Chapter 3  Mole

Only when she was almost home did Natassia realize that she had completely forgotten to do something.  There was a question she should have asked the man she had rescued, but she had been so flustered by her narrow escape and the partial removal of her costume that it had completely skipped her mind.  “I’m not much of a heroine,” she muttered to herself.  “Almost get caught and raped in my first encounter.  And what I did to those men!”  She was not only disgusted with herself, but she felt a little sick.  The surge of adrenalin that had initiated her actions had worn off.  Just inside the back gate of her house, her stomach heaved and she was violently ill.  For several minutes she could do nothing but hold her stomach and spew her guts into her aunt’s daisies. 

Recovering, she made her way to the back door and took out her key.  While she had vomited her costume had torn open again.  Splattered with blood, it was beyond repairing.  Covering her breasts, she quietly opened the back door of her house.  “Sure don’t want Aunt Priscilla or any of the servants to see me like this.”  Silently, she stole through the house, reaching her room undetected.  She just had time to clean up and get a little rest before her aunt woke up and put her through her paces once more.  With a sigh she stripped off her bloody costume and stowed it where no one would find it.  Then she headed for her ensuite bathroom to clean up. 

As she washed off the blood she realized that the night had not been a total loss.  She had learned something else about the Dragon’s Eye.  The blow she had taken to the head should have killed her.  The fact that it had not could only be contributed to the power of the green stone.  Somehow the stone had protected her against the blow.  However, it had not prevented her from being knocked unconscious.  That was an important fact that she should be aware of.  There were limits to the stone’s magic and it was important that she remain fully aware of them.  The next time she was caught off guard she might not be so lucky.


“Molie” Molson hummed to himself as he sat in the back of his new car as it was driven through the streets of Chinatown.  He was on his way to his favourite whorehouse; the one Boss Crunch had put him in charge of after his capture of the Commissioner’s daughter.  Times were good from his point of view.  There was, of course, the problem of those damned superheroine bitches, but so far they had not discovered his little operation.  Crunch’s death, along with the destruction of all of the crime boss’s records in the fire that had killed him, had been a real piece of luck.  It had enabled him to keep all of the profits of the brothel for himself.  And he could have any of the most expensive girls for free.  He was on the way to treat himself.  He just had one or two minor errands to attend to while he was on his way. 

“Stop here,” he ordered.  As the car pulled up in front of one of Chinatown’s many restaurants he opened the door and got out, followed by his two bodyguards.  Like a number of the businesses in Chinatown, Molson had an interest in the restaurant.  It was a good scam.  He lent the “owner” the money to finance the restaurant.  Then he collected fifty percent of the profits until the restaurateur went bankrupt.  He then reclaimed the restaurant and resold it to some other poor, hardworking sucker.  Today he was about to deliver the latest owner the bad news.  He grinned.  He really liked this part of the operation.

He was met in the foyer by the owner, a forced smile pasted on his face.  “Mr. Molson, welcome!  So good of you to come!” 

Molson looked around the restaurant.  Except for a few staff members it was almost deserted.  Good, if he had to get tough he would not attract too much attention.  “Sure Han, sure,” he replied sarcastically.  “You’re glad to see me, but you’re a little behind on your payments ain’t you?”

“Only one payment, Mr. Molson.  I’m doing pretty good.  I’ll pay you double next time.”

“There won’t be no next time.  I’m taking over, as per our agreement.”  He watched Han’s face fall.  John Han was just the sort of person Molson felt contempt for.  Hardworking, honest, and stupid enough to make an agreement he couldn’t possible uphold. 

“Please, Mr. Molson…”

“Get out of my restaurant.  Or should I have my boys throw you out?” 


Natassia stayed home for three nights after her first foray.  She had to spend quite a bit of time repairing her costume and her confidence was somewhat shattered.  But she was not about to give up.  On the fourth night she made her way back to Chinatown.  This time she tried a new tactic.  Instead of moving along at street level she climbed up on one of the roofs and moved from rooftop to rooftop.  Most of the buildings were so close together she didn’t even have to jump from one to the other, and for those that were her powerful muscles were easily capable of bridging the gap.  There were considerable advantages to choosing this route.  If there was any trouble she would come from it from above gaining her the element of surprise.  In addition, she would be less obvious.  A tall beautiful woman wearing a skintight costume was bound to attract attention if anyone saw her and she wanted to avoid that. 

A faint movement in an alley caught her attention.  Someone was skulking around the back of one of the buildings.  Stealthily she moved to the edge of the roof.  Below her was a man with a pry bar, busily engaged in trying to open one of the windows.  He seemed to be alone, but Natassia made sure.  She didn’t want a repeat of what had happened to her the first time.  A quick survey of the surrounding areas revealed that no one else was around and flexing her legs she leaped off the building and dropped behind the intruder.

