Monday – February 21st 01:21 ET
CFS Alert – NATO military signal intercept facility Ellesmere Island, Canadian Arctic Archipelago
Supergirl wasn’t sure why she had agreed to this mission. After Cadmus, she swore she would never work with the military again.
But the request had come from the President—at least that’s what general Jessup, NATO’s supreme commander, claimed before directing her to colonel Sepulveda for a full briefing. And since NATO was a pan Atlantic organization, comprised of not only American but armed forces from 27 other nations, Supergirl agreed to pay Alert Station a visit.
Still, the meeting with Sepulveda had done little to re-store confidence. Even after blasting away, the Girl of Steel struggled – despite her screams – to erase their encounter from her memory.
15 MINUTES EARLIER
From the get go, Sepulveda had been nothing but condescending. “You might want to dress a little warmer; the Yamal Peninsula will be even colder.”
“Oh, that’s okay…,” said Supergirl, remaining lively despite the negative 35-degree temperature, “…cold doesn’t affect me.” But as she touched down on the snow-swept helipad – that was illuminated by a series of floodlights – the woman’s parka reminded her that humans lacked the same tolerance. “You must be colonel Sepulveda,” said Supergirl, warmly extending her hand, “I hope I haven’t kept you wai…”
“Still, you might want to re-think that outfit,” said the Colonel, ignoring the Maid of Might’s greeting, but not the view provided by the wind. “You’re rather exposed.”
“Oh,” said Supergirl, nonchalantly holding down her skirt. “Sorry…this is quite the storm.”
The Colonel wasn’t surprised by the young heroine’s confidence, nor her overt sexuality. Even under normal conditions, Supergirl’s flowing, red skirt barely covered her crotch. While her tight blue top revealed every curve of her athletic and long-limbed body. It didn’t require much imagination to understand why the media loved her.
“Yes, it’s been playing havoc with our systems,” said Sepulveda, turning away from the gorgeous blonde, but not before adding: “Still, you shouldn’t apologize; I enjoyed the view.”
Wait. Is she hitting on me? thought Supergirl, confused by the Colonel’s heavy Spanish accent.
“Though it could be tighter. And your chest…it’s a bit flat, but otherwise well proportioned.”
“Excuse me! My…my chest?” Unsure of how to respond, Supergirl awkwardly fumbled her words. Flat, I’m not flat, thought the young heroine, glancing down at her breasts; struggling to keep pace with Sepulveda. Her large, blue eyes widening, lost in the swerving conversation.
“Don’t worry, you’re probably still growing. But if you’re going to stick with spandex, you might want to consider some padding” said the Colonel with a quick nod. “You know, to help stretch out that S. At least until you fully develop.”
Still growing! Stretch out my S! Who does this woman think she is? I’m not some kid. And I’m definitely NOT FLAT!
“Colonel, I don’t see what any of this has to do with the mission,” snapped the Girl of Steel, joining Sepulveda and two armed guards, on the circular turbolift. “I’m here because the President requested my assistance.”
“Fair enough,” said Sepulveda, ordering the guards, with a snap of her fingers, to initiate their descent. “Of course we’re grateful you’re here.” The Colonel’s half-hearted bow amplifying her disingenuous tone. “I know it’s been a busy night: with that earthquake in Delhi; plus Reactron and Livewire in Tokyo. You must be tired?”
“I’m just happy I could help,” said Supergirl, clasping her hands behind her back; focusing on alleviating the knots in her muscles rather than the woman’s yawn. “I just wish that …I could have done more.”
Supergirl’s words faded upon hearing the sound of strings.
“Ah, do you like classical music?” Without waiting for a reply, the Colonel, once again animated, continued. “Just listen to that vibrato” she said, extending her arms towards the rounded metal walls—caked by layers of ice. “Does it not stir your soul?”
“It’s very nice,” quipped Supergirl, distracted by the sudden realization that she had subconsciously been accentuating her breasts.
With a tilt of her head, Supelveda appeared to signal her approval, but her words, once again, spun the conversation on its head. “Yes, I know what you mean. Maybe you could have done more…but you know, it’s never too late to hit the gym. After all, what’s the point of calling yourself super without the body to match?”
What’s this lady’s deal?
“Look, I appreciate the concern…,” said the Maid of Might. Her patience exhausted, she took hold of her hips and invited Sepulveda to examine her svelte figure. “…but I think I’ve got it covered.”
Supergirl was tempted to add, that is unless you too have eight percent body fat? But instead she just rolled her eyes.
The Girl of Steel didn’t mean to appear petulant. Even though the Colonel continued swirling her hand, mimicking the violin, the Maid of Might knew she could have handled things better. But, after a long night, the prospect of receiving further “advice” from Sepulveda, coupled with the platform’s slow crawl, had gotten to her. In truth, she often struggled with patience when circumstance forced her to travel alongside humans.
