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 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 use without and 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: An Amazing
Origin
by Alias the
Rat
The young
auburn-haired woman slowly moved through the shadows of the warehouse district,
practically undetectable in her quest. When in a fully darkened area, she
was invisible, and even if someone had been staring at the circle of light
under the street light (and no one was - the area was deserted), they would
have only thought they'd seen a movement, like when people think they see
something out of the corner of their eyes. Clad in a black dress, dark gray
tights and thigh-length rubber-soled black boots, she wore a striped gray
mask over her face. She approached one door in the row of
delapidated rundown warehouses on this block and
saw the door was made to appear in worse shape than it really was. Not trying
to open the door, she moved close, seemed to become indistinct, and flowed
through the solid door. Inside the building she saw a circle of light where
an gray-haired man sat at a table, sheets of papers
spread before him. He was concentrating on the material and she slowly, silently
moved behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, she tried to make out what
was written on them. If only they would provide a clue as to
where...
The old man
jerked around and suddenly his hand went to her right wrist, snapping a bracelet
on it. He then took hold of her other arm and pulled her towards him. "Hah,
Shady Lady, I've got you now!" The lady in gray tried to pull back, and found
his grip was too strong. Her mind willed her body to become immaterial, but
she realized with horror her powers had been neutralized!
"Professor
Cargill, you fiend, what have you done to me..." cried The Shady Lady and
she struggled to escape. Lights went on to
illumanate the rest of the
building's interior. He cackled and pulled her to
another table where he forced her down and clamped manacles to her wrists
and ankles. He was a lot stronger than his elderly frame would
indicate.
"I have finally
trapped you, Shady Lady, after all the times you thwarted my schemes." He
reached over her and placed his hand on her breast. "Many times I've lusted
after you and every time I thought I had you, you have faded away like mist,
escaping my clutches. But not this time." He tore
at the front of her dress, revealing her black lace brassiere. His finger
went under the bra cup and she shuddered at his attack on her person. "This
is the day I finally have my way with you, as we listen to two explosions
over at Santa Maria Hospital."
Horrors followed
horrors in her mind as she realized what he had planned for her. Many villains
had tried to get their hands on her, and she had heard what happened in such
a case when she had talked it over with other super-heroines she knew. Her
power to fade away and escape any trap had kept her safe all this time and
all the terrors she had in her mind about this were overwhelming her. She
spat at Cargill, "You slime, how could you plan to blow up a place like Santa
Maria Hospital - for pete's sake, it's a children's
hospital!"
"Yes, it
is, so if they don't pay this time, well, they'll have the deaths of all
those kids on their minds when they decide if they'll pay me next
time."
The Shady
Lady had been one of many heroes and heroines who had been alerted just hours
before when Professor Cargill's voice had come over the radio all over the
city. "Children will die unless I am paid $100,000. A bomb will kill many
if you don't pay..." The Mayor had stated that the city would not give in
to threats. The police joined in the search, but there were so many schools,
orphanages and child care centers where the searches were going on. Manpower
was stretched so thin, and the bombs were probably very well hidden. Would
they even think of the hospital? She strained, but could not get free. The
bracelet on her wrist pulsed, and her head throbbed in rhythm with it. She
had decided to go after the criminal instead of looking for the bomb. She
had battled him many times before and knew more about his methods than anyone.
Only her ability had allowed her to find him in time, and now she'd fallen
into his trap. He must have deliberately left her clues to draw her in, and
she had been so concerned about the threat, it had blinded her to her peril
until it was too late. Professor Cargill leaned over her, and while one hand
massaged a breast, the other went under her dress, fingers invading her most
private of places! She screamed. He bent close to her face and said, "Go
ahead and scream, I could gag you but I want to hear you whimper and beg
me for mercy later!"
Suddenly
the door smashed open as a human figure clad in red, white and blue burst
through it. He landed in the warehouse and with his eyes glaring with rage,
stated, "Cargill, get your hands off her while you still have a chance to
do so. OR ELSE!"
The villain
pulled a revolver from his belt and fired away at the new intruder. Clad
in a fabric that absorbed the energy of and repulsed anything sent at it,
Mister Patriot ignored the bullets. He lept to
the Professor, slapped the gun away (before the criminal could think to menace
Shady Lady with the weapon) and picked up him by the shirt collar, and shouted,
"Where is the bomb!"
"Patriot,"
the Dark Damsel called out, "Get me free, I know where they are!" The tri-color
hero, while still holding the Professor off the floor with one hand, moved
next to her and used his other hand to snap the chains away. She swung her
legs off the table and tried to stand. It was
difficult, the energy from the bracelet was ruining
her concentration and giving her one heck of a headache. Patriot looked at
the condition of her outfit and swung the Professor through the air to a
hard landing on the table where she had been. "What did you do to her, you...
you..." She put her left hand on Mister Patriot's
shoulder and spoke to him. "Patriot, don't go crazy on me. Can you get this
gizmo," she held up her right wrist, "...off me?" The bracelet was, to Mister
Patriot, as fragile as the chains were, and it was soon in pieces on the
floor. Shady Lady's mind cleared immediately, and she moved to a phone that
was on the other table. She lifted the receiver and was relieved to hear
a tone. She dialed a number.
"Police
headquarters? Give me the Commissioner, this is The Shady Lady." She paused
while she was transfered, and with her free hand
unsuccessfully tried to repair the desheviled front
of her dress. After a minute, the police official came on the line. "Sir,
I am here at Professor Cargill's hideout..." she gave the address, "...where,
with the help of Mister Patriot, the madman has been caught. The bombs...
yes, he admitted there is more than one... are at
Santa Maria Hospital." She waited while the Commissioner passed this information
on to people on his end of the phone. While waiting on the open line, Shady
Lady worried that her action may not have been in time. The hospital was
not far away, and the Professor had boasted that they would have heard the
explosions. Did this mean they were in time? She'd heard no explosions yet.
The Commissioner came back on the line. "Great work, you
two. Batman and Mister Terrific were here at headquarters waiting
for word of where the bomb was. Soon as your information got to me, Flash
and Johnny Quick sped them to the hospital, and they were successful in disarming
the two bombs that were found in the basement. The danger has
passed."
The Damsel
of Shadows gave a sigh of relief, slumped into the chair at the table, and
passed word on what happened to her friend and her worst enemy. Cargill began
cursing and threatening the heroine and the hero
witth revenge and dire consequences. This stopped
as Mister Patriot wadded up some of the papers and stuffed them in the villain's
mouth. Sirens were heard as a pair of squad cards arrived to take the silenced
madman away.
After the
police took him away, Donna Gilbert peeled the gray mask off her face and
looked over at the red, white and blue hero. "We were lucky that time. If
you hadn't happened by when you did..." Patrick Hooper, the famous Mister
Patriot, interrupted her, "It wasn't an accident. At the emergency meeting
at headquarters to decide where everybody was to go and search for the bombs,
I noticed you were not thinking about that course of action, and I knew you
must be planning something on your own. I figured with your history against
this fiend, if anybody could find him, it would be you. So I thought to follow
you and back you up if you ran into trouble. It wasn't easy. With your shadow
powers I really had to concentrate to keep up with you. I was in this
neighborhood when you vanished from sight. I didn't know where you went until
I heard your scream. After that, it was a matter of getting you out of your
fix and successfully saving the day."
Donna smiled
at him. "I'm very glad you did! We saved those kids and you saved me from...
a fate worse than death, I guess they call it." She smiled as she saw the
hero blush. He stammered, "Gee, I really... well, I... sort of care about
you and wouldn't want..." She got next to him and put her arms up to hug
him. She kissed him and said, "You never let me know about that. I always
thought you were a really nice guy." His blush deepened.
"Really? Wow. Can I, aaah,
fly you someplace?" She nodded, "That would be really nice,
Pat."
SIX MONTHS
LATER...
Sitting on
her couch, Donna heard a faint sound on her fire escape, and turned to see
Pat entering her window. He smiled at her and said, "Hi darling, did you
decide where you want to go for dinner tonight? I thought we could go see
that new Jimmy Cagney movie. All the reviews make it sound like a real
blockbuster."
He saw the
serious look on her face and wondered what had worried her. "Pat..." she
said, slowly. "I... I'm late..."
"An
emergency?
Get your outfit on and I can fly you there in an instant and
we... Oh... you're...
late? Does that mean what I think
it does?"
"Yes. I went
to the doctor today and he did the test. I'm pregnant."
Pat put
an hand on her shoulder. "Donna, you remember how
long it took me to get up the nerve to tell you I was crazy about you? If
the Professor hadn't put you in such a fix I never would have had the gumption
to say anything. I guess I always need a crisis to push me into action."
He reached in his pocket for something and pulled out a gold ring with a
small diamond. "I've carried this for three weeks. I didn't know what words
to use. I was scared you'd say no."
