Episode 4 -- Ms. Marvelous vs. Bullets

Author: Steven Bell
Time to Read:42min
Added Date:4/21/2023
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Tags: Ms. Marvelousn/c

Ziggy the Weasel stood beneath the arch of the doorway, away from the light of the street lamp and partially hidden in the shadows. “Nice to seem him on time, for once,” I said to myself as I descended out of the midnight sky towards him.

Ziggy was my first and best informant. He lived in the Dark Water and knew its workings like he knew the back of his hand. I didn’t always know where he got his information, but his tidbits were usually right on the mark. In return for information about the Reavors, I let his small black market operation slide—I don’t normally sanction such behavior, but Ziggy doesn’t hurt people and, in this case, it was more than a fair trade.

I am Ms. Marvelous, a champion for justice. I fight evil wherever and whenever I find it. By this

isn’t to say that I blindly police every law on the books. Sure, people like Ziggy are breaking the law. They cheat the system, either by not paying their fair share of the taxes, or by taking business away from legitimate businesses, or by simply putting their middle finger in the air and flipping off the system. They are the black marketers, the scam artists, the prostitutes and johns, the panhandlers, and the smut dealers. We would all like to make believe that they don’t exist. But they do, of course, and for the most part they don’t hurt other people. People like Ziggy are not really evil, at least not in my eyes. It’s the others—The ones that victimize us, that murder and rape and steal from us, the ones that destroy our property and sell drugs to our children—It is these that are evil, and these that I relentlessly pursue.

If Ziggy wanted to sell a Cuban cigar or a homemade copy of the current hit movie then I could look the other way. But I wanted something in return, and Ziggy usually came through. His information about the Reavors had proven valuable. Through him, for instance, I now knew that the Reavors were planning to move their enormous stash of cocaine sometime in the next week. I knew that their contact, their go-between to their South American source, was a man named Don Refrain. I didn’t yet know the name of their buyer, but I knew that the Reavors had been fronted the drugs. They would be paying off Refrain and the South American supplier with the proceeds of the sell.

I figured the way to hurt the Reavors was to mess up their deal. If I could somehow destroy the cocaine before they made the sell, I could cost them a lot of money. I might even be able to drive a wedge between them and Refrain. At the very least, I would be keeping a pallet full of crack off the street. What I needed from Ziggy was the exact day and time that the deal was planned to come off and, if possible, the name of the buyer.

And I wanted one other piece of information. I wanted to know the whereabouts of the Boss Woman. She had hired the Soi-Kai to take me out. He had almost succeeded. Such an action could not go unpunished. I wanted to find the Boss Woman and bring her to justice. But she was in hiding and none of my other sources had been able to determine her location. Ziggy was my last chance. If I didn’t find her soon, she would no doubt send additional bounty hunters my way.

The Boss Woman hated me. Since our first encounter, she had been stripped of her status as the leader of the female Reavors. I had crippled her organization by taking out several of her best bangers, and the ones that remained had lost confidence in her ability to lead. The head of the male Reavors, Bullets, was pissed because she had spilled her guts to me after our fight. Not that she had told me all that much, but in gangland anything is too much.

She blamed me for her problems and had sworn to get revenge. Even without her gang of female hellions behind her, the Boss Woman still had considerable resources on which she could call. Thinking that her only hope to regain her position in the Reavors and pacify Bullets was to capture or kill me, she was calling in all her markers to make it happen. Which meant that I had to get her before she got me.

I landed near Ziggy’s hiding place, away from the light. My experiences in the Dark Water had made me wary of this area. Reavors could show up at any time, looking for a fight. I was not worried for myself—Ms. Marvelous would join in combat anywhere and anytime. But I wanted to protect my

informant. If the wrong people discovered that Ziggy was providing me with information, it could be bad for him. Ziggy was a survivor, but he was no match for the Reavors.

I could tell that something was wrong right away. Usually a big talker and always trying to sell me something, Ziggy was now quiet, his eyes downcast. Absent were the usual off-color remarks about my revealing costume and the suggestions that we should rent a room and combine business with pleasure. Most surprising, he failed to fling open the flaps of his dirty brown overcoat in a mock flash, a tired joke that he had always used to greet me in the past.

“How’s it going, Ziggy?” I asked.

His face looked pale and taught, as if he were under a lot of stress. “Um… OK, I guess. What do you say we go inside to talk?”

This was curious, I thought. We had never gone inside before. “I don’t want to get a room, Ziggy,” I said, thinking he was joking with me.

“No, I mean… Inside would be good. Yeah, I got this cold. So, inside would be good. What do you say? Right through here.”

He opened and stepped through the door, into the darkness of the unlit hallway beyond. I thought this was very odd—He didn’t sound like he had a cold, and in any case it was a warm night. Curious and wary, I followed him in.

“Down this way… We’ll be able to talk,” he said, leading the way.

The hallway led toward the back of the building. The floor was hard wood and in bad shape. The clack of his hard-soled shoes reverberated through the narrow passage. On either side of the hall was a pair of open doors that led to other rooms. At the far end of the hallway was a larger room, also dimly lit. I couldn’t see any furniture. The building was apparently abandoned.

“Ziggy, I don’t have time for this. I need to know—“

As I passed the first of the doors, a huge ham fist came through and slammed into my jaw. My head snapped to the side and my body flew through the doorway and into the room on the opposite side, landing hard on the floor and sliding into the far wall. I lay there, crumpled and dazed, not quite sure of what had happened.

The room was small, with a low ceiling. There were no windows, which added to the claustrophobic feel of the place. Like the hallway, the floor was made from hard wood. The walls, too, were made from the heavy wood.

I looked up to see an enormous man, apparently the one who had clocked me, following me into the room and standing before the doorway, his massive frame completely blocking it. He had wild black hair that seemed to fly out from his head and a huge beard that covered most of his face. He didn’t wear a shirt, instead touting a set of stained coveralls that were strapped over his shoulders. His barrel chest was covered in hair so that it was difficult to see where the beard ended and his chest began. On his gigantic feet were a pair of solid looking, black leather, work boots. The heavy soles on the boots added an inch to his already towering, six foot, ten-inch frame.

