WARNING:
This story is fictional and is not intended to portray any real persons,
living or dead, nor is it at all intended to encourage the type of activity
portrayed here. It is strictly a fantasy/parody, intended for the personal
enjoyment of those who appreciate female costumed characters in fear for
their life or the violation of their body. The story describes and/or hints
at graphic sexual situations, including bondage, violence, non-consensual
sex, and other elements unacceptable in certain communities. It is NOT intended,
nor is it at all suitable, for minors. If you are under the age of 18, or
if this type of thing offends you, you shouldnt be reading it. If you
are a person who does find interesting the material described above, then
I invite you to enjoy this story.
The story
contains characters of my own creation, but also characters who are the property
of various established comic book companies. Those characters are used without
any permission by the owners of those characters and are included only to
offer a fan's expression of those characters in a situation that would not
be seen in mainstream comics. This story is strictly done for non-profit
enjoyment by other fans interested in this adult genre. This story may not
be moved to, or included in any website that requires payment for
content.
Glory
Girl
Episode
Seven: Family
Ties
by Alias
the Rat
Part
One
For a while
after she awoke, Nacatoh lay in the bed holding the man she loved. Niles
Verner had left the town of Gotham because it had been getting too busy for
him. He rode far north to where he set up a trading post. Dealing with the
nearby Atapoh indian village, he met the indian maiden who he fell in love
with. Only weeks before, the chief of the village held a ceremony to bind
them as mates, to forever be in each other's hearts and minds. But this morning
worried Nacotah. Also known in her tribe as the Priestess, she knew that
today was the time for the ceremony. She would do the ritual and speak to
Dasaina, Goddess of the Elements. What would her diety think of the servant
marrying a white man?
She went
to the clearing, disrobed and stood only wearing the necklace of power. Beads
of hammered silver that alternated with small, semi-precious stones on a
thin chain, it was not merely decorative, but a mantle of the position of
Priestess that channeled power directly from Dasaina to her servant. It was
late in the fall, and the cold wind blew, but she felt no chill. Nacotah
drew a pattern in the earth, placed a dish of clear water in the center,
and struck steel on flint to send sparks into the pile of tinder that she
had also gathered there. Flames and smoke joined earth and water. The four
elements were there for the ceremony. The Priestess began to chant praises
for the Goddess she adored. She knelt down and placed her forehead against
the earth. As her chants went on, the air aound the area moved, forming a
wall of wind around the clearing. The small fire in the center was not effected,
and the smoke continued to slowly rise straight up to the celestial home
of the Goddess. Nacotah spoke the final chant, and waited. Would the Goddess
come? The Priestess knew that she had done this ritual every year and before
that her mother, and her mother's mother had done so. The Goddess had always
come, to accept the praise of her people. But this time, Nacotah worried.
When she brought her head up, would Dasaina be there? The Priestess looked
up, and was happy to see the large, semi-transparent glowing figure of a
extremely beautiful nude woman in the air above the clearing. "Goddess, I
praise you and thank you for once again honoring the Atapoh with your presence."
Again the indian woman dropped her forehead to the ground. She listened for
the powerful voice that thundered in her mind, but was never heard by any
of those outside the clearing. "Hello, Nacotah. Get up. I value your worship
and the love of all the Atopah who are the children I so dearly love. I see
in your thoughts you worry about your recent actions. Do not do so. I can
see you love this man and he also loves you dearly. Be he from another tribe
or from the strange world of the whites, he is just a man. Love him and bear
his children. Your first daughter will be a priestess. She will worship me
and I will bestow my love on her, as I love you." Nacotah stood up as the
Goddess raised her arms up and energy was channeled from the heavens through
the Goddess and into the Priestess. The necklace glowed and pulsated on her
as the indian priestess' feet left the ground, her body finally hovering
in mid-air several feet off the ground. The winds around the clearing went
faster and faster, starting to act like a tornado. Nacotah's arms went straight
up, and long sheets of flame went skyward from her fingertips. The ground
beneath her trembled and seemed to move up and down. Finally the Priestess
brought her arms down to her sides, and she slowly descended to earth, as
rain fell in the clearing, first lightly, but then in torrents. Despite all
of this, the markings in the earth and the small fire were not disturbed.
The rain stopped and within minutes, the area dried up. All was back to as
it was when Nacotah started. She looked up and saw the figure of her Goddess
slowly fade away. She bent down to put on her clothes when she saw Niles
standing on the edge of the clearing. His mouth was agape, and he stood there
until his wife moved over to him. She looked into his eyes. Niles spoke.