Donna jumped
up and wrapped her arms around the hero. "Oh, Pat, I was hoping you'd say
something to make me stop feeling so wrong about this. I didn't want you
to say you were just marrying me because I got pregnant. You are so sweet!"
She kissed him. "Lets go
italian for supper. And
then instead of Cagney, I want to see the new Bette Davis film. She's amazing."
She paused a minute as she held Pat tightly. "Oh... one
other thing. As I was leaving the doctor's office, I ran into
Carlito Consuelo... you know, the Mystic Maid...
and she looked me in the eye and said, 'It's going to be a girl, and an amazing
woman.' I was still a little stunned by the news from the doctor and her
little prophecy really threw me. If it really is a girl, do you think she'll
follow in my footsteps?"
NINETEEN
YEARS LATER...
Chico "Copy-Cat"
Castovel swaggered down the street. He had money
in his pocket and was going to be meeting his dealer around the corner in
the alley where he would score some dynamite shit. Then he would get so fucking
high nothing would bother him. He went into the alley and stopped suddenly,
looking up and staring with his mouth open. Up a few stories on a fire escape,
looking down at him was the most amazing looking babe he had ever seen. The
tall blonde had white calf-length boots, a short blue skirt, a red blouse
and a white belt with a patriotic red-white and blue shield shaped buckle.
The top half of her face was covered by a striped red, white and blue mask.
And her body... fantastic tits and legs that just wouldn't
quit!
Up on the
fire escape, Becky Hooper was glad that Castovel
had spotted her. She saw he was surprised that she had tracked him down.
He was impressed at her... Oh shit, he was looking up her skirt! She raised
one leg over the railing (Chico let out a low whistle...) and jumped over
the edge of the fire escape, dropping to the alley. She landed gently, because
while she could not fly like her dad, she did have amazing power in her legs
that allowed her to leap a distance far beyond what a normal person could
do. As she hit the pavement, she tumbled forward and went towards the punk,
putting her feet right into his chest. He flew backwards into a pile of filled
trash bags, stunned. She grabbed his jacket, pulled him up, spun him around
and pinned one of his arms behind his back while she locked her other arm
around his neck. Trapped like this, Chico could offer no resistance as she
marched him back out to the street. A police car was passing nearby and screeched
to a halt as the officers saw the commotion.
"Here you
go, guys. You'll recognize this guy from the news
reports. He's been knocking over 7-11's for a week." The cops grabbed, cuffed
and forced the fellow into the back of the patrol car and one of them reached
out to shake Rebecca's hand. "Well, young lady, I must say you did Granite
City a big service in helping get this piece of trash off the streets." The
policeman got back into the car, and waved to the smiling super-heroine as
they pulled away. "Thanks again, Wonder
Girl."
The smile
vanished from Becky's face and she groaned. Softly, she murmured, "Oh, come
on... it's Glory Girl." She'd been working at this for nearly a year and
still most people in the city didn't even know who she was. Man, Wonder Girl
wasn't even a blonde. How could he make that mistake!
Becky darted
away, back into the alley where she quickly slipped on a longer, red skirt,
a black
jacket and a pair of glasses that replaced her mask. She re-entered
the street and moved along, no longer Glory Girl, but just plain Rebecca
Hooper. She walked along, feeling bad that her big capture probably wouldn't
even get credited to her. She wasn't trying to do this for any reward. (She
thought of the first felon she captured and turned in... the desk sergeant
had asked her if she wanted the reward. Oh no, she was a super-heroine doing
it for the good of the city. He had thanked her. As he
stared at her chest.) But a little fame would be nice. She stopped
at a newstand on the corner. The Chronicle had
a big front page picture of Wonder Woman. Above the
fold. Sigh. The famous just get more famous. And the insignificant
get called... Wonder Girl. She looked among the magazines. There was a copy
of Amazing Super-Heroines Monthly. She flipped through it.
Supergirl and She-Hulk got the cover, of course.
Inside were pages of pictures, posed and candid, showing costumed ladies
in action and in trouble. There was a nice full page shot of Bat Girl inside.
She'd have to mention to Babs that she looked great.
Babs wouldn't care. She was already famous. And
near the back she saw it. A snapshot of her, just in black and white, taking
up a quarter page, and with the caption, "Glorious
Gal, a minor heroine who battles crime in Granite City." Becky's shoulders
slumped and she fought back a tear. She was startled as the news agent growled
at her, "Hey lady! You gonna buy
dat or just stand there pawing it!"
She moved
along, even more depressed about her life. She had a class this afternoon
at the Community College downtown, but felt like blowing it off, just going
home and curling up in her bed. But Mom would sense something was wrong and
try to get it out of her. So she kept walking.
"Hey
Bec, how you doin',
girl?"
The black woman in a red leather skirt and halter top came up to her and
gave her a hug. "I ain't seen you all week,
You been staying in the good part of town
wit all da snobs?" Becky
was glad to see Leona, and replied. "No, just been busy, Lee. You been staying
out of trouble? Your man been treating you
right?"
"Yah, he
ain't been too drunk or too horny, so
I been getting a little work done out here. Did
you hear the latest? They caught that slimeball,
Chico. He's a nasty bastard. Whenever he got high he felt like busting up
some ho's chops. Be glad to see him put away. I hear it was GG that put the
crunch on him."
"Glory
Girl?"
Rebecca perked up on hearing this. "Was she the one
who..."
"Oh yeah,
I hear she dragged him out to the street and threw him into the back seat
of a cop car. Damn fine lady, that GG. Did you know I saw her
once?
Really. She has got some sweet ass moves.
And is she put together. Most guys would fall over staring at the rack she
has. But I really admired the pipes she moves around on. From her crotch
to her toes, those are the finest pair of legs I have ever seen, and I am
comparing her to the best ho's I have ever been wit. If GG went into my business,
she could pull down the big bucks on the fine side of town. I know a guy
who would pay a fortune to see her in just those white boots. Wouldn't mind
that myself..."
Becky had
cheered up a little at word of some appreciation of Glory Girl's efforts.
She had known Leona for over a year. It had started with research for a thesis
in the social studies program. She had been studying and talking to the
prostitutes of Granite City and developed a friendship with many of them.
The paper had been finished and submitted for her course long ago, but she
kept contact with the women on the street and found them a great source of
information on what was happening around town and where people were hiding.
They shared information with Rebecca that they never would have given up
to the vice cops and told her who was the worst type of people that she should
avoid. It was these tips that helped her often track down the criminals she
captured and turned over to the authorities.
"You got
dat book wrote yet, girl?" Leona chatted on, doing
wonders for Rebecca's mood. "I ain't much for books,
but I think you could do mighty fine if you..." "No, No, Lee, it's not a
book, just a paper for my social studies course." Beck interrupted.
" My teacher's the only one who will read it." Leona
shook her head. "Dat's a damn shame, because you
put in some of those kick-ass stories we been telling you and you would have
a book dat all the high and mighty would
wanna read. They always
looking to peek under the covers. You'd be rich, girl. Probably get
seen on Oprah. She's always got writin' folks on
her show. Hey, you get on Oprah, you take me along.
Tell'em I was your
inspirin', right?"
Becky laughed
and promised she'd do that. She wondered what Oprah would talk about with
Leona. That would be a show to see. As she was out of her funk, she grabbed
a bus to the Community College and did attend her social studies and economics
classes. Which was good. She'd already ditched too
many classes already this year and her work on the courses was not good enough
to get away with too much.
That evening
at dinner she hinted about the capture of Chico, hoping her folks may have
heard about it. But it had been mentioned on the news without any follow-up
about the identity of the person who captured the man. Only an "unidentified
person" was credited with handing him over to the police. It hadn't sounded
right coming out and telling them she was the one who had performed the task,
and although they told her they were proud of her for the capture, she wondered
if they just giving her the normal parents' "That's a good girl" line. She
wished the media had reported her feat and she could have come home to see
the pride in their faces. Her father beat around the bush, finally asking
her if she was spending too much time in the "wrong part" of town. It was
so silly. They said they were happy she wanted to be a super-heroine, but
they still had an edge of treating her like their little girl. On her earliest
patrols she had to go ballistic to make Dad stop following her around. Mom
was a little more understanding, but she kept trying to change Becky's costume.
"Oh, Becky," she said, "Black Canary has that nice jacket, why don't you
wear something like that..." Or one evening
she
invited Blonde Phantom over for dinner (even though Mom hadn't
seen her in years) and pointed out to her daughter, "Doesn't she look amazing!
So elegant
and classy!" Gee whiz, Mom, how are you supposed to battle
evil in a full length gown? Beck had talked it over with
Babara Gordon when they got together for a lunch
out later and they had both laughed over how that would have worked. Bat
Girl had said, "Can you see either of us running down the street after a
perp in that?" She and
Babs often got together to chat.
