Crimson Flare: The Threat of Pitchblende
by marat

Chapter Two

The next evening Crimson Flare re-entered the treacherous and seductive nighttime world to which she had become accustomed. Seeking the shelter of the rooftops and darkened passageways, she slid in and out of the shadows, using her speed as a protection against discovery. Her strength propelled her across the rooftops, and she was rarely heard and almost never seen, except, perhaps as a ghost moving swiftly through the darkness. Never seen, that is, until it was the moment to pluck up one who sought to earn is living at the expense of others, and without returning any benefit. On this night, she had observed a holdup in a liquor store, but she had also seen two squad cars of Mitropoulos’ finest speeding their way to the scene in response to a silent alarm. She did not involve herself where she was not needed. The police had this one well in hand.

Later, two well-armed men undertook to rob a tavern, firing their guns to warn the patrons to pay more attention to them than to the baseball game on the big-screen TV in the corner. Crimson Flare had used her strength to force an entry through the locked delivery entrance leading from an alley. Then she had used her speed and strength, coupled with the element of surprise, to quickly bring these gunmen to their knees… literally. As was always the case, there were plenty of witnesses to make the case against the criminals captured by the superheroine.

These were the sorts of crimes that had given her career a start. It was her routine success here that had led to the complications, and larger crimes, which had confronted her lately. It wouldn’t be long before she encountered such a crime.

As she made her way away from the river that marked the eastern boundary of Mitropoulos, Crimson Flare caught a glimpse of a man sitting alone in a van, parked in a lonely alley. This by itself was suspicious, but one of the doors of the van lay open, and the two elements provided more than a simple coincidence. The van was parked behind what city residents called ‘Internet Row’, a line of stores that specialised in electronics and computers. Crimson Flare moved quietly toward the van, her boots barely making a sound on the alley’s asphalt. Even in the dim light the black leather shone and the sequins of her costume glinted.

Mitropoulos’ Guardian Angel closed the space to the van unobserved by the driver, who was failing at his job as lookout. He sat, taking a smoke, with his left arm resting on the window frame. Before he knew what hit him, that arm was dragged outward and downward, smashing his head against the top of the door. When Crimson Flare released his arm, he fell back into the cab, unconscious.

The superheroine walked to the rear of the van and looked inside. Four boxes were already piled inside the van. Evidently the driver’s buddies were busy gathering more of the high-tech products available along Internet Row. And it looked like they were pretty selective. Only the best and the most sophisticated equipment seemed to be the target of this gang.

Crimson Flare heard the thieves returning, carrying more of their loot. She moved behind a stack of boxes located next to a dumpster, all part of the garbage pickup for the next morning.

‘What else are we supposed to get?’ one asked.

‘Let me check the list.’ replied another.

‘Do you know how many more shops we have to hit before we have everything?’

‘I think we’re finished in Colby’s. We have to go next door to The Electronic Box and then down at the end to Interway. Let me get the list and check what we have to get in each place.’

As the men placed the boxes they carried into the back of the van, Crimson Flare heard the light rustling of unfolding paper. The men were standing only about ten feet from the costumed heroine, and as she moved around the corner of the stack of boxes, she saw one of them looking intently at the paper in the dim light, the other dropping the last of the boxes he carried into the van. About four feet separated the men.

‘I think your shopping is over for tonight,’ she said, announcing her presence. As both men turned toward her, the one dropping the paper, she walked toward them. In the dim light of the alley, Crimson Flare struck a dazzling picture. The crimson of her uniform and gloves appeared almost blood-coloured in this light. The glinting of the sequins, showing every cleft in her figure, was simply dramatic, exactly as the heroine had anticipated it would be. The shine on black leather of her boots was all that was visible. The boots themselves had all but disappeared in the darkness near street level. Her face was completely obscured behind her mask and in the darkness, so that the voice seemed to come from some otherworldly source. As she drew her baton from her belt, she said softly, ‘Close the door to the van and walk to the driver’s side of the cab.’ The men followed her orders. They had heard about the baton. And about the strength of the young woman who confronted them.

‘We don’t want trouble,’ one of them said.

‘If you didn’t want trouble, then you should have stayed home,’ the young heroine replied.

When they reached the door to the cab, Crimson Flare ordered, ‘Open it and get in.’ One of them opened the door and pushed the unconscious form of their ‘lookout’ to the far side of the cab. Then, one at a time, they climbed in. The heroine now moved opposite them, the door still lying open. ‘You’re going to drive out to Belvedere Boulevard,’ she said, indicating the main thoroughfare at the end of the alley. ‘We’ll wait for the police there.’ Neither of the two men took their eyes off her.