"I... I told you I believed you when you spoke of this, but I guess I didn't
think it could be as... amazing... as you described it. I was afraid for
you when I saw all that, but I see you are safe. What did she say...?" The
indian woman smiled in her husband's face and said. "The Goddess said that
I love you and you love me and she is pleased about it."
Nacotah and
Niles had nine children and the first-born, Inga, grew up to learn the ways
and rituals of a priestess of Dasaina. But as the white settlers crowded
into the Atopah land the indians suffered. Smallpox and cholera ran through
the tribe and soon nearly all the tribe had been wiped out or assimilated
by the white settlers. Inga's daughter sickened and died while giving birth
to her daughter. And this priestess of Dasaina grew up knowing very little
of her heritage and unaware of the rituals and duties. Years went by when
the ceremony was not held. In the celestial firmament, a goddess shed a tear
for what had been done to her people. But the line went on. Daughters had
daughters. Each young woman was always blessed by a loving husband. No priestess
of the Goddess ever failed to find her true love. For Dasaina held the power
of the elements, but she was also the diety of true love and gave that to
the women who did not even know her.
Part
Two
Mary Stocks,
a descendent of Priestess Nacotah, married a John Cabot and they saved up
money to move out west and make a better life for themselves and their children.
In 1877 when their oldest daughter,
Evelynn, was ten years old, the
family took their savings and set out west with a group of other settlers.
When they reached the Dakota Territory, their group was attacked by a renegade
band of thieves who masqueraded as indians to loot passing wagon trains.
When the Cabot wagon was attacked, it tried to flee, but overturned. Young
Lynn was thrown to the ground and knocked unconscious. When she woke later,
she found her parents and siblings dead and the rest of the wagon train had
been wiped out or scattered. She sat there crying when a Dakotah warrior
named Little Ax rode by and found her. He bent down and comforted the little
dark haired girl. He took the orphan back to his village where he presented
her to the head of the tribe, Chief Tahama. The old indian looked into the
eyes of the child and he sensed she was a young woman of great destiny. So
the chief and his wife adopted the girl and raised her as their own. She
grew to a fine young woman, and eventually wanted to avenge her parent's
death. She said she wanted to train as a warrior, which was unheard of in
the tribe. But the tribe's shaman, in a trance to communicate with the Great
Spirit, said the girl had a powerful spirit guide who also wished this path
for her. Lynn, called Found Girl by the tribe, learned the ways of the warrior
and soon was a respected member of the tribe.
Lynn tracked
down the men who had killed her family, all those years back, and went after
them to avenge those deaths. When she got there, she attacked, but the men
overpowered her. Held down, Found Girl's clothes were ripped off and the
men prepared to have their way with her. She laid there naked, but on her
throat was a simple chain with silver beads and small semi-precious stones.
It was the one momento left to her by her murdered mother, and she'd worn
it since that fateful day. As one of the thugs stuck his dick into the pussy
of the prisoner, he reached to pull the necklace off her and she thought,
"Great Spirit, will no one help me?" The necklace suddenly gave off a green
glow. There was a rumble, and a huge translucent glowing figure of a woman
appeared over the girl who was at the mercy of the killers. "You will not
end her line! The priestesses of Dasaina will go on!" The Goddess' finger
pointed, and a shaft of energy went to the captured young woman. Her body
grew hot, and the men holding her down jumped back with burned fingers. Lynn
got up and began striking out at the men, who went to the ground from her
blows. Some of them pulled their guns and blasted at her, but the bullets
stopped at her skin and dropped to the ground, little pools of molten lead.
She kept lashing out at the gang and soon they had all succumbed to her attack.
After it was over, she started to come to her senses, and found all the men
were dead. She had no regrets about this, as every one of them had been a
cold-blooded murderer many times over. As she got re-dressed, she found the
hair at her crotch and on her head had turned a fiery red.
Returning
to the tribe, she told them about what had happened and the shaman said he
was not surprised. A powerful spirit was connected to Evelynn Cabot, now
renamed in the tribe as Firehair. He told Lynn that Dasaina was not a Goddess
worshipped by the Dakotah, but she was respected due to what they had heard
from travelers from the east. There were a few things he taught Firehair
about the Goddess, but regrettably the proper ritual was not one of them.
