The super-heroine known as Ms. Marvelous floated overhead, her slender form hidden from view by the darkness of the night sky. She possessed the power of flight and could streak through the air rapidly, when she wanted, but now she inched forward slowly, matching the pace of the figure on the ground below.
The blonde champion looked down on her quarry intently, carefully following the catlike movements of the figure so as not to lose it in the shadows. She had been following the woman for some time, following and watching as the girl darted from one patch of cover to the next, from pillar to pillar, bush to bush, making her way up the dimly lit city street. It was almost hypnotic, she thought, watching the young brunette dash from here to there, from one shadow to the next, her lithe movements graceful and strong. As the figure disappeared behind yet another of the brick pillars, Ms. Marvelous paused to appraise the situation.
She had been on patrol, though it was not a patrol of the normal variety. She had come here, to the center of the upscale Apple Hills neighborhood, not looking for muggers and gang-bangers as she often did in less ritzy parts of the city, but rather looking for a greater prey. Her target was the Warlord of Riberia, a tyrannical despot that once ruled over a distant nation and had come to Megapolis to purchase weapons for his army. It was rumored that he was somewhere here, somewhere in Apple Hills, holed up and hiding in one of the urban palaces that lined either side of the city street below.
The evil prince had associated himself with the crime boss, Don Refrain. Ms. Marvelous and Refrain were bitter enemies. That made the Warlord her enemy. She had battled Prince Lomac and his cronies to a stalemate some weeks before. The fight had been bitter and personal. Lomac had raped her, though he did not escape unscathed himself.
Over the course of several weeks, Ms. Marvelous did great damage to Lomac’s operation. She destroyed several truckloads of weapons, weapons that would have otherwise made their way to Riberia and into the hands of the Prince’s army. Without the weapons, his supporters had found themselves unable to defend themselves and his throne adequately. When a rebel led coup came, there was little that they could do to stop it.
Don Refrain had offered to provide for his associate until such a time as the Prince could figure out a way to return to power. But the Devil doesn’t give favors for free-- Refrain could grant protection and resources, but would only do so for a price. In this case, the crime boss demanded absolute loyalty. The idea of having a despot like Lomac subordinate to him pleased Refrain. So he made the Prince his top
lieutenant and hid him somewhere in the vast urban sprawl of the world’s largest city. The heroine’s contacts on the street had pointed her toward the Hill, toward the fancy homes of the wealthy. The homes were large, with vast lawns of grass that managed, somehow, to remain lush and green even now, in the last days of winter. The houses were separated from the street and from one another by large, wrought iron fences. Enormous brick pillars, standing like sentries around the homes, supported the iron bars. It was behind the last of these pillars, the one just before the gate to an especially massive home, that the figure below now paused. It stood in the shadow of the pillar, completely hidden from view. If not for the figure’s warm breath rising into the cold night air, Ms. Marvelous might not have even known she was there.
The woman had first caught the super-heroine’s attention several minutes and several blocks before. It was unusual to see someone out at this late hour—The crime-ridden streets of Megapolis were not safe after sundown, even within the relatively secure and peaceful confines of Apple Hills. Still, Ms. Marvelous might have ignored the girl, had her interest not been piqued by the odd way in which she moved. The figure darted from hiding place to hiding place, obviously intent on keeping her presence a secret. And she was doing a good job of it-- To a person at street level, Ms. Marvelous had no doubt but that the girl was virtually invisible. But the tactic backfired when viewed from above. Little did the girl know that her odd movements had only served to draw attention to herself when the super-heroine happened to pass overhead.
But it was not just the sneaky way the girl moved that had drawn her to the blonde heroine’s attention. It was also her odd attire. Clad in violet, the girl wore clothing so unusual that would have made her stand out had she not kept to the shadows. Her torso, arms, and legs were covered with a sheer body suit. The material of the suit clung to her tightly, exposing each curve and angle of her well conditioned body. In all, the skintight costume was quite revealing and a sure tip off that she was no ordinary citizen.