Wobbly, I pulled myself up to one knee. The big mountain man smiled under his beard, apparently pleased that I still had some life left in me. He moved further into the room, away from the door, revealing my next surprise, behind. There, holding Ziggy’s neck in two huge paws, was a second monster of a man, just as large and ugly as the first. In fact, they looked almost identical.

The second man entered, bringing Ziggy with him. “My name is Fred Bodine, and this here is my brother, Bart. Yes, ma’am, we’re the Bodine brothers.”

I was back on my feet now, rubbing my aching jaw with my right hand. Ziggy’s eyes were still downcast—He couldn’t bring himself to look at me. I could guess what had happened.

“It’s alright, Ziggy. You didn’t have any choice.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Marvelous,” he said sadly. “I didn’t know what to do. I—“ “Enough!” Fred Bodine interrupted. “I ain’t got no kind of time for this crap.”

Still holding Ziggy by the scruff of his neck, the mountain man flung him through the door and out into the hallway. Ziggy hit the opposite wall hard, but looked relieved to be out of the big man’s grasp. That was the last I saw of him before Fred slammed the door shut.

“Now, then,” Fred began. “It’s just you and us, little sunflower. And just look at you. Whoooweee! All dressed up in them tight little clothes. What do you think about that, Bart?”

Bart’s leering face told me what he thought. “Me want some of that. Can me have it, Fred?

Huh? Please, Fred?”

“I reckon, Bart. But I might have a taste, first, understand?”

“Sure, Fred. What you say. You go first, then me. Me want some of that.”

I could see by the growing bulges under their coveralls that they wanted to screw me. But I had no intention of being poked by these cretins. “Why don’t you boys back off, now, before you get hurt?”

Fred let out a belly laugh. “You hear that, Bart? Sunflower says she is going to hurt us. What do you think about that?”

“Me want some of that, Fred. When me get?”

“I think we’ll get some right now, Bart. But remember to leave a little for Boss Woman, now, you hear? We’ll get us some sweet pussy, but we also want to get our money. So don’t kill her like you did

the last one, huh?”

“Me want!”

Bart leapt at me, trying to wrap his arms around me. I dodged to the right, under his grasp, and let go with a backhand left that caught him in the back of his shoulder and shoved him face first into the wall that had been behind me.

“Well, look a there, Bart. The gal has some spunk!” From the tone of Fred’s voice and the bulge in his pants, I could tell that he was enjoying this. And I have to admit, it was a pretty good plan for two such obvious morons—They had me trapped in a tiny room with a low ceiling. There was no place for me to fly or run. Even my last move had taken every available inch of space, leaving my back once again against the hard wood wall. I knew that my martial arts skills would be limited in the cramped space. My only hope was to slug it out in close quarters with two brutes that each stood more than a foot taller than me and had me outweighed by a combined six hundred pounds. Oh, well. Sometimes you just have to play the cards your dealt.

Bart stepped toward me again, more cautiously this time. I fired a straight right at his chest and connected, driving him back and making him grunt. I hit him hard again with a left, but the man mountain didn’t go down. These boys were tough. He bellowed in anger and swung wildly at me with a right. It was a blow I should have easily been able to dodge, but the cramped quarters were hindering my movements and he connected against my left bicep. The force of the blow flung me the short length of the room and I slammed hard against the wall.

I was still on my feet, but slow to recover. Bart grabbed me by my shoulders, from behind, and threw me back across the room, again into a wall. Fred was laughing, but I was getting tired of being treated like a rag doll. I rebounded off the wall and with a single, fluid motion, lashed out with a straight kick to Bart’s gut. It landed cleanly, knocking the big man backward. Following up on my advantage, I sent a palm strike to his chin, snapping his head back. A knee to the groin sent him to the floor in a heap.

“You damn witch!” Fred yelled. “I’ll make you pay for that!”

He came at me with a rush, but I was ready for him. Grasping hold of Bart’s hair with one hand and his coveralls with the other, I hoisted him up and threw him at his oncoming brother. The two men crashed and fell in a pile, their legs and arms flailing.

“Get off of me, you idiot!” Fred screamed at his brother while pushing him off. He got to his feet in a rage, furious that a tiny female was getting the best of him. He came at me, swinging his punches in wide arcs, missing, but forcing me back into a corner. Finally, when I could retreat no farther, he lifted his big right boot and kicked out, determined to stomp me into dust.

I had nowhere to dodge. The boot hit me in the midsection and drove me through the wall and out the other side. I landed in the next room, my body aching from the combined impacts of the boot, wall, and floor. Fred followed me in, widening the hole in the wall as he did. He lifted my weight off the floor easily, hoisting me over his shoulder, before driving me head first into yet another wall. I fell to the floor face first, only to be jerked up again, this time by my hair.

“Now I’m going to mess you up, Sunflower!”

I was getting pissed. I would be damned if I would let this overgrown hillbilly use me as his punching bag. Allowing him to maintain his hold on my hair for the moment, I drove my left fist into his face and my right into his gut. He cringed in pain and let go of me. I landed another quick succession of punches to his head, driving him a couple of steps backward. Having a little space to work with, now, I

leaped high in the air and launched a forward spring kick that caught him square on the jaw. His body lurched backward and fell, kicking up a large cloud of dust as he impacted with the dirty wood floor.

“I’m not your ‘Sunflower’!”

Repaying his trick in kind, I hoisted his huge mass onto my shoulder, took a short run, and drove Fred Bodine headfirst into the damaged wall that connected to the first room. Like a big, stupid, spike, he crashed through the wall, forming a second hole that was even larger than the first. He landed in the original room with a crash, next to his brother. I followed him through the wall, admiring the new doorway that I had created.

Bart was still down, clutching his balls and whimpering. Fred was conscious, but just barely. I struck a pose over them, my feet spread, my hands on my hips. “I don’t want to ever see you boys in my town again,” I said with steel in my voice. “Go back to whatever hole it was that you climbed out of and never come back. Do you understand? If I do see you, I’ll crush you like the worthless little bugs you

really are.”

I turned and walked to the door, opening it. But I paused before leaving. “Oh, and if you see Boss Woman, you can tell her that she should leave, too. Or better yet, tell her that I said she should stay. I’ll crush her, too. You can tell her that. Tell her that I am coming for her.”