Firehair continued to serve as a warrior with the tribe and to offer thanks
at the Dakota rituals for her diety. The red-haired woman never again showed
the power she had that day against the killers, but she was respected in
the tribal councils nearly as much as the chief. She fought hard to keep
the peace between the whites and her tribe, and several times negotiated
peace between them. She fell in love with a rancher in the area, and they
were married. They had several children, the oldest of which was a daughter,
Katarina. When Lynn died years
later, the necklace was passed down to this young woman, a Priestess of Dasaina
who knew only a little about her legacy.
Part
Three
Little six-year
old Rebecca Hooper was getting ready to join her friends on a trip to the
park. There was a fresh covering of snow outside, and her sliding saucer
waited outside the door. Donna told her, "No, Becky, you can't go until I
find your scarf! Where did you put it?" Becky pouted. "Mom, I thought I put
it right here. Can't I go anyway? I don't feel that cold." Donna smiled.
So her daughter also had that ability. From her youngest years, Donna Hooper
had been able to endure very cold or very hot weather without much discomfort.
It was only in her teens that she began to feel the ability to adjust the
composition in her body that allowed her to become the famous super-heroine,
The Shady Lady. Would Rebecca gain some kind of super-abilty when she grew
up and follow in her mother's footsteps to fight crime? That would be exciting.
But now, where was that scarf? The ability to withstand extreme temperatures
had its limits, and if she spent too much time out in the snow and cold wind,
Becky would eventually have it begin to effect her and she'd catch a nasty
cold! "Well, I can't find your scarf, young lady, so you will have to use
Great-Grandma Emily's shawl. Do you promise to take extra special care of
it? If you lose it, I will be very mad at you, and Great-Grandma will probably
cry." Becky grabbed the brightly colored woolen wrap her Mom had pulled out
of the back of the closet and her eyes widened. The green shawl was covered
in beads in a rainbow of geometric shapes and colors and Becky always thought
it was so beautiful. The little girl wrapped it around her neck and held
it tight. "I promise Mom, I will be extra careful. I would never want anything
happen to this!"
The child
went out the front door and joined several of her friends from school and,
accompanied by a couple of the mothers, walked through the cold winter day
towards the park. As they approached, Becky cried, "Last one there is a
stick-in-the-mud!" and started to run. But there was one more street to cross,
and in her enthusiasm, the future heroine failed to look before crossing.
One of the escorting mothers, Mrs. Thompkins, suddenly shouted, "Becky, look
out!" Rebecca looked to her right and saw a delivery truck barreling towards
her! She tried to scamper back out of the street, but she was on an icy patch
and her feet went out from under her. The truck's driver saw her, and slammed
on his brakes, but the road was slippery. Becky's eyes widened with terror
as she scambled helplessly on the icy pavement with the truck skiding right
at her. The group of her friends and their escorts screamed as the truck
reached the spot where Becky lay.
But an instant
before Becky would have been hit, the old shawl began to give off a low green
glow. Becky's legs suddenly found a grip on the pavement and she jumped away.
All on the side of the street were stunned when the truck slid by and they
saw Rebecca sitting in a snowbank on the other side of the street, unharmed.
They crossed the street and Mrs. Palmer wrapped her hands around the little
girl, chastising her. "Rebecca Emily Hooper, you should never run out in
the steet like that! You could have been very, very badly hurt!" Becky was
shaking, as she looked back in the street. Her saucer had been dropped there
and the aluminum disc had been totalled mangled when the truck went over
it.
The sledding
party turned back, as the ladies insisted that Becky be taken home. "Your
mother should know what happened and you can go sledding tomorrow." was Mrs.
Palmer's decision. As they turned to go, Mrs. Thompkins stopped to pick up
the damaged saucer and looked at the snow in the street. There were the tracks
of vehicles there, but from the spot the truck nearly hit Rebecca to the
spot in the snowbank where the group had found her, there were not any of
Becky's bootprints. The woman puzzled. The little girl must have run out
of the path of the truck, but why where there no prints? It almost appeared
that the youngster had lept fifteen feet to save herself. But that was
impossible...
