greater
mass to knock her to the right, neatly into the aisle toward the
service enclave. She had been on the receiving end of this bouncer move
at many a nightclub, nights when she'd had one too many and gone after
some twerp who'd thought he could sneak in an 'innocent' grab as he
walked past her. She let the move happen, bouncing off his chest in
feigned surprise. She even let him get his hand around her wrist,
neutralizing the threat of her gun. But tonight she was neither drunk
nor distracted. And the Glock was not the weapon here; Black Widow was.

  Her free left hand reached up and grabbed him by the lapel of his
sportcoat as she stepped back, amplifying the energy of his chest-bump
by leaning and pivoting back to her left, pulling him forward toward
her off-balance. To him it would just seem that he'd miscalculated and
bumper her too hard; by the time he realized she was spinning him past
her and driving him backwards into the enclave she'd gained enough
momentum and he'd lost enough balance that he could only let it happen,
bracing for the impact.

  Crash!

  By the time his back impacted the enclave wall, he was wearing a
wicked grin, and he'd grabbed her left wrist and was pulling it down
and out, pulling her to him. Surprised at the agility of her attack, he
nonetheless knew he had the advantage of mass. What now, bitch? His
built body could take the full-length impact of a slender girl of 125
pounds or so, and then he'd spin her around, wrap her up in his arms,
and drag her out back where she could be properly restrained. And
retrained.

  But the flash image of triumph began to part ways with reality as she
approached. Her eyes locked his even as she lowered her head...

  Black Widow leaned forward, head down, putting all of her momentum
into a forehead blow to the bridge of the bodyguard's nose. She saw
sparks and felt a crack. As the rest of her body bounced off his, she
felt the grip on her wrists go slack; she pushed off him with her hips
and took a quick two steps back, smiling cruelly.

  The bodyguard's expression went blank. His hands slowly came together
at his nose. He staggered forward a step -- Black Widow slid swiftly to
one side -- then his feet froze as the rest of his body continued
forward, tipping, falling, bending and finally thudding like lumber to
the carpet. Black Widow stepped over the felled log of muscle, fixing
her eyes on the remaining obstacle at the door.

  One down, one to go.

  Any appreciation the man-mountain may have had for the gorgeous babe
now approaching him had vanished as soon as his partner's unconscious
and bloodied face smacked the carpeted aisleway. Instinct and training
said this was a potentially deadly threat. With such a threat only
fifteen feet away, instinct and training have only one response. In a
flash his weapon was drawn and centered on the assassin's chest. His
eyes matched hers, looking for hesitation.

  They found none.

  Black Widow regarded the massive chrome phallic symbol with disgust.
She stepped forward, daring him to fire.

  The bodyguard watched her take one step, then another. She still
carried her gun lowered at her side, her arms only swinging with her
growing strides. Clearly she did not expect him to shoot. No doubt she
was used to disarming men with her beauty and boldness. But he was not
so easily swayed. On the third step, at less than ten feet, instinct
and training dictated action. His face tightened in anticipation of the
shot. Trigger squeezed. He saw her eyebrows raise in surprise, and her
eyes bulge wide and then squeeze shut in reaction to the muzzle flash.
Her fourth step was abbreviated as the force of the shot smashed her
chest.

  And a bright blue flash of light seemed to mark the impact.

  Bodyguard blinked. A ceramic planter above the table to his left
spontaneously exploded. He looked back in surprise; had she gotten a
shot off? No, her weapon was still pointed to the floor behind her,
though it was swinging forward...

  Black Widow's left hand went to her chest as she regained her
balance. With her fifth step she glanced down to her fingers. Smudged
with burned fabric but bloodless. She would have to learn not to
flinch. Her eyes raised to meet his, narrowing as his widened.

  Another cannon shot. She leaned into the blow; her gems again flashed
at the impact. His eyes bespoke the impossibility of the scene before
him. Another shot, rushed; this whizzed harmlessly overhead, the
massive weapon now off-target in recoil. Two more steps before he was
back on target; she swatted the gun aside with her empty bare hand. No,
not her hand, a cast-iron skillet that looked like a hand. The gun went
flying off into the darkness of the restaurant. His hand felt as if it
had been replaced by a fireball. 