The Bodine brothers grunted in acknowledgement and I left the building. Ziggy was long gone and I figured I would have a hard time finding him. He would probably be happy to see me alive, but he was no doubt ready to get out of the Dark Water. With his role as my informant revealed, his life wasn’t worth squat as long as he stayed. But without the information that he was to have provided me, I knew I couldn’t afford to wait any longer. The cocaine deal could happen any time. I had to destroy the drugs before it did. I had to act quickly. I had to act this very night.

I raised my arm and propelled myself into the sky, heading in the direction of the Reavor crack house. My red and black costume was barely visible in the moonless night sky. My golden blonde hair trailed from my head as my speed increased. A light sheen of sweat on my bare thighs and stomach shimmered in the light of the city below.

It didn’t take me long to reach the Reavors’ headquarters. As I had done before, on my many reconnaissance patrols to the building, I flew directly overhead and then descended vertically until I touched down on the roof. As always, two guards kept watch near the front of the building, their attention mostly focused on the street, three stories below. On my previous visits I had always avoided them, not wanting to alert them to my presence. But not tonight—Tonight it didn’t matter.

I landed directly behind them, only feet away. I struck a pose and cleared my voice. “Excuse me, boys?”

They turned and were surprised to see a costumed superheroine so close at hand. The guard to my right went for his gun, a pistol slung under his belt. I lashed out at him with a high kick, clipping him in the face and taking him down. His partner had a machine pistol strapped over his shoulder and he brought it level so that it was aimed at me. I reacted in flash, going into a crouch and hitting him with a perfect leg sweep. He fell hard on his back, never having gotten off a shot. A quick chop to his exposed neck finished him.

Both guards were out cold. I picked up their weapons tossed them onto the roof of the building next door. If they woke up any time soon, at least they wouldn’t have their toys. I moved toward the door at the center of the roof. I knew from my earlier visits that it was the only way in, other than the heavily guarded entrance at street level.

As always, the door was unlocked. It opened into a dark stairwell that led a short distance down before reaching a second door. This one, too, was unlocked. I entered into a dimly lit room that contained three power generators. The Reavors liked to produce their own electricity, which wasn’t a bad idea if you’re a bunch of criminals, I figured. It was all part of their “us against them”, “Reavors vs.

society”, siege mentality.

A heavy metal door at the end of the room marked the exit. The door was locked, but I had tested the door on previous visits and knew that I could get through. Not that I ever had—This was as far as I had ever explored the interior of the Reavor crack house, other than by looking in windows from the outside. I put my ear to the door and listened, but the loud, mechanical noise of the generators

prevented me from hearing anything on the other side. Oh, well, I figured. No point in getting cautious, now.

Grasping the doorknob in my powerful left hand, I flexed and ripped it from its mooring.

Reaching my fingers into the new hole, I pulled again and the door came open, swinging toward me. I slipped through into large room containing ventilation machinery. I was impressed-- the Reavors had central air. I quickly closed the broken door behind me, muffling the sound of the loud power generators. The ventilation machines hummed, slightly vibrating the network of air ducts that allowed them to pump air to the outlying sections of the large building. I could see another door at the end of this room.

Again finding the door locked, but having no more difficulty opening it than the previous one, I found myself at the top of a set of stairs that led down to the second floor. As I approached the base of it, I could hear voices—lots of voices. Peeking out from the stairwell, I could see a long hallway with open doors at various points along its length. At the far end, opposite of my location, I could see another stairwell leading down to the first floor. As I looked, a pair of Reavors moved out of one room, into the hallway, and then into the room across the hall. Three more did the same a moment later, but none of them saw me. Laughter and loud shouts occasionally exploded from the rooms. It was after midnight, but it seemed the Reavors were just getting going.

I knew that I was in the personal quarters, the area of the building used by the Reavors as their living space. I needed to get to the back of the building, to the large vat room that was the center of the drug operation. Unfortunately, that meant first getting to the first floor. And the only way I could see to do that, short of knocking down some walls, was to make it to the stairwell at the end of the hall.

I didn’t see any point to waiting, so I started walking down the hall. My luck had run out, though. No sooner had I stepped into the open and taken a couple of steps than a banger walked out of a room, stopped ten feet away, and looked right at me. He was dressed in typical Reavor fashion, with a heavy denim jacket, open down the front and the sleeves cut off at the shoulders, a pair of dirty pants made from the same material, and heavy looking, steel-toed work boots. He had a blue bandana rolled up and wrapped around his left biceps muscle. His gang logo was emblazoned on the right shoulder of the jacket with blue thread-- A knife wrapped within the coils of a snake.

The Reavor sported a choppy beard on a face that I guessed was about eighteen years old. His eyes opened wide as he saw me and a leer grew on his face. A boy this age is at his sexual peak and I

could tell the hormones inside him were overpowering his common sense. I couldn’t blame him, really. My costume is practically painted on, revealing every curve and angle of my five foot nine, athletically built frame, and shows a lot of skin. He wanted me.

Dropping the beer bottle he had been carrying, the banger approached me with his hands out, as if he were preparing the grab something. I teased him, letting him get close before backing away. We played this game until I was at the end of the hallway, my back against the wall. He came in on me, trying to cop a feel. I grabbed him by the jacket and pulled, stepping out of the way as I did. He went face first into the wall, never laying a finger on me. He tottered for a moment, as if unsure what he wanted to do, then collapsed to the floor and sort of sat there, his forehead resting against the wall, unconscious.

I turned to continue back down the hall but was disappointed to find two more bangers where the first had been. They had disapproving looks on their faces, apparently having just witnessed the scene that had transpired with their buddy. With flick of his hand, the banger on the left motioned for his pal to take me. The second Reavor responded without hesitation, letting loose with a war cry as he charged me. I braced myself and as he approached I lowered my shoulder and met his attack head on. My shoulder dug into his chest and I picked him off his feet before slamming him down with a perfect tackle. I finished him with a right-handed chop to his sternum.

Seeing two of his buddies wiped out so easily, the remaining banger began shouting for help and banging on the walls, alerting the Reavors inside the adjoining rooms. They filtered out slowly at first, but then with more urgency, until there was twelve more of them in the cramped quarters of the hallway.

They were all in front of me, except for the guy I had rammed face first into the wall, and they were all blocking my way to the first floor.