Part
Four
Becky was
not told that her parents, Patrick Hooper and Donna Hooper (nee Gilbert)
had been famous costumed characters until she was twelve. They told her it
was a very big secret and they had kept it from her until they felt she was
old enough to realise how important it was. Rebecca was amazed to learn of
this, as she had always been a huge fan of super-heroines, especially Wonder
Woman. To find out her own mother had been a famous heroine... Wow! A few
days later, when Dad brought Great-Grandma Emily from her nursing home for
a visit, the very old woman came in the door shivering. She pulled the old
multi-colored shawl from her neck. "My, it's cold out there. I never felt
it when I was young. Hello, Rebecca Emily. How are you. So, I hear you finally
know about your heritage of herodom. Do you think you will someday be a
crime-fighter like your Mom and I were?" Becky was surprised by this and
asked. "Great-Grandma, you mean you were a crimefighter too?" The woman sat
on the couch and waved Rebecca to join her. "Yes, for a little while. Back
then, it wasn't easy. Women were not encouraged to get into what was thought
of as 'men's work' in those days. During World War One, I wore a blue costume
and fought saboteurs and the Kaiser's spies as Aqua Woman. I had power over
water and mist, and stopped a German sub from attacking a troopship full
of our boys when it left Granite City harbor to go over there. Got a medal
for that. After the war I gave it up, married your great-grandfather and
spent time in the women's suffrage movement. And I raised your grandma, of
course. Was really happy when her daughter decided to become a crime fighter.
Made me proud. Oh, and why I'm here. She waved her arm at Becky's dad, who
held a large flat package wrapped in brown paper. "Bring that here, Patrick,
I want Becky to see them." The package was about two feet by three feet and
several inches thick. Becky pulled away at the wrapping and found inside
several large scrapbooks. When she flipped them open, she saw that on the
pages were pasted newspaper clippings of stories about her family. The first
book had articles about the exploits of Aqua Woman in the front, followed
by clippings about the suffragette movement. The other books had the exploits
of The Shady Lady, from her first adventures, which were mentioned in little
back-page news stories, to huge front page banners that exclaimed when The
Shady Lady had stopped a nefarious villain's plot and saved the city. Becky
turned and gave her great-grandmother a big hug. Afterwards, Rebecca spent
many a day leafing through the books to read about the past exploits of her
famous family. Her dad also brought out a box that held old papers with stories
about his work. Becky bought another scrapbook and pasted her Dad's clippings
into it.
Years later,
Rebecca Hooper had a busy time in high school. She competed in the girl's
track team for a couple of years, and the long jump was her specialty. Then,
with her body developing into a very lovely young woman, she participated
in the cheerleading squad, making head cheerleader in her senior year. By
that time, she had talked over her plans to become a costumed heroine and
fight crime like her parents had done, years before. They agreed, and made
her promise to train and get ready, but not to start until her nineteenth
birthday. And after that birthday, she became a costumed hero. The famous
Glory Girl!
Part
Five
Becky sat
at the kitchen table with her toast and yogurt, flipping though the paper.
Suddenly, an article in the feartures section caught her eye. "Oh, wow! Mom,
did you see this?" she cried. Donna came over to glance over her daughter's
shoulder, and she looked over the article. Granite City Museum was opening
an exhibit of artifacts of the old, nearly extinct Atapoh tribe that lived
many years ago in the area. The Native American Institute of Tulsa was loaning
material from its collections to allow the Museum to pay tribute to the original
inhabitants of Granite City. Donna skimmed the article and then asked, "Very
nice Becky, but why did you find it so..." "The picture, Mom, look at it!"
Becky broke in. and jabbed furiously with her finger at the paper. Donna's
eyes swung to the photo of a young woman, obviously of native amarican descent,
holding a colorful beaded indian buckskin jacket. Then it was Donna's turn
to react with surprise. She gasped. "Oh my! The design looks like Great-Grandma's
old shawl!" Becky had lept up and went to the front hall closet. She reached
up and pulled out a box, in which she found that old shawl that Great-Grandma
had left to Becky in her will. Without any details why, the will had specified
that it go to Becky, and then to Becky's first born daughter. This statement
had been taken with shock by the young lady. She had been only fifteen when
Great-Grandma Emily died. Donna's mother, who also was named Emily, could
offer no explanation for why her mother would have phased her bequest so
strangely.
Rebecca brought
the shawl into the kitchen, and although the photo in the paper was not too
sharp, it seemed the patterns were the same. The two women decided they would
visit the Museum to see if they could find out more about the resemblance.
That afternoon, they entered the Museum and walked back to the rotating exhibit
area, where the Atapoh material was on display. Looking around, they spotted
the case with the jacket as well as the young woman who had been in the photo
in the paper. While Donna looked over the display, Rebecca approached the
woman, who was looking over the exhibits one last time to see if everything
was set up properly. "Excuse me, could we ask you something about the jacket?"