Even now Supergirl could feel her boredom growing as she peered through the metal beneath her feet and down the fluorescent lit, 800-foot shaft with her super-vision. For a girl who craved excitement, this ride was anything but.
Her temperament improved as the music began to fade. Thank Rao, that was putting me to sleep thought Supergirl, turning her attention back to the others. To her surprise their eyes had never left her body, enjoying the view provided by her fluttering cape.
Are you kidding me?
The soldier operating the lift was startled, his fingers slipping off the controls as she caught him angling for a better view up her skirt. “Sorry,” mumbled the guard, turning away in embarrassment. Clearly flustered his fingers fumbled for the green button to re-initiate the lift.
At least this one is apologetic, thought Supergirl, unimpressed by the other guard’s attempt to feign ignorance, even though he too had an erection.
Her nostrils flaring, Supergirl prepared to call them out but, instead, the sound of Sepulveda’s laughter left her jaw hanging. While guilty, it dawned on her that the Colonel and not the guards was the real culprit.
Thankfully the first guard’s clumsiness helped quell the Girl of Steel’s anger. She figured he was 19, like her. I guess he’s kind of cute, she thought, taking note of his speckled cheeks, while softening her eyes to help ease his fear.
The Colonel, however, ensured the moment didn’t last: “For God’s sake Maddox, stop making a fool of yourself! You’ve got as much chance with Supergirl as you do making sergeant. Pull your shit together, before my boot finds its way up your ass.
“She may look like a model…,” halted Sepulveda, switching her attention away from Maddox, who had managed to restart the platform and towards the Girl of Steel, “…but as far as I’m concerned, she’s as big of a threat to this planet as that spaceship in Russia.”
The Colonel’s intensity startled the Maid of Might, but not nearly as much as her actions. “You’re an alien,” continued Sepulveda, squaring up to the young heroine—snow spraying up the elevator shaft as she swept back her hood.
This wasn’t the first time Supergirl had heard these sentiments. Ever since arriving on Earth people had been questioning her motives, especially those in the military’s top brass—generally men threatened more by her independence and abilities than by concerns over national sovereignty.
But rarely had she been challenged by another female, let alone one so close to her own age. Based on her rank, Supergirl had assumed that Sepulveda would be in her late 40s. But as the Colonel finished removing her facial protection, the Might of Might was surprised to discover a young woman with hollowed-cheeks and hair so fair it appeared white, as it bounced in a ponytail, against her bronzed skin.
“You have the power of God,” continued Sepulveda, her angular face inching towards the Girl of Steel’s, “and we’re all what…supposed to just trust you? No; as long as you’re around we’re all slaves.”
Stay calm, thought the Maid of Might, suddenly aware that Sepulveda was a good two inches taller. She’s just trying to bait me. “I’m here to help,” said Supergirl emphasizing calm with her hands as well as her words. “And I’m not your enemy, and you don’t yet know whether that space ship is either. So, unless you want to explain to your superiors how you fumbled this mission, I suggest you stop this.”
Sepulveda’s thin smile revealed her contempt. This is too easy, she thought, her mind drifting, admiring the way Supergirl’s top stretched, like a second skin, over the full swell of her breasts—an open provocation or challenge, crying to be torn off.
Supergirl’s taught abs proved equally enticing, inviting the Colonel’s gaze ever further south. The woman's mouth began to water as her eyes picked up speed along the smooth lines of the heroine's flat stomach. Her excitement growing with every inch...that is, until her path was briskly swept away—lost beneath the Girl of Steel's yellow belt and flowing red skirt.
With a hiss the Colonel expressed her disappointment. Desperate to satiate the growing warmth in her loins, she turned her mind back to the Maid of Might's earlier landing.
“Having fun?” said Supergirl, tired of being subjected to this objectification—not realizing that she was, yet again, accentuating her breasts, this time with folded arms.
Even as the image of Supergirl’s blue-clad vulva faded from her memory, Sepulveda, refused to be rushed. Her tongue wetting her lips, before directing her attention, not at the Girl of Steel but towards her gloves—pulling them off one finger at a time. “You know what frightens me most about you Supergirl?” said Sepulveda preparing to deliver the final push. “It’s that you’re a girl…not a woman, but a girl.”
“Really!” said the Maid of Might, loosening her stance as she tossed back her wavy blonde mane, before resting a hand on her cocked hip.
For a second, the guards thought Sepulveda might actually take a swing at the Girl of Steel as she approached. But instead she released her gloves, flicking them towards the young heroine’s chest.
Snow flew into the air, lacing the edges of Supergirl’s S, as the pair of white gloves bounced off her breasts and dropped to the floor.