I considered trying to fly over them but the ceiling was simply too low. They would be all over me. So, I figured my best bet was to meet them head on, using the narrow hallway to my advantage, taking them one and two at a time. As the crowd approached, I lashed out and drove a kick to the chest

of the unfortunate banger at the head of the pack. He groaned in pain as I kicked too hard and snapped a couple of his ribs. I don’t like hurting people, even Reavors, but there was a lot at stake, tonight.

Pushing the injured Reavor out of the way, I landed a straight left to the jaw of the next. I followed up the punch with a knee to his gut that bent him over. Grabbing a couple fistfuls of his jacket, I tossed him behind me and moved on to the next.

The third Reavor swung wildly at my head, catching nothing but air as I ducked under his blow. I went into a crouch and punched upwards, aiming for his jaw but accidentally catching him in the throat. He clutched at his Adam’s apple and blood came spurting out of his mouth. I immediately regretted hitting him so hard, as I had obviously done him some serious damage. My momentary hesitation cost me, though, as the next banger in line pushed his injured buddy out of the way and kicked me in the chops with his steel-toed right boot.

My head snapped back and I flew backward onto the floor, dazed. The banger and two of his buddies piled on me, holding and punching my exposed body. They rained punches down on me, but I’m tough and they didn’t hurt much. Getting my right hand around the throat of the guy who kicked me, I squeezed a little bit, causing him to gag in pain. He frantically scratched at my powerful fingers, trying to get some air, but I held on. After a few seconds his struggles ceased and his body went limp. Still using my right hand, I tossed his form off of me, hard into the wall of the hallway.

I wrapped my legs around the second attacker, immobilizing him while I pummeled the last banger with three quick strikes to his head. Again, I tossed an unconscious body behind me, adding it to the quickly growing pile. Then I tightened my leg hold, causing the trapped Reavor to howl in protest. The audible snap of breaking bones indicated that he, too, had suffered a serious injury. As I released him, he slumped to the floor face first, out of the fight.

That left seven, though if I didn’t finish them off quick, others might join in. I did a reverse somersault, rolling to my feet in a crouch. Using my flying power, I literally launched myself at my remaining enemies, driving toward them at high speed. The impact was jarring, more so for them than me, as I powered through the stack. I was like a football running back, and the stairwell was my end zone. The Reavors tried to grapple me, to bring me down, but I refused to be stopped. I clipped the first one with an elbow strike to his temple. He dropped like a load of bricks. A knee to the groin incapacitated the second. A straight left buried the third. A right uppercut finished another. I was like a hellcat, unstoppable. I slammed another Reavor into, and through, the wall. Shrugging off a punch to my

stomach, I countered with a double axe handle to another opponent’s shoulder. He dropped to his knees, clutching the shoulder in agony.

The final two Reavors made a last ditch effort to restrain me, one clutching at my legs while the other wrapped his arms around my upper body. Completely caught up in the thrill of combat, I easily broke the holds and flung them each, one after the other, behind me, the length of the hallway. And believe me, I don’t throw like a girl. They hit hard, the impacts lessened only by the bodies that already littered the hall. I stood there for a moment, victorious and elated, looking over the carnage. A few groans could be heard here and there, but most of the Reavors lay quiet, unconscious or playing dead.

Having seen enough, and with more pressing business to take care of, I was into the stairwell in a flash. The first floor was smoky and dim—Pot heads and dopers sat about idly, occasionally bringing a pipe to their lips or dipping a needle into a vein. They were oblivious to my presence and the battle that had just occurred over their heads. More Reavors were also here, though they didn’t seem to take notice of me as I crept along in the shadows, heading for the back of the building. Rap music blared from one of the front rooms, apparently explaining why they had not heard the commotion upstairs.

I reached a short hallway that led to one of the two entrances to the vat room. The titanium door was closed. An electronic combination keypad was mounted on the wall beside it. A single guard protected the door. I was on him in a blur, flying the short distance before he could react. Like the second guard on the roof, he carried a machine pistol strapped over his shoulder. I ripped it from his grasp and to make a point, I held it in front of his surprised face as I bent the barrel to a ninety-degree angle from where it had been.

“Open this door or I do the same thing to you,” I threatened sternly.

I probably wouldn’t have followed through with my threat, but the trembling guard fell for my bluff and began stabbing his fingers at the pad. “Sure, sure. No need to get mean. I’m not going to give you no trouble! It isn’t my coke.”

Suddenly the door slid open, hiding itself in the wall. The well-lit vat room lay beyond. I entered, dragging the guard along with me. “Now, close it!” I commanded. He obeyed my order, stepping up to a keypad on the opposite side of the wall from the first and again punching in a series of numbers. But as the door slid closed, he jumped through to the other side, escaping me. I could hear him laughing, obviously pleased with himself.

“Now you’re trapped, super-babe!” I could hear his muffled voice say. “Unless you can break

through titanium, and I’m betting you can’t! Just wait until Bullets hears about this. Oh, baby! He’s been waiting to get his hands on you.”

I cursed my carelessness, knowing that the guard was right. I was trapped. The windows were barred with titanium, as were the two ventilation fan ports in the ceiling. From my previous reconnaissance missions, I knew that the only way out of the vat room was through the two titanium doors, neither of which I was strong enough to break down.

The vat room was large, with a high ceiling. Three large vats occupied most of the space toward the rear of the room, used to extract cocaine from the barrels of gasoline that were shipped in from South America. Several of the barrels were stacked against the far wall, though on further inspection I found

them to be empty. The idea of blowing the place up had crossed my mind, but there simply wasn’t enough fuel to do it.

The floor was smooth cement, polished and clean. In fact, the entire room was kept much cleaner than the rest of the building. In the center of the room, on the floor, was a pallet. On the pallet, just as I had seen while doing recon, were five, grain-sized, plastic bags of cocaine. I walked to the edge of the pallet and looked down on the Reavors’ treasure. Maybe they had me, but I had this, I thought to myself.

But doing a swap—trading the crack for my own safety—never crossed my mind. I am Ms.

Marvelous, a champion of justice. I could not, would not, take the chance of allowing this dangerous drug to hit the streets. I had to destroy it.