It soon became clear why. Crimson Flare heard the scuffling of shoes on the asphalt surface of the alley. Turning quickly, she saw two more thieves now rushing toward her.

She squared to face them, bringing up the palm of her right hand, catching the first just above his nose, right between the eyes. The force of his charge into the immovable arm of the avenger staggered him. He dropped immediately to his back, not unconscious, but out of the fight. The second man pulled up short, his arms at his side, seeming unsure of what to do.

‘Make your choice,’ Crimson Flare told him. ‘Fight me or surrender.’

Even before she had finished her ultimatum, his right arm shot forward in a hard underhand movement. The knife he threw at her was accurately sighted and the deadly projectile rapidly closed the space between the two. But he had not considered the speed of Mitropoulos’ guardian.

Faster than the eye could see, she stepped out of the way like a well-experienced matador. Then, with a perfectly timed karate chop, she caught the blade in mid-flight, bringing it to rest at her feet.

Her attacker now moved away from the crimson-clad champion, circling behind the van. She moved quickly to a point where she could observe him and still see the two men she had earlier forced into the cab. ‘OK, that’s your last free chance. It’s time to give up,’ she said, firmly.

He raised his arms and took a step toward the superheroine. ‘That’s better. Now you’re being smart,’ she assured him.

Crimson Flare couldn’t tell that, while it appeared that all three men were watching her, they were in fact focusing on a point about six feet behind her, where yet another of this gang had emerged from the store. He was massive, easily over 6’6”, weighing well over 300 pounds. He effortlessly carried a large box, resting it on his shoulder as he emerged into the alley.

In an effort to help their partner close on the heroine, whom they saw was dwarfed by the size of the criminal, the three thieves all started to plead with Crimson Flare at once, their voices plaintive and sobbing. ‘Please don’t turn us in.’ ‘We just got this order over the phone. Nobody told us that anyone would be hurt.’ ‘Yeah, we have no idea who’s behind this. Just some phone call giving us a list of items to be picked up.’

‘You’re going to jail,’ was the last thing that Crimson Flare said. Just then, the huge man behind her smashed a double ax-handle to the base of her skull. She fell to the pavement. Stunned, she slowly pushed herself to her elbows.

‘Oohhh. Wha-? What… hit me?’ she groaned as her gloved hand moved to the vinyl mask which covered her upper face and forehead. She looked up, trying to find her attacker.

As she turned her head to the right, the huge man’s foot powered into her jaw. Her body lifted almost fully off the street and thudded onto her back. She moaned once and was silent.

In the dim light of the alley, the body of Crimson Flare lay motionless. The gang surrounded her, gazing at the petite form of the avenger. ‘She doesn’t look so big now,’ one said.

‘I didn’t understand why he wanted so many for so simple a job,’ another noted. ‘All we had to do was steal about half a dozen things from three stores. But they wanted us to have six guys, and they insisted that Bloch be one of them.’ He and the others now turned to the big man who had stopped Crimson Flare. ‘Who do you know? Why did they insist on you?’

‘I’m as much in the dark as you guys are. I got a message to expect your phone call and to be ready to do a job. I don’t know any more than you do,’ he said.

‘Well, whoever planned this thing sure knew what he was doing. The stuff we’ve grabbed is the very best and the most sophisticated. And he must have anticipated our friend here,’ he said, looking down at the figure in the shadows.

‘Well, what are we going to do with her?’

‘We were told nothing about this. I expect we’ll finish up our enterprise for the evening, which shouldn’t take more than another few minutes, and then we’ll head back to my apartment and wait for word from whoever it was hired us. We can take her with us.

‘Bloch, why don’t you and Bruce go down to Interway? There’s only two more things to grab, both of them there. We’ll take care of our friendly neighborhood superheroine.’

The two thieves moved quickly and quietly down the alley toward the store at the end of the row. In the meantime, the man who appeared to be the boss crawled inside the van, emerging in short order carrying a heavy rope. As two of the crooks sat their unconscious prisoner upright, he looped the thick rope around her torso, securing her arms. Then he took the last two feet of rope and used it to tie her wrists together. Sitting unconscious, her head laying forward on her chest, Crimson Flare was unaware of the loss of her great strength and speed, for it is when she is bound that she becomes as weak as any other person.