“You haven’t earned shit sweetheart,” said the Colonel, curling her wet lips into a half smile. Her green eyes staring, past the dancing snow, directly into Supergirl’s baby blue’s, daring the Girl of Steel to respond.
Oh shit, thought the guards. But before they could react, Supergirl was already dangling the Colonel in the air by her coat.
The guards had never seen anyone move that fast. Seconds later, the wind generated by Supergirl’s burst of speed swirled around them as they began ordering the Girl of Steel to stand down.
The heroine, however, was troubled more by her blowing locks, than she was by their guns.
And yet, the Colonel, surprisingly, remained calm, even as Supergirl lifted her into the air. “What’s your game?” demanded the Girl of Steel, arching her taught back to further elevate Sepulveda.
Once again, the Colonel’s laughter echoed throughout. “You don’t see it, do you princesa? Of course not. You’re too consumed by your own image to realize you’ve proved my point.”
A startled look gripped Supergirl’s face as she took in Sepulveda’s meaning. Without even throwing a punch, the Colonel had managed to hit the Maid of Might harder than she had ever been struck. What’s wrong with me, thought Supergirl—confusion clouding her eyes as her toned but slender arms lowered Sepulveda back down.
Despite her abilities Supergirl felt powerless before Sepulveda. No matter her approach her actions only played into the Colonel’s hands. Turning away, the young blonde’s quivering lips offered an apology.
“Spare me,” quipped Sepulveda, dismissing her guards’ concerns. They couldn’t believe her audacity. Even though the Maid of Might could kill her with a breath, the Colonel pressed on without fear.
“My point, Supergirl, is that you’ve never had to face adversity. You just stepped out of your rocket ship and bam…like magic you could lift a plane and catch a bullet,” said Sepulveda, snatching at the air, as she once again closed in on the Girl of Steel. “Everything was just given to you. Your looks. Your body. Those powers … none of it was actually earned.”
Supergirl was stunned. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had dared speak to her this way.
“Well…guess what sweetheart?” said Sepulveda, stepping back to the relief of the guards. But the Colonel had no intention of backing off. Instead, she raised her hand towards her collar and pulled down on the zipper, cutting Supergirl off before she could reply: “The rest of us have to break a sweat to make something of ourselves.”
Silence filled the lift as Sepulveda's coat hit the floor. Dressed in her leggings and equally green sports bra, her chiseled body appeared more than super…it was divine. Her breasts clearly larger – by at least a size – than Supergirl’s were beyond even gravity's restraint. While her abs stretched across her impossibly narrow waist like a perfectly sculpted suit of armor.
Finally, Supergirl understood what the Colonel had meant by “bigger” and “tighter." In fact, in comparison to Sepulveda, Supergirl looked like a recreational athlete standing beside an Olympian. Nevertheless, despite her butch appearance, Sepulveda’s movements retained their femininity, leaving Supergirl feeling uncharacteristically insecure.
The Girl of Steel couldn’t remember ever being this badly out-staged. Slowly shifting her weight onto her back foot, she began ceding the center of the platform to the Colonel.
“You may wear the S” said Sepulveda, chasing Supergirl down, “but we both know which one of us it truly belongs to.”
Supergirl could feel the snow melting through her costume as the Colonel jabbed her index finger against her chest and retraced her symbol.
The vibrations that accompanied the lift's arrival helped snap the Girl of Steel out of her daze. “Stop that!” Supergirl swatted Sepulveda’s finger from her breasts as she spoke. “I tire of this Colonel. Either tell me what your scans have revealed, or I’m leaving.”
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” said Sepulveda, brushing against Supergirl’s shoulder as she stepped off the platform. With a wink the Colonel then added: “At least not yet,” before continuing towards the large steel door that lay ahead. “For now, all that you need to know Supergirl, is that it comes from that dead world of yours.”
Krypton! thought Supergirl. But how?
But before she could ask, the Colonel added: “Maddox will give you the coordinates.
“Oh…and boys,” said Sepulveda, calmly placing one hand on the green tinted scanner beside the steel door, while she gave a dismissive wave with the other, “don’t forget my coat.”
With a ping the scanner verified Sepulveda’s identity. A second later the steel door hissed to life.
“Wait!” said Supergirl, shouting over its hydraulics, while her hurried steps clanked against the metal of the grated floor. “I haven’t agreed to anything.”
“Oh…please! Get over yourself princesa.” said Sepulveda, slashing the air with her hand, before glancing back. Her ripped muscles freezing the Girl of Steel in place.
“Despite all your power Supergirl you’re no different than the rest of us,” stated Sepulveda, her green eyes darting towards the guards.
The Maid of Might didn’t bother looking; she could already hear them scurrying to collect the Colonel’s belongings.
