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Message-ID: <47418asstr$1081753807@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Imagineer <imagin8r47@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Cruel Summer 38 {Imagineer} (FF blackmail viol caution ScFi)
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Date: Mon, 12 Apr 2004 03:10:07 -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/


// 38: Surrendered


  Sapphire touched down on the edge of the balcony railing, holding
still for a moment, perched like a butterfly on the edge of a flower,
taking a deep breath, arms moving slowly in and out as if to fan her
wings, mentally preparing for the confrontation to come.

  She didn't expect them to come along quietly. In fact, she hoped they
wouldn't.

  The winged heroine stepped down to a feather-light landing on the
industrial carpet floor and moved weightlessly down the main hallway of
the executive suites. Large brass signs next to the wide double doors
called out the name of each suite. Joel on the left, Hornsby on the
right. She reached an intersection and turned right; they would be in
the last one on the right. McDonald on the left, Faltermeyer on the
right. The next one on the right was it: Hammer.

  The walls begin to thump rhythmically; they must be testing the sound
system, Sapphire noted. Well, it's time to do a little thumping of my
own.


  A splintering crash rang the room. Ginger and her men turned in
unison to see the double doors tumbling inward off their hinges.

  And from behind them, a vision of feminine power strutted into the
room like she owned it. 

  Long slender legs perched on sapphire-adorned high heels; short sassy
skirt and shorter top doing little to conceal the girl's curves; arms
akimbo, sapphires glittering from wrists; and a luxurious mane of
swept-up hair cradling a shining tiara.

  An angry goddess descended to earth to put evil in its place.

  Sapphire.

  By reflex, guns were drawn and triggers pulled. The heroine reacted
with devastating effect. Knees bent slightly, a broad sweep of the left
hand bowled over three men and the woman; they hadn't hit the floor
before a quick jab of the right hand blasted the last man standing back
into and over an armchair.

  Sapphire surveyed the damage, ready to fell anyone who dared get up
for another try.

  Suddenly she found herself in a chokehold, barrelled forward by
something large and fast; she felt the mass coming down on top of her.


  "I got her!" Taggert yelled.


  But Sapphire had the wherewithal to land with her hands beneath her.
She blasted up, sending both her and her attacker/backpack flying up
and back as if shot from a cannon. The pair impacted the back wall high
up, the man's head breaking through the ceiling tile. They slid down
the wall, slowing to a soft landing. Sapphire shrugged the dazed man
off, who fell to the floor with a thud.


  "Cease fire!" Ginger shouted. There was no point in shooting at a
bulletproof girl; they could only hurt each other. The crafty agent
began to pick herself up, already formulating a plan, when she felt
herself smacked back down by an invisible kick. She looked to her
subordinates as they too had the rug pulled out from under them a
second time. There came a crash from across the room as Cooper, too,
took another invisible hammer blow. Taggert remained motionless near
the doorway, probably out cold, possibly worse.

  The men had the sense to stay down, eyeing the fiesty female from
their prone positions, but Ginger was not so easily put down. She was
up to her hands and knees and ready to get to her feet. Sapphire made a
move toward her; Ginger felt a vicious invisible kick in the side, but
refused to go down.

  "Don't do that again, or you'll never see your mom alive," she hissed
between gasping breaths.

  In an instant, a pair of sapphire stilettos were in her field of
vision. Damn, I'll never get used to her flying leaps. Ginger felt
herself hoisted up by the back of her dress, and came standing face to
face with the haughty heroine. The renegade agent realized she'd lost
her shoes; the girl had literally knocked Ginger out of them.

  Sapphire's eyes burned with hatred. "You already killed her, you...
bitch!"

  Sapphire belted Ginger across the cheek with an open hand; Ginger
fell back on the couch from the force of the blow. It felt like she'd
been hit with a crowbar. She felt a mix of disgust and fear.

  So she knows. And she's here to kill us. Fuck.

  But the expected death blow didn't come; the beating did not
commence. Instead, the bejeweled beauty stunned the room with a line
wholly unexpected.

  "You're all under arrest."

  Ginger laughed. It began as a quiet snicker that grew into a giggle.
Chuckles in turn gave way to head-tossed-back, maniacal laughter.

  "What's so funny?" Sapphire scowled.

  "Under arrest for *what*?" Ginger said through fading laughter.
  "For the murder of Gladys Barrett."
  "Oh, you're not serious."
  "Why not? You did it."
  "How do you know?"


  The question stopped Sapphire in her tracks. How did she know? She
just *knew*. 

  "The police told me."
  "The *police* told you? The *police*? Or Detective Aquino, who's
currently suspended from duty for insubordination and gross
incompetence?" Ginger rolled her eyes. "Is that all you've got?"

  Sapphire thought fast. How else did she know? "I recognize your
voice. You kidnapped her. You killed her."
  "Oh, you recognize my voice. From what, a brief conversation on a
*wireless* phone? It'll never hold up in court. If it ever got to
trial, which it won't."
  "You shot her. Ballistics will prove that the bullet came from your
gun," Sapphire reached.
  "*I* shot her? No, sugar, I didn't shoot her."
  "One of your men did."
  "One of my men." Ginger looked around the room, amused. "The police
have to find the gun. They won't. They have to put the man at the
scene. They won't. They have to know we *exist*. *They* *won't*. Do you
have *any* idea who we are?"
  "You work for the government."
  "Your *mailman* works for the government. We are something else
entirely."
  "It doesn't matter. You killed my mom. And you're going to jail."

  "You bust in here, you attack us, you accuse us of murder, and you
have no proof. No evidence. Nothing that links us to the death of your
mother. For a mighty defender of justice, you don't seem to know much
about how the justice system works."

  Sapphire was silent. Ginger was right. She didn't have any proof.
She'd thought that Mr. Aquino could have figured all that out later...
but if these people were as shadowy and powerfully connected as they
implied, maybe there wouldn't be any evidence to find.


  Ginger found her shoes on the floor in front of her; she put them on
and stood up. She seemed to tower over her younger adversary.

  "What, this was your big plan, come barging in here and shout 'you're
all under arrest?' That's the problem with you amateur hero types. All
action, no planning. What are you going to do now? Kill us all in a fit
of rage over the death of your mother?"


  "You killed her," Sapphire repeated, feeling disoriented. This wasn't
the way it was supposed to go...