I could hear voices outside the door. I knew that didn’t have much time. Leaning down and picking up the first bag, I flew it gently up to the ceiling, below one of the fan ports. The fan was spinning at a high rate of speed, its two-foot blades sucking warm air out of the room. The updraft created by the fan was powerful near the base of the port-- powerful enough to pull my hair upward and powerful enough, I hoped, to launch the cocaine into space. Carefully ripping the bag open at one end, I began spilling the cocaine out—a small bit escaped and fluttered to the floor below, but most of the finely cut grains were sucked up and into the large fan port. From there they gained speed, rushing through the port and into the warm summer breezes above that would, I hoped disperse and carry them far away.

One by one, I flew the bags of cocaine to the ceiling and opened them to the power of the fan. One by one, I destroyed the Reavors’ precious treasure. And if the information that I had gained was correct, and I had no doubt but that it was, then I was destroying a treasure purchased on credit. The

Reavors’ South American source had fronted them this drug, expecting payment after they sold it. Now, the Reavors would have no way of making such a payment.

I descended to the floor, in front of the pallet, the last bag of crack destroyed. I wiped a thin layer of the stuff from my arms, not wanting it anywhere near me. Suddenly, the titanium door slid open and the Reavors pored through. At their head was the man who haunted my nightmares-- Bullets.

He was even bigger than I remembered him. Powerfully built, his bare biceps and forearms bulged with strength. Beneath his denim jacket, which was open at the front, a massive chest glistened with sweat. His black skin rippled in the light of the room. His eyes were those of a madman and the long scar on his cheek made him look even more ferocious. In his right hand he carried a shiny new aluminum baseball bat, having apparently replaced the one he broke over my head in our previous confrontation.

And I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was a result of my fear of this man. Maybe it was because he haunted my dreams. Maybe it was because he had taken me once before and I still remembered what his huge cock felt like inside of me, but now, looking at him in all his ferocity, I felt something stirring deep within me, an unwanted but undeniable feeling of erotic anticipation that made

me flinch in shame. It was as if my body, acting against the will of my mind, was receiving this man as a lover, rather than as the enemy he was.

His eyes fixed for a long moment on the empty pallet and the torn, empty bags that lay beside it.

Then he fixed his gaze on me. “What have you done with my crack, super-bitch?” he screamed like a beserker. “What have you done?”

He approached me quickly and swung the bat at my head. I ducked under it and ran my right fist into his stomach. Bullets grimaced in pain and stepped backward. It was a small victory, but it filled me with confidence. Despite this man’s triumph over me before, I reminded myself, he was still just a normal man. No superpowers, no special abilities—just a normal, albeit large and vicious, man.

He came at me again, swing the bat madly. This time I jumped back to avoid it, then leapt in and delivered a bone-jarring kick to his chest. He flew backward, landing several feet away, on his back.

Infuriated and no longer sure that he could take me on his own, he motioned for his lieutenant to take up the fight.

“Spike! Get her! Get the super-bitch!”

Spike led a group of about twenty Reavors into the room, some of whom I had seen in the second floor hallway. These few seemed hesitant to join in the battle, but the others quickly rushed in. Spike himself, a bulky black man who seemed somewhat older and wiser than the others, held back, not wanting to directly engage someone capable of wiping out his boss.

I flew straight up, using the high ceiling to my advantage. I hovered above them momentarily, then dove towards the nearest one. At the last moment I dipped to my left, avoiding his punch and giving me the opportunity to blast him in the ribcage with my right knee, which I did. The banger flew backward, landing on top of a couple of his buddies.

Other bangers reached for me, but I am as strong as ten men and I easily pulled away. Circling the room at high speed, about fifteen feet off the ground, I used my flying power to intimidate them while I looked for an opening. A couple of them pulled guns and opened fire on me, missing badly but prompting Spike to roar at them to put their guns away. He wanted me alive.

I figured if I took out Spike, the others might retreat. I dove in on him, trying to land a quick left.

But he knew how to fight—He blocked the blow and latched onto me, his right hand holding me at the wrist. He used his own weight to hyperextend my left arm, pinning it beneath his right armpit, against his chest. Had I been a normal woman, and not a former agent of Program-X, he might have been able to break my arm. As it was, he spun me around so that I was suddenly in the middle of the pack of Reavors.

They jumped in on me, maybe eight of them, grabbing at me and trying to subdue my struggles. Ignoring Spike’s arm lock, for the moment, I lashed out blindly with my free right arm, connecting solidly to the chest of one Reavor, then again to the head of another. This gave me some wiggle room, and I kicked the kneecap of a third with my right foot, sending him to the ground. I was using the situation to my advantage, landing every punch and kick I threw in the mass of bangers.

Spike was holding on to my left arm for dear life as the crowd of Reavors thinned around him. I could see worry in his eyes, but not fear. Suddenly, the remaining Reavors fell away, parting like the Red Sea before Moses. I supposed they had gotten smart realized that I was too much for them. It was just Spike and me, now. I grasped his right wrist with my own right hand and—

“What the…” I said with surprise as Spike let me go and Bullets grabbed me from behind. The big leader of the Reavors brought his arms up underneath my own, cupping my breasts in his hands and lifting me off the floor. His fingers probed the knobs of my nipples through the thin fabric of my costume, sending a wave of sensations coursing through the length of my body. Though his technique was clumsy, my nipples seemed to scream at his touch, hardening immediately, as if they had been waiting for this moment.

“Nooo….” I moaned. I could feel the Sartak coming on me almost instantly, more quickly than it ever had before. My nipples seemed to be on fire, reacting to the touch of this brute much more strongly than I could have expected they would. In moments, I knew, it would be all I felt—My hard, swollen nipples being caressed by the fingers of this enormous man.

Another involuntary moan escaped my lips, pleasing Bullets. “Yeah, super-bitch! You want me, don’t you? You want your pimp daddy!”

My feet dangled inches off the ground, my weight easily supported by Bullets powerful arms. I was half his size—I felt like I had been swallowed up within his grasp. I could feel his growing member bulging in his pants, wedging itself between the cheeks of my ass. My arms were free, resting lightly over his own, but the strength had left them. “Reach up and pull his hands away,” my brain screamed at my arms, but my body wasn’t listening. My body was doing what it wanted, existing at some primitive, instinctive level and ignoring rational commands.