The young woman’s long, dark brown hair fell loosely over her shoulders and down across her back. Beneath the thin, skin-hugging fabric of her costume, the muscles of her splendidly athletic, yet completely feminine, physique rippled as she moved. On her right hip dangled several loops of rope. Violet, like her costume, the rope shimmered almost unnaturally, reflecting and perhaps adding to the dim light of the evening. Her face was unadorned, though Ms. Marvelous would have been hard pressed to make out her features in the darkness of the night.
The super-heroine watched as the figure below darted around the brick pillar and came to a stop at the entrance to the well-to-do private residence. The girl peered between the iron bars of the front gate, then looked back over her shoulder to make sure she had not been followed. Satisfied that she was alone, the girl squatted, then leapt upward with surprising agility and grace. Easily clearing the eight foot gate, she descended and landed lightly on the other side without making a sound.
The girl took a series powerful strides across the wide lawn and toward the building beyond. She quickly covered the short distance from the gate to the house, then disappeared into the shadows at the base of the outer wall. For an agonizing moment, Ms. Marvelous thought she might have lost her. But the super-heroine breathed a sigh of relief when the figure eventually reappeared.
The young woman stepped back from the wall and paused, seemingly studying the building. A dim glow emanated from draped windows on the ground level. A cobblestone walk to her left led to the front entryway. Within a brick foyer, a large, solid looking wooden door blocked access to the interior of the residence. A crack of light escaped through a brass mail slot. Crouched on top of the entryway, a stone golem stood sentry like some ominous guard. It stared silently back at the violet clad intruder as if daring her to proceed further.
The girl cared little for the inanimate golem. She looked upward, past it, at the second story windows beyond. No light came forth from these, though the windows were high up on the building, higher than the gate had been and out of reach, perhaps, even for her. Making a decision, the girl removed the rope from her hip and raised it above her head. To the surprise of the heroine watching from above, the rope seemed to jump from the girl’s hand, extending upward and latching onto the base of a windowsill without any apparent effort on the part of its owner.
“Now, that’s interesting!” Ms. Marvelous exclaimed under her breath.
Gripping the rope in her right hand, the girl ascended toward the window, though it seemed she was not climbing so much as she was being pulled. In an instant, she was kneeling on the sill. Switching the rope to her left hand, the girl seemed to command it—The rope quickly retracted itself upward, rolling back into a series of neat loops as it did. The young woman quickly attached it to a ring of fabric above her right hip, then used both hands to test the window.
Finding it locked, the sneak paused long enough to study the barrier. Running her fingers around the exterior of the frame, the girl quickly resolved the problem-- Though Ms. Marvelous, watching from above, could not perceive exactly how she did it, the girl managed to unlatch the window without damaging it in any way. In a flash, she was inside and out of sight.
The super-heroine had seen enough. Though she had come to this part of town for matters of a more serious sort, she could not in good conscious allow this thief to burgle the owners of this residence out of their possessions. Ms. Marvelous descended quickly to the window and stepped through. Her eyes adjusted rapidly to the darkness within—She was in a well furnished study, a large desk and chair blocking her from the opposite wall. The desk was neat and orderly, the only items on its smooth wooden surface being a telephone and a small lamp. The chair was leather with a high back and sat upon a large piece of plastic meant to protect the plush carpet beneath from the undue wear of its wheels.
The creak of a door alerted Ms. Marvelous that her quarry was still in the room. A dim light beamed inward between the door and the jam, highlighting the profile of the young woman as she peered out. Ms. Marvelous walked silently to the side of the desk, the thick carpet easily muffling the
sound of her thin-soled boots. She was pleased to see that the girl was still unaware of her presence. She was a pretty good sneak herself, the heroine noted with a smile. But the time for sneaking was at an end. Reaching under the shade of the lamp with her right hand, Ms. Marvelous flicked a switch and filled the room with light.
The thief, startled, quickly spun around. The glare of the sixty-watt bulb blinded her for a moment and she raised her hands to her eyes to block it. She peered out between her fingers, trying to see just who it was that had got the drop on her.
“Ms. Marvelous!” she hissed.
“The one and only,” the well-known heroine replied. “And you are?”