  "How do you know who killed her? Did you see it happen? Were you
there when she died? Or did you just take the word of someone you
hardly even know, someone who's already lied to you about who he is and
what he wants from you? How do you know your handsome online lover
Scott didn't kill your mom? Scott isn't even his real name; it's Eric
Lockwell. He worked for me until he stole the sapphires and
disappeared. Sure, we took your mom hostage; as far as we knew, you
were working with him; we needed leverage to get you to give up the
sapphires before anyone else got hurt. But why would we kill her? You
don't kill a hostage, that's just stupid. Think about it! We had no
reason to kill her; Eric had every reason. Maybe he did it just to get
her out of the way because he knew your mom wouldn't take too kindly to
a forty-year-old man banging her daughter. Or maybe he set us up so
that you'd come here and kill us all in a fit of blind vengeance --
that way the only people who can catch him, the only people who even
know he exists are all dead, and he gets off scot free, pardon the pun,
with the most powerful weapon in the world at his disposal. And he
leaves you behind to take the fall. It's a brilliant plan. All it takes
is a little wooing of a sweet girl from the suburbs. Who cares what
happens to her?"

  Ginger leaned into Sapphire. "Face it, you little wannabe Supergirl.
You are in over your head. We didn't just spring forth from some corny
Saturday morning cartoon, sweetie. We're professionals. We're here to
do a job. We're here to clean up a mess -- a mess that *you* made." She
punctuated her point with syllabic finger jabbing into the young
woman's chest. "You should be *thanking* me for *saving* *your* *ass*."

  Sapphire was torn. She *knew* Ginger was responsible; even if she
hadn't pulled the trigger. But the things she'd said about Scott, er,
Eric... it was true, Sapphire didn't really know anything about him.
And things were certainly a mess. No, they were beyond that; her life
had been nothing but a nightmare ever since Scott had sent her that
damned package.

  Ginger pressed her advantage. "Do you have any idea how many laws
you've broken? Assault with a deadly weapon. Illegal search and
seizure." She ran up a count of the offenses on her fingers. "Unlawful
detainment. Willful destruction of property. Possession of stolen
property. Operating in public airspace without filing a flight plan.
Flying without a license." Sapphire had to take a step back to keep
from being knocked over as the taller woman leaned into her. "And
that's on top of the dozen people who seem to have turned up dead under
suspicious circumstances after crossing your path. You see, the people
of this city won't rest until they've found someone to blame. It's
always about finding fault. And with Black Widow out of the picture,
the blame is going to fall on *you*, little Missy." Ginger jabbed
Sapphire in the chest again, pushing her back another step; the young
heroine was halfway across the room now. "Which is where it should be
in the first place, isn't it? Since it's your own *stupidity* that lost
half the fucking stones in the first place. I had to fix that for you
-- that's right, it wasn't Bates who killed Black Widow, it was me. And
now it's time to solve the original problem -- you. So if you don't
mind, why don't you take off those gaudy baubles and hand them over and
just maybe, if you're lucky, I can fix this mess so that you don't
spend the rest of your life behind bars."


  Sapphire felt the wall behind her -- and terrific guilt crushing down
on her. This woman was right. How could I have been so stupid? I
*should* give up the sapphires.
  But one thing wasn't certain.

  "What are you going to do with them?"
  "That's none of your concern."
  "They're dangerous. I won't give them up until I know how they're
gonna get used."


  Ginger shrugged; this was going better than she could have hoped. She
was about to *talk* this stupid girl right out of her sapphires --
without any collateral. "If it makes you feel better, the sapphires are
going straight back to Washington, where a team of scientists in a
top-secret lab is waiting to study them. The military is interested in
their application as a defensive weapon against terrorist attack."
Ginger congratulated herself on such a jingoistic lie.

  "First I want you to help me bring my mom's killer to justice."
  "I've already taken care of that. Eric Lockwell is being dealt with
as we speak."
  "No. No more killing. I want him to stand trial."
  "That's impossible. He'll talk about the sapphires. No one can know
they exist; don't you get that?"
  "But-"
  "Look, I'll make sure the police find out he did it. I'll give them
his gun. But he has to disappear. That has to be good enough."
  "And my house. You blew up my house."
  Jesus, what was with the conditions? "Fine. We'll get you a new
house. A nice new house in a nice new neighborhood. I'll even throw in
a new car, all right? A cute little Miata -- sapphire blue, of course.
Now, hand over the sapphires while I can still help you."

  Sapphire's eyes narrowed. She took a step forward, right into the
older woman, knocking her off balance. "I'm not giving them to you. I
don't trust you. Maybe you didn't kill my mom, but you're still a
bitch. I want someone else. Someone with authority, who can put all
this in writing, who can prove you're all who you say you are."


  Ginger cursed to herself. Fuck. Things were going well until Miss Do
Gooder here had to pull the 'let me see some ID' shit. I don't have
time for this. The other team could be here as soon as tomorrow.
  Ginger mounted a bluff.

  "No deal. You give me the sapphires now, or I call in Special Forces
and they take you by force."
  "Fine. Maybe I can reason with *them.*"
  "You don't reason with the military. They'll kill you."
  "They'll try."
  "What, you think we don't know how to subdue you? You think you're
invulnerable? Don't be so naive. We know all your weaknesses. We know
how to disable your powers."


  Sapphire immediately thought of the Hunter; she shivered. Maybe he
was working with them. Maybe he'd been the one to kill Black Widow.

  But if they knew all about the sapphires, why would they have sent a
half-dozen agents with nothing more than a few guns to her house? And
why would they have been so surprised to get their butts kicked by a
girl?

  And if the government wanted something so powerful to be kept secret,
why bother with taking hostages and making deals? She'd seen enough
movies; secrets like this were kept by killing anyone who found out.

  No, they didn't know how to stop her. Sapphire had caught Ginger in a
lie.

  "You know how to disable my powers? Do it."
  "It'll kill you," Ginger probed.
  "I don't believe you." She crossed her arms emphatically over her
chest.
  "Look, it doesn't have to end this way. Just hand over the sapphires.
It's still not too late."

