Crimson
Flare:
Apes Grab for
Power
by marat
Chapter Eleven
Crimson Flare was barely conscious as she lay on the floor. When Nancy removed
her mask and Morly pressed the camera in for a close-up of the exposed face
of Mitropoulos Avenger, the event was like so much of the torment that
had already been inflicted on her in this room: She was aware that it happened,
but she was in no condition to prevent it, or to even resist. As the black
vinyl was pulled away from her face, her only response was what could only
be described as a whine. When the camera pushed in on Karens face,
she turned away from the intrusion, though it was likely it was more in response
to the lights attached to the instrument than in an effort to protect her
identity.
Who the fuck are you? Nancy stared at the girl beneath her. She
reached down and took a firm grip on her chin, turning her face back toward
the camera. Weakly, gloved arms reached up, trying to block the bright lights
stabbing her no-longer-masked eyes.
Too exhausted, barely understanding the question, Crimson Flare remained
silent, except for another whimper.
Nancy slapped her face, cracking the hard crust that had formed from the
combination of dirt and cum. A grimy film of the detritus was wiped across
Karens mouth and she tasted the filthy mixture again. From somewhere,
the battered heroine heard the demand again. Who the fuck are
you?
The helpless, exposed Champion sighed. She just wanted everything to stop.
Finally, she said, almost inaudibly, Let
me go. Ill go
away. She was pleading for her life, she knew. The haze created by
Chans serum was disappearing. Agony was replacing the delirium and
lassitude that had surrounded her.
When her prisoner had made the plea, Nancy knew that it would not be long
before her physical strength would be restored. She looked across the room
at Ed, again clothed, relaxing on the floor, and still staring at the girl
who had been the object of his attack minutes earlier. Tie her
wrists, Nancy said quietly. Ed didnt move, his reverie
unbroken.
Tie her fucking wrists, you idiot! she ordered again, glaring
at him and baring her teeth. As quickly as he could move, he stumbled to
his feet, grabbing the nearby twine that had earlier been discarded. He wrapped
the same rope that had been used earlier to weaken the heroine around her
wrists again. Ed enjoyed the feeling of Crimson Flares satin gloves,
and the imagined sensation of the soft skin within them, as he fumbled to
immobilise her limbs. With her wrists bound and resting upon her stomach,
the Maiden of Mitropoulos felt her strength fall away. And her body, deprived
of its strength, was now wrapped in agony, and she twisted and convulsed
from the pain that was no longer held at bay by her strength. She cried out
weakly. Nancy watched, fascinated by the writhing form of the naked
superheroine.
So, bondage really is sexy for you, isnt it, little
girl? She reached toward the chain running between her captives
breasts and gently, tantalisingly traced the links first in one direction
and then the other, finally rubbing each round knob in turn. When Karen continued
to twist her body, responding to the throbbing anguish that had gripped her,
Nancy became convinced that her erroneous conclusion was, in fact, true.
She grabbed the chain and pulled the hapless Champion of Women up from the
floor.
Vaguely, slowly, awareness gradually returned to the disheartened heroine.
She was conscious of her nakedness and of the pain that now swallowed her.
She knew that the pain was centered in her sex, but that that was only part
of the agony surrounding her. She slowly began to actually distinguish things
around her. Nancy and one of her henchmen were fully clothed, while the other
thug, the one with the camera, was half-naked. He continued to move around
her with the camera. She tried to recall, What was it Stacy had told her?
Use the pain, find the center of the pain and drive other distractions
away. Her mind was very slowly becoming more focused; bewilderment and confusion
still confounded her senses, but the intense pain inside her was one thing
that was clear. When she turned her concentration to that sensation, it seemed
to magnify, swelling inside her to envelope her entire being, inside and
out. Tears welled in her eyes as she squeezed them shut. She pulled her legs
up to her chest; sweaty, filthy thighs pressed against mauled, bruised breasts
and the clamps that were attached to them, and she contracted her body into
a semi-fetal position. As the battered Champion of Women then unfolded her
form, she cried out, releasing all of the suffering of the last several days
in a howl of sheer agony.