The young woman leaned back against the door, gently closing it. She spoke in a soft voice so as not to alert the residents of the house to her presence. “Who I am is of no concern. All you must know is that I am here on a mission of great importance.”
“A mission?” asked the red and black clad champion without bothering to match her counterpart’s hushed tones. “That’s a first. I’ve never heard anyone refer to a night of thieving as being a ‘mission’.”
The sneak lowered her hands, though she continued to squint. For the first time, Ms. Marvelous was able to get a good look at her features. She was young, younger even than Ms. Marvelous, and in the prime of her beauty. High cheekbones and bold, dark eyebrows complimented large, brown, eyes. Her skin was dark, tanned to the color of bronze. Her mouth, wide like her eyes, was rimmed with full, red lips. Straight white teeth brightly reflected the light of the lamp as she glowered back at the heroine.
“I am not a thief!” she retorted. “At least, not tonight. Tonight I am an assassin!” “An assassin?” asked Ms. Marvelous in surprise. “Then it is a good thing that I discovered your plan! Tell me, do you have anything to say for yourself before I take you in? Who are you here to kill? Who hired you?”
The girl seemed panic stricken. “Do not try to interfere, I beg you! This is none of your business. I work only for myself. The man for whom I have come is truly evil—If you are half the hero that you are reported to be, you will go back the way you came and leave me to my business!”
Ms. Marvelous shook her head. “Sorry, can’t do it. You can come along quietly or we can do this the hard way. It’s your choice.”
“If these are my only choices, then I am afraid it must be the hard way. But you are making a grave mistake by standing in my way. And I will not come easily!”
The girl in violet leapt at Ms. Marvelous with amazing speed. A lightning quick front kick nailed the heroine in the center of her chest, knocking her away from the desk and backward into the wall. The assassin followed up on her advantage by rifling a quick chop to the base of the heroine’s throat.
Two more chops landed on the young heroine’s chest. The blows were powerful and deadly. Had she been a normal person, Ms. Marvelous would have been finished. But she was not a normal person. She had the strength and toughness of ten men. And she’d just about had enough of getting knocked around.
“Nice moves,” she said calmly. “But now it’s my turn!”
Ms. Marvelous lashed out with a straight left that connected high on the assassin’s head. The blow was like nothing the girl in violet had ever experienced before and it sent her tumbling backward across the shag carpet. She came to a rest on her back, her head hurting and her perception of the world suddenly changed.
“My god! How strong are you? I have never been hit like that before!”
Ms Marvelous stepped away from the wall and smiled confidently. “You’re lucky that I held back. I don’t want to hurt you, if I can avoid it. Are you ready to surrender?”
The girl pulled herself up into a kneeling position. “I have always been fascinated by you super hero types. I always wondered if it was true what they said about you. About how strong you are—I guess I never really believed it. Until now, that is.”
“Some of us are stronger than others. I can hold my own, though.”
“I do not doubt it. But let us try again, shall we? And by the way, I was holding back, too!” The sneak rose to her feet and took a fighting stance. Ms. Marvelous squared off with her, confident that she would soon be able to subdue her opponent. As they circled one another in the
cramped confines of the study, the heroine stared intently at her counterpart, looking for an opening. The girl was three inches shorter than her own five foot nine inch height, though otherwise their proportions were nearly the same. Strong shoulders and arms, a thin waist, powerful hips and thighs— The girl was obviously a fine athlete. And if she was speaking the truth—if she had held back during the initial exchange of blows-- then she must also be super-powered.
Growing impatient, Ms. Marvelous stepped forward and made the first move. She fired off a straight left. It was blocked. A right cross narrowly missed the mark. A spinning left heel kick went high and slammed hard into the wall, making a thunderous noise and leaving a large hole in the wood paneling.
Momentarily off balance, the heroine was unable to block a snap kick to the ribs. A second kick hammered her in the stomach, doubling her over. A knee lift across the face sent her flying backward. She landed in a crumpled ball at the base of the desk. She groaned in pain as the assassin stomped a heal kick into the outside of her left thigh.