  "Make me."
  "'Make me?' Are you for real? What is this, junior high?"
  Sapphire stood resolute, hands on hips.
  "Fine," Ginger said, exasperated. "Hand over the sapphires... or
else."
  "Or else what?"
  "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with? Didn't Eric warn you
not to fuck with me? Face it, you're way out of your league. You're
just a stupid little girl. You don't have the experience or the
intelligence or the training to amount to anything."

  A spark of remembered conversations struck Sapphire. This was Eric's
boss. His old flame. He'd lied about so much -- well, basically
everything -- but he'd been telling the truth about her. She *was* an
egomaniacal bitch. Well, this bitch didn't know who *she* was dealing
with!

  "I'm not scared of you. From what Eric told me, most of your
experience and training happened while you were flat on your back." 


  Smack! Sapphire heard more than felt the blow, but it stunned her
nonetheless. The sound of the slap echoed through the room; Ginger's
men couldn't believe it. 

  Ginger grimaced, holding her own hand. That was stupid, she told
herself; you could have broken your hand. But she steeled herself
through the pain; she wasn't going to let this little tramp get the
best of her.

  "That washed-up playboy has no idea what I'm capable of. And neither
do you. I knew you couldn't take on the Black Widow, so I killed that
man-hating bitch myself. Nobody else, just me. That's right -- don't
look so surprised. I may not have the secret to your powers but I know
how to find human weakness and exploit it. Your weakness was your
mother. Black Widow's weakness was Gerald Bates. It didn't take much to
get him to cooperate."

  "Is there anybody you're *not* fucking?"

  "I didn't fuck him." Not lately, anyway. "And you should talk.
Between you and your arachnidian adversary I doubt there's a straight
dick in the entire city that hasn't had a taste of the blue goo. That's
the problem with you teenagers, you spread 'em for any cute stud
instead of using your gifts to your best advantage."


  One of the more sinister-looking men spoke. "She gets it from her
mother. That old broad wouldn't stop begging for it the whole time we
were with her."

  Sapphire let loose a furious blast that sent the man flying across
the room, slamming against the wall to collect in a floppy heap in the
corner.

  Her rage surged. She was about to deal a death blow to Ginger when
she was asked a curious question.

  "Aren't you the least bit curious why we're not afraid of you?" Her
men had a 'speak for yourself' look but she was on a roll. "God, you're
stupid. You better get with the program. Maybe I can't hurt you, but I
can continue to hurt the people you love. You've already lost your dear
mother."

  "She was all I had. You've taken everything," Sapphire said, choking
back emotion. "There's no one left for you to hurt."

  "What about your little boyfriend?"
  Sapphire felt ill.

  "I don't believe you," the heroine protested; but she lacked
conviction, and Ginger could smell it.

  "Suit yourself. How about I bring you a finger? Would you believe me
then? He's left-handed, isn't he? Johnson, go bring me Ricky's left
pinkie. No, wait. Bring me his left ring finger. Then he can't draw
*or* get married."

  Sapphire's heart fell. "Please don't hurt Ricky," she said, barely a
whisper.

  "Oooh, please don't hurt little Ricky!" Ginger mocked with a
girly-girl squeal. She pranced in a circle around the heroine, playing
up a scathing charicature. "I'll do anything you want, just don't hurt
him!"

  Sapphire gave Ginger a glowering but vulnerable look. She was at this
woman's mercy.

  Ginger stepped right up to the smaller girl, grabbing her by the
chin. "Say it," she hissed.

  Sapphire's voice was barely above a whisper. "I'll do anything you
want," she sobbed, "just don't hurt him."


  "Ahh, the helplessness of innocent sacrifice. Now *that's* more like
it!" Ginger said, rubbing her hands together in an expression of
maniacal glee. But she suddenly frowned. "Actually, that's *not* more
like it." She turned with a dramatic flair. "From what I've been
reading about you, your crown is a little tarnished." Ginger flicked a
finger at the tiara in Sapphire's hair as she circled her prey,
watching with satisfaction the conflict play out over the girl's face
as she started and then suppressed reaction. "From what I've been
reading, you're far removed from the sweet girlfriend with the
righteous puritain superhero alter-ego. From what I've been told,
you're a lot more like your cross-town rival than you'd like to admit."

  Ginger relished the look of surprised denial on the heroine's face.
"Oh, don't play the innocent with me. I know better. This naive
suburban schoolgirl thing is just a facade." She leaned in close to her
prey's ear to whisper, "that means you're faking," taking the
opportunity to denigrate Sapphire's intelligence as well as her
virture. "Maybe little Ricky thinks you're a good girl -- maybe he even
thinks you're a virgin!" Ginger almost laughed at the thought. "But we
know better, don't we?" Ginger stopped circling, standing behind and to
the side of the superheroine, reaching around to gently trace her
fingers up Sapphire's gently curving form, flipping up both her skirt
and her top slightly before letting them fall. "We know you don't dress
like a slut merely to distract the enemy. You don't just show off your
hot little body for its effect on others. You do it for its effect on
you."


  "That's not true," Sapphire said softly, compelled but afraid to
defend herself.
  "Oh really? Why do you do it then?"
  Sapphire said nothing; as awful as it felt to be thought a tart, she
couldn't reveal the extent of her weakness.

  Ginger thought she felt a little tremble in the girl; she smiled
wickedly as she quickly withdrew, resuming her stalking circle.

  "You used to think you're different from other girls. You'd look at
the way the popular girls in school flaunt themselves in front of boys.
You'd hear their stories in the locker room about giving it up for the
captain of the football team. You used to tell yourself you're better
than them. *You* won't use sex as a weapon to get what you want. You
won't sink to their level. You won't degrade yourself. You won't
succumb to the pleasures of the flesh. You've got a level head and a
bright future. You're going to make something of yourself. You're in
control of your body, not the other way around. 

  "But you don't tell yourself that anymore, do you? Maybe it was in
the back seat of a Buick, or on Josh's couch while his parents were
seeing a show. The first time didn't even feel good, but you were
compelled to try it again -- something everybody warns you not to try
has to be good, doesn't it? And before long you found the call of the
wild irresistable, didn't you? But what to do? You can't disappoint
your dear mother. You can't give all those other girls the satisfaction
of knowing that you're just like them -- no, worse than them. So you
push those feelings deep down inside you, hoping that your nightly
D-Cell sessions will keep the beast at bay long enough to keep up
daytime appearances."