Becky requested. The woman turned to respond, and introduced herself. "Oh,
hello. I am Dr. Katara Meoquanee. You are interested in it? It's one of the
best pieces we have here. A small jacket, it is said to have been the jacket
worn at tribal celebrations by an Apotah maiden, Nacotah. She was a priestess
who performed rituals to honor the Goddess Dasaina. She lived in this area
when the first settlers moved in, and she married one of the first men who
set up a trading post. He was one of the whites who treated the tribe fairly
and was a friend to all of them. Not like the ones that followed! Exactly
what did you want to..." The Doctor's word trailed off as she saw Donna pull
the shawl from her bag. "Oh my," she continued. "Most native american artifacts
were treated badly in the early 1800's. Priceless items were destroyed, which
is why we value the jacket so highly. But in the early-to-mid 1900's the
designs came into vogue and copies of the treasures were produced. You seem
to have something like that which probably... Wait. Could I have a closer
look at that?" She took a small magnifying glass from her purse and began
looking very closely at the item. "That's very weird. The stitching, the
thread, the beads are all unmistakenly mid-late 1800's Dakota. But the designs
are the symbols of the priestess of Dasaina. That doesn't make sense. The
goddess was never worshipped by the Dakota, only by the tribes along the
north-eastern United States. Would you mind if we went back to the laboratory
to allow me to take a closer look at it?"
As they walked
through the corridors back to the workroom, Dr. Meoquanee asked them about
the shawl. They told her it had been handed down, daughter to daughter, over
many generations. She nodded at this. "That's interesting. The priestess-hood
of Dasaina also was matriarcal. Passed down daughter to daughter." The Doctor
moved to a table and laid the shawl out flat and took out a powerful examination
unit that combined a large ground glass surrounded by a round flourescent
light. "I was right," she said. "... Dakotah made this, and they must have
known something about the goddess Dasaina to apply the proper symbols. They
must have... Wait. This is in pretty good shape, but there is a little wear
along the edge. Down here by the hem." As Katara ran her finger along the
shawl, she paused. "It's almost like there is something in the hem here,
to reinforce it or..." She gasped and reached across the table for a tweezers.
She went to a spot on the hem where it was worn the most, and pushed the
tweezers into the gap worn into the fabric where it was folded over. She
probed, and caught ahold of... something. She tugged gently, and a small
silver bead slid out. She was visibly shaken as she sat down at the table
and proceeded to work further on the shawl. She lightly pulled at the bead,
and then a chain of beads and small torquoise, agate and quartz stones slid
out. The Doctor's hands shook as she picked up the delicate necklace and
held it up to the light. Her voice also shook as she spoke. "I... I've read
about this. It was described in several old texts and colonial letters. It's
the actual necklace of Dasaina that was worn by the priestess in the annual
ceremony of worship for the goddess. This artifact is the most culturally
valuble item in the history of the Atapoh. It was thought lost many years
ago." A man walked over to the table from another part of the room and looked
at what had been found. He was a red-skinned, tall man in a deerskin jacket
and he sneered at the women. "One more piece of our culture stolen by the
white men and kept as a bauble in some drawer. Or as a trinket for some European
woman to flaunt for her pleasure." The man glared with distaste at Rebecca.
Katara Meoquanee glanced up and remarked. "Oh. Professor Liwok Sewati. These
are Donna and Rebecca Hooper, who were kind enough to bring this item to
my attention." He snorted. "They didn't even know what they had. Now they'll
probably put it on eBay for some German collector to buy up." Becky turned
to the man. "Sir, that has been passed down for many generations in my family
and we would never sell it!" He snorted and walked away. Dr. Meoquanee spoke
to the other two ladies. "I must apologize for his attitude. He takes personally
everything that was ever done to the tribes and blames all whites for everything,
even if they came from Europe last week. Ahh... can I take some photographs
of this? I want to document it before you decide what to do with it." Becky
glaced into her mother's eyes, then spoke. "Well, legally it was left to
me by my great-grandmother, so it's mine. And I would like you to include
it in your exhibit about the Atopah. You can mark it as on loan by the Hooper
family." The indian woman gasped at this and wrapped her arms around Becky.
"Oh, thank you. Call me Katara. We researchers of the native american past
are always so happy to find something that had been thought lost over the
years. Representatives of all the tribes will travel to see this fantastic
artifact, and the handful of people who still trace their lineage back to
the Atopah people will be very grateful for a chance to see it. It
will be like a Christian having
a chance to see the Holy Grail."