Babs had picked up on Rebecca's moods and told
her, "You keep at it. Soon people will know who you are and your parents
will be bursting with pride in their super-heroine offspring.
Really!" She kept up her hopes that her friend was
right.
The next
evening, Rebecca met with Leona and several other ladies who were in the
same line of work for a meal at a diner, She asked about their lives, what
they did and what they wanted to do. Their loves and their
fears. They were open with her because she never let them think she
was looking down on them, which was what so many researchers who looked into
the lives of the hookers seemed to do. She listened to them and was their
friend. Carla told her about a guy who was seeing her
alot, now that he had so much cash. He worked at
the auto graveyard on Raven Road and was really busy for the past few weeks.
Becky recalled that the police were concerned about a rash of auto thefts
recently and were looking for the place the stolen cars were being chopped
up for parts. Glory Girl would have to check that place
out, it seemed to be an excellent lead for
her.
After dinner,
she got on her motorbike and rode down to the area. She stashed the bike
in a spot a block away and slowly approached the auto yard. It was still
lit up on one end of the place and men were working hard on tearing cars
apart. New cars. Sports cars.
She went around to the darker part of the yard and carefully
lept high over the razor wire that topped the fence.
She landed, waited to see if she'd been seen, and started moving towards
the office structure in the center of the yard. Turning over to the police
the location of the chop shop would be something.
but if she could look around and give them a lead
on who was behind the operation, that would
definately get her name in the papers! As she worked
her way to the building, she froze as she heard a pair of the workers coming
her way. She ducked behind a rusting old Chevy and heard the two talking
about something... "...the boss has to get us more guys in here. They are
swiping the cars faster than we can pull'em apart."
A second voice responded, "You wanna tell him that?
He'll be here soon and won't want to hear you complaining about the operation.
We're paid for muscle, not brains."
Glory Girl
knew she now had to hang around long enough to find out who the head of the
gang was. Especially now that she knew he was on the way. She strained to
hear anything else from the pair and heard them move back towards the busy
area. She eased around the rusty hulk and moved to the office structure.
It seemed deserted and without any lights. She tried the door and found it
was locked. She bent down and pulled from her belt a few
lockpicks that Babs had
taught he how to use. Mom could fade through a door,
Dad would bash it in. It was a little harder for her, but she'd been practicing.
Crouched at the door, concentrating on the lock, she hadn't heard the man
come up behind her and he clipped her on the back of the head with the tire
iron he was holding. She dropped like a rock and fought to stay conscious.
The man who had decked her grabbed her hair and pulled her head back sharply.
He yelled, "I caught somebody in here
-- a
broad!" She kicked back at him, getting him in the stomach. He let go and
she tried to get up and run. But her head hurt so much that she staggered
instead of moving cleanly.
A couple
of other thugs grabbed her and a third put a fist into her jaw. Her world
faded to black.
She woke,
not sure how long she'd been out. She was flat on her back on a desk in the
office, her legs bent over the edge and tied down.
Her arms were pulled back over her head and they were also tied very tightly
so that she could not move except to turn her head from side to side. She
saw a couple of
thugs were standing there staring at her. They didn't say anything
for awhile, but one noticed she'd opened her eyes. He suddenly called out.
"Hey, she's awake." A big man came into the office from out in the yard,
and stood over her. He had a sneer on his face and judging by the way he
was dressed, this must be the guy who ran the operation. He suddenly put
his hand on her throat and pushed her head down against the table, hard.
"I am really glad you came, girl. I was wondering how I was going to be able
to hunt you down. I got a bone to pick with you. You're
gonna pay for what you did." The expression on
Becky's face showed how confused this little speech had made her. Who was
this guy? She'd never seen him before in her life.
He saw this
and bent down, his face close to hers. "My name is Hector
Castovel. That was my little brother you put in
the joint." While his hand still pushed down on her neck, his other hand
smashed across her face, slapping her twice -- three times -- hard. "I could
put a bullet in your brain right now. But that would be too quick. Chico's
gonna be penned up for a long time and you are
gonna go through hell right here for that." He
slapped her once more, then released her throat.
He grabbed the front of her blouse and pulled, tearing the front of it away,
revealing her breasts. There were several other men in the room and they
began to chuckle and murmur lewd comments about her. Hector grabbed her breasts
and cruelly squeezed them as hard as possible. She screamed at the
excrutiating pain. Hector released them, and waved
to one of his men who brought over some small clamps. Hector and the goon
pulled her nipples out and clipped the clamps on her nipples. The pain was
horrible. She screamed again. Hector signaled again, and while the crime
boss tore away the remnants of her blouse, another goon came over and stuffed
a dirty, smelly shop rag into her mouth. She gagged on the gasoline fumes
she smelled on it, but they tied another cloth
-- a
strip torn off her blouse -- around her head to keep the rag in her mouth.
She felt like throwing up, but fought it because she knew she would choke
of her own bile if she did.
Hector ran
the fingers on one hand along her right breast, the nails digging into the
tender flesh, leaving long red scratches. He continued over her shoulder
and down her arm, his nails acting like claws along her skin. Going around
the desk, he repeated his action on her left side. Becky shuddered as the
sensations wracked her body. Tears began to flow from her eyes, and she wondered
how bad this was going to be. Next, two of the men came and held her legs,
one at a time, as the ropes were taken off, her boots were pulled off, and
the legs were tied up again. A man came in from outside with a foot long
hunk of wood he had tore off an old pallet. Hector held up the board and
looked at it, them suddenly
swung it down and smashed it into the desk, inches from Glory Girl's head.
It splintered in half. Hector pulled a small bit of wood out of the splinters
and bent down to grab her right foot. Becky could not see, but she felt him
pulling at her toes, stretching them out. Suddenly the most terrible pain
shot through her as her forced a wooden splinter under her toenail into her
toe. Wriggling in pain, her eyes were shut tight, but the crime boss came
back up and put his hand on her forehead, his fingers prying her eyelids
up so he cook look into her eyes. She shuddered as she looked into the eyes
of evil itself. She began to wonder if she was going to survive this.
Or if this was how she was going to die. Hector
went down and grabbed her left foot. This time it hurt just as bad when he
pushed the splinter under the nail in the big toe on that foot, but she at
least had the chance to brace herself for what she knew was coming. Hector
came back to look again in her eyes and slapped he face once again. "Did
that hurt, bitch? Well, it's just the beginning for you."
He next grabbed
her belt and pulled it off. He took the bottom hem of her skirt and pulled,
ripping it apart an couple of inches. He paused,
then tore it another inch. Again he paused and tore a little further. Her
nerves grew tighter and tighter as he went along, until finally he reached
the waistband, where he jerked at the fabric and torn it apart, pulling the
garment out from under her body and slowly tearing it to shreds. From her
chin down, she now had only her her white panties
covering her. Hector's hand went to the thin cloth and began probing her
pussy through it. She could not resist as her hips twisted and wiggled, trying
vainly to move away from his invading digits. She felt herself grow warm
and moist in her loins. He gave a low, evil chuckle at her reaction. He suddenly
grabbed the panties and ripped them away. He held them up to his nose and
smiled. "They're wet, bitch. You getting excited?
They smell like sex... and fear!" She lay there, naked except for her mask
that covered the top half of her face. He went to her mouth and shoved the
torn panties under the cloth holding the gag, forcing them into her mouth,
which was already full of wadded cloth. They took a cushion from the couch
on the other side of the office and shoved it under her head, now she had
to look down between her breasts at her crotch and watch whatever he was
going to do.
His hands
went back to her clit and began to probe and pinch her. His fingers went
over her clitoral glans and her labia lips, alternating
poking with grabbing and pulling at the delicate flesh. She could not help
it as her body reacted to these invasions of her body. He stopped after a
period of time -- she couldn't be sure how long, it had seemed to last forever.
Then one of his men handed him a pair of pliers. Hector pinched the pliers
over one of her fine light pubic hairs and quickly jerked the hair from her
body. Again, she rocked with the sharp pain he caused. He did this a dozen
times, then tossed the pliers
aside.
He stood
up and she heard him his unzip his trousers, letting them slide to the floor.
She tensed up, as she sensed what would be coming next. Since she had woken
up tied to the desk, she knew this was coming. But that didn't make her fear
it any less. He walked around to the side of the desk next to her head and
held his dick in his hand letting her look at it. Suddenly she had a face
full of pee as the gang boss pissed right in her eyes. Some went up her nose
and she started coughing. He laughed loudly and went back to her
crotch.