  He looked down, his brain unable to calculate a move that made sense
in what was surely a nightmare. A hollow thump on the floor marked her
dropped weapon. Her right shoulder twitched forward; suddenly the palm
of her right hand was in his face, smashing his nose, snapping his head
back, blinding him red. He staggered back to crumple against the door.
Hands reflexed to face. Another blinding pain, this time lower down; he
vaguely registered her pointed-toe pump retreating from his groin.

  Something grabbed at his lapels and yanked him forward. The room spun
and tilted. Something large smashed up against his side, then leaned
into him. He recognized the floor before he passed out.


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


  Sapphire rocked back and forth on the edge of the roof. The tension
was killing her. 

  It didn't help that her sapphires had passed their peak almost an
hour ago and were beginning to discharge through the girl's body. With
each move back and forth, her breasts shifted slightly under the gauzy
material of her tied-down skimpy top, playing the fabric over her
sensitive skin and teasing her stiffening nipples.


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


  "I still can't believe you just let her walk in there."
  "We can't get her out on the street. She's too slippery, she'll get
away. Once she's inside and in the back we'll have her trapped."
  "But there's innocent people in there."
  "And that's why we're not charging in there now. She's after Bates."
  "What if she gets to Bates before we get to her?"
  "So what if she does?"

  The junior officer was silent. Rubio had it all figured out. Still,
the way he played people like this was unnerving.

  "I don't know how you figured she'd show up here. I know Bates is
involved in a little prostitution, but it's strictly escort service
stuff; so far the girl's just been doin' street pimps. What's her beef
with Bates? I don't get it."
  "All that matters is we get the girl. She'll lead us to her boyfriend
and then it'll all be over."
  "Are you sure it's even one girl? Word on the street is there's two
of 'em, Black Widow and this chick Sapphire." 

  Rubio was indignant. "That's ridiculous. Have you ever seen both of
them in the same place at the same time? Excuse me? I can't hear you.
No? That's what I thought. Leave the detecting to the detective,
Officer Backup."


  Sapphire frowned. This Detective Rubio sure was a jerk!


  Suddenly the radio hissed and spat to life with an amplified whisper.
"Shots fired! Shots fired! Bodyguards down!"
  Rubio snatched the handset. "Hold position! Do not engage! Let her go
in back. Report!"

  Across the street, the front door burst open; panicked patrons
spilled out, falling and pushing and jumping down the steps and out
into the street, scattering in all directions.

  "She's through the door. I'm following."
  "All units hold! There are innocent civilians in there. Let them
clear out. Wait for my signal!"

  Rubio and his uniformed escort sat in breathless silence, waiting
eternal moments. Rubio was listening for the magic words, 'Bates is
hit'...

  "Oh my God, it's a massacre! She's killing them all!"


  Sapphire's blood boiled. Thoughts of the Hunter, her energy level,
and the police vanished. 

  Lives were threatened. Instinct took over.

  The heroine shot skyward like a missile, a hundred feet in the air,
looking down at the restaurant for a way in. She paused but an instant
as her gaze locked in on a skylight. There was no time. One leg
pointed, the other drawn up in front of her, she raised her arms up
over her head and pushed hard. A human arrow streaked straight down.


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


  Black Widow ignored the sudden chaotic panic that erupted as
restaurant patrons climbed over each other to escape the female demon
who seemed to have come to slay them all. Her focus narrowed to the
door marked "PRIVATE" and the demon she'd come to slay hiding on the
other side. Shoulder lowered, she charged.


  Noel felt himself beaten back toward the front door by the mindless
crush of humanity pushing for escape. "Ricky!" he screamed. But his son
was gone. Struggling in vain against the current of fear, Noel found
himself tumbling down the concrete steps until his world went black.


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


  "Lenny, Carl, report." The one with his gun drawn tapped his earpiece.
  "I hear yelling," said the one with his ear to the door.
  "We better get you out of here, boss..."