“You see, at the end of the day, we’re all motivated by self-interest. You included. Whether you like me or not is irrelevant; neither of us want the Russians to take control of that ship. So…,” said Sepulveda resuming her march, “…let’s cut the bullshit and go play fetch, like a good bitch.”
Her blood boiling, Supergirl pictured slamming Sepulveda against the wall. But although her nails were biting into her palms, yearning to release her clenched fists, she did nothing.
Even as the large metallic door began to close, threatening to seal her off from Alert Station’s inner sanctum, Supergirl continued to watch—frozen by the realization that Sepulveda had, yet again, gotten the best of her. Suddenly, the Girl of Steel’s slight but athletic shoulders slumped while she soaked in the remaining glimpses of the flawless figure fading before her.
Monday – February 21st 01:31 ET
Arctic Circle **Yamal Peninsula, Russia **
The irony of her location didn’t escape the Girl of Steel. While she yearned for home, she felt closer to her adopted planet knowing that her name – her true name – was as common on Earth as it was on Krypton.
Although given the choice she would have opted for a different body of water. Barren and dark, the Kara Sea felt uninviting. Especially now during the polar night—she couldn’t imagine living in a place where the sun disappeared for some 45 odd days a year.
Still, there is something beautiful about it, thought Supergirl, admiring the moon’s reflection against the water’s chop—its light casting a soft-blue glow around the underlying ice.
But as the Girl of Steel reached the grey tundra of the Yamal Peninsula, she realized that she was not alone.
Despite the darkness, her super-senses allowed her to detect the air-craft above and troops stationed ahead.
Supergirl wasn’t sure whether the Russians were equally aware of her presence. The last thing she wanted was to spark an international incident. But if this vessel was from Krypton, could she allow them – or anyone else for that matter – to gain access?
Sorry Sepulveda, but whoever…or whatever is in this ship is coming with me, thought Supergirl, accelerating towards the coordinates that Maddox had provided.
Supergirl gasped upon seeing the surrounding fires. Fools, she thought as she hovered to take in the destruction.
While the spaceship appeared unharmed, the Russians in attempting to gain access had inadvertently ignited the methane that seeped from beneath the permafrost with their rockets—lighting the night sky with a swirl of flames.
From a mile away Supergirl could feel the heat. Her super-vision confirming the presence of even larger gas pools further beneath the surface.
For now, she was confident that the Russians could continue containing the fires, but if they spread a large-scale ecological disaster would surely follow. But with the Russians distracted, the Girl of Steel recognized that the flames were also presenting an opportunity.
Tired of holding back, Supergirl raced down towards the ship. I swear if the humans don’t end up killing each other, their red tape will, thought the young blonde. Her boots scattering the freshly melted slush upon touching ground.
At first glance the ship’s rounded back and elongated stern unquestionably resembled a Kryptonian scout ship. Eager to feel its smooth surface Supergirl extended her arm only to suffer a shock.
Cursing her stupidity, the Girl of Steel shook the sting from her hand and turned to her heat-vision. The problem with the Russian’s approach was that it was unfocussed. What was needed was not an all-out attack but a singular concentrated burst to overwhelm the ship’s defenses.
After a few seconds Supergirl began to grunt from the effort—either the ship’s shields were stronger than expected or her exhaustion was finally starting to catch up to her. Once again, Sepulveda’s words rang in her ears, “After such a busy night, you must be tired?”
Attempting to push the Colonel’s voice from her mind, the Maid of Might dialed up the power of her heat-vision. She could feel the warmth behind her eyes, spreading to her cheeks from the effort.
To her relief, a blue veil swept over the ship, as its shields dissipated. Supergirl, glancing back to ensure she hadn’t been spotted, hurriedly pressed her palm against the space grey exterior, lowering the ramp.
By Rao, it is from Krypton, thought Supergirl, upon recognizing the circular corridors. The air even smelled of Kandorian lilacs, filling her mind with images of home as she briskly made her way towards its bridge.
Bursting into the large, oval shaped room, where a string of consoles dotted the lower command ring, Supergirl opted to avoid the central stairway and instead hovered down the scaled levels.
That’s odd, she thought, upon gracefully landing. There’s no one here…but that can’t be. A ship this size would require a crew of at least a dozen.
There thought Supergirl, upon spotting the main interface, this should provide answers.
“Don’t bother.”
The raspy voiced startled the Girl of Steel. Turning from the console, she was surprised to see a woman step out from the shadows on the platform above. Her ash colored face, reflecting the glow from the purple streaks that surrounded her yellow colored eyes.
While her form was humanoid, the woman’s body was unlike any Supergirl had ever seen. Instead of skin, she possessed a hybrid cybernetic and insect like structure. Cybernetic in that her waist long, black hair, wasn’t hair at all but a mass of tightly grouped cables. While, from the neck down, her near-naked purple form, glowed along her exposed veins, as if powered by some internal source.