Becky wasn't
a virgin. There had been only a couple of guys who she thought were right
for sex. The first had been in her senior year. She was head cheerleader
and he was Johnny, their star quarterback. Everybody said they were a perfect
pair. He talked her into having sex, and afterwards she found he was just
interested in her pussy and didn't care about the rest of her. She dumped
him and it was a while before she found someone else she felt right with.
But that had been consentual sex and she knew this
would not. It was going to be brutal and nasty and an attack, not a coupling
of two souls. She steeled herself and thought for a minute that she was glad
she was gagged. Hector's dick wasn't as big as Johnny's had been and she
would have been tempted to tell him that. Like she could
afford to piss him off more.
Hector climbed
on the table and put his erect penis along the opening of Rebecca's pubic
mound. She felt the pressure and tried to keep calm, but the sensation was
so un-nerving that she shuddered. He was pleased to see that, and quickly
plunged himself into her. She groaned, and he pumped his hips up and down,
working his dick in and out of her. As he raped her, he put his chest tight
on her breasts and painfully pushed the clamps down against her breasts.
Her loins burned with arousal and she could not help pulling her clit tighter
against the insertion, moving her body in rythym
with his. The sensation grew in her, but suddenly he pulled back out of her
and spurted his cum over her belly and breasts. He signaled to a thug who
moved to the desk and took the gag out of her mouth. Hector's hands rubbed
against her torso and came up covered in the sticky fluid. He put his hand
on her face and wiped it off. The other went into her mouth and he ordered
her to lick it off. She did. He twisted and slammed his dick back into her
again. This time he was rougher and pumped harder and deeper. When he ejaculated
this time he used his body to shove his penis deep into her first. He brought
himself up on his knees over her and moved up to her face. He placed his
dick at her mouth and told her to clean it off with her tongue. "No!" she
cried, but a thug pulled an automatic from his
waistbend, cocked it, and shoved the barrel into
her crotch. She opened her mouth and Hector put his penis deep down her throat.
She
nearly gagged on it and on the taste of it, but managed to
breathe through her nose. "Use your tongue, you stupid whore!" he shouted
at her, and he reached down and pinched together her nostrils. She fought
to breathe, and when her let go of her nose her tongue started to move around
and over the man's cock. She felt it grow stiff once again and it suddenly
spewed more of the sticky cum into her mouth. He kept in pushed deep into
her throat, and she struggled to swallow the discharge before it chocked
her.
Hector got
up and jumped down from the table, laughing. "She wasn't a virgin, guys,
but still pretty tight on both ends. Try for
yourself!" Then the thugs started
up. They took turns with her having first one dick in her openings, then
another. Some of them came inside her cunt or mouth,
others enjoyed pulling out at the last instant and spraying it over her face
or body. This went on for a hellishly long period.
Hector came
back to alongside the desk. "We missed a spot. She still might be a virgin.
Get her over." Glory Girl was physically and mentally exhausted by the assault
she'd received. She offered no resistance when the ropes were removed and
she was flipped over. She stood next to the desk, her legs were again pulled
apart and her ankles were tied down. They bent her forward at the waist and
pulled her arms across the desk, tying her wrists tight as she was pulled
across the desk top. She could not see, but she sensed the gang leader come
up behind her then jerked when she felt him use his hands to spread her butt
cheeks. He rammed his dick into her once more, entering her virgin asshole.
With little lubrication on his member, the invasion was horribly painful
and she screamed in pain. After he had done her in her last opening, Hector
put his pants back on and yelled at the men. "Alright, enough of this shit.
You all had the best damn bonus any boss ever gave you! Now get out there
and get back to work. We got a shitload of cars to tear down." He turned
to one man. "Vic, stay here and keep an eye on the bitch. When I get done
here, I want her loaded in the trunk of my car. She's going home with me
and then there are people who'll pay good money for her once we hose off
the crud."
And she was
alone with Vic. He walked over to her ass and started to massage it. She
had heard what Hector said and knew she didn't have much time to try to get
out of this mess. "Vic, you want to fuck me. I'll do it with you, but I'll
join in and make it better." Becky turned her face towards him and looked
him in the eye. "But not in the ass, please. I'm too sore there. If you turn
me over, I could fuck you even better and then give you a great blow job.
Just you and me..." He looked at her, then at the door. "Shit, the boss won't
be back too soon. Why not. But don't try anything
funny!" Vic pulled out a pistol and aimed it at her. Her kept the gun pressed
against her butt as he untied her ankles, then put
it against her temple while he untied her hands. He kept it there while she
turned around and sat back on the desk and lowered herself on her back. "Come
on, Vic, I'm still really horny. My pussy needs you." Vic grinned and climbed
up on top of her. "Gee Vic, you already had me like
that. How about this time I get on top. You lay
on the desk and I can realy move as you pump your
cock into me." She gave him a sexy smile, and he replied, "Oh, yeah!" He
slid around her and she bent over him and put her cunt by his erect dick.
She leaned down and planted her lips on his and gave him a deep wet kiss
that he returned with gusto. She lay on him and put her hands on the sides
of his head. She raised her head and looked into his eyes. "Here we go, Vic."
Her hands grabbed his ears and pulled his head up, then crashed it down on
the desk. She did it again, and the thug was out like a light. She climbed
off him and gasped for breath. She reached at Vic to pull off his shirt so
she would have something to wear, but she heard the knob on the door move
and realized someone was back. Wasting not a second, she dashed across the
room and dove at a window.The glass shattered as
she went through the same time as Hector came in the door. She cut her shoulders
going through the glass and she heard him vent a long string of curses. She
hit the ground hard and rolled over, getting up and
immeadiately going full speed towards the other
end of the auto yard. She would step on pieces of metal and her feet began
to bleed, but she kept running. She heard the men being called to pursue
her and she had to get out. She saw the fence in the back of the yard and
sensed her legs were sore and tired. Could she make it over the fence, with
its topping of razor wire. She thought that was
less of a danger to her than those pursuing her and coiled her legs and
lept up. She flew over the top of the barrier with
an inch to spare, and crashed to the sidewalk outside. She wanted so much
to lay there and suffer in peace, but she heard them searching for her and
heard cars on the other side of the block roar out of the auto yard to look
for her. She got up and ran down the darkest street she saw, going over fences
and through yards until she heard nothing more of anyone after her. In one
yard a grimy old blanket was tossed over a wash line. She took it and wrapped
it around herself. She found an all-night gas
station-convienience store on a corner and asked
to make a call. The man behind the counter was reading a tabloid gossip sheet
and said, "Lady, there's a pay phone out there why don't
you..." he glanced up at her and gasped, "Holy shit, what happened
to you?" he picked up the phone and put it on the counter for her. She knew
she felt terrible. She now guessed by the look on his face that she must
look even worse.
She called
home. She hoped Mom would answer, but it was Dad. "Dad, I... I need a ride...
could you come down here and pick me up?" Pat replied, "Sure,
Punkin. The bike conk out on you?" "No...
and... could you bring
me some clothes..." The words were so hard to choke out of her mouth. And
the phone was silent for a few seconds before she heard her Dad's reply.
"Ohh, Punkin... Hang
on, I'll be right there" She sat down on a case of beer in the corner and
waited while the clerk stared at her. Her house was at least twenty minutes
away, but his car screeched into the station just ten minutes after she hung
up. He had a bag with
underwear,
jeans and a top for her. She went into the grimy rest room
to dress and looked over at the filth-encrusted mirror and saw how bad she
looked. She was black and blue, bloody and dirt encrusted everywhere she
looked. The tears ran down her face as she went out. Pat put his arm around
her and walked her to the car and helped her in. He ran around and got in
on the driver's side and turned to look at her. "Becky, I need to know what
happened. Please." She thought she wasn't going to tell him, but when she
started, it all came out. She couldn't stop and everything just kept flowing
out of her like the tears she couldn't hold in. Her dad held her for a little
while until her body stopped shaking with the sobs and tears. Then he started
the car and they went home. As he drove he looked straight ahead and didn't
say a word. When they pulled in their driveway, he came around and walked
with her to the front door. Mom was waiting there and put her arms around
her. "Oh Becky, my poor baby... Pat... PAT!" Becky looked back and saw her
father had gotten back in the car and roared away. She thought about where
he might be going and feared what he might be planning to
do.
Hector yelled
at the men as they came back into the auto yard. "What do you mean you couldn't
find her? She's a six foot fuckin' blonde-haired
white woman! She should stick out like... like a
fuckin' white woman in this neighborhood. She may
be going for the cops right now. We wasted too much
fuckin' time looking for her. Fred - get the books
and all the cash out of the office safe. I want each of you to grab a car
that's still in one piece and get ready to take them to the other yard. Make
sure we don't leave anything that they can trace to us. I am out of here..."