  Johnson looked on. Ginger seemed to have Sapphire's number; somehow,
she'd tapped into the younger woman's psyche and was drawing it out,
with a surprising, venomous passion. Johnson wondered if perhaps
Ginger's tirade might be a little autobiographical.


  Ginger stopped circling suddenly, snapping to face Sapphire. "And
then salvation comes! Just when you think you're going to lose control,
a handsome man comes along. Not a boy, a real man, an older man, a
sophisticated man." Ginger began to pace back and forth; Sapphire's
eyes followed the older woman's form, uncertain fear arising from the
fact that this woman could have stripped her of her sapphires and shot
her dead, but instead chose to assault her verbally. The bewildering
behavior underscored Sapphire's sense of utter powerlessness, rooting
her to the spot.

  "Scott Phillips, globetrotting business executive, successful and
good-looking and witty and charming. He could have any woman in the
world, and he wants *you*. He's attracted to your innocence, your
suggestive good girl flirtations, but even better, he encourages your
sexy side. He doesn't call you a dirty slut. He tells you that your
urges are natural and healthy and nothing to be ashamed of. And so the
flirting goes further, but it's all make-believe; liberating yet
secure, helpless yet harmless. You become whatever he wants -- whatever
*you* want -- without fear of discovery or reprisal. And through it
all, your cyberlover builds you up. You're smart. You're beautiful.
You're sexy. You're strong. He has you wishing you could be more than
the sweet little schoolgirl everyone else sees. He has you wishing your
online life could replace your real life. He has you wrapped around his
little finger. He could have you whenever he wanted you, all he had to
do was show up on your doorstep and whisk you away from your so-called
life.

  "It's what was supposed to happen. But it didn't. Your knight in
shining armor didn't come to claim his princess. But he did send you a
gift. A consolation prize for not being able to break away from his
busy life, a temporary condition he swears he'll more than make up for
when his ogre of a boss finally lets him take a vacation. A gift. A
lavish gift. A gift of love and admiration and commitment. The last
thing you'd expect, and exactly what you most wanted. That you couldn't
possibly wear such adult extravagances only served to emphasize how
childish and ordinary life with school and friends and mom really was.
On the surface it was just a reinforcement of all the things he'd been
telling you -- your beauty, your allure, your maturity. 

  "But it went far beyond the power of woman, to something far more
extraordinary. Suddenly what he'd told you *was* true. You *were*
strong. He'd given you unbelieveable power. It amazed you, it excited
you, it scared you. And like all good little girls who were shielded
from the harshness of the big world, who were told that the bad things
you saw were just temporary problems, momentary afflictions that good
people like you had the power to fix, you put two and two together and
found your calling. *You* would set the world straight! *You* would
keep bad things from happening to good people! You would make a
*difference*! This man who'd empowered you was right; it was time to
free yourself from the shackles of mediocrity and take your place among
the extraordinary, lift yourself above all those petty things you used
to secretly covet.

  "And everything changes, doesn't it? You truly *are* different now.
You have a power, a grand destiny to fulfill, one that other girls
could scarcely dream of. You can make a difference! Your attempts are
pathetically small-minded and short-sighted, but you still see a
glimmer of potential. And it revives you, it lifts you out of the
doldrums of being just another average-looking teenager living in an
average suburban house with decidedly average prospects for the future.
You're reborn, filled with wonder and promise and determination, eager
to shed your boring old self and embrace greatness.

  "But there's a problem. There are some things of life before Scott
that you just can't shake. Indeed, some feelings become stronger. You'd
thought that Scott had helped you conquer and control your sexuality,
but now you see that he's only made things worse. A heroine should be
above such human frailties as selfishness and sexual appetite, but you
are not. Your weakness grows with your strength. The more you prove
yourself a superheroine, a symbol of all that is good and pure, the
more your own invincibility emasculates you. The more you carry the
mantle of feminine might, the more you long to have it taken from you.
What was simple sexual need before becomes twisted into a desire to be
dominated. Your very success, what little of it there is, makes you
feel inadequate, unworthy, unfit for the power bestowed upon you. You
fear exposure as a fraud, and this very fear drives you to behavior
that virtually guarantees such hubris." Ginger was far too fired up to
recognize another opportunity to belittle her victim's intelligence;
Sapphire for her part was too afraid to ask.

  "And the irony of your situation is that your alter ego became the
one thing that could less afford scandal than you could. Look at the
public outcry against the Black Widow. She's chosen almost the same
path as you have -- okay, so she kills the baddies instead of merely
boxing them about the ears, but since most of your own adversaries
eventually wound up dead anyway, what's the difference? But she chose
to send a message -- that male sexual predation was not acceptable --
and instead of being lauded for it, instead of being a hero to
womankind, she was hunted like an animal. Typical male-dominated
society just can't stand a powerful woman -- not unless she's suitably
neutered and harmless looking, like you, dear. So, instead of the
freedom of anonymity, instead of an outlet for your sexual
frustrations, you unwittingly constructed an even more stifling prison
than your conservative good-girl background.

  "So after a hard day making a slut costume, and a hard night wearing
it, you spend the wee hours of the morning thrashing about on your bed
ripping it off in some one-woman show called Fuck Me, I'm Helpless."

  Sapphire turned pale. "How do you..." she cut herself short,
realizing too late that she'd admitted Ginger was right.

  Not that it mattered. "How do I know? Hell-lo, McFly!" Ginger rapped
her knuckles hard on Sapphire's forehead; the heroine cringed but made
no move to stop her. When Ginger finished, Sapphire's frightened eyes
conveyed confusion. "What, nothing? Haven't you seen Back To The
Future? Don't you get TBS? Jesus!" 

  Ginger returned to the matter at hand. "How do I know? I know because
we've been watching your house. I have to admit, the Super Girly rape
fantasy didn't make a whole lot of sense to me until after your little
demonstration when we showed up to collect, but I didn't have all the
facts then; you're not the only stupid person I have to deal with." She
rolled her eyes in Rosewood's direction; he grunted.