Part
Six
Becky and
her parents were invited to be guests of honor when the Atopah exhibit was
to be re-dedicated to include the necklace. The event was scheduled for a
date a few days away in order to allow several native americans of note to
attend. Becky spent those days online. With the help of Arnie, her boyfriend,
she had done genealogical research to try to trace back her ancestry. She
found, on her Mom's side she could go back to a Evelynn Cabot, who married
a Thomas Grant in 1889 out in South Dakota. A book about the history of the
region said she was raised by the Dakota after being orphaned while traveling
west with her family, who came from the north-east. Rebecca thought that
she would have to pass this information on to Katara as it might give a clue
about the mystery. This Lynn Cabot might be the one who made the shawl and
hid the necklace in it. And she might have come from the Apotah lands! That
would mean... Becky and Donna might be part indian! With what she had learned
in the past few days about the tribes from Katara and from her own reading,
she would be really proud to have a little of that in her heritage. Only,
now she kept thinking back to all those cowboys-and-injuns movies she watched
and felt a little ashamed for the side she rooted for.
The night
before the big event at the museum, Rebecca was too hyper to sleep and decided
to make a run around the city as Glory Girl. Excited as she was, she could
not help but swing over to the part of town where the museum was located.
She rode her bike past the building, thinking about the event coming up.
She slammed the brakes on and skidded to a halt as she heard the unmistakable
sound of a woman's scream come out of the museum! She went to the back entrance,
but it was locked. She pulled out her picks and opened the door. She thought
that the alarm system would kick in and bring the police roaring up. That
would probably be a good idea if there was something going on here. But as
she opened the door, she heard nothing. The alarms had been silenced! She
moved through the darkened rooms and corridors of the museum (a very scary
experience!) and again heard a scream. She headed toward the side of the
museum from which the sound had come, and entered a large room that held
a mixture of displays devoted to varied indian cultures. In the center was
a large stone disc, labeled a copy of a sacrificial platform used by the
Aztecs. Tied down on the stone was the naked figure of Katara Meoquanee!
The young woman's eyes were closed and she was sobbing. She looked like she
had been raped, and Rebecca ran over to her and reached down to loosen her
bindings. "Dr. Meoquanee, who did this to you?" The indian woman opened her
eyes and sobbed. "Oh... help me, please, before he comes back... Look out!"
The prisoner's eyes had been staring into Glory Girl's, but they shifted
to spot something to her right. Rebecca tried to turn to see what it was,
but an arm holding an aztec war club swung down and the weapon smacked into
her skull.
Glory Girl
didn't know how long she was out, but she realized at once that she was in
great danger. Now she was the one who was tied spread out on the stone disc,
naked and vulnerable. And she groaned as she realized he had taken her mask
off! To the side, she saw Katara laying on the floor. She was bound, gagged
and her eyes were wide with fear. A man approached her. It was Liwok Sewati,
the other artifacts expert. The man wore an eagle head formed of feathers
over his own, and sleeves of long feathers swept out from his arms. His tunic
and loincloth.were trimmed in mulricolored beaded designs. He looked at her
with disdain and spoke. "I see you have awakened. Good. You will be another
woman I will take on the altar of sacrifice. First I will rape you, pulling
the power from your body. But Meoquanee was not a virgin and neither are
you. That is a disappointment. Every woman who I take on this altar builds
my power, and if they are a virgin it will greatly multiply the energy I
receive. Each victim I sacrifice on the ceremonial stone will be a source
of energy to me twice. First when I rape her, and then when her blood flows
over the stone as she dies. It is proper that the first two victims are a
native american traitor who befriends and works with the whites and a descendant
of a white who stole this from the native people." He held up Dasaina's necklace,
and wrapped it around his wrist. "Everyone thinks this disc is a copy, but
it is the actual ceremonial stone I had smuggled up here to start my holy
war against the invaders. I will take their women to build my power and use
sex and sacrifice to destroy the rest of them. I have the help of
Huitzilopochtli, lost diety of the Aztecs, who will stand above me, drinking
the blood I offer him. Three billion colonials will be erased from this continent
as the true people regain it. I am a pipiltin, a noble of the Aztec world
who will become emperor of the new American nation that will rise from the
bloddy ashes of what I destroy." Becky strained against her bonds, trying
to pull loose. "You won't succeed!" Becky cried out at him. "American superheroes
willl battle you and overpower you."