But the woman’s most striking feature was her insect like exoskeleton, which not only concealed her nether regions but protected her abdomen as well as her arms, legs and hips with a series of spikes. She even had a pair of skeletal wings attached to her back.
“I’ve already killed the others” continued the woman. Her voice churning in the air, competing with the clanking of her bone armored steps as she descended the central staircase. “You know, it’s funny how easily you Kryptonian’s bleed when denied the Earth’s sun.”
It wasn’t just the answer that worried Supergirl, but the woman’s mannerisms. Her slow movements, somehow heightening the ache in the Girl of Steel’s muscles as well as in her equally tired mind.
Supergirl was further troubled by her inability to see beneath the woman’s exoskeleton; something in its composition was blocking her super-vision.
Whoever planned this was clever, thought Supergirl, recalling the early start to her day and the disasters that had taken her from one continent to the other, but never to where the sun was shining.
But despite landing in the trap Supergirl remained confident. After all, none had ever defeated her. And she wasn’t about to let this purple monstrosity become the first.
Squaring her shoulders, the Girl of Steel prepared to meet her advancing foe. Although the woman was only a few inches taller, her exoskeleton gave her a mass far beyond her feminine frame.
Perfect, thought Supergirl. She liked when her opponents were bigger than her; somehow it lessened her guilt over the damage she tended to inflict.
“You’ve mastered the ugly, I’ll give you that,” said Supergirl, rubbing her fists in expectation. “But I’ve taken down worse. Now, you sure you really want to tussle? ’Cause lady, after the day I’ve had, I promise you… one way or another, you’re going down.”
“So sure of yourself,” said the woman admiring Supergirl’s stance—the young blonde’s lean muscles, anchored by slightly parted legs, imbued her athletic frame with an aura of power.
“It’s simple really…,” declared the woman in her rough voice. Her lips sucking the tip of her clawed index finger, savoring what her beaming eyes were clearly admiring, “…you’re about to die!”
Supergirl, felt a wave of unease. Somethings wrong, she thought studying her larger foe, who having completed her descent, was now only a few feet away. It took a second but finally the Maid of Might realized what was bothering her: She’s not afraid.
Slowly the woman moved her hand away from her lips and pointed, as if her fingers were a gun, at the Girl of Steel. “Bang!” she said pulling the trigger. Her attack however, didn’t come from her hand but from the nearest of her two skeletal wings.
Supergirl struggled to avoid the thickly boned phalanges that whisked past her head, screaming as their steel tips scrapped across her cheek en route to smashing into the control terminal behind her.
The burning she felt below her eye flared upon the slightest touch. Startled by the blood draping her finger tips, the Maid of Might turned towards her foe. Confused, her thoughts strayed from the action. Her opponent, on the other hand, was already preparing her next move.
Using her extended wing as leverage, the woman propelled herself forward. “The name is HUSK, remember it in your final moments,” she shouted, barreling down upon the Girl of Steel.
Once again, Supergirl was slow to react, swerving, just in time, she narrowly ensured that the terminal and not her face was battered by the woman’s spiked fist.
What’s happening, thought the Maid of Might, unsure if the violin she kept hearing was real or a lingering memory from her encounter with Sepulveda.
As anger filled her being Supergirl shouted, “Enough!” Clutching the woman’s extended arm, right as it yanked free from the terminal, by the wrist. “Who sent you?”
“Those who refuse to cower before a false god,” replied the woman, opening her hips to maximize the impact of her side kick against the Girl of Steel’s stomach.
Unable to absorb the pain, Supergirl’s abs buckled as she was cast into the air. Desperate to contain the hurt her limbs shot forward, wrapping around her aching belly.
Upon slamming against the back wall, the Maid of Might fell, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, to the floor. With a growl, Supergirl’s head shot back. She wanted to stand but her throbbing abs kept her bum anchored to the floor.
Rao, the pain, thought Supergirl laboring to catch her breath—indifferent to the fact that her raised skirt and bent knees provided an unobstructed view of her scantly covered crotch.
“I must say, the only thing super about you is the view.”
HUSK’s taunts coaxed the wincing Maid of Might back to her feet.
“That’s it, embrace your destruction.”
She’s strong, thought Supergirl, but she’s got another thing coming if she thinks she can defeat me.
This time Supergirl made sure to avoid HUSK’s skeletal wing with a quick feint. Like clock-work, the dodge and charge allowed the young heroine to spring forward—her hair and cape sweeping back in tandem with her fist.
The Girl of Steel, however, was the one who hit the floor. Her costume tearing as HUSK’s second wing slammed against her chest—scattering blood into the air.