  "But it's not just a fantasy with you, is it? It's an obsession. It's
what drives you. It wasn't enough to twiddle yourself while your Ken
doll watched, so you put yourself in harm's way, and you let yourself
lose. Oh, don't give me that 'how could she know' look, missy. It's
obvious once you know what to look for. The QuickMart duo was
apprehended, but the boys behind the club were never identified -- why
was that? Then the serial rapist you caught in the park -- I heard you
were his favorite, even though you crippled him. Maybe *because* you
crippled him. I guess he's not the only one who's conflicted about it.
Then there's the article buried in that Saturday edition of the paper
about street toughs who were beat up by a hooker -- most people assumed
it was your sinister sister-in-arms, but she wouldn't have let them
live. And one of my agents saw you get stopped by a cop and said you
practically begged him to show you his nightstick. I bet you even got a
little action from Mr. Quarterback, didn't you?

  "It's a shame I wasn't here to see you mix it up with the Black
Widow. Given a few more minutes I bet she would have kicked your ass.
And I bet you would have liked it, too. She swings both ways, you know.
Well, I should say, she swung both ways. I could smell it on her. Like
I can smell it on you. She smelled it on you too, didn't she? I bet if
she hadn't been interrupted she would have beaten you, stripped you,
and pussy-fucked you until you couldn't stand.

  "Lucky for you your boyfriend was there to bail you out. How lucky
indeed," Ginger said with not a little sarcasm. "Yes, good little Ricky
Aquino. He saved you from yourself. A tender young lad of sixteen --
quite the cradle-robber, aren't you? -- who just thinks the world of
you. He told the whole world about how you saved him and everyone else
and almost captured the Black Widow. What a romantic! It wasn't hard to
read between the lines to understand what really happened. The footage
Bates turned over from the one camera you managed not to bust up didn't
hurt either. You were a goner until he stepped in. Such an innocent boy
-- it's a shame he doesn't understand exactly how Black Widow had you
pinned. Or maybe he just refuses to acknowledge the seamy side of
Sapphire. You should see the website he's built -- it's a Sapphire
Shrine, dedicated to Oak Valley's champion, a young woman who stands
for truth, justice, and all that crap. A righteous, virtuous
superheroine. He goes on and on about your exploits in the message
boards -- sanitized, of course. And the pictures! A person would think
you were some kind of angel from heaven the way he draws you. Nobody
looks that good, believe me. Not even me. Art bestowing perfection on
the unworthy. Talent utterly wasted on the banal. He might as well have
drawn you in a habit. (That's the funny hat that nuns wear.) God. The
whole site was so sickly sweet I got a cavity just looking at it. 

  "Yes, you've put quite the spell on him. It's too bad you broke up
with him, maybe he could have scratched your itch and kept you out of
trouble. Did you do it just to protect your secret identity, or was it
a lame attempt to protect him? You shouldn't have bothered -- a boy
like that gets worked up, he has to have an outlet. You should know
something about that. Sweet irony that after Angela Barrett crushed his
heart he chose the mighty Sapphire as a surrogate. The unattainable,
perfect Sapphire, a priceless jewel, a woman he could never have. Of
course, he'd already had you. Or could have had you, if only you'd
shared your proclivity for being taken by force. What a sixteen year
old male wouldn't give for a girlfriend with your problem! You could
have hung up the stones and lived happily ever after.

  Then again, a boy like that, with a strict father and a religious
upbringing, maybe he'd be so horrified to know the truth he wouldn't
want to have anything to do with you." Ginger let the observation hang
in the air like a threat.

  "And so you continue to live two lives. One life, you're Angela
Barrett, sales girl for a respectable fabric store. You have a social
security number, you pay your taxes, and you... help your mother carry
out the garbage. The other life is lived on the rooftops at night,
where you go by the heroine alias 'Sapphire' and spend as much time
fucking criminals as catching them. One of these lives has a future,
and one of them does not."


  The men all did a double-take. Did Ginger know she was practically
quoting from a movie?


  "As Sapphire, you're just a little hussy, prancing about town wearing
next to nothing. You're not a superheroine, just a super tease." Ginger
noticed the way Sapphire's nipples poked wantonly through the flimsy
material of her blouse; the girl's skin became flushed. My, she was
easy to master. "Or maybe super slut," Ginger continued. "It makes you
hot thinking about all the men who can't have you, doesn't it? But it
makes you even hotter thinking about the men who *take* you. Not to
mention the women."

  Ginger moved in from behind, her mouth next to Sapphire's ear. "How
does it feel, standing there, with all that power, and yet totally
helpless?"

  Sapphire's lips parted slightly, as if to voice protest, but she
remained silent. Ginger resumed circling.

  "Even now, so soon after blowing into this room like a storm of
justice, you stand before me, eagerly anticipating the moment of your
final surrender, and wishing that there was something more than a
simple defrocking. You want to give me the stones; you've wanted to
give them up ever since you got them. But you want much more than that.
You want to be dominated, humiliated, broken, reduced to a quivering
puddle of sexually-sated shame. Only by wallowing in the domination and
destruction of your superheroine self do you hope to kill both of the
demons that haunt you and return to that simple, normal life you'd so
eagerly abandoned. As long as the boy doesn't find out, everything just
might turn out all right."

  Ginger stopped again, stepping right up to Sapphire who nearly wilted
in the stronger woman's presence.

  "So what do you think, princess? Am I close?"

  Sapphire stood, silent, her head hanging in shame. Ginger watched as
a tear slid down the girl's cheek.

  "Don't just give me that hangdog look. When I ask you a question, I
expect you to answer it!" She raised her hand to strike the smaller
woman, and Sapphire flinched; but Ginger held back, the pain of her
first blow still coursing through her hand.

  "That's not who I am," Sapphire finally answered, looking up at her
tormentor. But as Ginger held her gaze, Sapphire had to look away.

  "No? Then tell me how this feels?" A hand suddenly wedged itself
between Sapphire's legs, middle finger pressing into her vulva, thumb
folded over and pressing against her bud. The unexpected contact made
her shiver. No one, not even Josh, had been so uncaringly heavy-handed,
so direct in their violation. Even with the lowliest criminal she'd
ever faced, she'd always seen their crude advances coming. Except once:
against the Black Widow. And it had almost been her undoing.

  Now, facing this new threat, a woman who compared to the Black Widow
was older, smaller, more feminine, and without the benefit of any
supernatural force, who had nonetheless already vanquished the naive
superheroine and had just laid bare her weakness -- now Sapphire felt a
rising tide of helpless lust beyond any she could have imagined.