Bullets pinched my nipples between the fingers of his hands, then tightly cupped my entire breasts, causing even more blood to rush into their already engorged forms. I felt as if my nipples might explode. They jutted distinctively from beneath my costume, pointed marbles that indicated my distress to all who looked on. I had little doubt but that all the members of this gang now knew my weakness, now knew that I could be defeated by overloading my system with sensual stimulation.

I moaned again, louder, feeling the beginnings of a massive orgasm welling up inside me. From the depths, it grew, each stroke of his fingers across my raging nipples feeding it with additional power.

The Reavors hooted. “Do her boss! You got her! She wants you!”

Their catcalls filled me with anger, an instinctive emotion even stronger than sexual pleasure. It gave me a brief window of opportunity, a window through which I might be able to command my body with thoughts other than desire and submission.

“No!” I screamed out. Grasping Bullets’ hands in my own, I called on my superior strength and pulled them away from my breasts. I slid from between his powerful arms, and found my feet once again touching the cement floor. I blindly lashed out with a reverse mule kick, striking him in the stomach and knocking him backward, away from me. Not wanting to give him, or anyone else, the chance to grab me again, I took flight, easily avoiding the hands reaching for my feet.

I figured my battle was won. I had destroyed the cocaine and hurt the Reavors badly. There would be time enough for final victory later. For now, I was outnumbered and weakened by Bullet’s attack. The heat of the Sartak still smoldered within me. It would not take much to rekindle its flames. So, I decided a strategic withdrawal was in order.

On their entrance to the vat room, the Reavors had left the titanium door open. I headed toward it at full speed, planning to exit this place as quickly as possible. The way was clear. All I had to do was—

Suddenly the door slid shut, activated by Bullets’ remote control. I had been only inches away from my escape, but now I found myself flying full speed toward a titanium wall with no way of slowing down in time. I impacted with it hard, rebounding off before landing on my right side and sliding across the smooth cement floor. I came to a stop only a few feet from them, stunned.

Still seeing stars, I somehow pulled myself to my feet and stood, wobbly, before them. Not wanting them to know how hurt I was, and thinking I might even be able to use this to my advantage-- as in “Look, guys! I ran into that door really hard but I’m still conscious so I must be really, really, tough, and you definitely don’t want to mess with me!”—I struck my heroic pose, standing tall, feet apart, hands on my hips. But when Bullets came at me, swinging his baseball bat in a wide arc, I had no chance of reacting.

He clipped me on the right arm and sent me sprawling across the floor. Pain shot through my arm, but it was the least of my worries. Dropping the bat and pulling me to my feet by my hair, Bullets slammed his free fist into my face. Then he did it again. And again. He was loving it, beating the hell out the little costumed superheroine. A huge bulge was growing in his jeans.

“I’m going to have you, super-bitch!” he said with a sneer. “That cocaine was worth five million dollars to me. I’m going to make you my whore and make you earn every penny back!”

He punched me again, but I was done just taking it. The cobwebs from my collision with the door were fading, and the feeling was coming back into my right arm. His punches were hurting me, but he had made a mistake when he dropped the baseball bat.

“Not today!” I answered him.

Grabbing the hand that was holding me by the hair, I pivoted my weight onto my left foot, put my right hip into his groin, and hauled him over in a Judo throw. He landed hard at my feet, more surprised than hurt. I grasped him by the shoulders of his jacket and pulled him up into a kneeling position, then lifted my right fist over his head.

scar!”

“Say goodnight, Bullets,” I said, looking down at his unprotected face. “Time for you to get a new

I expected to see fear in his face, but all I saw was defiance. This was my chance to finish the

man that had raped me. This was my chance to destroy the phantoms that haunted my dreams. I could easily crush his skull with a killing blow, I knew. I brought my fist down hard, aiming it at the bridge of his nose.

“No!”

I held my blow inches from his face, my fist quivering. “This isn’t what I’m about,” I said. “I am Ms. Marvelous, a champion of justice. I’m not a killer, even of scum like you.”

I released my grip on him and turned and walked away, leaving Bullets on his knees behind me.

The other Reavors stood silently, knowing that I could have killed their boss had I wanted to. In their eyes, Bullets was no longer worthy to lead them. I figured that my victory was complete.

But I had made a big mistake. Bullets was back on his feet quickly. He came up behind me, unseen and unheard, and grabbed onto my right shoulder with his left hand. He spun me around and I looked into his face, seeing the anger there. He moved in on me quickly and I was slow to react. The battle had taken its toll on me. I was tired and hurt.

He wrapped his arms around my slender waist and lifted me off the ground in a bear hug, his huge size again swallowing me up. Too my surprise, he didn’t squeeze tightly, but the reason for this was soon apparent. Bullets lifted me higher off the floor, so that my breasts were at the level of his mouth. Too late, I realized his intentions.

Ignoring my weak attempts to get free, Bullets began sucking and teasing my already sensitive nipples with his tongue and lips. First my right knob, then the left. My swollen nipples felt as if they might explode under his efforts, and I moaned loudly. My legs fell limply below me, dangling off the ground. My arms rested weak and helpless over his own, unable to muster even the strength necessary to protect my engorged breasts.

“Noooo… Please don’t…”

My pleading went unanswered as Bullets continued his work, feeding first on one breast, then the other. Sensing my weakness, he shifted my entire weight easily to his left arm alone, bringing the right one up to further speed my ultimate defeat. Stretching and folding back the tapers of my costume to expose first my left breast, then the right, he continued the assault, now with direct contact on my sensitive skin. His lips and tongue moved exclusively to my right nipple, first stroking it, then sucking it, then lightly biting it, then beginning the procedure again. The fingers of his right hand danced over my left breast and nipple, caressing, fondling, and pinching.

The Sartak was overwhelming me. My arms and legs felt far away. All I could feel were my swollen nipples, on fire and screaming. My pussy was beginning to lubricate on its own, the juices moistening the crotch of my costume. Blood was rushing into my clit, swelling it so that it peaked out from the nether lips that hid and protected it. My head arched backward, further exposing my tortured breasts to the animal attacking them. Involuntary moans escaped my lips again and again as I felt the orgasm, denied once before, growing inside me.

“Aaaahhhh… Stop…”

But he didn’t stop. Knowing that he had me, Bullets continued the attack, filling me with pangs of sensual arousal and desire that further threatened to destroy me. I tried to focus my mind on the idea of escape, but it was growing more difficult. With each passing moment, with each new stroke and pinch on my nipples, my willpower grew weaker and his power over me grew stronger. He was making me his.