The girl stood above the heroine, smiling triumphantly. “You see? I am pretty strong, too. Now, maybe you will listen to reason and depart peacefully, without further violence. I think it would be better all the way around if you—”
Ms. Marvelous swung her left leg outward in a wide arch that clipped the over-confident assassin on the ankles. The girl in violet let out a gasp of surprise before tumbling to the floor. She recovered quickly, somersaulting backward into a crouched stance, but it was not quick enough. Ms. Marvelous was back on her feet and drove a knee into the young woman’s face.
The assassin fell backward into the wall and lay still, momentarily stunned. She shook her head, trying to shake out the cobwebs that suddenly filled it. “Whoa--- nice moves, super girl. I have to give you credit. You are everything they say you are.”
“Thanks, I guess. You’re moves are pretty good, too. It takes a lot to put me on the ground. You’re obviously super-powered. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a mutant.” “If you didn’t know better?” the young woman asked as she dragged herself to her feet. “I suppose by that you are referring to my skin color and the fact that it is not blue, like other mutants?” Ms. Marvelous nodded. “I thought it was all part of the same package. You know, super-powers, blue skin, it’s all part of the deal.”
“Not for all of us. I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I look normal-- consequently people leave me alone. At least they did. Then someone figured out the truth and I had to go underground, just like the others. It is not fair, but I have learned to live with it.”
“Really?” the heroine asked haughtily. “Is a life of crime really ‘living with it’? Can’t you find a way to put your life to better use?”
The assassin frowned. “Who are you to judge me? You know nothing about me. I do not have a ‘life of crime’, as you put it. I do my part to make things better, just like you. And what about you? Are you a mutant, too? I think not— Otherwise, you would have known that not all of us have blue skin. So what is your story? Who are you, under that mask?”
The heroine smiled. “It’s a long story, and one that I don’t care to share with assassins. It’s enough for you to know that I put people like you in jail.”
The girl was furious. “People like me? You mean mutants, do you not? Well, fuck you!” The heroine shook her head. “No, I mean killers. You are a killer, aren’t you? As I recall, you said you came here to kill someone--”
Her statement was cut short as the assassin, now recovered, lashed out at her from across the room. It was not a punch, it was not a kick, but something else, a violet strand of death that seemed to have a life of its own. It streaked through the air, a snake-like blur of color that was here, was there, was seemingly everywhere. Before Ms. Marvelous could react, the lightning quick rope of her opponent was upon her, wrapping its boa-like coils around her arms, legs, and throat. Whether she lost her balance or was pulled over by the rope, or perhaps both, didn’t matter—In an instant she was on the floor battling with an animated object that had an answer for her every counter, her every move.
One end of the rope attacked the heroine’s legs, wrapping itself first around her left ankle and calf, then weaving itself around the right. It tightened into a knot and contracted, forcing her legs
together. It then moved higher on her legs, wrapping itself under and around the blonde heroine’s thighs and immobilizing her legs completely.
The other end of the rope attacked the champion’s upper body and arms, interlacing itself around her wrists and forearms. Ms. Marvelous struggled against the rope, trying to free herself from its coils, but found herself overmatched. Her wrists were forced together above her chest. The rope made two additional loops around her arms, further locking in the hold. It wrapped itself around her upper arms and body, constricting the heroine’s movements and making her struggles all the more futile. Satisfied that it’s prey was adequately subdued, the insidious rope attacked her throat, wrapping itself around three times. The heroine gasped in surprise and shock at what was happening to her.
Terror crept in on the young blonde’s mind as she felt the rope tighten around her throat. Her breath came in short gasps as it constricted across her windpipe. She felt the rope wrapping itself tighter around her legs, locking them together and immobilizing them. Her hands, latched together at the wrists, pulled at the rope, trying to wrench it free of her body, but she was failing fast. The rope tightened around her wrists and forearms, constricting and locking her hands against her chest. If she didn’t do something quickly, the young heroine knew, she would soon be wrapped as tight as a ball within the powerful coils.