*****

She had become aware of her weakness very shortly after her discovery of her great power. As a young teen, she had been engaging in some play with Stacy, one tickling the other, wrestling on the floor of her friend’s bedroom, rolling around and under the bed.

Suddenly, Stacy pulled out a pair of handcuffs and, while the two were catching their breath after the match and the accompanying laughter, she slapped the cuffs on her companion, securing Karen’s hands behind her back.

Laughing harder, Stacy teased, ‘OK, now I’ve got you, my pretty. And your little dog, too.’

Karen, also laughing and trying to catch her breath, tugged at the cuffs and was shocked to discover that they offered no sign of giving under her strength. Since she was already well aware of the strength and speed of which she was capable, this discovery caused a sense of shock. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as her breathing became frightened. She felt an emptiness in the pit of her stomach; she was helpless and under the control of another. Her great strength was gone! She panicked. ‘Let… let me go,’ she said, then louder and more frightened, ‘Stacy, let me go! LET ME GO!!’ She was almost in tears at this point.

Stacy continued to believe that her friend was playing along. She immediately grabbed her from behind and wrestled her to the floor. She straddled Karen who kicked and wriggled ineffectually beneath her. Karen shook her head violently, tears now streaming from her eyes. She couldn’t understand what had happened. And she was afraid. ‘STACY! GET OFF OF ME!! LET ME GO!!’

Stacy grabbed her hair and brought her face close to her prisoner’s. ‘’What’s it worth to you, Karen? How much do you want to be set free?’ Karen couldn’t believe her ears. What was Stacy talking about? What was she doing?

Karen stopped crying now and looked at her friend. Stacy was still smiling the friendly smile that she always had for Karen. Suddenly, Karen realised that, as far as Stacy was concerned, this was an extension of the wrestling match just ended. Karen was in no danger.

Calming now, Karen said, ‘Please, Stacy. Let me go. What do you want? You want me to do your biology homework for a week?’

‘How about we do something deep, dark, and dangerous?’

‘Like what?’

Stacy jumped up and ran from the room. Karen struggled to a sitting position. She was surprised to discover that even that small effort exhausted her. Something about being handcuffed, being bound, drained all of her strength. She needed to experiment.

Stacy returned momentarily, carrying a small white plastic bag. ‘This is the deep, dark, and dangerous secret that I found in the basement. It belongs to one of my parents, I think my father, but I’m not sure.’

Reaching into the bag, she pulled out a magazine. She showed it to Karen. Karen’s eyes widened again. ‘BONDAGE FANTASIES?!!?’

‘Let’s play,’ Stacy said.

As they did, Karen discovered that the helplessness of bondage was something she craved. She felt something new, a wetness and a yearning in her groin. She quickly realised that these physiological responses may be related to her loss of strength. The physical changes signaled by the feelings overwhelming her sensually may be draining the physical power that was hers normally.

This was getting confusing for the 13-year-old.

‘Stacy, I need to talk to you about… something. Take off the handcuffs and let me show you something….’

This was when Stacy found out about Karen’s power. Stacy was the only person Karen had confided this secret to. Thus, two-and-a-half years later, when Crimson Flare made her first appearance in that barn outside of town, Stacy, even through the haze of rape, knew who had saved her.

*****

Crimson Flare was still unconscious, still sitting upright, when the two thieves returned from Interway a few minutes later. The powerless heroine was now bound tightly by the rope that looped itself twice around her body, locking her arms, and then wound its way around her wrists behind her back. Her head lay low on her chest, and in the darkness of the alley, the sequins of her costume and the highly polished leather of her boots winked and gave the only hint of her presence.

The last boxes were placed in the rear of the van and the gang clambered aboard. The one who appeared to be in charge, Jason, gave an order to the big man, Bloch. ‘Bring her along.’

With one hand, the huge figure grabbed the front of Crimson’s costume, reaching his fingers down inside at the neckline and pulling her up in a single, easy motion. In that same motion, he swung her into the back of the van, along with the pilfered electronics gear and three other members of the gang. She landed on her side, grunting with the impact.

With its cargo, the van pulled out of the alley onto Belvedere Boulevard.

*****

When Crimson Flare returned to consciousness, she was bound to a post in a large open space, a loft, which served as Jason’s apartment. She was still bound with the original hefty rope, which the gang had been instructed to bring with them, now supporting the heroine in her standing position. As she became aware of her predicament, she saw the gang of six now standing around her. The room was brightly lit, but the shades over the windows had been fully drawn.