Bullets paused and looked towards Spike. “Come here and hold her legs up.”

Spike motioned to another Reavor and they took up positions on either side of me. Taking hold of my thighs, they lifted my limp legs up to Bullets’ sides and held them there, spreading me and exposing my most vulnerable area to him. Bullets again shifted my weight in the grip of his left hand, making sure that I was secure, and then reached down with his right and undid his pants. The sound of his zipper sliding open penetrated the cloud of the Sartak within my mind and filled me with terror.

“No! You must not,” I whimpered in a husky, far away, voice. “I won’t let you!”

I mustered what little energy I had left and through a force of will lifted arms and pushed at his face. I knew I had to escape now, or it would be too late. I remembered Bullets’ huge cock from our previous battle. If he got that thing inside me, it would be all over.

I struggled against his strength, almost slipping from his grasp. But the two Reavors at my sides held firmly to my legs, keeping me in place. Bullets had his monster member out, now, and with an evil grin he began gently slapping the huge shaft of it against the fabric that covered my nether lips. My clitoris sent a jolt of unwanted pleasure coursing through my body that reduced my struggles to nothing and threatened to send me back, fully, into the throws of the Sartak.

We stayed that way for what seemed an eternity, though in fact it was only a few seconds. He, slapping the shaft of his thick cock against the thinly shielded mouth of my wet pussy-- me, not yet defeated but unable to resist, none the less. Our eyes were locked—His wide and angry, mine half closed and seemingly focused on something far away. My clit was swollen completely, now, on fire and screaming with each brief contact of the cock below.

He hoisted my helpless form up higher for a moment, then slowly lowered me down. Still using his right hand, he pulled the fabric of my costume to the side and guided his huge member towards its target. The head of it penetrated me, feeling hot and heavy. My juices enveloped it, dripping down the length of his ten inch shaft.

“Oh god… Noooo!” I screamed out.

Our eyes still locked, I tightened my muscles to keep him out. We stared at each other, not speaking, both knowing what the ultimate outcome must be. He penetrated an inch, then another. My aching pussy begged that it be allowed to swallow up the entire length of it, but I resisted. I wouldn’t allow it. I wouldn’t!

“Ooohhh!” I moaned. The orgasm within me was near its peak. It threatened to swallow me entirely within its growing force. I bit my lower lip, struggling to hold it back, not wanting to give in. But I knew I was now helpless in the arms of this attacker. The Sartak was overwhelming me. My arms were limp and unresponsive. My legs, themselves being softly caressed and fondled by the men who held them, were far away, as if no longer attached to my body. My nipples burned, aching for more stimulation. The huge cock that attacked me was now three inches inside my ever increasingly lubricated pussy. But I was determined not to let him in further. I would fight to the last—

Spike, growing bored with caressing my thigh, reached around me with his left hand and groped my ass. As his forefinger buried itself in my anus, I let out a loud moan. My head again arched back, my eyes breaking their gaze into those of Bullets’. My form slid downward several inches as I took in the full length of his shaft.

“Aaaaaaggghhh!” I screamed.

With a look of satisfaction on his face, Bullets stood unmoving for several seconds, enjoying the feel of my wet pussy around his huge member. “Should have taken me out when you had the chance, super-bitch. Now, I’m going to fuck you to death!”

His voice seemed distant, the words meaningless. I was captured, totally, in the throws of the Sartak. I could feel nothing but my swollen nipples and the finger probing my ass. I could think about nothing but my swollen clitoris and the enormous cock filling my pussy. I could anticipate nothing but the massive orgasm that was nearing its peak.

With his hands lifting me by the hips, controlling me, Bullets began pulling and thrusting his huge cock in and out of me. His sneer turned to a grimace and beads of sweat rolled down his face and on to my enlarged breasts as he neared his own orgasm. His movements became faster, each time driving the entire length of his cock deep into me. I was on fire. I couldn’t hold out. I couldn’t—

I screamed as the orgasm finally overtook me. It racked my body time and time again, sending waves of sensual pleasure through me. My spasms shook his large frame and engulfed his hot member with a gush of juices. His own orgasm followed, sending eight powerful streams of semen into me. I hung tightly to his broad shoulders with tensed arms, holding him close to me, before going limp as the orgasm faded.

Spike removed his finger from my ass and let go of my thigh. Bullets held me aloft a bit longer, allowing his shrinking member to retract out of me on its own. After a minute, he snorted in satisfaction and dumped me to the floor. As he stood over me, victorious, I rolled onto my side and pulled my knees

to my chin. I was still enveloped by the Sartak, my system overcome by the sensual overload it had received.

Spike unzipped his pants, wanting some of me for himself. But Bullets waved a finger at him. “Ten bucks.”

“Huh?” Spike responded.

“Ten bucks to fuck my whore.”

As Spike handed Bullets the money, the part of me that still existed in the real world cried out in anger and despair. After our first battle, Bullets had said he was going to make me his whore someday. Now he was doing it. Feeding on my anger, using it to fuel my super-powered body, I lifted myself to my hands and knees.

“No,” I whispered. “I’ll fight you…”

But it was hopeless. Spike, his pants down by his ankles, entered me from behind. There was no struggle, this time, no resistance. His cock slid its full length on the first thrust. Any strength that might have been building in my arms and legs quickly dissipated as he impaled me, time and time again. His swollen member was smaller than Bullets’, but Spike was more experienced than his younger leader. If anything, his cock seemed to fit me better. He didn’t just shove it in and pull it out—He worked it side to side, up and down, grinding it inside of me and filling every inch of my aching pussy.

Spike reached under me, grasping my breasts in hungry hands and shooting new waves of pleasure through me. Under his influence, the second orgasm built even more quickly than the first. I didn’t know how much more I could take. My entire body was burning, completely helpless before this new attacker. My now uninhibited moans echoed through large room, filling the other Reavors with desire.

“I get to go next!” “Here’s my ten bucks.” “Leave some for me.”

Spike’s dick seemed made for me. I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted him inside me forever. My nipples were hard marbles under his sensitive touch, sending feelings of pulsating joy through my body each time he caressed them. He again entered my ass with his finger, teasing my body with further stimulation. “Yes”, I wanted to cry out. “Yes! I want more!”