AAAAAaaaaaagggghhhhhhkkkkkkgg!
Nancy relished the scream. Her enemy was beaten, on the verge of finally
being broken. The video would become not merely a record of her victory,
but a testament to her power. As Morly continued to record the end of the
heroine, the redhead walked to the collection of objects she had set out
earlier. She picked out a collection of weights and returned to the
still-quivering girl. And a few moments later, these black and silver icons
hung from the exposed Champions breasts and clit, secured there by
new clamps, new sources of agony and humiliation for Americas
Darling.
So how do you think your fans will like your new look?
Nancy asked. Too punk? Too goth? She flicked one of the dangling
ornaments, one that hung from her most intimate area, with her index finger.
She smiled as her prisoner winced.
Nancy directed Morly to return to a frontal shot of their captive as she
resumed her interrogation. Im serious, Crimson Slut. Who the
fuck are you? Whats your name?
Karen wanted to lie, to protect her identity, to defy, at long last, her
tormentor. But she was afraid that if she did so, and it was found out, Nancy
would have other toys in the bag with which to torture her.
K-Karen. K-Karen Perry, she sighed. Morlys camera captured
the confession.
Well, K-Karen, Nancy mocked, how did you get to be the
Crimson Whore?
The hapless heroine tried to catch her breath. Exhaustion and pain continued
to take their toll on her, even as she searched for a way out of her delirium.
The interrogation was giving her more breathing space, an opportunity to
find that elusive focus for which she had been searching. Finally, she said,
I
I was always very strong, even as a child. I dont know
why
or how. I learned
to hide it. I didnt want to be treated
like
. She stopped, not wanting to say what she was thinking.
But she wanted to give Nancy enough of the truth so that would be satisfied,
though not enough to endanger others.
How did you hide it?
By never using it
in public. But a lot of the time
I beat
boys who didnt
well, they didnt
.
Yeah, I know what you mean. So you had this strength. Why become Crimson
Slut?
I couldnt simply do nothing with it.
Thats one option. But isnt it expensive? What do you do
for money?
I
I have a small trust fund. This was true enough, and
could be confirmed. It would protect Stacys role in Crimson Flares
creation.
The question-and-answer session also allowed Karen to begin considering her
options. She had already begun to cut away at the ropes at her wrist. Ed
had tied them hurriedly and sloppily and she knew she would quickly be freed,
restoring her strength. She had to keep Nancy occupied long enough to finish
the job.
But Nancys attention was shortly attracted to the severe discoloration
on Karens chest. What is that? she asked peering narrowly
at the bruise. She reached her hand out to touch the purple and black contusion.
In investigating the curious mark, the redheaded sadist jabbed her fingers,
stiff as a knife-edge, hard against the damaged ribs. Pain shot through the
bound Champion once again and Nancy felt something give under the pressure.
As Crimson Flare twisted her body to get away from the intrusion, Nancy smiled
broadly. Ape! You wonderful, stupid shit! You broke her ribs!
She pressed her hand again toward the wound.
No, Karen whimpered, the pain clear in her voice, as she turned
away from Nancys inquiring fingers.
No? Nancy was furious. No?! The redhead
straightened up very quickly and signaled to Ed, who had been watching.
Ill teach youNO!
Ed grabbed her from behind and pulled her roughly to her feet, so that her
bound wrists were now tight against her torso, her elbows pulled sharply
back. The bruise was visible in the crook above her left forearm, and Karen
grimaced as a fresh pain wrapped itself around her chest. Nancy immediately
shot a hard right jab, which landed directly on the mark.
Eeeeeeeggggghhhhhkk!! the poor girl screamed as
the fractured bone was aggravated by the new shock of Nancys blow.