The Aztec
warrior laughed at her. "Their power will just be more energy for me to take.
After you two have been sacrificed, my power will call the blonde-haired
woman called Supergirl to me. I will rape her and pull untold resources of
great power from her body. I have a sacrifial blade formed of the glowing
stone, kryptonite, that I had made. It will carve out her heart as her blood
is sacrificed to Huitzilopochtli. The heroines will be my source of power
to destroy the heroes. I have many native amarican artifacts which will give
me power. Soon I will learn the secret of Dasaina's necklace and that power
will be added to mine. With Huitzilopochtli I will
triumph!"
Becky's mind
reeled at the prospect of what Sewai said. Was there any chance that the
horrors could come to happen? Not just one city, but this warrior threatened
the entire North American continent! Millions... no, BILLIONS would die in
his holy war! Rebecca struggled and pulled as hard as she could against her
bindings. She had to get free so that she could at least try to do something
to stop this madman's plans. She felt the slightest bit of play in the bindings
on her left wrist, and she used all the energy she could muster to pull at
that area. Her left wrist felt like it was about to tear off, but she could
not get that hand loose. Sewati dropped his loincloth to the floor and stepped
up onto the disc. He laid down on top of Rebecca, his erect penis rubbing
against her lower lips. He reached down and put his cock into her and thrust
into her canal. She gasped at his swift, rough entry and screamed as he drove
himself deep into her. He pumped his cock back and forth, and Becky felt
an energy pusing through the stone she lay on. The energy grew in her body
and she arched her body as an orgasm surged through her. The man's cock plunged
deep into her and her cum poured into her. The warrior roared in triumph,
and in the air above the stone a tanslucent, mystical being came into sight.
The figure was dressed like Sewati, for the warrior's garb had been designed
to copy that of his diety. A spectral voice boomed out. "Warrior, I am pleased
at your activities. You offer me blood and souls and human sacrifice and
I shall give you the limitless power you need to deliver more to me. Let
the rivers of blood flow!" Becky shed tears for herself and for all the people
who would die on the altar of this monster who served a god of death. The
warrior straightened up while still over his victim, pulled a black obsidian
blade from a sheath strapped to his arm and knelt over her, blade held high.
"The rape of this heroine provided the power to let you come to me,
Huitzilopochtli. Let her death mark the start of the holy war to destroy
all our enemies!" As he began to swing the blade down, Becky strained even
harder, and while the bindings tore away at some of the skin, her left hand
pulled free! She swung it up and grabbed the wrist of Sewati's right hand,
stopping the blade that was going for her throat. Around that wrist, under
Becky's grasp, she felt the necklace and it seemed to pulse against her hand.
A prayer formed in her mind. "Goddess Dasaina, please help
me!"
A second
spectal figure emerged in the air above the figures struggling on the altar
disc. This was a glowing translucent figure of a beautiful nude woman, and
her face shown with rage. Wind swirled in the room, and ceremonial torches
mounted on the walls burst into flames. The entire building seemed to shake
and if Becky were not still securely tied at her ankles and right wrist,
she would have been thrown to the floor. "Aztec warrior, you go too far!"
The words boomed out, and Becky's ears hurt from the sound of it. The goddess
continued. "You bring your hand up to harm a Priestess of my people and you
would sacrifice her! THIS WILL NOT BE!!!" A green glowing shaft of energy
shot from the Goddess towards Sewati, and it struck his right hand. A bright
light burst there and Rebecca blinked her eyes to avoid being blinded. She
heard the obsidian blade shatter, and some of the fragments struck her face
and body. She opened her eyes and saw the warrior's right arm ended in a
skeletal hand -- the flesh had been burned away! She felt heat growing in
the wrist she still held, and pulled her fingers back. Her fingers caught
onto the necklace, and pulled it free of Sewati. As she lay on the stone
disc, the figure of Sewati, kneeling over her, spasmed and twitched as the
green fire coursed down his right arm to consume his entire body. Becky felt
her restraints vanish, and she scrambled out from under the ash and bones
of her attacker and rolled to the floor.
The Aztec
god who hovered in the air suddenly spoke. "Goddess! You have destroyed my
priest! This is an affront!" Dasaina turned, her face still burning with
anger. "Huitzilopochtli, restrain yourself. It is eons past the time when
gods battled gods, and you may think you have a chance against me. DO NOT
FORGET THAT THE POWER OF LOVE IS SO MUCH GREATER THAN THE POWER OF DEATH!"