  Now with a single touch she knew what it was like to be dominated.

  And yet she knew this was the beginning of her surrender, not the
end. And she knew that despite herself she welcomed it.


  "There's just one problem, sweetie. Do you think things can ever go
back to the way they were? Do you think anyone will ever look at you
the same? Do you honestly believe that no one will ever know that
Sapphire is really Angela Barrett?" Ginger's other hand roamed freely
over the inflamed girl's body, gentle, tickling touches alternating
with possessive dehumanizing grabs; such manhandling would have turned
a normal girl off like a switch, but on the humiliated heroine the
effect was devastating.

  "It took long enough for you to figure it out," Sapphire protested,
her weakening resolve diffusing any withering effect her comeback might
have otherwise had.

  "And you think I'd keep your secret?"
  "B-but you... you said... no one could know..." Sapphire said
breathlessly, her eyelids beginning to flutter at the insistent
pleasuring of Ginger's fingers.
  "Oh but I have to tell someone," Ginger said with mocking enthusiasm.
"I'd just *die* if I had to keep it all inside! Maybe if I just told
one person. Don't tell me you never wanted to tell anyone. I mean, just
look at you! Don't you wish you could tell people who you are?"
Ginger's sarcasm cut deeply. "Isn't there anyone, not even one person?"
Sapphire shook her head vigorously, interrupted by a gasp of unbidden
pleasure as she felt her flimsy panties pressed deep between her
floating lips. "Oooh, I know who we can tell! Let's tell Ricky!"
Sapphire's eyes pleaded with the evil woman who so unscrupulously
lorded the heroine's weakness over her.


  Ginger withdrew her ministrations and stepped back, looking over to
Johnson. "Yes, let's tell him right now!" Johnson gave her a look; what
the hell? "No, even better, let's show him!"


  "No!" Sapphire heard herself cry.

  "No?!?" Ginger leaped back to her prey with alarming speed and
aggression. She produced a slender leather belt from somewhere and,
before Sapphire could even think to react, brought it down across the
heroine's scarcely-covered ass.

  Sapphire squealed and jumped forward in surprise, nearly losing her
balance before the steadying force of her gemstones made solid her
footing.

  "Oh, will you look at that," Ginger said, cross. "I've gone and put a
little hole in your lovely little skirt. We'd better take that off."
Ginger came around her captive heroine and looked her in the eyes,
nodding with a cruel facetious helpfulness. "You're going to need it
later; we mustn't mess it up." 

  Sapphire's pleading, desperate look was priceless. She was about to
be stripped by this woman in front of these men. Her cheeks burned
crimson.


  Without another word, Ginger tugged the skirt down the helpless
girl's legs; it pooled around her feet. "Oh, look! Matching underwear!"
Again she surfaced to taunt her prey face to face. "You simply *must*
tell me who your tailor is." In a moment the panties caressed her
ankles. 

  Ginger grabbed the lower edge of Sapphire's top. "Arms up," she said
cheerfully. When Sapphire didn't respond, Ginger grabbed a nipple
through the material and twisted it cruelly; Sapphire withered in
agonizing ecstacy; how could her forcefield be so useless against a
sexual attack unless simple sexual gratification had been its intent?
"Arms up!" Ginger hissed. Sapphire complied meekly. In a moment the top
had joined its companions as a puddle of delicate fabric.

  Ginger touched Sapphire's ankle; the gesture was understood as the
humiliated heroine weakly lifted one foot and then the other, allowing
the removal of the last scant vestiges of her modesty.

  Ginger made a show of folding the delicate garments into neat little
bundles. "Everything you wear is so frilly and feminine and flirty. It
really is a marvelous look for you," she taunted as she crossed the
room and handed the little squares to Johnson, who seemed unsure of how
to hold them. After a few awkward moments, the man set them down on the
floor next to the busted door before resuming his vigilant observation
of his employer's atrocious revelry.

  "There now, that's better, isn't it?" Ginger said with scathing
tenderness. Her fingers delicately traced up and down the nude girl's
quivering body. Sapphire began to cry, tiny, silent sobs freeing lonely
tears.

  "Oh, honey, don't cry," Ginger almost whispered. "I said, don't cry!"
she yelled, her voice piercing the room. Again the sting of the belt,
humiliation more than pain doing damage to an already fragile psyche.
Sapphire did her best to straighten up and blink back her tears, but
try as she might, they wouldn't stop flowing.

  "Christ, what a baby," Ginger groaned as she positioned herself
behind her captive, turning the girl so that Johnson could stare at her
full-on. Sapphire's chin touched her chest as she sagged back against
the woman who seemed to own her. "You probably cried like this when
your first boyfriend popped your cherry. Fucking slut still acts like a
virgin," Ginger said to Johnson, "I think you'll like her." She grabbed
a handful of Sapphire's hair, pulling her head up and forcing her to
look at Johnson. "Come on, honey, show Johnson here how much you hate
this rough treatment." Sapphire's eyelids fluttered as Ginger renewed
her sweet dextrous assault between the folds of the younger woman's
sex, now glistening and baldly exposed. Sapphire's chest heaved with
the effort of fast, shallow breaths; the utter humiliation was the
cumulation of all her darkest fears... and most desperate hopes. She
wouldn't last much longer.


  Johnson looked on, amazement and arousal beginning to overcome
practiced detatchment. Ginger looked for all the world like a virtuoso
playing an instrument, the passion of her playing reflected in the way
her look of intense concentration broke more frequently to an
expression of satisfied joy.


  Ginger felt her own heart race; the tempo of her breath rose in
concert with the intensity of her touch on sweet skin. Breaking this
girl, bringing low such a mighty force with nothing but sharp words and
a soft touch... it was more than fun, more than exciting. It was
arousing.

  But to bring the distressed damsel to blessed release was not the
ultimate expression of domination. To show her the edge and then pull
her away was a much tastier dish. Besides, Ginger had learned enough
about the girl's featherweight sexual trigger; it was time to move on
to other areas of study.

  Ginger suddenly stepped back, abandoning her sex-puppet to collapse
in a pile of naked frustration. "What a slut," she said, disgusted.

  "Uhh, Ginger..." Rosewood said nervously.
  "Shut up, Rosewood, I know what I'm doing." She looked around the
room; her men were transfixed. "All right, you've seen enough. You've
got work to do, you best get to it."