  In an instant the door was gone and the room was showered with
splinters. Sounds of mass panic flooded through the doorway. And the
private dining room where moments ago Gerald Bates had been enjoying a
quiet dinner at his own restaurant with his new favorite escort and a
half-dozen of his closest personal bodyguards was infected with chaos.

  Two bodies came crashing down through a table to rest in the center
of the room. Without hesitation, three guns triangulated and painted
the spot with lead. Earpiece was violently shoving the much larger
Bates toward the door at the corner of the room. Bates, in shock,
stumbled and resisted, a whirl of surprise and anger at the intrusion
rooting the powerful man to the spot. After a few seconds and more than
a few bullets, the guns were silent. Two clips fell free of their
weapons, clinking with broken glass on the floor as replacements were
snicked into place.

  The beautiful lithe corpse laying atop the bodyguards' eavesdropping
companion suddenly rolled off. Legs kicked up, followed by hips, torso,
and head as the very-alive assassin flipped herself upright. The trio
of bodyguards couldn't help but glance down at their fallen comrade.

  What the fuck?!?

  The death-defying woman hadn't taken a half-step toward one of them
when they opened fire again. Muzzle flash was mirrored by
equally-bright blue bursts of energy leaping from the girl's body with
every large-caliber impact, leaving gaping holes in her dress but
otherwise accomplishing nothing. In two steps she had the outstretched
wrist of the first one, twisting past his piece, yanking his arm down
and toward her, thrusting her other palm skyward as the bodyguard was
lurched forward. Palm connected to chin with sickening force, snapping
the bodyguard's head back into gruesome lifelessness. She neatly
sidestepped the body, grabbing the pistol out of the dead hand before
the body hit the floor.

  She raised the big gun, pointing right between the eyes of one of the
two remaining men. He didn't understand how she was still standing
after the fusillade they'd unleashed, but he did understand what a
level weapon meant to him. His partner also paused, waiting for the
girl to realize that she couldn't shoot them both without being shot
herself, and struggling to understand why she didn't have to care.


  Black Widow took a sudden step forward, taunting the adversary in her
sights, daring him to shoot. He flinched. She lunged forward again, her
weapon now right next to his; again he flinched.

  "Kill her!" Bates screamed. Black Widow's head snapped around, eyes
fixing on her prey. Bates was furious; clearly he didn't understand the
danger.

  She was done fucking around with these clowns. She squeezed.

  Blam! 

  She turned, pivoting the pointed gun around her. The remaining
bodyguard's weapon was in her face. She squeezed again.

  Click!

  The bodyguard smiled wickedly. She was empty! He pulled the trigger;
reflexively she squeezed her eyes shut. She felt a hard smack in time
with sharp explosive sound. She shook it off. The bodyguard froze up,
unable to process what he saw.

  Black Widow smiled wickedly. Her other hand flew up, striking the
shooter's elbow hard. The gun fell from pain-slackened grip. She
dropped her gun and stepped forward, punching him hard in the throat;
he went down like a domino.

  Earpiece was frantically shoving and jostling and pointing toward the
corner door. Bates' mouth lost its hard line as he reluctantly accepted
the movement. Black Widow ran full-speed to block their escape,
smacking tables and chairs aside with furious blue sparks as she went,
finally skidding and spinning and smacking against the door back-first.
Earpiece turned and backpedaled, leaning into Bates with all his weight
as if pushing against a mule. Bates reversed direction too, now
stumbling over shattered furniture and dismantled defenders toward the
gaping doorway and the front of the restaurant beyond it.

  Someone at the door was yelling to no one. "Oh my God, it's a
massacre! She's killing them all!"

  Black Widow stepped confidently toward the retreating pair. Earpiece
pulled his gun, bullseyed her chest, and planting himself between
huntress and prey, opened fire. Round after round spat from the weapon
only to ricochet off the bulletproof bitch as she came for him. His
clip emptied just as she reached him. Her back foot came forward and
slammed him in the crotch. She planted both feet, grabbed him by the
hair, then raised her other knee as she yanked his head down into it;
Earpiece's nose shattered in an explosion of blood. She dropped an
elbow to the back of his head with a fierce Crack! The last defender
slumped to the floor. 