Her vision faded to black; red and white fireworks exploded in that darkness,
and the heroine sagged in Eds grip. The broken edges bone cut away
at internal organs, giving rise to a feeling of nausea. The claw ceased its
work as the combination of Eds restraint and the new damage weakened
her once again. But before she even had time to think, another powerful punch
smashed against Crimsons jaw as Nancys uppercut stretched and
twisted the heroines neck. Glorying in the weakness of her nemesis,
Nancy suddenly unleashed her fury in a vicious attack against the helpless
avenger. A hard left cross to Crimson Flares cheek elicited an anguished
cry. But it was the next blow, a straight, hard right to the discolouration
on her chest, gave rise to a shriek of such infinite pain that even Nancy
paused. Karens left leg collapsed under her and her whole body sagged
in Eds grip. And with each successive blow, one after another, the
ornaments dangling from her breasts and sex swung freely, as if trying to
free themselves from their tight grip on the Maiden of Mitropoulos.
Nancy watched with unhidden joy as Ed pulled the petite form of the crimefighter
to her feet. She felt satisfaction as a right and then a left cross smashed
against the Champions cheekbones, drawing further groans of pain from
the helpless figure. This, she thought, this was what victory
felt like. When she drove a level jackhammer blow once again against the
bluish-black target that discoloured Crimson Flares chest, and she
heard the satisfying whelp from the battered, exhausted heroine, she stepped
back and examined the slumping form before her. Unmasked, her mystery gone,
Crimson Flare didnt look quite so beautiful. She was attractive, to
be sure, but the mask created an allure that was unmistakable, and which
was unmistakably missing from this girl. The smeared muddy concoction that
covered her face and jaw didnt help, and the tears now flowing freely
down her face, resulting from the combination of pain and shame revealed
her to be only a weak little girl. Nancy watched her mouth moving, trying
to form words: Please. Stop. Her body seemed infinitely
smaller than earlier, now that she was desperately trying to curl her form
to ease the pain in her ribs. Every once in a while her body jerked spastically,
as she wept, quietly for the most part. The coating of sweat and filth that
covered her did nothing to return Crimson Flare to her former glory. Even
the satin gloves, the scuffed black leather boots, and the still-shiny black
vinyl cowl now mocked their wearer, rather than enhancing her. The clamps
secured to her body dangled the objects attached to them like a cheap
strippers tassels. More than satisfied, Nancy turned to make sure that
Morly was still getting the degradation of Mitropoulos Guardian.
Morly could hardly believe what he was seeing as he squinted through the
cameras eyepiece. Here was Crimson Flare, unmasked, moaning in pain,
naked to the world, and revealed as nothing more than a little girl whose
aspirations didnt match her capabilities. Just days ago, even though
they had been holding this Champion of Women prisoner, he and Ed still spoke
of Crimson Flare in hushed tones. But Nancys triumph would destroy
this heroine forever, smash her face in the mud, make her a laughing stock
in the underworld. And he was creating all the evidence that they
would ever need. His place in the criminal history of Mitropoulos was
assured.
He moved to capture the debased heroine from a new angle, and, keeping the
camera on the humiliated form of the victim, he turned his head and stared
as Nancy returned to the implements of torture she had laid out on the blue
table earlier.
Instead of selecting one of the toys that had been set out earlier, toys
that might yet find a part to play in the heroines degradation, Nancy
reached down to the rack that hung from the lower part of the table, where
one might expect to find billiard cues or bridges. She came up with a shiny
red spreader bar, almost three feet long, with chains and a lock attached
to each end. She walked slowly, smiling, back toward her helpless prey, fingering
the device. Put this on her, Ed, she ordered.
After a moments pause, when it appeared that the thug was unsure about
what to do, Ed released the heroine and stepped toward his superior to retrieve
the device. The pillaged form of Crimson Flare simply crumpled to the floor.
Unable to move, moaning in agony, the Champion of Women felt her legs spread
by Eds fumbling fingers. She lay on her back, with her wrists bound,
laying on her chest, and though she was aware of the compromising image Morly
was capturing of her, the pain that racked her body made it impossible for
her to resist.