But he turned to see a large man in a black
sweatshirt, jeans and a black ski-mask rip the front
gate off its hinges and throw it in the yard. The masked man walked in towards
the workers and snarled out, "WHICH ONE IS HECTOR!" The gang boss pulled
out his pistol and fired three times. "I'm Hector and you're dead." He turned
away. "Jeez, what the hell was with that son-of-bitch?" The other men still
stared. The bullets had bounced away from the intruder who continued towards
Hector. The men rushed him, but they ran into flailing arms and fell all
around him with broken arms, cracked ribs and concussions. Finally the man
in the ski mask reached Hector and grabbed him. Hector struggled, but the
attacker, with what seemed to be white hot rage, began to pummel the gang
boss mercilessly.
The next
morning Becky woke up and just managed to drag her body off the bed. Last
night she stood for ten minutes under the shower just letting the water run
over her, then Mom had bandaged and treated what she could. She went back
in the bathroom and let the water run over her again. At least she washed
a little of it away. The part on the outside. When
she went downstairs, her Mom stared at her as she sat down at the kitchen
table. "Do...do you want anything to eat, dear?" Donna asked her daughter.
"Yeah, I guess so." Becky looked over at her dad, who was poking his fork
at some eggs on a plate in front of him. He didn't look up at her. Her eye
caught the paper sitting on the table. The headline screamed, "AUTO THEFT
RING SMASHED!" She pulled it over and skimmed the article. An anonymous source
had called the police and revealed that the car theft ring plaguing Granite
City recently was operating out of an east-side auto salvage yard. The police
got to the yard to find a number of men beaten up and in no condition to
avoid capture. One suspect with a long record for grand theft and fencing
stolen goods, a Hector Castovel, was found severely
beaten and rushed to Grandmere Hospital where he
was in critical condition under police guard. The police suspect another
gang quarreled with this group and left them in this state before giving
a tip to the police. At the hospital, some of the injured men made a wild
claim that they were beat up by a single man clad in jeans and a black sweatshirt
who was bulletproof. Becky turned to look at her dad. He glanced up, but
quickly looked away. She recalled something about last night. When Dad had
held her she felt that under his sweatshirt he was wearing his uniform. She
looked back down at the paper. She didn't ask him about it. She already knew
the answer and wouldn't want him to have to say it out
loud.
Several
days had gone by while she waited for her body to recover from what they
had done to her. But she began to wonder if she was avoiding her patrols
because of her injuries or the fear in her mind. Rebecca finally forced herself
one night to go out on her patrol. She didn't want to keep sitting in her
room in the dark and mulling over what had happened the night at the auto
yard. She went along the waterfront for a little while,
then decided to head over to Argyle Street. She
parked her motor bike next to a small garage by an old factory building.
She walked up to the back door and went in. As she went down a corridor,
she kept thinking about how her father had looked at her when he met her
that night. She sobbed as tears ran down her face. Suddenly a net dropped
from the ceiling and wrapped around her body. She stood there, not even
resisting. A man in black jeans and an orange sweatshirt
who had a horribly scarred face came around the
turn in the corridor and cackled gleefully. "Now I have you super-heroine
and you will never escape my... my... Becky? What's the matter?" He reached
up and peeled a rubber mask off his face, showing a young man's face that
had been hidden under the latex. He pulled the net up and flipped it off
her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Come on, I'll get you some coffee
and you can tell me what has you in such a state." He walked her down the
hall into a living room and sat her on the couch. He took a comforter that
had been folded on the side of that couch and wrapped it around her shoulders.
She had stopped crying, but still occasionally sobbed. "Oh
Arnie, it's been terrible," cried Becky, "I'm no
super-heroine, I feel like a
nobody."
"Beck!"
he cried out, "How could you say that? You gotta
be a super-heroine. It's what your whole life set you up for. The same way
I'm stuck being a super-villain." Becky responded, "Hah, that's no way to
talk me out of it. You're the worst excuse for a super-villain in Granite
City. Last time you took candy from a baby you felt so guilty you bought
him a Game Boy,"
"You're
right." he admitted. "But my Dad will freak if he finds out I'm not trying
very hard at this. The only thing I ever did right was the first time I captured
you. The big rape I planned ended up with us talking the night away, finally
realizing we knew each other from high school and had so much in common...
then nature took its course." He handed her a cup of coffee (which he had
laced with a shot of brandy) and said, "why don't you try to settle down
and tell me what has you so un-nerved."
She
unloaded all her troubles on him, as she had so many times in the past. She
told him her frustrations after capturing Chico, the ordeal at the auto yard
(she saw he got cold and tense as he listened to that part) and what her
father had done.
He
looked at her for a few moments and finally spoke. "Becky, if you're a
short-order cook or a super-heroine, you are gonna
have ups and downs. That's life. Right now you are going through some really
nasty lows, and I guess I just want you to hang in there and not see you
give up before you have a chance to hit some of the high points. Some day
you're gonna be a big-time star and I want to be
there when you do to see that wonderful smile on your
face."
The
two of them walked into Arnie's bedroom and lay
on the bed. Arnie lay at Becky's back, his arms
wrapped around her and holding tight. His head pressed up against the back
of her head and several times she felt him lightly kiss her back there. After
they laid like this for awhile, she squirmed loose
and rolled over to face him. "I need you, Arnie."
She spoke softly, but with an obvious conviction in her voice. "I know you
don't know what to do with me after my ordeal, and I don't know if you still
want me. After what happened I need somebody in me who loves and cares and
will fill me with a sweet ecstacy that will wash
away the residue of what I feel inside me." So the two
of them made slow, passionate love for a long while that night. Becky
winced as there were some sore spots but as they finished she realized she
felt right again and they fell asleep with her smiling in
Arnie's arms.
A
couple nights later, Becky was roaring northbound on her bike on Chambers
Street looking for a pimp called "Big Nose" Kelso. One of his girls had said
he was in deep to a loan shark who was getting impatient. "Big Nose" had
told the girl that he meant to get the money with a little job at the jewelry
store on Chambers, so she had been keeping an eye on the place, hoping to
catch him in the act. As Becky came to a halt at a red traffic light, she
wondered if Kelso had been blowing smoke or if the loan shark had already
put him in a hospital. She glanced across the intersection and looked at
a fellow in a small white truck waiting opposite her at the light. Suddenly
he looked over at her and reacted oddly. His face showed surprise, he scrunched
down a little in the seat, and though he was in the left lane, he suddenly
pulled the truck to the right and made a turn. Luckily, this time of night
there were few cars in the area and he didn't hit anyone. She watched him
him go west a block, pull over to the side of the
street and turn off his lights. That kind of behavior was too suspicious
to pass up, so she decidd to keep on
on on this guy.
Becky's
bike had several modifications built in to it. She'd gotten a chance to ride
with Bat Girl on one of her patrols once, and had mentioned to
Babs that she wished she could afford something
like what the Gotham Damsel rode. Barbara told her about a secret hero subsidy
program run by the Wayne Foundation. Costumed
crimefighters could apply to the Foundation for
money to cover their equipment. She went to the office
Babs mentioned, and probably would not have gotten
the subsidy, but Bat Girl had given her a exceptional
recomendation. The Foundation covered the cost
of her bike and many expensive extras on it. Rebecca wondered if the Wayne
Foundation, since it was based in Gotham City, supplied some of Batman's
gear. That Batmobile she'd seen in the papers had
to cost a heck of a lot.
Rebecca
pulled into a spot where she could watch the truck and switched off the lights
on her bike. She pulled a set of complicated goggles out of the storage case
on the back and put them on. The light enhancer unit let her see the truck
like it was the middle of the day. After about twenty minutes, the lights
on the truck came back on and it made a u-turn, going back to Chambers Street.
Becky pulled her bike out and flipped the sound bafflers on. As she followed
the suspicious truck, she moved dark and quiet. This stealth mode was an
ideal way to follow a vehicle unseen, or to disappear if she thought she
was being followed.
The
white truck took a twisting route, stopped for a few minutes several times,
finally pulled up to an old building in the derelict manufacturing district.
This part of town once bustled with active factories, but the businesses
had gone under or had moved their work overseas, leaving a dead, scarred
area in Grantite City. Most of the buildings showed
for sale signs, but even these were tattered and
delapidated. Some of the buildings were used for
dirt cheap storage facilities, but at this time of night there was barely
any sign of traffic or people around. Babs had
taught Rebecca well on how to follow a vehicle without being spotted. The
stealth mode made in much easier, and she figured the man, who she saw get
out of the truck and enter the gray building, could not have had a clue that
he was being observed. Becky liked that. She wanted to be extra careful in
her work from now on, especially with the ordeal so fresh in her mind.