  Bates was frozen against the wall in fear. 

  "It's time to pay for what you did, you sick Fuck," she said evenly.

  And for the first time, through the bullet-riddled dress and the
gunsmoke and dust of a shattered room, he recognized her.

  "V-Valerie?"

  Black Widow's foot stepped on a gun. The Glock she'd brought with
her; she must have dropped it crashing through the door. She knelt down
to pick it up, and before she'd fully stood fired three rounds low, two
of them striking Bates in the shins. The man fell to his knees out of
painful necessity. But the pose was nonetheless appropriate; his face
showed unmitigated fear, perhaps for the first time in his life. And
the last. When he saw her toss her gun aside, confusion rose; when he
saw her flex her arms and ball her hands into fists, fear rose higher.
Her face darkened and twisted with pure hate.

  The din of escaping diners was receding. Black Widow stepped forward.

  An explosive crash overhead stopped her in her tracks. Glass knives
rained down through a bright blue glow.

  Reflex dictated a full-body flinch.

  When she straightened up, Black Widow found herself looking down at a
new obstacle. It straightened up from its landing crouch, chest
swelling, shoulders back, feet apart, arms out. A small young woman,
standing in front of Black Widow with a defiance that belied her
fragile feminine appearance, draped in transparent rags and wearing
some kind of shimmering blue bikini. The girl looked up at Black Widow
with indignation.


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


  "Shit, there's two of them!" The undercover's yell blared through the
radio. They heard indiscriminate thuds and shouts in the background.
"Another girl came in through the skylight! She saved Bates! She's
engaging Black Widow!" A loud crash, then silence.

  "Fuck!" Rubio screamed, banging his fast on the dashboard. He miked
the handset. "Move in! All units move in! Deploy the tear gas!" He
dropped the handset, simultaneously reaching for his pistol on the seat
and the car door handle. The uniformed officer followed suit, piling
out of the car.

  Rubio stood and watched as four body-armored officers stormed up the
steps; there would be four more similarly-equipped hand-picked officers
entering the restaurant from the side fire exit, where Bates was
reportedly fleeing. Bates had survived, but he would still have his
Black Widow. And the Avenging Angel as a bonus. Already his mental
gears spun furiously on a story. Yes, he knew all along, but had to
maintain publicly that there was a lone woman responsible in order to
lure them both out...

  The uniformed officer interrupted his thinking. "So should I call you
Detective Take It Back?" 
  "Shut the fuck up." 
  "That works too."


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


  Sapphire looked up at the hate-filled eyes that now focused on her.
Black Widow launched a punch at her midsection, but she'd braced
herself; it bounced off harmlessly. Black Widow's eyebrow raised in
bemusement. It's Her.

  Sapphire countered, flicking her wrists up; her opponent was suddenly
lifted and planted some five feet back; she scrambled to keep her
footing. Sapphire crossed her arms, pushing out her ample chest. You've
Been Warned.

  "I'm afraid you'll have to do better than that, sugar," Black Widow
scoffed.
  "Don't make me hurt you," Sapphire warned in reply.

  Just then, a tube, too large to be a shotgun, poked through the
doorway and made a hollow Plunk! Moments later the cloud of dust
hanging in the room began to thicken in swirling gray-green fumes.
Several geared officers, looking like mutant rats in their gas masks
and body armor, pushed through the door to fan out along the interior
wall, picking through shattered remains of tables and chairs.

  Sapphire lowered her arms, turning away from Black Widow to face the
new intruders. Before the taller girl could strike a blow, Sapphire
rose up from the floor and, as if advised by the gems themselves,
flexed all her limbs at once. A shockwave of force shook the room,
blasting everything out from her center. Troopers were blown off their
feet and launched into the interior wall just as it shattered in a hail
of sheet rock and splintered wood. The side door blew out off its
hinges, knocking four more incoming officers violently back down the
stairs and into the street. Every window disintegrated into showers of
glass stilettos. A fast-rolling front of tear gas pushed out the
destroyed windows before slowly retreating and settling in the front of
the restaurant; a similar cloud settled on the unconscious officers
spilled on the side street.