Each time Nancy had driven one of her
hard body blows to the avengers weakness, a white sheet of pain enveloped
the avenger, obscuring all other sensations. The
Maid of Mitropoulos had been so badly battered by the redhead that she was
completely dependent upon Eds restraining her to remain upright. When
he released his hold on her, her legs simply gave out from under her, and
she crumpled forward and rolled over onto her back.
Though she had not seen the device that Nancy had brought into play, she
felt Eds hands first spreading her legs, then wrap something around
her booted ankles. Her mind was so far from her present predicament that
she even failed to use this opportunity to resume cutting away at her bonds.
That thought only entered her mind as Ed finished his work, deliberately
fingering the leather-covered ankles of the captive. By then it was too late,
as Ed roughly pulled her to her feet, yanking her elbows back and pressing
her bound wrists hard against her stomach. With the ropes flush against her
tight stomach muscles, the heroine was again in no position to take advantage
of her claw. She felt the chain linking the nipple clamps lightly brushing
her chest and she realised that her legs had been spread obscenely. The image
Morly was capturing would show her as nothing less than a slut.
The powerless Maiden now stood with her feet spread almost a yard apart,
with all of the invitation that that position offered from a beautiful, naked,
young woman. Still dazed from the beating she had absorbed, she swayed back
and forth, unable even to keep her head up. And yet, still another blow followed
from the vindictive moll, a short, sharp uppercut that drove right onto her
pubic bone. She tried to pull her thighs together, but the bar prevented
any defense against the next two punches that caught her on exactly the same
point. Again a cry of torment filled the room. One of the blows had landed
directly on the dangling ornament in that area and a sharp sting of agony
pierced her body. Shrieking piteously, Karen attempted to pull her legs up
into some sort of fetal protective posture, but she was simply too weak.
All she could do was absorb more of Nancys punishment, feebly crying
out as she desperately tried to find some way out. She pleaded with her attacker
to stop this assault. She felt consciousness slipping by degrees from her,
and she found herself asking, Why? Why would this happen? Why would she die
at the hands of this monster?
The next punch landed flush against Karens cheek. Her head twisted
sickeningly and she felt fresh blood flow into her mouth, mixing with the
sediment and cum that still marred her face. A final blow to her stomach,
just above her bound wrists, drained all the air from her body. The battered
Champion looked quizzically at Nancy, her eyes getting wider as she tried
to draw a fresh breath into her beaten body. But her body refused to comply,
and she noisily, desperately, gasped for air.
Let her go, the criminal moll told her shaven-headed minion,
who still restrained the beaten heroine.
As Ed did so, Crimson Flare, heroine of Mitropoulos, Champion of Women, now
unmasked, stripped, and bound, her legs spread wide by the bright red bar
and her body decorated with clamps and weights, tottered for barely a second,
and then fell on her face to the floor. The sound of her head striking the
hardwood echoed through the hall, making even Ed wince.
Nancy only smiled.
Morly stopped filming for a moment, and then, to avoid the wrath of his boss,
he moved to a different angle and continued his coverage.
The redhead considered that she was almost through with the defeated
superheroine. Almost through. Taking a single step so that her feet
were perpendicular to the petite girls torso, she aimed one final kick
at the blue-black target on her chest. The blow she landed carried with it
all of the remaining fury of the sadistic criminal.
Aaaaarrrrrhhhhhhh!!! The harsh whisper of pain exploded
from the Champion of Women as Nancys boot, spotless now from Crimson
Flares humiliating cleansing, found its mark, sending the girl twisting
from the floor, landing several feet away on her back.
Lets go! Nancy said, as she led the two men toward the
door.
Behind them, the unmoving body of the defeated Maiden of Mitropoulos was
the evidence of her victory.
*****
Stunned, swallowed by an agony that wouldnt go away, Karen lay on her
back, staring up at the globs of light that bathed the room in a pale yellow
glow. It was full minutes before she had the presence of mind to realise
that she was alone in the rehearsal hall. Seconds after that, she remembered
the claw that would permit her to free herself from her bonds. Freedom meant
escape. She could flee this place of torture and pain. If she escaped from
this place, she might also finally escape her alter ego.