Becky stared up at this confrontation, and was greatly priviledged. In all
eternity, few mortals before her had ever seen a god back down in fear.
Huitzilopochtli did so now, as he bowed his head in submission and slowly
faded away. The spectral figure of the goddess slowly floated down to the
ground and stood next to Becky. "Priestess Rebecca, your bravery and the
love you have in your heart makes me proud of you. I have been too long away
from the land of womankind. I set you a task." The hand of the goddess touched
Becky's forehead, and her mind reeled as images formed there. She saw an
indian maiden enter a small clearing and watched the ritual as it unfolded.
The movements of the priestess and her words were burned into Becky's memory.
"The task will be for your mother and for you. For your daughter and her
daughter. Once again I shall receive the prayers of followers. Do not take
this lightly. Do not expect me to come any time you beckon or to fight your
battles. You must live your life, even if you are my Priestess. I will see
you again. I will be pleased as I return to the firmament of the gods. Long
has Aphrodite sung the praises of the mortal woman who serves as her champion.
Now I too, will have champions on this world." Becky stood up and bowed,
and the form of her diety slowly faded away. Becky tried to accept in her
mind what she had just heard. The champion of Aphrodite? Oh, wow, That had
to refer to Wonder Woman. Which meant she was going to be the champion of
a Goddess, just like her favorite heroine. Her legs gave out and she sat
down on the edge of the stone disc as this sank in.
Awesome!
A muffled
murmur came from the bound and gagged figure on the floor. Becky started,
as she had so much flooding over her mind that she'd forgotten that Dr. Meoquanee
lay there. She went over and untied her and helped her up. The woman gazed
wide-eyed at Becky and at the charred remains of her attacker on the stone
disc. Katara's voice came out, but could not manage to say much. "You...
You... the Goddess.. and the god Huitzilopochtli... here in this very room...
oh my God... er, Goddess.. Good heavens!" Rebecca put her arm around Katara's
shoulders as the woman fainted.
The next
day, Rebecca came to the museum and met Dr. Meoquanee in the workroom. Becky
spoke "I wanted the necklace in the exhibit, but after I got home last night,
when I took a shower I found it won't come off my neck." The historian had
a puzzled look, as she did not see the necklace. Then Becky brought her hand
to her throat. Suddenly the faint outline of the item began to appear followed
by its appearance on Becky's throat. The doctor asked, "You mean it is an
invisible part of your neck?." The blonde heroine spoke further. "Yes, I
can feel it there but it is unseen unless I think about it being visible.
This morning, my mother woke to find a duplicate of the necklace on her throat,
also invisible and un-removeable. It makes sense. She preceeded me a generation
as the oldest daughter in the line, so she too is a priestess of Dasaina.
By the way, you know that Rebecca Hopper is the secret identity of Glory
Girl. Can I ask you to keep this secret?" The woman looked up into Becky's
eyes and smiled. "After what happened last night... being in the presence
of Dasaina and seeing her power, I have to offer to be one of the first of
her new followers. She saved my life. You saved my life. I would gladly do
anything for the Goddess... or for her Priestess. In the exhibit I will have
to be satisfied with photos of the necklace. I may send a set of photos to
a Zuni silversmith I know out in New Mexico. He can make a copy for the museum.
" Becky was pleased at Katara's response. "You realise, my friend, that my
Mother and I will, on October 17th, be performing the ritual of homage to
Dasaina. You are welcome to attend. " Dr. Meoquanee dropped to a knee on
the floor and knelt at Rebecca's feet. "It will be my priviledge to be there,
Priestess." Becky looked down at the woman paying homage to her, the Priestess
of the Goddess Dasaina. Wow, she thought. This was going to take some getting
used to!
Author's
Notes:
Most of
this story just popped into my head and flowed out of my mind, writing itself.
I have a deep love of fictional characters who build huge histories for
themselves. I love taking Glory Girl and suddenly building her story to where
she is not just a heroine, but the culmination of generations of heroines.
Her powers, and the powers of her mother, are not just happen-stance accidents,
but the gifts of a powerful goddess. And I may expand those powers in future
stories. What will Dasaina do for her? You shall see. Becky idolized Wonder
Woman as she grew up. I'm shown you that. With this story she is becoming
a even bigger heroine with interesting parallels to the
Amazon.
What's
coming up? I'm not really sure. I just had her save the lives of nearly every
person on the continent of North America, and become the priestess of a goddess.
How do I top
that?
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