  Rubio picked himself up off the pavement, carefully brushing bits of
glass off his leather jacket and pants. His face stung. "What the fuck
was that?"

  "Some kind of explosion," the uniformed officer answered, still flat
on his back.

  This operation was fast going to shit. "Report," Rubio commanded his
handheld. There was no answer.


  Sapphire fell the few inches to the floor, staggering a bit to regain
her balance. Her blast had repelled the gas and the invaders in one
stroke, but it had taken a lot out of her. She shook her head clear and
looked around. Bates was out cold to her left; about a half-dozen
armored troopers were scattered about the front half of the restaurant;
a few pieces of shattered two-by-fours hung from the ceiling where the
wall had been. Behind her, the side door was open; the frame looked
busted. Something stirred to her right -- Black Widow? No, someone
else, a restaurant patron no doubt. The ceiling and walls creaked and
groaned. Sapphire tried to bring her breathing back to normal as she
began to pick her way across the floor toward the innocent victim, her
eyes still scanning the debris for her nemesis.

  A pile of rubble exploded with a banshee yell; Sapphire turned to
catch a tattered black streak lunging at her midsection. Black Widow
drove hard into Sapphire's ribcage, legs pistoning, lifting the smaller
girl up on her lowered shoulder, and slamming her hard against the
opposite wall. The building rumbled with the impact. Sapphire
retaliated with a viscious knee to Black Widow's chin; the black-clad
girl staggered back with the blow, fighting to regain her balance.
Sapphire, regaining her wind, shot an open palm forward, directing a
blunt force into her foe's midsection. Black Widow left her feet, limbs
flailing as the force knocked her past the middle of the room, landing
her hard on her butt. But the blow had not been as strong as either
girl had expected. Sapphire pulled herself free of the indented wall,
moving in on her downed opponent, ready to deliver another hammer-blow,
but giving her the chance to surrender. Her chest heaved with the
effort of breathing. She was winded, but exhilerated as the battle
seemed to be winding down. She had turned the tide; Black Widow was on
the ropes. The tall girl stumbled and fell trying to get back to her
feet. What Sapphire assumed was the rush of impending victory coursed
through her body.

  Sapphire was so focused on battle with her opponent that she gave no
thought to the damage her outfit had sustained, even as the whirling
breezes blowing through the shattered room kicked up the shredded
remains of the sheer outer dress, little more than a cape of sheer rags
whispering against her skin. The top layer of her monokini top had been
sliced open down the front, leaving just one layer of gauzy material
holding her cupped breasts together.

  But when the damaged top finally split open, the tearing sound
punctuating the air, the suddenly-shifting fabric over her
suddenly-released breasts made her overamped body shudder in response.
Sapphire halted unsteadily in the center of the room. She looked down
at her swollen breasts, threatening to spill out underneath the
now-separated sheer cups drawn taut from neck to hips. Oh, God, it was
happening! Mustering the boldest look she could manage in her charged
and distracted condition, Sapphire looked back up at her foe. Had Black
Widow noticed her moment of weakness?


  Black Widow recognized the symptoms of the sapphire's seductive
side-effects in her adversary. And she knew she had the advantage.
Sapphire was close to the edge; it wouldn't take much to push her over.

  Black Widow licked her lips. Bates wasn't going anywhere; first she
had to subdue this super-tramp.

  She feigned fear, holding up a hand in submissive defense, as she got
to her feet. Sapphire took another step, less sure-footed, toward her
statuesque opponent, arms up and ready to strike, never taking her eyes
off the defeated villain's. Black Widow waited. Sapphire took another
step; her flimsy high-heeled shoe caught on a piece of debris, knocking
her slightly off balance; her hands went out to her sides to recover.
Black Widow saw her chance; she pounced.