“This can’t be happening!” Ms. Marvelous cried out in her mind. She was super-strong—She should have been able to rip apart the thin rope without difficulty. But this rope was something special, she realized. Made from some extraordinary material, it was a match for her strength. Perhaps it was unbreakable. She didn’t know. But as it tightened its grip upon her, and as her lungs began to burn for air, Ms. Marvelous considered that this might be the end.
She rolled onto her side, frantically struggling with the rope. She looked up at the girl in violet, almost ready to plead for her life. To her surprise, the girl’s face was contorted in pain—but not pain, the heroine realized. It was something different, something like exertion. Yes, that was it! The girl’s face was a mask of concentration.
Ms. Marvelous now knew the secret of the rope. The girl in violet was a telekinetic— Her mutated genetic structure gave her more than super-strength, it also allowed her to physically interact with the world using the nothing more than the power of her mind. By channeling her power through the rope, the girl was able to perform amazing feats of strength. She might even be able to defeat a super heroine.
But Ms. Marvelous was not defeated, yet. She could tell that the girl was struggling to maintain control. The assassin’s mind was strong, but it had limits. Moisture beaded her face as she concentrated. Ms. Marvelous gathered her strength for one last attempt at escape, one last shot at survival. And maybe that would be the difference. It was her future on the line, her life. She had to give it everything she had.
And maybe the mutant assassin was not so motivated. Maybe she didn’t want to kill after all, at least not really. Whatever the case, she could not hold out any longer. As Ms. Marvelous wrenched at the unbreakable coils with an inhuman strength, the girl’s mind felt as if it might explode. She clutched at her head with her hands and screamed in pain. She slumped to the floor, on her knees, and struggled to retain consciousness.
Ms. Marvelous tore the wretched coils from her throat and took several deep breaths. She lay there, her legs still bound, her wrists still entwined, exhausted. She rested on the floor, unsure if she was victorious or defeated.
The two young women remained still, panting for air. Suddenly, the door to the study swung inward and four large men entered. Two more men remained just outside, on a loft that stood above a much larger room below. Ms. Marvelous breathed a little easier. The residents of the house had finally heard the ruckus and come up to the study to see what was happening. Their assistance in subduing the girl in violet would be welcome.
Ms. Marvelous looked up just in time to see a seventh man come into the room. Her heart sank as she recognized his face. “Oh, god,” she groaned. “Prince Lomac!”
“Ms. Marvelous!” the Prince shouted in surprise. “I anticipated that we would one day meet again, but I never expected it to be like this! It would appear that you are, how shall we say, in an awkward position? Yes, very awkward, indeed! I could not have tied you better myself!”
The Warlord of Riberia laughed insidiously and looked toward the slender brunette. “And who is this? Another beautiful young woman has chosen to join us! But is she a friend or an enemy?” The girl in violet raised her head and snarled. “I am no friend of yours, Lomac! I have come here to kill you! I will have my revenge for what you did to my sister!”
The Prince looked surprised. “Your sister? Have you confused me for someone else, you pathetic wench? I am sure that I do not know either you or your sister.”
“No?” the violet assassin retorted. “And just how many blue-skinned women have you raped? How many have you killed?”
The Prince raised an eyebrow. “Blue-skinned? Hmm… Yes, there was a blue-skinned wench not long ago. My first night in the city, I believe. Don Refrain’s way of saying ‘welcome’, if you know what I mean. Yes, I remember, now. His bodyguard, the mutant known as Gravestone, brought her to me. She was delicious.”
“She was my sister, you bastard! Was not raping her enough? Did you really need to kill her?” The Warlord tried to look innocent. “But Prince Lomac is an extraordinary lover! Is it my fault that she was too weak to endure me? Ah, but she is not the first, I am afraid. Many have succumbed to the final sleep after experiencing Lomac’s charms.”
The young woman’s face turned red with rage. “I know of your ‘charms’, you murdering bastard! There were others there, remember? Others that have already tasted my justice. They told me how you raped her. How you raped her and then beat her-- beat her until she was dead!”