She
parked two blocks away, then moved slowly through
the darkness to the building she'd seen the fellow enter. As she moved up,
she wondered what was going on here. The way the truck had moved didn't seem
to indicate any load in it, or if it did have something in it, it wasn't
very heavy. She decided not to check out the truck, but to see what was going
on in the building. She wondered if smuggling, hijacked goods or some other
nefarious activity was being done here. She went to the back of the building
first. The truck had parked in front. She saw that was because the loading
dock had been boarded up. She crept up there and found one window where the
boards were far enough apart that she could see in. Behind the boards she
saw broken glass and inside, a darkened room that revealed another room,
further in, that was being used. She heard voices,
There were at least a half dozen men in there and
they were excited about something. She finally heard a snippet of talk that
grabbed her attention... "our
vengence will be sweet. The bomb will teach the
infidels..." A bomb? They must be a group of terrorists.
The accents of a couple did sound Middle Eastern. Was the bomb in the
truck or
had the truck planted the bomb somewhere? Was the bomb here and were they
going to load it in the truck and park it somewhere? Were they going to load
the tuck with drums of fertilizer or chemicals to construct a bomb? And what
was the target? She had to find out. The building was closed up back
here, pulling the boards off to open a access would
be much too noisy. She was sure the front entrance would be guarded, and
she wondered how she could get inside. She looked up, and a fire escape,
looking rusty but still sturdy went up to a second floor window. At that
window, boards had been disturbed, and several were hanging partially pulled
away. She thought getting up there she could sneak in and
get a look at who was inside and what they were
up to. She moved up the ladder, very slowly so that she would be as quiet
as possible, and got nearly to the second floor when the ladder she was on
suddenly groaned loadly and snapped away from the
wall. It crashed downward and Rebecca tried to jump away from the crash.
But her leg caught in the ladder and it pulled her down, hard, into the loading
dock. She pulled her arms up to protect her head, but still the fall stunned
her. The lights flashing in her eyeballs and the ringing in her ears kept
her from hearing the men rush around the building. She was struggling to
get up when they grabbed her. There were severeal
of them and she was in no condition to resist as they grabbed her and dragged
her around and into the structure.
Her
head started to clear, and she looked around the room to see at least a
half-dozen men. One, a tall bearded man with slight
arabic features, came
up to her and grabbed her hair, pulling her head up. "Who are you and what
are you doing here?" Beck glared back at him, and yelled back, "I can come
right back at you, buddy! Who are you and what are YOU doing here?
And... where is the bomb?"
She watched their eyes and saw panic in the look of a couple of the men.
One spoke up. "Leader -- she
knows! We have to get out of here before more infidels storm the
building."
But
there was no sign of concern in the face of the head man. "No. She is bluffing.
She knows there is a bomb, but nothing more. She probably overheard us before
we caught her in back. She was trying to sneak into the building. She
woould not have done so if she knew the bomb is
here she would have gone at once to the authorities." He put his hand on
his chin and mulled over his thoughts. "She is working alone and now that
we have her, she is not a threat. She is a worthless infidel whore who
watonly displays her body while masquerading as
a costumed avenger. But the veangeace shall be
ours with the bomb we have. I am Arakim
Daraba, and I lead the Brotherhood of Allah, a
group of righteous men who came here to avenge the horrors the Western World
inflicts on the holy land. No more will the Judeo-Christian powers run roughshod
on the lands of Allah after they feel us lash out at them." He turned and
walked to the back of the room, where a stairway went down. "Bring
her."
Daraba had her taken down a flight of stairs
to a large basement room with wood beams and brick walls. Becky saw it was
empty except for a odd metal case that sat in the
middle. About five foot long, a couple of feet wide and a couple of feet
deep, it wasn't big enough to be a coffin, but she knew it must be something
nasty. Then she noticed. On one end, behind a thick glass window, there was
a set of l.e.d. lights that showed "00:00:00."
Could it be the bomb? But why put it here in the old factory district?
Daraba turned to one of his men, "Strip her naked,
make sure she has nothing on her person that might be used to signal or
communicate with anyone or to get out. Then tie her securely so she can watch
this." Soviak, the biggest and ugliest of the group,
showed a nasty smile and went to work. While four others held her limbs securely,
Soviak peeled off all of her clothes. As he reached
for her mask, Daraba called out. "No, leave that
on her face. Without it she is a worthless nobody whose death is meaningless.
With the mask on her face she symbolizes the power of the hated Western World
and their so-called heroes. It will be proper for one of them to be the first
to be incinerated." What, Rebecca thought -- incinerated? She didn't like
the sound of that. Soviak meanwhile was enjoying
his search of her body - his hands ran through her hair, pulling out a couple
of lockpicks hidden there, and then running over
every inch of her body, She shuddered as he grabbed her breasts, then moved
down to her crotch. His fingers poked and prodded much too energetically
and were sparing no effort to cause pain while in there. One hand of
Soviak went to his pants and she was sick to her
stomach when she heard his zipper go down. Not again!
But
Daraba slapped the goon on the back and said, "No,
she is an unclean Western harlot. You are part of the army of Allah that
will destroy these infidels and thus must not debase yourself in her putrid
loins. We will leave her here to face death and contemplate the deaths of
millions of others." Soviak backed away from her
and she could see he wasn't happy about being deprived of his
toy.
The
terrorist leader went to the metal case and inserted a key in the top. He
raised an access panel, revealing the container was full of mechanical and
electronic gear. Daraba flipped several switches
and put his finger on a red button. "Death to the
Judeo-Christian infidels!" He pressed the button, and she saw the
lights on the end suddenly change to "00:30:00." The top was closed and relocked
and he turned to her. "Harlot, pray to your false god, for all the good it
will do you. This device, which our group stole from an arsenal in the Ukraine,
is a thermo-nuclear warhead that in thirty minutes will wipe Granite City
and so many of the Western World's so-called heroes from the face of the
earth. So Allah shows his omnipotent
power!" Becky gasped.
Heroes? Yes, she'd read about it in the paper. Over
a hundred super-heroes and heroines were having a conference downtown for
a couple of days to discuss the threat of global terrorism. She knew some
of them were powerful enough that they might survive a nuclear blast at close
range, but most of them would be wiped out. Oh, God!
Babs was down there. She had joined Becky tonight
for dinner with the folks and...
The horror began to dawn on her -- practically everybody she knew
was going to die unless she did something! She pulled at the ropes, but her
ankles had been secured to beams in the wall, far enough apart to spread
her legs. Her wrists were also tied and the ropes ran up to the beams in
the ceiling pulling her arms up and apart.
"We
take the truck to the airport where a chartered jet awaits our departure.
We will be far away when Granite City ceases to exist. And
by the smallest of milliseconds... "
Daraba wrapped his hand around her throat,
"...you will be the first to die. The first of so
many." He turned and left the room, followed by his men.
Soviak was the last to exit, and he gave her a
last, nasty look before he went out and closed the door. She heard the lock
click, and despair started to engulf her.
"No,"
she said aloud, "I have to stop this. I have to get out of these ropes. I
have to get through that locked door. I have to find somebody in the next..."
She glaced at the timer... "...twenty-eight minutes
who can defuse a thermo-nuclear warhead in a locked
case." She pulled with her hands.
One step at a time. Her right wrist found a little
play in the rope looped around it - she could pull it a little looser as
she worked on it. Batgirl had once taught her to tense her muscles whenever
she was being tied up. It would allow a slight amount of give when the muscles
relaxed. She'd practiced this so many times until she did it by instinct
and was happy she'd done so. Her right hand was coming loose as she heard
the lock on the door click again, and the door swung in.
Soviak had come back. The ugly brute smiled at
her and came towards her. "I do not see it like
Daraba. I want to humiliate you personally before
I leave you to die. You body will be mine to take.' She looked at him and
at the timer. How dumb was this guy? Did he think he could rape her, get
in his car and leisurely drive off when they were just over twenty-four minutes
until this building and miles around it vaporized? How could the Brotherhood
of Allah recruit somebody this stupid and this horny? She pulled harder at
her right wrist and it slipped out of the rope just as the over-sexed goon
got to her. His hands were unzipping his trousers and about to pull out his
dick as her right arm pulled back and then shot forward at his face, smashing
the heel of her hand into his nose. She heard bones snap and the brute howled
in pain as he jumped back, stumbled, and fell to the floor. As he struggled
to get back up, Glory Girl's right hand pulled at the binding on her left
hand, pulling it loose. Back up, he growled and charged at her,
When she pulled her left hand loose she dropped
to the floor and clasped both hands together. She pushed up with the doubled
fist as the goon's rush sent him over her. She hit him in the groin as hard
as she could. He went over her and smashed into the wall, then staggered
back. This instant was all she needed. No longer pulled upward and taut by
her wrist restraints, she was able to slip her ankles out of the ropes that
had held them there.
She
rolled along the floor and sprung up to face her attacker. He weighed twice
what she did and was a nasty bar-room brawler. But she had trained for years.