Supergirl never even saw the attack. A classic one-two and she had fallen for it like a rookie.
Fortunately, the cut wasn’t deep. But Supergirl, having completed her tumble, nevertheless pressed a hand between her collar and breasts. Steadying herself on well parted knees, her blue eyes swelled, watching her world-famous crest get sullied by her own blood.
But instead of caution, the wound instilled the young heroine with rage. This fight was already taking too long. By now, her opponents and not her were usually the ones on the floor.
Blowing her hair from her face, Supergirl leapt to her feet. Determined to bring this fight to an end she sprinted into a quick flight. Her arms stretching above her head as she burst forward, ramming her fists against her foe’s boned plated abdomen.
Placing her hands on her hips, the gorgeous blonde stood over her sprawled foe. The sight of her grunting opponent, struggling to free herself from the rubble, brought a smile to her face.
“Still enjoying the view,” said Supergirl.
Had she wanted, the Maid of Might could have pressed her advantage; possibly ending the fight then and there. But the thought of using her freeze-breath or heat-vision didn’t appeal to Supergirl. At least not while her opponent was still holding her stomach; straining to stand.
No, thought the young blonde, her eyes sweeping over her torn emblem. This is personal. Wincing from the pain in her own midsection, the Maid of Might stepped back, allowing her opponent to recover.
“Your mercy is weakness” said HUSK. “One I do not share.” As she spoke, the villainess extended her arms, palms facing outward, challenging Supergirl to a test of might.
Without hesitation, Supergirl accepted. It was time to make this woman pay for her arrogance and, more importantly, for the lives she had taken. But to the Girl of Steel’s surprise she was the one who was overwhelmed. Her lean muscles visibly straining, even through her costume, as HUSK’s taloned-fingers dug into the flesh beneath her knuckles.
Distracted by pain, Supergirl stumbled back—first one; then two steps. Her opponent’s larger frame, pressing down, forcing her knees towards the ground.
Grunting from the effort, Supergirl could feel sweat forming on her forehead. Never, had she had to work this hard against an opponent. How can this be? thought the young blonde, puzzled by HUSK’s speedy recovery. A second ago she could barely stand. Can she really be this powerful?
Despite her aching muscles, the Maid of Might refused to accept defeat—drawing upon her remaining reservoirs of might and unleashing them with a scream.
Instantly, HUSK’s larger frame was driven back. The woman’s feet tore into the floor, forming a trench, until, finally, she managed to halt her retreat.
Deadlock quickly ensued with both combatants seesawing unable to gain an advantage. Mentally, however, the two were poles apart.
While HUSK temporarily struggled to match Supergirl’s raw might, she never panicked. Having long studied her prey, the villainess understood that the Maid of Might’s true weakness was not magic or kryptonite but vanity.
HUSK played to this weakness by countering the heroine's aggression with a smile, followed by a taunt: “Is that all you’ve got?”
As hoped, the young heroine responded with reckless abandon—her long, shapely legs stepping forward, not to the victory she had already begun to imagine, but towards defeat.
It wasn’t until she caught the gleam in her opponent’s eye that the Girl of Steel realized her mistake.
Supergirl desperately tried pulling back but her momentum was already carrying her. The sight of her opponent’s spiked-leg racing towards her exposed crotch filling her with terror.
The crunching of tissue and bone was quickly followed by the Maid of Might’s screams, which easily drowned out the tearing in her skirt.
Thrashing wildly, Supergirl attempted to pry her arms loose of her opponent’s grip. The intensity of her moans signaling her desperation to take hold of her throbbing vulva, but to her ever-increasing torment she couldn’t break free.
Until, finally, Supergirl – her body collapsing helplessly before her tormentor – blurted: “Please, let go!”
The desperation in the Girl of Steel’s voice nearly caused HUSK to climax then and there. Her lean but muscular frame shuttering with every moan from Supergirl’s pursed lips.
The villainess’ eyes, however, were drawn to the flapping pieces of red fabric that now clung from her foot. But to HUSK’s dismay, Supergirl’s vulva remained concealed behind the soft-blue fabric that nestled it.
The woman’s frustration nearly caused her to release another kick.
But if she wanted this torment to last, the villainess realized she needed to find another target—one that she could pound without risking her plans. Steadying her leg, HUSK raised her gaze back towards Supergirl’s angelic face. Her lips curled with excitement.
Focused on breaking free of her foe, the Girl of Steel was ill prepared for her opponent’s sudden yank. Losing her balance as she stumbled, Supergirl’s vision instantly blurred from the collision of skulls that left a three-inch gash across her forehead.
Having finally been released, the moaning heroine slumped onto her knees. Although, she could feel the blood oozing down her face, she longed to caress her aching vulva.