“No!” I couldn’t give in to the feelings. I couldn’t give in to this enemy!

He wrapped his left arm around my hip and reached toward my nether lips, caressing my pubes. As his finger brushed across my swollen clit I exploded, my second orgasm shaking my body even more violently than had the first. I screamed as it rushed over me, as it completely drained me of strength, both mental and physical.

Spike continued his work, driving his cock in and out of my limp form. He tensed, then fired his wad into me. The waves of warm semen brought on the beginnings of yet another orgasm. How much could I take, I wondered? How many had it taken to kill Agent 003?

Spike wiped himself off on my ass before getting to his feet and refastening his pants. “OK,” he said looking sheepishly at Bullets. “Maybe it was worth ten.”

“Damn right!” was Bullets only reply. “Dax, you’re next!”

Dax was a young stud, lean and quick. I figured he had a lot of endurance. I wasn’t sure I could survive him.

“OK, super-bitch,” he said to me, imitating his boss. “Look on this thing of joy.”

He pulled me up by my hair, onto my knees. My arms hung loosely at my sides, unable to put up a fight. Opening my eyes a crack, I could see the monstrous cock that he waved before me. It was almost as large as Bullets’, and completely rigid.

“Open up!”

Forcing the monster passed my lifeless lips, Dax worked it around in my mouth, side to side. Its warmth assaulted me. The new orgasm that Spike had started growing in me began to build. Dax began driving it further into my mouth. Despite its considerable girth, I was too weak to gag, much less bite down, and it was soon poking the back of my throat. I didn’t want to enjoy this—the humiliation was almost unbearable. But the strong erotic feelings that were overcoming me pushed my orgasm almost to its peak. I couldn’t resist it much longer. I couldn’t—

Suddenly the cock was out my mouth and Dax was backing away. Without his strength to support me, I collapsed on the concrete, face first. I rolled onto my side and looked up to see a new group of men entering the vat room. I could tell that they obviously weren’t bangers. They wore expensive business suits.

“Bullets!” the man at the lead shouted. He wore a white, silk suit—It literally glimmered in the bright lights of the room. Most men would have looked silly in such suit, be somehow it looked good on him. His shoes were also white. In his left hand he carried a walking stick, though obviously not for health reasons.

The man’s entourage consisted of five burly looking men, all in darker colored suits. The lumps under their jackets indicated that they carried guns, and I guessed from the looks of them that they knew how to use them. But I was pretty close to unconsciousness at this point, the only thing keeping me awake being the unfinished orgasm within me that perched on the edge of exploding like a bottle of nitroglycerin.

“Bullets! What is going on here? Where is my cocaine?”

From the look on his face, I could tell that Bullets feared the man in the white suit. It was a look that he had never shown towards me. “Um… Don, I mean Mr. Refrain… The coke… Something happened, see. This super-bitch gave us some trouble. But we got her under control, now. Yeah, everything is under control.”

Don Refrain studied my helpless form, momentarily curious, then looked back at Bullets. “Under control? What do you mean? Where is the coke?”

Bullets shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “It was her! The super-bitch did it… The coke ain’t here, man!”

Bullets’ words seemed to echo through the large room. “The coke ain’t here.” The Reavors stood silently, waiting to see what Don Refrain’s reaction would be.

Refrain’s face seemed to go pale, matching the tone of his suit. “It’s gone? All of it?” Bullets nodded, his eyes dropping in shame.

Refrain again looked at me. “You let this-- this girl—destroy my cocaine? What am I to tell our buyer? What am I to tell Lopez?”

“Tell them we had a setback,” Bullets replied. “Tell them we’ll get them their stuff next month.” “Next month?” Refrain screamed. “What about next month? How about this month? How are

you going to make good on this month, Bullets? Do you have five million dollars? How are you going to make good?”

“Look, boss—I’ve always done good work for you. This is just a setback, that’s all. We’ll make it up. We just need time. I’ve always done good work for you.”

The color of Refrain’s face had changed from white to red. “Yes, Bullets. You have always done good work for me. This is why I have ignored the stealing. This is why I have looked the other way when you skimmed money off the top. But this—This is too much. I can no longer tolerate your failures. I can no longer tolerate your incompetence.”

Don Refrain turned to leave, motioning his men to follow. Dax, standing to the side, his pants around his ankles and his dick still hanging out, became incensed. He was young—He hadn’t learned to fear Don Refrain the way Bullets had. And he worshipped his boss. Refrain’s insult was more than he could stand.

“You don’t talk to the head of the Reavors like that!” he shouted as he stepped forward. “You don’t disrespect Bullets!”

Pulling a pistol from his jacket, the young Reavor opened fire, missing Refrain but striking one of the other men in the back. Refrain’s remaining bodyguards were quick to react. Pulling machine guns from under their suit jackets, they turned and opened fire.

Bullets was helpless to stop the carnage as his gang also pulled weapons and opened fire. Events had gone beyond his control. Perhaps he could have reconciled the damage with Refrain in time, but now—Now things had deteriorated beyond any hope of repair. With lead flying around him, Bullets motioned to Spike and headed straight for the door.

Dax began to call out to his departing boss but his shout was cut short as a bullet tore through his throat. He fell heavily, his pants still down. Other Reavors were dying, too. Refrain’s men had them

outgunned. Suddenly, a bullet struck one of the vats at the back of the room. A spark ignited the gasoline vapors within and the room was rocked by a huge explosion. Two more explosions followed as the other vats followed suit. I lay on the floor, my head down, covering my face with my hands as flames enveloped the room. Reavors cried out in agony as they were roasted or blown apart. I could feel the heat searing my skin. Had it not been for my natural invulnerability, I probably would have perished.

The flames died away and I looked up. Around me lay the remains of dead and wounded

bangers. Nope, I said to myself, it hadn’t been a good day for the Reavors. I looked toward the titanium door. Don Refrain and his men had made it to the front of the building. The sound of gunfire confirmed that they were encountering resistance from additional Reavors.

I looked to the back of the room, where the vats had been. Now, all that remained were bits and pieces of charred metal. A hole had been blown in the wall. It was my chance to escape. Forcing my aching body to get up, I struggled out of the crack house and into the night. I was hurt, but I was alive. I would fight again another day.