The Prince shrugged. “So, it is you that have been hounding Lomac? And all this time I thought it was my sweet nemesis, Ms. Marvelous. Ah, well, it matters little. All that matters is that I now have you. In fact, I have you both. Truly, the fates are looking down upon me favorably. Boys, take her!”
The four men inside the study pounced on the violet assassin before she could react. The two in front took up positions on either side of her body, grabbing her arms and holding her down on her knees. The third, a giant of a man, stepped behind her and grabbed two fistfuls of her hair. He jerked her head so that her back arched and her ample chest jutted out in front of her. The fourth man walked around in front and took her chin in his left hand. He raised his right fist to shoulder level and aimed it downward at her face. He looked back at his boss to make sure that it was ok.
“Hold her, but do not hurt her,” the Prince ordered casually. “I will take care of her myself. As I recall, her sister was wonderful. If this one is as good, I shall have a wonderful night. But first, I must become reacquainted with my old lover, the beautiful Ms. Marvelous.”
Lomac glared evilly at the bound heroine. She met his gaze with defiance but knew that she was in trouble. Lomac was not super-powerful but he was a tremendous physical specimen. His gold and purple bodysuit hugged his heavily muscled frame tightly, revealing his powerful chest, shoulders, and arms. His huge biceps and forearms appeared hard as iron and his massive thighs and calves looked as if they could kick holes through steel. She had fought him before—she knew that he was much stronger than most men.
Ms. Marvelous also knew that he was a fine fighter. He had been trained by the best and he had risen to power by bashing heads and being ruthless. He was unbeaten and claimed to be the greatest warrior in all the world. It was an egotistical claim, to be sure, but also a sure sign that the Prince was absolutely sure of himself in all things. He never second-guessed himself, never doubted his motives, actions, or abilities. He was a stallion, an alpha-male, full of self-confidence and without fear. It made him all the more dangerous, especially to a female opponent.
And there could be no denying that he had the advantage—Though the rope that bound her no longer had a life of its own, it still restricted the heroine’s movements. Her legs were still strapped together, her wrists and arms still pinned to her chest. She was on the floor, at his feet, struggling not against her opponent, but rather against the coils that entwined her.
Even this, though, was not her primary concern. For Ms. Marvelous knew, as did her enemy, that she had to defend against the Sartak. It was her greatest weakness, the one thing that could steal her strength away and deliver her into the clutches of an enemy. She had succumbed to it before, in other places and other times, and against other opponents. The Sartak cared not for circumstance, cared not for justice, cared not for good and not for evil. It was a physical reaction, purely, a result of the very powers that made her who she was. It was a vulnerability to sensual stimulation, a type of system shock
that could overcome even her great will to resist. And it was a weakness of which Prince Lomac was well aware.
Ms. Marvelous tried to put thoughts of it out of her head. But the Sartak was even a greater danger now than at other times. For Prince Lomac had raped her before, she well knew. He had brought her to the dark ledge and led her over, bringing her to a massive orgasm that had shaken her body and left her weak and helpless. It had only been through a last ditch effort, when she had dragged them both over the side of the pier and into the cold waters of the river below, that she had been able to escape him.
But she had not really escaped him. The Sartak has a long memory. Even now, an unwanted and basic instinct, planted inside her by the Sartak, began to grow. Even now, while she lay on the floor at his feet, the Prince not having laid a finger on her, her body began to react to him. It was an aftereffect of the Sartak as insidious as it was unavoidable, she knew, a condition that made her more susceptible to opponents that had used the Sartak to defeat her previously.
Ms. Marvelous looked up at the Prince and saw the lust in his eyes. He had once threatened to enslave her as one of his concubines. She had no doubt that he would try to make good on his threat, tonight. The look in his eyes and the thought of being raped again by him filled her with fear. As her gaze dropped from his face and focused on the growing bulge in the crotch of his tight pants, she began to lose her identity as Ms. Marvelous. She was no longer a super-heroine, full of strength and confidence, but reverted back to the twenty-two year old, inexperienced, frightened young woman that she really was. As the bulge grew larger and stretched into a shaft of muscle that snaked itself down the inside of his right thigh, she felt the fear inside her grow and mix with something far more sinister, a feeling of unwanted and uncontrollable lust that disgusted her. She felt her nipples begin to harden. A spot of moisture appeared on the fabric of her costume between her legs. Thoughts of being ravaged by the brute standing over her began filling her mind.