But HUSK, once again, frustrated her efforts, lifting the surprised Maid of Might back to her feet.
With a series of gasps, Supergirl pried at HUSK’s glowing, purple arm as it tightened around her slender neck. But with her toes brushing the ground there was little she could do to resist as the villainess rammed her through a row of consoles, before implanting her into the outer wall.
The pain coursing through Supergirl’s spine was an unneeded reminder that she was facing an opponent beyond any she had previously encountered. As was the sweat that glistened across her body—irritating her skin beneath the dark pools visibly forming around her neck, breasts and armpits.
Deep down, however, Supergirl realized that her discomfort was due to something greater. A sensation she had yet to experience while dawning her costume—fear. No, thought the young blonde attempting to shake away her growing doubts. I won’t let this woman intimidate me. Clenching her teeth, Supergirl fixed her gaze upon her enemy.
But before she could unleash her heat-vision, HUSK’s fists slammed against her abdomen, redirecting the Girl of Steel’s blast into the air—along with her screams.
With jackhammer like efficiency, the woman’s spiked knuckles pounded Supergirl’s stomach, tearing oval shaped holes in her costume. With every hit, HUSK sent the Maid of Might writhing. The heroine’s screams deepening in tandem with her collapsing stomach—its toned muscle softening into a sea of purple and blue.
“Pathetic!” declared HUSK, remembering Supergirl’s latest magazine cover—the one with her in a skimpy blue bikini, standing akimbo while seductively biting her lower lip. “'Abs of steel’, my ass,” she said recalling the caption. “Your overrated tits may look SUPER against two-bit hoods, blondie but compared to me you’re just a GIRL.”
HUSK’s taunts added to the sting of her blows—which rained mercilessly upon Supergirl’s famed abs.
Soon enough, the Girl of Steel began to taste blood—its warmth rinsing her mouth, causing her to gag as it spilled onto her chin. Fighting the urge to console her stomach, Supergirl kept her hands high, feverishly working to break her opponent’s hold.
When, finally, she succeeded bile raced up her throat—its chunky, greenish-brown tint mixing with the blood already spewing from her lips, while her body heaved to take in oxygen, between guttural cries.
But before the Maid of Might could catch her breath, HUSK re-doubled her efforts, forcing her hand back around Supergirl’s neck and driving her towards the corner. With a twist from her boned spiked hips, the villainess then proceeded to bash the flailing heroine from side to side, redecorating the smooth, metallic walls with branch-like cracks and bright red splatters of blood.
:
With her eyes struggling to open, the lightness in the heroine’s limbs gave her the sensation that she was flying. Several seconds passed before Supergirl realized that she remained in the air not by her own volition but by her opponent’s design. The feel of HUSK’s hand still around her throat and, even more disturbingly, between her legs snapped the ailing beauty out of her daze.
“Stop that!” commanded the Girl of Steel, squirming under HUSK’s unwelcomed touch. For some reason, she suddenly began to remind herself: I’m Supergirl. I’m the most powerful being on this planet. No one can defeat me. It was as if she was desperately trying to hold onto an identity that was quickly fading as she continued to be displayed, like a trophy, above her opponent’s head.
The young blonde’s panic fueled HUSK’s lust. With every stroke – even if through the Maid of Might’s costume – the villainess could feel her own secretions building, beneath her bone plated armor. This can’t be happening, thought Supergirl. Her shapely legs kicking wildly, despite the resonating pain in her crotch.
And yet, Supergirl was enjoying the soft, delicate feel of her costume rubbing between her cleft as HUSK probed her most intimate flesh. The potent mix of pleasure, on the one hand, and fear of her opponent’s taloned fingers, on the other, sent a wave of excitement coursing through her body.
The resulting squirms only fueled the villainess’ interest in the Maid of Might’s scantly covered crotch. Smooth to the touch, HUSK doubted that a single hair had ever sprouted from the young blonde’s nethers. This she suspected, in more ways than one, was true virgin territory.
The thought of testing her theory sent the villainess’ libido racing. While there was rabid speculation in the media surrounding Supergirl’s love life, HUSK couldn’t imagine any human truly being capable of satisfying the Girl of Steel. The thought that she could be the first to plow these star-born fields hastened her desire to finish subduing her prey.
“Pucker up blue bird…,” said the villainess, giving Supergirl’s vulva one final squeeze, “…it’s time to fly.”
Supergirl’s arms rushed to protect her face from the approaching wall. Her flailing body bursting through the barrier only to skid along the black, reflective floor—a trail of blood marking her explosive entrance into the ship’s barren cargo hold.
Filled with aches, Supergirl’s limbs shook from the effort to raise her sweat-dripping body. Once upon her knees, her grunting was interrupted by a renewed gush of blood-filed bile. While one hand waited to wipe her lips, the other hovered over her bruised stomach but fear of aggravating her injuries prompted her to reach instead for her vagina.