As she cut away the last of her rope bonds, she reflected on the suffering
she had been subjected to as Crimson Flare. She thought back of how often
she had been raped and savagely beaten; how the worst criminal elements had
targeted her for destruction or humiliation; how she had endured the pain
and degradation; and how she had come to understand the reasons for this
mistreatment. One after another, her opponents had told her that she had
been targeted not because she was fighting for justice or against crime,
but because she was a woman. Even her erstwhile allies, the police, hated
her for this selfsame reason; they wished to see her fail, to see her destroyed.
Because she was a woman.
Well, if that was how they felt, they can go back to fighting crime without
her.
As the last strand of rope was cut and her arms fell to the floor, the surge
of strength that rushed through her body overwhelmed the pain that had dominated
her senses. The agony that she felt everywhere, in her chest, in her crotch,
around her jaw, all disappeared, replaced by a dull throbbing. When she sat
up, she was reminded of the clamps and weights that decorated her sweaty,
filthy body and she saw the bright red metal rod that spread her legs. Reminded
of her humiliation, she felt herself involuntarily redden; then she began
to undo the clamps and remove them, first from her sex and then from her
breasts. As each object was removed, she hurled it from her presence, as
if sheer distance would erase the shame that she had endured. Finally, she
reached down and broke the spreader bar in two, at the same time tearing
away the chains that encircled her black leather boots.
But before Crimson Flare disappeared from Mitropoulos, she thought, she would
have to erase all memory, all evidence, of what she had undergone here. As
she got to her feet, she stumbled. Reaching down toward her knees with her
hands, she placed the crimson satin against those black-booted gams that
were the delight of all of Mitropoulos, trying to catch her breath and to
steady herself. Seeing those symbols of her heroine persona, she thought
back on Stacy and how she had given her life to preserve Crimson Flare. Well,
Stacy, she thought, maybe we were wrong, after all.
She walked as quickly as she could to her costume, discarded on the floor
halfway across the room. As she picked up the ultra light material, shimmering
in the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling, she once again admired the sequined
spandex; thinking about the first time had put it on, and how it had felt
against her skin. Tears welled up in her eyes as she remembered how Stacy
had laboured over its design; and she felt a thrill run down her spine as
she recalled its cool tautness against her body. She remembered how she used
to love to swell her chest against the spandex, to feel it grip her breasts
and stretch to its limit against her ribcage. It exuded strength, and wearing
it she felt strong. The boots and the gloves only added to that sensation.
The way her belt settled on top of hips and the way the baton rested against
her thigh communicated to her that same sense of strength.
For the last time, she thought, and she stepped into the uniform of the Maiden
of Mitropoulos. Nearby she found her black vinyl mask. It had not weathered
her beating well: the vinyl was scratched and scarred, and one of the eyeholes
had been ripped at the edge. She smoothed the tear and gingerly placed the
form-fitting mask on her face. Adding her black belt, she completed her costume.
Once again, the Champion of Women was fully prepared to fight her enemies.
You know what we ought to do with her
Nancy walked into
the room, carrying on a conversation with her thugs, who remained in the
hall.
No, what? Crimson Flare replied, walking purposefully toward
her enemy.
The redheads jaw dropped when she saw the heroine, fully garbed and
masked. But a moment later, she smiled, her confidence restored. Why,
K-Karen, how youve changed.
Youre going to jail. Youre going to admit to the crimes
that Ive been charged with and youre going to pay for them. Or,
I swear, Ill kill you.
Youre a heroine, Crimson Slut. You cant do that. Youve
got to stand for truth, justice, and the American Way. She was smiling
broadly.
In one thing youre right, Crimson said evenly. My
career is over. The police, the criminal elements, everyone
they hate
me because Im a woman. So when Ive settled with you, Crimson
Flares career as a crimefighter is over. She took another step
toward Nancy. Youre under arrest.