She balanced on one foot and spun her body. All of her ballet lessons as
a kid and the training sessions with Bat Girl gave her the ability to stick
out her other leg and whip it into the side of
Soviak's head. The head snapped to the side and
he staggered that way a step. He took another step towards her and she
leg-whipped him a second time. He was blinking, but still up. What did it
take to put this guy down? It was a third leg whip, smashing into the same
spot on his temple, that resulted in him crashing
backwards. She had won! But as he went back he hit the open door and it flew
shut. She heard the lock click. She stepped over and checked. It wouldn't
open. She looked at Soviak. He was
out.
She
went to the metal case. How could she get into it? The timer said "00:21:13"
and kept ticking down. She suddenly thought about an old movie she'd watched
with her Dad on cable. What was it called? Oh, of course.
Goldfinger! James Bond is locked in the vault in
Fort Knox with a case holding a nuclear bomb ticking away. He has to fight
that fat guy with the metal hat that he threw like a discus... what was his
name?... The hell with the name, what did James
Bond do to get out of it? He knocked off the goon after him, like she had,
and then... he used a couple ingots of gold to smash the case open... he
fiddled with some of the wiring... and then the rescue team showed up and
the other guy reached in and knew just what switch to use to turn it off.
Crap, that was no stinking help at all. She didn't
have any gold ingots to smash it open and she doubted any last minute help
would come through the door. Not that the entire JLA bursting in right now
wouldn't be great.
She
went through the goon's pockets. No change, no keys, no tools at all. In
his wallet there were three crumpled dollar bills and twenty crisp new hundreds.
Ahh, he'd been in the group for the cash, she guessed.
She looked all over the room, then spotted it. In
one corner, in the shadows was a loose brick laying on the floor. She snatched
it up and began pounding on the top of the case, trying to loosen the plate
Daraba had used to access the interior controls.
She banged against the lock, the hinges and the panel itself. She bent the
panel a little and had one corner sticking up a bit, but the metal case was
more hardy than the brick and her tool began to
crumble to pieces in her hand. She looked again, but there was not anything
else she could use to bang away at the case. One corner was bent up a quarter
inch, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't grab and pull up with any results.
She bent down and peered in the opening and could make out lights flickering
inside, and the box hummed with power. Electronics?
Something she could smash if there was just a way in!
Another
memory jumped at her. Months ago, at Arnie's place
he had asked her to take a look at the graphics on the game he was designing.
When she approached him, she tripped over something on the floor and her
Diet Coke flew right at the computer's central processing unit. Stuff sizzled,
popped and smoke came out of the vents. The whole computer burned out in
an instant. Arnie said he had most of the stuff
backed up on his computer at work, but that she should remember in the future
to be careful with liquids around computers. This was a computer -- if she
poured water in there, it would ruin it!
But
as she once again spun around, looking all over the room, she saw nothing
she could use. No soda, no water, no faucets or even a puddle on the floor.
A dry packed dirt floor and bare walls. Damn, she
had thought of a plan but didn't have what she needed to do it. She slumped
to the floor and stared at the case.
"00:18:42... 00:18:41... 00:18:40... 00:18:39... "
What a week she was having! "WHY IS GOD SO PISSED OFF AT ME!" she
shouted at the ceiling. She got up and kicked at the case, only getting a
very sore big toe for her efforts.
Then
it came to her. It might work. It had to work. She climbed up on the box
and squatted over the access panel. Carefully, she began to pee over the
plate, right where the opening had been made. This went on for a minute --
it had been a while since she last relieved herself -- and finally she got
down, having pissed as much as she could. She peered into the hole. She put
her ear down on the panel. And got that side of her face
soaking wet.
Ooops.
She went over to the ko'd goon and tore a sleeve
off his shirt, wiped her head and then wiped off the top of the access panel.
A glance at the timer... 00:13:12... and she again
put her ear down to see if she heard anything but the normal hum of the machine.
It sounded the same. Then there was a hissing and a popping sound. Then it
did it again. She moved over and stared at the timer. 00:09:22... 00:09:21...
00:09:21... 00:09:20... 00:09:20... suddenly the L.E.D. lights winked out,
them came back on. "00:00:00"
"Oh,
shit!" she cried and dove to the floor. Nothing happened. And if it had,
why did she duck? Reflex, she guessed. She put her head to the box and the
humming was gone. She could smell a faint trace of burnt plastic smoke coming
out of it. She'd done it! She got up and danced around the case, whooping
and hollering. She suddenly noticed her breasts bouncing up and down. Well,
if the crisis was past, she had to get some clothes on. She took the shirt
off the unconcious thug and regretted tearing the
sleeve off. It was big enough for her and went down to just cover her pubic
region. She raised her arms over her head and the shirt went up. She'd have
to remember to keep her arms down. Unless..
she went to take the goon's pants off and was
revulsed to find he wasn't wearing any underwear.
There was no way she was gonna put those pants
on! Plus, she didn't know how long it was going to take her to get out of
this room. She didn't want to have to stare at this asshole's dick. And,
she thought to herself, she was going to get out. After what she had accomplished
she knew that brick walls and a locked door wouldn't hold her very
long!
First
she tied up Soviak tightly. Very
tightly. And then she made a thorough search of the entire room. It
ended up with her finding a wire coming in from the outside in one corner,
moving along the ceiling, and going through to the room above. It had been
almost invisible behind all the cobwebs, but she found it and pulled it down
until it tore loose from whatever it was attached to upstairs. She touched
her tongue to the exposed ends and was happy to get a slight shock! The wire
was a phone line and it was live. She recalled the Morse
Code she'd learned in Girl Scouts and tapped the
two wire ends together, spelling out...
S-O-S--S-E-N-D--P-O-L-I-C-E--B-A-S-E-M-E-N-T. She repeated it over and over
for hours before she heard sirens pull up to the front of the building.
The
police came in and found the door in the basement, releasing Glory Girl.
She told them what had happened and word went from them to headquarters,
then to the FBI, where it was passed on to Homeland Security, and then to
the Atomic Energy Commission. And every step of the way, information was
leaked to the media. It was too big a story to hide. Soon King Faraday, a
special operative with Homeland Security, came to the scene to head the
investigation and began carefully going over what had happened. As he finished
questioning her, a female officer caarried a carton
into the first floor room where the investigation was being
co-ordinated. "Ah, young
lady? They found this in the building and I thought you might like
to have it." Becky glanced in the box, and squealed with joy.
"My uniform! You found it!" She was so happy she
raised her arms. She noticed some people stared, others tried not to.
Ooops.
The patrolwoman stepped in front of Becky and whispered, "Let's find you
a room to change in..."
Becky
got changed and borrowed a comb to get her hair looking better. As she went
back to the other room, King Faraday approached her once again. "Young lady,
I just want to say you did a really great job. We need you to go downtown
where you can look over some pictures and positively identify the ones we
suspect you ran into. The plane they had was tracked to Atlanta, and after
they didn't hear on the news about a blast, they probably knew something
had happened and took pains to disappear." A strong man's voice then came
from someone behind her. "But we now know who they are and what they look
like. They can't cause as much trouble when they have to duck and hide from
all American security forces, Interpol and the Justice League. If not for
this brave young lady there would be a smoking crater here and we'd have
no clue about who to look for." Becky turned to see who was speaking and
was amazed to see a muscular body clad in blue tights and a red cape... It
was him! Superman reached out and shook her hand. "Well done, Glory Girl.
With the troubles in the world today, I'm always happy to meet a new person
on the side of truth, justice and the American way." He turned to a nearby
window, said "Up, up and away," and flew off. Rebecca sighed. Wow, was he
built. And he knew her name!
She
stopped back in the basement room where three men from the Atomic Energy
Comission had arrived to take custody of the nuclear
device. One took out a set of lockpicks and got
the access panel on top unlocked and open. Becky
had watched closely, and was sure she could have done the same if she'd had
her lockpicks. He then took a flashlight and bent
down to examine the controls. "I see you got liquid in here to cause it to
short out. Smart thinking!" he suddenly sniffed the air in the box and stood
up. Turning to her, he gave her a quizzical look and started to ask, "Did
you short it out with..." She interrupted him. "Mister, I think it would
be a little embarrassing to have people picture what I had to do if details
got out. Couldn't you just say I disabled it... without going into specifics?"
The man stood up and looked her in the eye with a very serious expression.
"Glory Girl, the three of us were flown in here
tonight to handle disposal of this thing. I have a brother who lives just
eight miles from this spot with his family -- two little girls. Lot of people
can imagine what might have happened if this had gone off. We don't have
to imagine. We're the experts. We know exactly how bad it would have been.