  Sapphire's guard had only been dropped for an instant, but it was
enough. A length of table leg smashed across her cheek; her gems
sparked in protest as she reeled back from the unexpected blow. Black
Widow followed with a left cross, then a right hook, then a two-handed
shove to the chest. Sapphire found herself being driven back, tumbling
and reeling, using everything she could to keep upright, until she
smacked against the crumbling wall. Before she could recover, Black
Widow was upon her, grabbing her wrists and raising them, bringing an
elbow sharply across her nose. Sapphire was pinned.

  She struggled against her captor, but Black Widow was bigger and
stronger, and with her arms pinned above her head and her feet
scrabbling for purchase among the debris of battle, she couldn't direct
her weakening force in any useful direction. She punched frustrated
holes in the ceiling, weakening with each shot as she felt Black
Widow's body grind into hers. "Let go!" she whined uselessly.

  Black Widow looked down at her mounted butterfly, twisting and
jostling and wriggling. The feeble struggles only stoked the fires of
desire.

  "You are a sweet piece of ass, aren't you?" 

  She pulled Sapphire's hands closer over her head, pinning her wrists
together with one hand. Black Widow's free hand snaked down Sapphire's
body, stopping to pinch a nipple through the translucent monokini top.
Sapphire gasped at her body's traitorous response. Pushing through the
curtain of Sapphire's shredded dress, Black Widow's hand wrapped down
and around to grab a dominating handful of asscheek, long fingernails
snagging the outer layer of the smaller girl's bikini bottom. 

  "A *very* sweet piece of ass." 

  Black Widow pulled her hand away slowly, hooking the fabric as her
fingers closed into a fist, then yanked away quickly. The top layer of
the wispy panties tore away neatly. Sapphire felt her left shoe hang
loose as her leg was lifted up slightly. Her body, sensitized and
stimulated by the imbalanced sapphires and the rough treatment, was
immobilized with lust. 

  Black Widow's own imbalance continued to cloud her mind. She leaned
into the submissive girl's chest, shifting to one side, feeling her
victim's stiff nipples drag through the minefield of her own
bullet-riddled dress. She felt hot gasping breath against her neck; she
smiled in conquest. Her hand feathered down the girl's trembling tummy
to cup her sex.


  Oh! Sapphire's hips first elevated to escape the touch, legs
stretching up on tiptoe; but when the invading fingers chased her
swimming clit until it could go no higher, her legs failed her and she
found her pelvis pushing down in encouragement. Her hips rolled, her
whole body writhed in conflicted lust.

  Sapphire felt a finger push into her through the wispy nothing of her
panties; her knees went weak. She heard herself whimper when the finger
withdrew, snagging and tearing through the last tissue-thin vestige of
virtue; her head lolled as two fingers drove through the sliced panties
and deep inside her, one finger curling and finding her g spot. "You
like being dominated, don't you?" Sapphire could only moan in response.

  The two fingers played her instrument like a virtuoso; she could only
dance weakly at the end of her master's arm. Convlusive waves of
ecstacy rushed through her. Her sapphires flickered and glowed in
spasms. She'd been defeated, taken, owned. She was helpless, powerless,
weak as a kitten and crying out as pathetically. Final blessed release
was so close...


  Ricky shook himself free of debris, watching in shock the spectacle
before him. How could this be? His heroine was helpless, neutralized in
humiliation. His mind tensed in disbelief. And disbelief turned to
anger.

  "Let go of her, you BITCH!"

  Hands grabbed the nearest large object, ripping the fire extinguisher
from the wall. Rage propelled the boy in a running start halfway across
the room before launching the steel projectile at the evil woman
defiling the damsel he worshipped. 


  The metal canister rose and fell in an arc, coming down
valve-stem-first square between Black Widow's shoulder blades. The
valve snapped off, rupturing the tank in a shower of white powder and
propellant. The force of the surprise blow knocked Black Widow forward,
her knees coming down at the base of the wall, her body sliding down
Sapphire's torso.