Nancy rushed at the heroine even before she had finished talking. Aided by
the element of surprise, she wrapped her arms around the masked Guardian
of Mitropoulos and the force of her rush drove the two women back toward
the risers. The Champion fell on her back with Nancy on top of her, still
firmly holding the petite form in her freckled arms. Once again Crimsons
cowled head cracked against the wooden flooring, but this time her great
strength allowed her to keep her wits about her.
As the two women bounced on the second level of the risers, the powerful
superheroine whipped her arms outward from her body, forcing Nancy to break
her grip. In a whirl of speed and power, Crimson Flare turned Nancys
attack against the larger redhead. In a moment, the masked avenger was behind
the criminal, her hands firmly gripping her opponents wrists, and she
was pulling underworld queen toward the tattered rope lying on the floor
where only minutes earlier she herself had been held bound and helpless.
N-n-no! cried Nancy. I will not! She pulled and
struggled, tugged, yanked, and twisted in an effort to get free.
In a surprise move, she twisted her body and jumped toward the heroine. The
action forced Crimson to release her grip on Nancys wrists in order
to defend herself. Once again the two women slammed onto the floor. This
time, Nancys weight momentarily drove the air from Crimson Flares
body as she landed on the little girls diaphragm, temporarily stunning
the heroine. In that instant, the redhead was up and running toward the
door.
Ed! Morly! Shes loose!
But before the redhead could reach the exit, Crimson Flare was again on her,
using her strength and speed to advantage. The heroine wrapped up her enemy
in her powerful arms, only to have the larger woman push off from the floor,
upwards and backwards, trying to drop the Champion on her back again. But
this time it failed, and Crimson Flare countered the move by spinning around
in a great arc before releasing the criminal from her powerful arms.
Nancy screamed as she flew threw the air. It would have been funny, and eminently
satisfying to Americas Darling as she watched, but the strength of
the toss hurled the gangland queen not simply across the open space of the
rehearsal hall, but also against the painted-black glass of one of the large
windows that pocked the face of the building. She crashed through the portal
and out into the night sky, still screaming, as she fell three stories to
the street below.
Shocked, the exhausted crusader ran as fast as she could to the gaping hole
that opened out to the city night. The cool night air felt refreshing against
her body, and the dawn, just beginning to her left, seemed to offer a beautiful,
cloudless morning. In the faint light, Crimson Flare could make out below
her the cast iron fence that separated the Conservatory from the sidewalk
and street. The top of the five-foot fence was lined with spear points, purely
decorative at the time of construction, but many now rusted or bent. And
across this formerly formidable array, three stories below her, Crimson saw
the twisted body of her redheaded tormentor. Three of the iron spikes had
pierced her abdomen, a diagonal line of bloody tips that crept up her body
from her navel to her breast. One more bloodied spear point held her thigh
in place on top of the fence. Her other leg hung down on the outside of the
property, and through the morning light, the heroine could see that it was
still dangling loosely, bouncing off the vertical iron pipes beneath.
Nancys dead arms were spread out in a cruciform manner and her head
was almost invisible as it hung down toward the grass and litter inside the
fence.
Crimson Flare let out a soft sigh, both of relief and dismay. The most important
person who could clear her of the criminal charges against her was dead.
But that person had also been her most vicious enemy. Turning back to the
room, she headed toward the exit. Before she was halfway across the room,
however, she was stopped in her tracks.
Intense pain shot through her head, as if someone were cutting away at her
brain and skull. Oh, god, the
Nemissesitor! Her black boots clumped on the wooden floor,
her speed slowing, the evenness of her stride mangled by her loss of balance.
The Champion of Mitropoulos looked at the exit as she slipped to her knees.
There, smiling, was Ed, pointing the weapon at her. Crimson dropped her gloved
hands to the floor in an effort to support herself, but finally she dropped
her head and closed her eyes. The agony created by that infernal machine
was simply too much. She slid to the floor, the pain pronounced on her face,
her body shaking. Had she killed Nancy only to wind up at the mercy of her
thugs?