Her touch instantly transformed the sigh escaping her lips into a deep, satisfying moan. Reaching directly through the rip in her skirt Supergirl's trembling fingers spread the pooling drops of perspiration, cooling her tender flesh, as she wrestled her costume comfortably back into place.
“I told you not to get your panties in a bunch.”
Supergirl’s jaw instantly dropped. Turning her gaze towards HUSK, her blue eyes widened—not from the woman’s approach or from the crushing of debris beneath her foe’s boned spiked feet, but out of a growing sense of recognition.
This can’t be. Slowly her thoughts began to congeal, allowing her to sputter the singular name on her lips: “Sepulveda.”
“Like my new digs?” said the Colonel, her skeletal wings spreading in tandem with her arms. While her glowing yellow eyes directed the Girl of Steel’s confused stare across her insect like frame.
“I admit, it takes getting used to. Thankfully, it's only a proxy. The real me is enjoying your humiliation with the rest of Cadmus back at Alert Station. I was sure the name would give it away; after all, you Kryptonian’s created these suits so that your forces could safely engage in combat from afar. And thanks to a few adjustments, its power more than compensates for the loss in visual appeal. Ironic, don't you think, that it now serve to destroy your worlds’ sole remaining daughter?
Without waiting for a reply the villainess continued: “I do miss feeling my abs, however.” Pausing to rub her hands down her armor platted sides, she tilted her head, switching her focus to Supergirl’s own midriff: “Not that you can relate.”
Sepulveda’s chuckle, fueled the throbbing in Supergirl’s stomach. The heroine’s bruised abs clearly visible through her costume's frayed tears.
Grunting from the effort to stand, Supergirl’s hands wrapped her stomach. Her eyes watering as she crouched back down to rest on a single knee.
“Almost heroic” declared Sepulveda. “I’ll make sure they add that to your tombstone.
“Now, shall we get this over with,” said the villainess. Her long, powerful legs thrusting her high into the air. With the ceiling fast approaching, Sepulveda executed and acrobatic flip. Though clad in bone, her suit’s clawed feet; nevertheless, gracefully cushioned the cargo bay’s central arch, before spreading its skeletal wings and sweeping back down towards the Girl of Steel.
With little time to react, before her opponent flattened her to the ground, Supergirl whisked her unruly blonde locks aside and unleashed her heat-vision. At least she tried. With her powers all but depleted, a nervous countenance washed over her as sparks sputtered from her eyes. No, Rao please. Desperate to manifest her powers, Supergirl clenched her fists, straining the veins in her neck in one final desperate effort…relieved to feel the familiar warmth of her bright red beams rather than her opponent’s fists.
The Colonel howled as she was slammed against the ceiling’s crisscrossing arches—only to then be dumped – once gravity took hold – onto the cargo bay’s floor. An unwelcomed introduction, that left her buried beneath a pile of debris.
Despite her second wind, Supergirl was struggling. Her chest heaving, she barely managed to remain on her feet, staggering towards the console behind her.
Wiping her brow with her arm, the Maid of Might could feel sweat soaking through her sleeve. The resulting stain, the latest in a growing series that was slowly darkening the light blue of her costume, only added to the growing state of disarray in the fabric that now hung, more than it stretched, across her aching body. But it was the damage beneath the rips and tears that truly worried her.
She needed to get out of here. She needed the sun.
Still, the Girl of Steel couldn’t bring herself to lower the cargo bay’s outer door. The thought of stumbling in the snow, frantically trying to escape her opponent in the dark was more than her ego could bare. Her hesitation grew upon turning to her super-vision. Having realized that the ship’s shields were down, Russian troops had, once again, begun circling along the outside; minutes away from gaining entry.
Panic took hold as Supergirl struggled to come to terms with the urgency of her situation. I can’t let anyone see me, not like this. Trapped, the young blonde slowly began to back away from the controls.
Unsure of what to do, the Maid of Might turned but instead of an exit she discovered her foe, rising from the ruble. With a gasp, the Girl of Steel clenched her fists. Whether she wanted it or not, this fight was going another round.
A round Supergirl knew, upon locking eyes with her foe, that she couldn’t win. She was simply too weak and her opponent too strong. Incredibly, while her sweat dripped – forming a puddle around her feet, with each labored breath – her opponent showed no signs of wear.
The Girl of Steel wasn’t even sure if the bio-mechanical husks were capable of fatigue. It was at this moment that Supergirl – her aching limbs swaying; shoulders slumped; knees banging, threating to collapse her to the floor – came to understand that it wasn’t just her sense of self, but her life that was in jeopardy.
THE END