She gave no sign, except the setting of her jaw, that she felt in any way threatened. She had prepared herself for this sort of moment, and, during her career, although it was still early, she had fallen into the hands of criminals before. She knew this always gave them a false sense of security and superiority. Crimson Flare immediately began working her hands to free herself from the debilitating bonds. Once her hands were free, her strength would return, she knew. She did not lose her strength by being restrained, but by being bound. Otherwise, the time she was trapped in the explosion of the downtown Murphy building, swallowed up in a mass of rubble, would have marked the end of her career, and her life.

All one could see was her closed fist, working slowly and regularly against the ropes, apparently without effect. In fact, the razor-sharp claw she concealed in her glove was making slow and steady progress against the inch-and-a-half diameter of the rope.

Jason stood directly in front of her. Her belt was at his feet and he was holding her baton. ‘Well, well, welcome back to the world of the living, dear heroine. I hope you found your rest refreshing.’

‘It wasn’t,’ Crimson replied. It was then that she noticed Bloch standing behind the others watching her. Nodding toward the huge figure, she asked, ‘Was he the one…?’

‘Yes, Bloch laid you out. In a few minutes, we’re all going to get to do that.’ He smiled and the other members of the gang giggled among themselves. “It’s just not every day you get the fuck a superheroine.’

Crimson Flare’s efforts at the rope became more urgent. She had been threatened like this before, though none of the threats had come to anything. In each case, she had escaped and overpowered her antagonists. But the number of those threatening her, and the size of the one called Bloch made escape in this case even more imperative.

Jason whipped her baton and it telescoped out to its full two-and-a-half foot length. ‘I’ve begun to get pretty good at that. Of course, I’d seen you do it once or twice. What I haven’t quite figured out is how to get it to give off that electrical charge. There’s no button or switch. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me how…?’

The heroine shook her head.

‘Didn’t think so. Well, let’s see if I can figure out how this works. I’ve already determined that it doesn’t work by laying it on,’ here he brushed it down the front of Crimson’s sequin-covered leotard; ‘and it doesn’t by striking the target,’ and he hit her with the baton on the shoulder. America’s Darling could feel that she was almost through the rope; just another minute or two, and…

‘Is it a stabbing motion in the direction of the target?’ and her thrust the baton at her crimson covered groin.

‘Oh, NOOO!’ Crimson Flare screamed. The electric charge smashed into her vulnerable sex with the force of lightning and she wilted against the post to which she was bound.

‘Actually, that was a rhetorical question, Crimson Flare,’ Jason said to the unconscious crimefighter. ‘We figured it out a while ago.’ He brought his hand up to the groin of her costume, feeling her. ‘Yep, just as I thought: you’re… ‘hot’… to trot,’ he laughed. ‘Let’s have some fun,’ he ordered and they began to remove the ropes securing her to the post.

‘Why didn’t she just tear up the rope?’ one of the men asked.

Jason considered the idea. ‘Maybe she didn’t have time. Or she was waiting for something, like for us to say something about who we were working for. It’s too bad we don’t know; we couldn’t give her any help there. I don’t know, but when she’s unconscious, one’s thing’s sure: She won’t stop us from this.’

They removed the bound heroine from the post and placed her diminutive figure on the floor. One of the thieves produced a knife and began to cut away her costume in the front, beginning at the neckline and proceeding to her crotch. She soon lay exposed on the floor, her crimson spangled costume lying under her, her arms still tied behind her. The man with the knife next cut away her tights, revealing the soft brown hair of her pussy and the cunt of America’s Darling. Her cunt was red, inflamed by the bolt from the baton.

Her small chest rose and fell rhythmically, occasionally shuddering as a result of the powerful bolt that had passed through her. That bolt, while severe enough to render Crimson Flare temporarily unconscious, was not fully up to the potential of the baton. Strange to say, fortunately, the criminal who held the heroine only understood the mechanics and techniques of wielding the baton; they did not know how to control it.
The baton had a range of strength, from a level that would stun a victim to one that would blow a lock off a steel safe door. Crimson Flare had mastered the subtleties of the weapon. It was fortunate for her that Jason’s thrust only produced the power that it did.

Two of the gang members grabbed Crimson Flare’s arms and dragged her from the floor, dropping her on an empty table a few feet away. Jason stood at the foot of the table, already undoing her pants. Her legs hung over the edge of the table at the knees, still swinging irregularly. He grabbed her thighs, feeling their roundness and their musculature. His hands then moved up her legs slowly, feeling the translucent tights that wrapped them. When he got to the section that had been cut away by his partner, he pulled downward on them, tearing the tights completely off her. The shredded remains hung off at Crimson Flare’s knees, just above the shiny black leather boots that covered her calves.