As she lay helpless on the floor of the rehearsal hall, several loud reports
from below her snapped the Maid of Mitropoulos back to her present reality.
Pushing with all her strength, she raised her body and pulled her legs up
under her hips. Sinking back on her haunches, she listened as two sets of
feet raced heavily up the stairs. Raising her masked face toward the doorway,
Crimson was astonished, moments later, to see Maria Blakeman, hugging the
walls, creep around the corner and into the room. The police officer lowered
her gun when she saw the heroine.
Crimson Flare. Are you all right? We saw you at the window
and she said in a rapid-fire manner, reminiscent of Joe Friday
on Dragnet, but more truly reflecting her concern for the well-being
of Americas Darling.
Before the heroine could answer, her partner, Officer Tim Westbrook, stormed
into the room, holding his gun on the exhausted crimefighter. Crimson
Flare! he shouted. Youre under arrest! You have the right
to remain silent
.
Wait, Tim, Maria said to him. Before we multiply the mistakes
that have already been made in this case, lets do some
investigating. She turned to the heroine, who was just now slowly rising
to her feet, and asked, Whats been going on here?
Crimson Flare began when she had left the officers car. It seemed now
to be months or years, rather than days, ago. When she mentioned Ape and
his activities in the old Conservatory, the officers interest picked
up. Ape Greystook! What happened to him?
Crimson immediately recalled Apes fate. She started walking toward
the exit. Follow me, she said.
She walked to the room where Ape was lying on the bed. As she led the officers
in, Apes shallow, laboured breathing could barely be heard. Oh,
my god, hes still alive! Crimson shouted. Quick, call for
help. Nancy prevented me from getting him help when I injured him.
In mere minutes, medics were strapping the huge criminal, tubes running into
his body from many sources, to a stretcher and preparing to carry him down
the three long flights of stairs to street level. As they wheeled him into
the hall, the eyes of criminal and crimefighter met. He saw the worry and
sympathy behind the mask, and he remembered what he had overheard in the
minutes immediately following his injury; he had heard Nancy demean him again;
he had known that Nancy would let him die; Crimson Flare was confident that
she would have her name cleared as soon as Ape was able to speak.
There were two other men, besides Nancy and Ape, who were here.
Nancys the woman who fell through the window, Crimson
explained.
Maria responded first. Those two other men ran into us when we entered
the building. We had no reason to stop them, but they just started shooting
at us. Theyre both dead on the first floor.
Officer Westbrook, sensing that his arrest was slipping away, looked at the
Guardian of Mitropoulos suspiciously. Fell through the window? From where I stood,
it looked more like she was thrown through the window. Throw by someone
with remarkable strength.
Stop it, Tim. Its over. Ape Greystook and Nancy Smiths
involvement in whatever was going on here is going to explain a lot of
whats been happening in Mitropoulos. Theyve been involved in
a series of crimes going back over the last five years. When all of this
is sorted out, anyone calling for Crimson Flares arrest is going to
look pretty stupid.
Crimson Flare and Maria walked down the stairs together. The officer gave
the heroine a bottle of water, so that she might clean the filth from her
face before leaving the building. They then walked out into the street, where
the flashing lights of back-up units, crime scene units, the ambulance, and
even a police electronics laboratoryto deal with that mass of computer
and other equipment the police found tucked away in a room on the first
floorreflected off the brick fronts and wet streets around the old
music building. I dont want to know anything that happened in
there, Maria told her heroine.
It was pretty rough.
I didnt tell this earlier because you seemed pretty shaken by
some of the other things I had to say. But
well, youre the reason
there are so many women joining the police force, the fire department
I became a cop because of you, and thats true of every woman I know
on the force.
Crimson Flare didnt know what to say.
If it hadnt been for you, we might have never done anything with
the educations we got, or with the opportunities we had in front of us. Too
many women I know went to college, got married, and had five kids.
I
I have to
to go.
Dont stop, Crimson Flare. We need you.
The End
Comments, questions, suggestions welcome: contact the author at
marat1793@earthlink.net