  Johnson remained. Ginger now assigned him the task that had already
been their implicit understanding, made explicit now only to remind
Sapphire of her place. "Johnson, if she so much as touches me, signal
Johnson to kill the boy."


  Sapphire saw through her tears a pair of legs move away from her,
twin predators no doubt off in search of another means of humiliation.
She heard Ginger's voice cut through the fog of her ebbing sexual
frustration. "I'm gonna take this little bitch down a peg or two. I
want to see where her limits are." She heard a hollow thud followed by
a metallic ping as her tormentor fished something out of an equipment
case.

  A cruel grip yanked her upright by her elbow. "Stand up, slut."
Sapphire stood, head down, shoulders slumped, drained and defeated,
still vaguely aroused but too mortified to touch herself, no longer
curious what her cruel master might be doing behind her.

  Nothing could have prepared her for what was to come.

  A terrific blow belted Sapphire across her back, rocketing her
forward, leaving a brief optic shower of blue-white luminescence in her
wake. It felt as if a bomb had gone off behind her. And it *hurt*.

  She stumbled forward, hands out in front of her as her feet rushed to
catch up, finally tumbling and rolling on the couch. The stunned
superheroine looked up, blinking her eyes in shock and disbelief.

  Ginger stood over her, wearing heavy gloves and wielding a long
blackened crowbar.

  Sapphire backed herself over the arm of the couch, standing
unsteadily, feet moving back in small, uncertain steps, hands raised in
front of her chest, both to hide them from leering eyes and protect
herself from the unimagined menace wielded before her.

  "I'm through letting you push me around. Let's see how *you* like
getting the shit hammered out of you."


  Johnson's tone was cautionary. "Ginger..."

  Ginger craned her neck around to inspect Sapphire's backside. There
was no blood, no bruising, no swelling. A hit that hard on an
unsuspecting target should have crippled the girl, but she was still
standing.

  But the look in Sapphire's eyes told the real story.

  Ginger sneered. "Relax, Johnson. Maybe it won't leave a mark, but I
bet it still hurts. Let's find out."


  The end of the crowbar was ablur with wicked speed. Each blow bounced
grotesquely, percussive trauma inflicted to the strobe of bright blue
light. Forearms, shoulders, torso, backside, legs, blows rained down on
Sapphire from everywhere, and no stumbling retreat could escape them.

  Ginger followed Sapphire around the room, Sapphire backing feebly
away, Ginger smacking her with the crowbar as she advanced. "S-Stop
it," Sapphire finally squealed.
  Ginger paused, the end of the crowbar dancing up and down in a deadly
rhythm. "Or what?" 
  They both knew the answer.

  "Y-you can't hurt me," Sapphire stammered, betrayed by the fear in
her eyes.
  "Why don't I believe you?"

  Ginger raised the crowbar above her head. Sapphire shrieked, hands
flying up to protect her head. An involuntary, unfocused blast struck
Ginger over her chest, face, and arms, knocking her back and wresting
the weapon from her grip.


  Ginger coughed and spat, more surprised than hurt. She picked herself
up, rhythmically squeezing the crowbar in both hands like a golfer
adjusting her grip.

  Her voice was low and hateful. "Do that again, and I'll use this on
your boyfriend."

  The depths of the woman's evil chilled the room.

  Ginger wound up a roundhouse swing, the crowbar smashing into
Sapphire's midsection, sending her staggering back and down to a knee,
gasping for breath.
  "And the crowd goes wild!" Ginger said, raising her hands in the air
as she mimed a trip around the bases.


  Sapphire felt broken. Her whole body screamed with pain. She couldn't
believe she wasn't dead, or paralyzed, or coughing blood. She'd never
felt so raw. Or so vulnerable. The sapphires seemed to protect her on
the surface, but the searing hurt from the blows she was able to
sustain was a torture no one could be meant to suffer.

  She wanted to fall to the floor, pass out, give up, end this
nightmare. Her body begged her to quit.
  But if this monster was going to unleash her rage, Sapphire could not
let it leave this room. 
  Not while she could still stand. 
  Not while she could still breathe. 

  If the beast named Ginger thought that the limits of her cruelty
exceeded Sapphire's limits of resolve, she would have to prove it.

  Sapphire's hand steadied itself on her raised knee. 
  Slowly, deliberately, against a hurricane of hurt, the heroine pushed
herself to her feet.


  Ginger looked at the girl, incredulous. Though it left not a mark on
her infuriatingly perfect form, the crowbar's blows obviously hurt, and
not just emotionally. The heroine looked stiff; she winced with every
shallow, labored breath; and she no longer put forth any effort to
cover herself. By all rights she should be cowering in fear. But
despite the pain, despite the beating that would surely continue, she
stood.

  Sapphire spoke not a word, but through the fear and confusion in her
eyes shown a glimmer of defiance that said You Will Not Break Me.

  Ginger took it as a challenge. And an opportunity to vent her ire
upon this naive waif who'd cost her so much already, and nearly cost
her everything. Who is she to defy me?

  It was time to begin in earnest.

  "You stole my [Whack!] *man*..." Sapphire lurched sideways,
collapsing to her knees.
  "...you stole my [Whack!] *jewels*..." Knocked forward; ass upended;
breasts, face, and elbows scraped the carpet.
  "...and you damn near [Whack!] *killed* me." Hips rocketed sideways,
crashing to a gangling heap.

  "Payback's a bitch, and her name is *Ginger*!" 
  The crowbar sang with the impact. Its horrific hollow ringing faded
with Sapphire's will to resist, growing silent against a background of
frightened sobs.

  Ginger paused. Johnson stepped forward, expecting to gather up the
undamaged-yet-dismantled bundle of heaving limbs now that the beating
was over.
  But Ginger was just catching her breath.

  The crowbar rang, again and again. Ginger's hands buzzed with every
impact, but her rage squelched any sensation of pain. 

  Sapphire threw up her hands in mindless defense, the abused gems
reacting mercifully to her instinct with a diffuse wave of force that
pushed Ginger back and nearly knocked her over. Johnson stiffened,
either to signal his partner or intervene on behalf of the tortured
creature wailing helplessly on the floor, but Ginger waved him off.

  "Get up, cunt, I'm not finished with you." 