Looking down on the flawless exposed skin of America’s Darling, at the roundness of her hips and the flatness of her stomach, Jason’s erection told the tale of his expectations. A slight moan escaped Crimson Flare’s lips as she revived. He saw her forearms move under her slight frame. He firmly gripped her thighs this time and pulled her roughly across the table top toward him, toward his erect penis, seeking penetration.

The short movement across the table ripped away the last vestige of rope securing Crimson Flare’s wrists. The surge of her returning strength revived the superheroine quickly. Her right leg shot upward, directly into Jason’s jaw, lifting him off his feet and hurtling him backwards across the room. He landed flush on his back ten feet away, unconscious. The avenger next turned her attention to the two gang members who had carried her to the table. Sitting up abruptly, she grabbed each by the scruff of his neck and smashed their heads together. One fell directly to the floor beside the table, the other first dropped into her lap. He seemed to make a futile effort to grab her around the waist, but his arms refused to do what he wished. He, too, then rolled to the floor.

With half the gang members out, and barely thirty seconds having passed, two members sprinted from the room, leaving the door open behind them. Bloch, however, seemed determined to test his mettle against the young superheroine. ‘I’ve taken you down once already tonight,’ he said, threateningly. ‘I’ll do it again.’

‘Only if you can hit me from behind again,’ Crimson replied, steadily.

The differences between the two combatants couldn’t have been starker. Bloch easily cleared 300 pounds and stood 6’6” tall. His physique reflected hours of work in the weight room of the prison where he had spent five years. It would not be an exaggeration to say that his upper arms were as large as Crimson Flare’s thighs.

On the other hand, Crimson’s body was tiny in comparison. More than a foot shorter, weighing 200 pounds less than the big man, she looked like he could crush her like an insect. In addition, her costume lying open, exposing her chest and abdomen, lent an air of absurdity to her circumstance. Only the grim determination around her mouth, the only part of her face visible beneath her vinyl mask and cowl, declared the gravity of the combat she was about to enter.

Even so, the battle did not last long. Ducking under his first grab for her, Crimson lunged, bringing her knee directly into his six-pack abs. The force she was able to muster stunned the big man, making him pause. This was all the opening the heroine needed. She hit him with a left hook to the eye, driving him back a step. He took another step back when a hard right jab broke his nose.

His left hand went to his face in an attempt to stay the flow of blood. However, it was the great sweeping backhand motion that he made with his right that was much more effective. Catching Crimson Flare by surprise, the blow knocked her across the room and face first into a sofa. Moving quickly, Bloch rushed to put an end to the fight while the heroine was dazed.

Crimson Flare, despite her great strength, was not invulnerable. The blows of her opponents registered on her. For this reason, she had taken, and continued to take, a number of martial arts courses to improve her ability to deal with opponents who were frequently powerful men. But she recovered from the shocking blow quickly and, knowing that she could not afford to allow Bloch to get behind her again, she twisted on the sofa so that she faced him as he rushed her.

He came at her in a very amateurish fashion. He rushed her wide open, his arms spread out to the side like an eagle in flight. Crimson brought her legs up and her boots caught him flush at the diaphragm, the two-inch heels digging in just below his ribs. As she pushed him away with all her strength, the force of the air driven from his body gave rise to a sickly gasp. When his body smashed into the post to which the superheroine had earlier been tied, his head snapped back with a crunch. His body twisted off the post and fell to the floor, still breathing, but dark red blood poured from the back of his head across his face and onto the flooring.

The four unconscious men were not stirring. Crimson Flare surveyed the loft, which was serving as Jason’s apartment. The loot from Internet Row was stacked in the corner. Before she called the police, and an ambulance for Bloch, she briefly examined the full collection of goods. Yes, it was as she had initially noted: extremely expensive merchandise, nothing but the highest quality. Whoever was behind the robbery knew his stuff, and these components could be used to make a very sophisticated electronic device. A weapon? Or something to be used in further crimes? That, only time would tell.

Crimson Flare called the police and had them bring an ambulance to the apartment. When they arrived they found the stolen loot from the electronics and computer stores along Internet Row and three gang members struggling against the ropes with which they were tied. One man, a very large man, was badly injured and bleeding on the floor. But the superheroine who had made the call was nowhere to be seen. After all, her state of undress would not be proper for a superheroine of her standing.

End of Chapter Two