  The extinguisher blast and sudden slackening of her sexual tormentor
jarred Sapphire out of her sexual fog. She half-fell, half-stepped to
one side, extricating herself from the stunned Black Widow. Head
quickly clearing, she backed away from her attacker, giving herself
time and space to recover.

  Black Widow forced herself to her feet. Seeing Sapphire still
staggering in place, she knew the smaller girl wouldn't get away. She
spun around to confront the new threat. "You *fucking* child! How DARE
you!" Breathing ragged with effort, she began to close in on the boy.

  Sapphire straightened up, her wits once again fully about her. She
saw her nemesis approaching her friend. 

  Ricky had helped her. He'd saved her. And now he was in mortal danger
because of it. 

  Her fists clenched tight as she tracked the deadly Black Widow across
the room. An emotional reserve she didn't know she had welled up; her
gems glowed with power.

  "NNOOO!" 

  A column of force ripped across the room, tossing Black Widow
perpendicular to her path like a hat in a hurricane, blowing her limp
body into the back wall. The wall burst on impact, great chunks of
concrete splaying out as if they were styrofoam, littering the alley
beyond. Ten feet of roof collapsed around the impact site, leaving a
massive crater.

  Distant sirens pierced the relative silence that followed. Sapphire
turned quickly to her savior. "Are you all right?"

  Ricky pointed through the dust where the wall once was. "She's
getting away!"

  Sapphire looked. Black Widow was madly shoving debris off her body,
screaming in fury. She was almost free...

  The revitalized superheroine quickly lit into the air, flying in an
arc that would land her at Black Widow's feet. The tattered remains of
her dress tore off in the wind, leaving her wearing nothing but a scant
sheer blue monokini, wrist cuffs, and stiletto mules. But her attire
was the furthest thing from her mind as she closed in on the cause of
so much death and destruction. 

  As she cleared the remains of the outer wall, her sapphires glowed
brightly...

  ...and suddenly went dark. Sapphire felt her energy turn on her,
disappearing from underneath her in an instant to envelope her body in
erotic overload. She fell like a stone to the ground, blacking out
briefly on impact.

  Sapphire's mind was a blur. She'd felt an instant of unwanted heaven
interrupt her, only to release her as quickly to the coldness of the
night. She struggled to lift herself off the concrete-littered asphalt.
Her eyes slowly focused on a dark form crouched over the spot where
Sapphire's target had been.

  The Hunter!

  Her heart raced in fear. She had to escape! Her body responded in
slow motion, taking agonizing seconds to get shakily to her feet. She
checked her head with an unsteady hand; her tiara was intact. She saw
the Hunter helping Black Widow into a car. She turned to fly away, but
hesitated; did she have the energy? Sapphire left her feet, rising as
quickly as she dared in her condition, afraid to turn around, wobbling
off through the air above the alley.


  Max kicked the engine to life. He couldn't let Sapphire get away! Her
sapphires belonged to Black Widow! He needed her to have them! He
reached out with his mind trying to snare his delicate butterfly, but
his amulet faltered; he wasn't strong enough to take her down from a
distance. The car roared down the alley in pursuit; she wouldn't get
far. He tried to ignore the approaching wail of multiple sirens.

  As he closed in, staring up through the windshield at his prey, her
flight became slower and more erratic. She was his!


  Sapphire felt the wind buffet her bare skin, whispering torturous
sweet nothings against her still-inflamed breasts and mound. Fear
gripped her, driving her to panicked bursts of force, each burst
feeding back energy of almost-unbearable pleasure. She felt her force
fading as her unbidden desire grew, dropping her lower and lower
between each fitful burst. The tendrils of the Hunter's devastating
attack gained grip on her with each passing moment. 

  Her legs kicked frantically in a vain effort to go higher, caught up
in the tragic irony that the more she struggled, the more the sapphire
energy failed her, inflamed her, enslaved her. The weakened hip ties of
her top gave way under the strain of her gyrations, fluttering free of
first one breast and then the other. Sapphire lost all control,
tumbling hopelessly earthward, the blue gemstones spitting and snapping
and popping and sparking in confused final release.




__________________________________
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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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