So many dead. So many in the fallout,
spending months or years waiting to die. And my brother's family would
have been among the victims. Lady, there is not a request you could make
that I would refuse. I'd cut off my own arm if you asked me to. Anything
else you want, just say the word. Thanks for stopping the worst disaster
this country would have ever seen." He shook her hand, then the men went
back to work on dismantling the bomb for transport, and Glory Girl realized
he'd been perfectly serious.
Back
upstairs, she walked out with a pair of officers to be given a ride downtown
to police headquarters. She mentioned her motorbike was parked nearby, but
the officers assured her someone would bring it for her. As she exited the
building she gasped. There was a sea of people surrounding the area. A small
police cordon held them back from the crime scene, but beyond the police
lines they were stacked deep and soon as they saw her, they began to chant,
"Glory Girl! Glory Girl!" She couldn't believe it.
As they got to the car, a figure ducked under the rope and came up to her.
"Glory Girl, I'm Lois Lane of the Metropolis Daily Planet. Could we go over
what you encountered in there and what you had to do to save the city?" King
Faraday had been walking along and stepped over to the reporter. "Now, Miss
Lane, you know we have to get this finished here before we can discuss details
with the media. Our investigation comes first. If any of you want to speak
to Glory Girl, I have to ask you to wait. The Granite City Police Media Center
will act as a liason with the young lady and pass
any requests on to her at a later time. She can contact you when it will
be more convienient. Sorry, we have to go
now."
The
car, with difficulty, moved through the crowd, as people struggled to get
close and look in at their new heroine. Becky just sat there stunned, unable
to absorb so much attention all at once. The sensory overload was getting
to her and she started to feel exhausted as the ordeal dragged on. At
headquarters, she looked over surveilance photos
the FBI had collected of suspects and Becky pointed out
Daraba and five of the six men she'd seen with
him last night and who had vanished with him. The police artist helped her
do a sketch of the last man she'd seen and that was sent out to all agencies.
After that, Becky was really happy to see Batgirl stop in to say hello.
Babs gave her a big hug and said, "Girl, I always
knew you had it in you." Becky snorted and laughed at that. When Batgirl
gave her a quizzical grin, Becky leaned close and whispered, "Yes, it was
something in me. I'll tell you later." As she went through a gauntlet of
officers that offered her thanks and congratulations, she began to realize
she was exhausted and told Faraday she had to call it a night. He offered
to get her a ride home, but she insisted she would take her bike. As she
left the police garage dozens of vehicles were suddenly following her. She
took a twisting route and finally had to engage the stealth mode to lose
her pursuit and get home alone. She went in and found both her parents up
(rather late) and Dad said. "Punkin, you look beat,
Why don't you get to bed and we'll talk tomorrow."
Becky gave a huge yawn and agreed. After she dragged herself up to her room,
she didn't even take off her costume, she just flopped
on the bed and was sound asleep.
She
woke the next morrning, vaguely recalling dreams
of battles with terrorists, meeting Superman and stubbing her toe when she
kicked something. Weird dreams. A voice called out,
"Becky, breakfast!" She sat up in bed and swung her feet to the floor. The
big toe on her right foot hurt. Wait. That was real. What part had just been
a dream? She took off her costume and put on jeans and a Wonder Woman t-shirt,
then went downstairs. Mom was at the stove, making Dad's breakfast while
he scanned the paper. Her yogurt and toast were on the table. "Thanks, Mom,"
Becky said as she sat down. She tried the yogurt.
Mmmm. Peach flavor today. Dad held the paper open
and up while he read a story on an inside page. Becky gasped as she saw the
headline. It mentioned Glory Girl in a typeface bigger than she'd ever seen
before! And there was a picture of her leaving the terrorist's hideout. On
the front page! Above the fold! Wow. Dad put the paper down and said, "Morning
Punkin. Sleep well? I contacted the police media
center to see what messages they had for you." He started to flip through
a sheaf of notes that was at least an half-inch
thick. "The Granite City Chronicle wants to interview you, Also CNN, CBS,
ABC, NBC, The Wall Street Journal, Time, Newsweek, Rolling Stone, the Tonight
Show, Oprah, and all four radio stations.
Amazing Super-Heroines Monthly asked if you could do
a photo shoot that they could use for a cover. Playboy wants to do a photo
spread that they said would be 'tasteful.' Hustler wants to do a photo shoot
but they don't make any promises about trying to be tasteful. Something called
Wizard's Lair Magazine asked if you would do a photo shoot where you recreate
how you were stripped and tied up." He looked up and said to Becky, "You're
a grown woman, Punkin, but I just want you to know
your Mom and I would prefer you pass on those last few offers." His gaze
went back to the stack of papers and he continued to flip through them.
"Branchwood Mall on the north side and Westgate
Mall both ask you to come out and make an appearance this weekend. The new
Wal-Mart opening in two weeks would like you to show up to cut the ribbon
at the grand opening. Jerry Lewis called to ask if you would appear on the
Labor Day telethon -- that's a really good cause -- and Santa Maria Children's
Hospital asked for you to come and cheer up the children in the wards." Rebecca's
Mom broke in on this matter. "Oh Becky, I hope you could find the time to
do that. Santa Maria always had a soft spot in our hearts. Back before we
went into retirement, we always visited the wards when we could. The children
love to see their heroes in person. And I still recall the day your father
flew me there when I went into labor. You were born at Santa Maria, you know.
Oh dear. Becky, you're dripping yogurt all over your
shirt."
While her
father had read through these requests, Becky had sat there trying to take
in what she was hearing. She sat with her mouth hanging open, the spoonful
of yogurt, forgotten, held hovering in front of her face. She had dribbled
it while she sat there. "Oh, sorry. Dad! Mom! What
am I going to do? How can I handle all these requests?"
Her Dad smiled.
"You learn to say no. You can't do everything. Famous people always have
more demands on their time. Everybody wants a piece of the heroine of the
hour. Oh, one other note. The mayor and the police commissioner both asked
that you come down to the convention center this afternoon. It's the final
day of the Superhero Symposium and they want you to make an
appearance."
Becky had
another spoonful of yogurt that didn't get to her mouth. She couldn't believe
this was happening to her.
That afternoon,
her folks, in costume as Mister Patriot and The Shady Lady, went with her
to the Convention Center. As they entered the hall, there was a tremendous
round of applause and the crowd bgan moving along
slowly, with a succession of costumed individuals clapping her on the back
and shaking her hand. So many of the people she'd admired were in the crowd.
Green Arrow and Black Canary congratulated her. Reed and Sue Richards were
very friendly. Captain Marvel came up to her with Mary Marvel, and they said
they thought she had done a reallty swell job.
Mary even leaned over and gave her a big sisterly hug.
Supergirl smiled and said she thought Becky's costume
was a knockout. A strange fellow called the Question came up to her, shook
her hand, and leaned close to her. He whispered in her ear, "Interesting
way you disabled that bomb. You've got a real head on your shoulders." What,
she thought -- how could he have known about that? She was about to ask him,
but he moved along to allow more people to walk up and talk to her. Back
in the crowd she saw Bat Girl, standing with Robin, and waved to them. Then
the crowd to her right parted and a woman, even taller than Becky and with
a superb athletic body came up to her. Oh my God! It was Wonder Woman really
standing right next to her. She was even more gorgeous than the poster that
Becky had hanging over her bed. The Amazon Princess offered her hand to Becky
and said, "You have done a fine service to the people of this city, sister,
and I hope someday we can work together." Becky tried to force some sort
of reply out of her tougue-tied mouth.
"Er...
Ahh.
Thank you, your Highness!" Oh no! What a dumb thing to say! But the Warrior
Maiden smiled at this and said, "You can call me Diana." In the
backround Becky heard cameras clicking. She swore
she would do anything to get a copy of one of the pictures of her with the
Amazon Princess. She was about to ask Diana for an autograph, then realized
it might make her look like some fan wannabe. Maybe she'd ask
later.
After the
chance to exchange pleasantries with most of the people in the hall, Becky
and her parents joined the mayor on a balcony outside. Standing in the courtyard
and the streets beyond were thousands of people. The Mayor gave a speech
extending the thanks and well wishes of Granite City to Glory Girl, and
proclaimed it Glory Girl Day. He gave her a key to the city. The clouds overhead
started to give off a slight drizzle, but nobody seemed to want to leave.
After his speech, the mayor asked her to move to the railing and the crowd
started to cheer her name, applauding loudly.
Becky thought
it was almost perfect. If only... and then she saw him. Close to the balcony
in the crowd. It was Arnie, clapping and shouting
as loud as the others. And he was smiling. She looked down at him and knew
this had to be the best day of her life.
And in a
room many miles away, Daraba swore that the woman
would pay for foiling the plans of the Brotherhood of Allah. He would have
his vengeance on this one called "Glory
Girl."
WIZARD'S LAIR
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