  Sapphire just quivered, curled up in a defensive position. 

  "Get UP!" Ginger didn't articulate any particular threat. She didn't
need to.

  The shattered superheroine slowly stood, staggering a bit as she got
to her feet, obviously dizzy. 
  "Why? Why are you doing this to me?" she blubbered. 

  The answer was pure evil. "Because I *can*."

  Ginger flew into a murderous rage, hammering the heroine with blow
after thundering blow, lighting the room with a sickening string of
strobelike sapphiric flashes. She hated this younger, stronger, and
most vexing, prettier woman. She needed to destroy her.

  Ginger was vaguely aware of someone shouting at her, but her vision
was tunneled, focused on the cringing, flailing, fleeing, crumpling
ball of confusion that was the cumulation of everything Ginger had ever
hated.

  Suddenly the crowbar felt heavy, as if locked in cement. Ginger
looked up to see Johnson standing over her, his white-knucled hands
wrapped tightly around the weapon, eyes entreating her to stop. But
when he saw her eyes, he went pale; he was surely looking into the soul
of the devil herself.

  Ginger wrenched the crowbar free with an animal scream, taking a
defensive swing at the intruder before turning again to the thing on
the floor, the infuriating fragile-looking thing that couldn't be
broken, couldn't be crushed, couldn't be defeated.

  It took the sound of two, then three crackling explosions to finally
break her fevered fury. She looked up, gasping, the black crowbar
raised over her head, crouched over the pitiful slackening wreck of a
girl. Johnson's own black agent of death was pointed right at her. And
she knew its next report would not be a warning.

  "Remember our agreement," Johnson said evenly. "You don't hurt the
girl."

  Ginger blinked, taking a moment to fully retreat from her madness.
"Yes, you're right. I guess I got carried away. I'm sorry. She's had
enough." The crowbar went slack. Ginger grabbed a wrist and hauled the
whimpering lass to her feet with a squeal.

  Johnson holstered his piece; "I'll tell Johnson she's ready." He
turned to leave the room.

  Ginger stepped back with lightning quickness, drawing herself into a
sinewy coil. The end of the crowbar rose over her head, wagging in
anticipation and measurement. The air hummed with the speed of the
beastly black bat as it unleashed all the energy of Ginger's taut form
into a single cruel arc; a vicious, high swing connected with the side
of Sapphire's head.

  The room glowed hot with blinding white light.

  The small girl seemed little more than a twisting skeleton, limbs
trailing loosely as her body shot forward.

  A glittering silver tiara drifted weightlessly away from its wearer,
tumbling gracefully end over end, taking final flight until crashing
into unyielding concrete hard wall, bouncing and spinning inexorably to
the floor.

  Johnson was a rocket streaking across the room, shoulder hammering
into Ginger as if to cut the woman in two. The combined mass skipped
and skidded to a stop against the wall. Ginger found Johnson's hand on
her neck; middle knuckle of thumb and second finger twitched against
her carteroid arteries.

  "Enough!" he bellowed. "Or by God I'll snap your pretty little neck."
Ginger went limp to signal her acquiescence.

  Johnson shoved Ginger's head cruelly against the wall as he pushed
himself up off her. In an instant he was kneeled over the nude form of
the fallen sapphire princess.

  Sapphire was motionless for a long moment, but Johnson's gentle touch
against her neck made her awake. She spit and coughed and heaved,
moving weakly to get to her knees before rolling over and collapsing on
her back. Her round tits stared blankly at the ceiling, her limp legs
splayed lewdly.

  "Remarkable," Ginger breathed. The blow should have broken the
contemptible little bitch's neck -- should have crushed her skull, or
taken it clean off -- but there she was, alive and uninjured. Well,
alive, at least.

  "Get her up." Johnson helped the girl to her feet as gently as he
could, as if holding a priceless china doll. Sapphire's head lolled
forward. She threatened to collapse under her own weight; Johnson had
to hold her up with an arm under her shoulder.

  Ginger grabbed the limp heroine's chin. "Had enough?"
  It took great effort for Sapphire to find her voice. "Please...
stop," she whispered.

  Ginger felt up her fallen foe, poking and prodding all over the
battered body and watching the girl's face for reaction. Nothing felt
broken, and there were no specific points of agony, but the young
woman's whole body seemed to ache, like she'd run back-to-back
marathons through the fiery pits of hell. Ginger's own hands shook from
the abuse they'd taken at the other end of the crowbar. 

  "All right, highness, it's time to abdicate your throne." Ginger held
out her palm, flexing her fingers in a "here" motion. "Hand them over." 
  Johnson reached for the girl's arm, but Ginger smacked his hand. 

  "No," she scolded. "Let her do it." 

  Sapphire sluggishly peeled off her left wristband, feeling the
sickening, comforting warmth dim slightly. She held it out for Ginger
to take it, her head bowed in exhaustion and shame. 

  "Look at me," Ginger tormented. 

  Sapphire looked up. 
  Tears streamed down her face as she handed Ginger first one, then the
other bejeweled wristband.

  "Now the shoes."
  Sapphire bent down stiffly to untie the makeshift wraparound straps
that for once had stayed on of their own accord. Her hands shook as she
struggled with the knots. "Hurry up," Ginger commanded.

  Sapphire stood again, stepping down out of the high heels. Ginger
seemed to loom over her.

  Angela suddenly felt very cold. And very small.

  "Just so you know," Ginger said in a husky, triumphant voice, "even
with the sapphires, you were never anything more than a stupid little
girl." 

  Ginger nodded to Johnson. "She's all yours. Have fun." The man
stepped forward, turning toward the door around the flawless abused
girl.

  "Before you take her, one last thing." Ginger moved around Johnson to
stand in front of Angela one last time. The girl's eyes were teary and
unfocused, signals of her retreat into some unknown purgatory inside
her mind. 

  Ginger wound up and slapped Angela hard; so hard that the girl was
loosed from Johnson's grip and went tumbling to the floor.

  Ginger flexed her hand in satisfaction as she looked down at the
pathetic heap of submission that was once a mighty superheroine. The
girl slowly raised her head, as if with great effort; her lip was split
and bleeding. 

  Ginger bent down to address her prisoner, shivering in mock orgasm.
"Was that as good for you as it was for me?"




__________________________________
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