“Geez!” the man exclaimed, jumping nearly a foot.  He whirled around.  Spotting the bizarre but breathtaking figure of the woman who was facing toward him, he immediately threw away his pry bar.  Falling to his knees, he raised his hands in front of him as if to ward off a blow.  “Jade Dragon!” he exclaimed.  “Jade Dragon!  Please don’t hurt me!”

For a few seconds Natassia just stared at the man.  She had not expected this.  The man thought she was the Jade Dragon.  She wondered what the heroine she had been trying to contact would do in this situation.  Finally she moved a bit more into the light.  “I’m not the Jade Dragon,” she said.  “I’m Nova, and you are breaking the law.”

“Nova?” asked the man.  It was obvious he was confused.  Remaining in his knees he cringed as she stepped closer.  “Please,” he begged.  “I don’t care who you are or what you call yourself.  Just please don’t hurt me.  I won’t do this again.”

Natassia felt a sense of power come over her.  It was strange to have this feeling.  She completely dominated this man.  She realized that she did not really have a plan of what to do after she had apprehended a criminal.  She couldn’t very well march him into a police station.  Who would believe that she had caught him in an act of burglary?  And even if she was believed did she want to file a formal complaint? What name would she use, and what would be the attitude of the police toward her?  She knew that the police were not all that happy with the Jade Dragon and Scarlet Falcon.  The two heroines made them look incompetent. 

“I won’t hurt you,” she said.  “But I want some information.  I’m looking for the Mole.  Tell me where I can find him and I’ll let you go.”

“Molie Molson?” asked the burglar, relief in his voice.  “Sure, I can tell you where to find him.”


“I said get out,” Molson repeated.  He motioned to his henchmen.  They moved menacingly toward the trembling restaurateur. 

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said a calm, but clear female voice. 

Molson and his two henchmen turned.  Standing in the doorway was a tall, curvaceous woman clad in a stark white and black costume.  “Who the hell are you?” demanded Molson.

“You don’t remember me, Molie?” Natassia answered.  “No, I’m sure you don’t, but you will before the night is over.”

Molson ran his eyes over Natassia’s gorgeous figure.  He made no effort to disguise his desire and his eyes focused first on her high perfect breasts and then on the tight folds of her costume where it outlined her pudenda.  Beneath her cowl, Natassia found herself flushing, both from embarrassment and rage over the thug’s impudent stare.

“I doubt that I’d forget someone like you,” Molson said.  “But that hardly matters.  Right now I’m busy so take your sweet cheeks out of here before I decide to include you in my little party.”

“The party’s over,” Natassia replied, taking a step toward Molson.  “And you’ll soon find out who I am.”

“Take the bitch out,” Molson ordered.  His two henchmen surged toward her.  Natassia did not even bother to use her martial arts skills.  She simply grabbed each man by the front of his shirt and lifting them off their feet hurled them through the door of the restaurant.  So powerfully did she heave them that they crashed in a heap in the middle of the street.  Smugly, Natassia spun to face Molson once more.

BOOM!  The explosion of Molson’s pistol filled the restaurant.  The bullet caught Natassia between her breasts and knocked her off her feet.  The world seemed to stop.  A black haze clouded her eyes.  She could feel the bullet ripping through her even as the force of its impact lifted her from her feet.  It tore through muscle and bone, tearing her apart.  Dimly she realized that she should be dead, but somehow she wasn’t.  She could feel the Dragon’s Eye pulsing with power as its mystic energy surged through her, healing her torn tissues, sealing her shattered arteries.  She tried to move, to open her eyes, but nothing worked.  And then she seemed to be falling into a deep well of blackness and oblivion as the world closed around her.

“Stupid bitch,” muttered Molson.  That was the way to deal with a superheroine.  It was a bit of a waste, but the way she had tossed his henchman about had shown that it was the only way to deal with her.  A bit of a shame though.  The twat was built like a brick shithouse and would have made a useful addition to his whorehouse.  He shook his head.  She would have been an interesting toy, and he had never screwed a heroine before.  He stepped toward the crumpled form of the dead woman.  Her vacant eyes were wide and staring, and the front of her white and black costume was stained red with her blood.  Too bad,  but she had gotten what she had deserved.  Perhaps this would send a message to the other superheroine bitches that were plaguing the city.  He holstered his gun and stepped toward the door to see what had become of his henchmen.

---

PREVIOUS CHAPTER WIZARD'S LAIR MAIN PAGE   L'ESPION'S STORY PAGE   NEXT CHAPTER