The Prince seemed to read her thoughts and liked what he saw. He looked at her bound form, scanning it up and down, greedily taking in the sight of her long, bare legs, her slender hips and waist, and her full, swelling breasts. She had the face of an angel, he noticed again, even more beautiful, if it were possible, than he remembered it from their first encounter. The mask that she wore only seemed to add to her beauty, he thought, serving to make her all the more exotic, though eventually it would have to go. Her blonde hair was exquisite, and he desired to run his fingers through it. The sight of her tied seemed to excite him all the more. He licked his lips and looked hungrily down at her. He might take her right now, at this very instant, he supposed, but then he remembered her strength. She had hurt him several times in their first battle and he flinched at the memory of the pain. No, surely the violet rope would not hold her for long and she was too dangerous an opponent to be taken lightly.
Making a decision, the Prince reached down and violently jerked the young heroine to her feet. He supported her weight and held her before him. He pulled her close to his body just long enough to run his rough, wet tongue across her left cheek derisively, mockingly, then spun and threw her bound form with all his strength toward the door of the study.
Ms. Marvelous was strong and tough—She also weighed only one hundred and thirty pounds. She flew through the air, though this time not under her own power, and hurtled through the open door frame. The two men outside the study stepped back just in time to avoid a collision, then watched as the heroine spiraled over the railing of the loft and fell to the floor below. They flinched as she crashed down and bounced off the hard marble floor of the main living room. Her body came to a rest against the base of a leather sofa and did not move.
Ms. Marvelous groaned in pain. Fire stabbed through her back. She had tried to control her descent, but the rope that bound her made flying difficult. She had landed clumsily and hard, on her back. But the pain was also a boon. The fear that had been inside her now turned to anger—The super heroine was back, and she was pissed.
Rolling onto her side, she resumed her battle against the rope. Giving up on the idea of breaking it, she instead tried to wiggle out of it. First, her right hand came free, then her left. Pulling strands of the rope off her body as fast as she could, the heroine gradually made progress. Her arms came free, then her legs. Jumping to her feet, she shrugged off the last of the rope just as Prince Lomac and his two thugs made it down the stairs and onto the main floor.
“Ok, Lomac!” she shouted defiantly. “Let’s see how you do when I’m not tied up!” The Warlord was obviously displeased. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, my sweet! For soon, you will once again know the loving embrace of Prince Lomac, the greatest lover in all the world!” Ms. Marvelous looked at him disgustedly. “Never again, Lomac. I came here to take you down and that’s just what I’m going to do!”
She launched herself into space, taking advantage of the twenty-foot high ceiling and doing a backward roll. She came out of the roll with a lot of speed and hurtled herself toward the Prince. She was little more than a red and black blur, her right fist extended out in front of her and the left cocked at her shoulder. At the last moment, Lomac tried to dodge out of the way but it was too late. She clocked him hard on the side of the head and sent him crashing backward into a large china cabinet.
The sound of breaking glass, crystal, and dinnerware filled the large room. The Prince lay in the midst of a pile of rubble, stunned by the vicious attack. Ms. Marvelous pulled up and landed in front of the wreckage. Now, it was her turn to stand over him.
“There is a warrant out for your arrest, Lomac. It’s time your crime spree came to an end. There won’t be anymore weapon deals, anymore rapes, anymore murders. It’s time you were brought to justice--”
Ms. Marvelous’s speech was cut short as Lomac’s two bodyguards grabbed her by the arms. Before she could react, they lifted her light frame off the ground and then slammed her to the floor. Pain stabbed through her spine and shoulders as her back impacted once again against the unforgiving marble surface. The two men were big and strong—They had slammed her hard.
The thugs kneeled over her on either side and began to rain down punches on her defenseless figure. Fists crashed off of her head, shoulders, and chest. The punches hurt—These guys were powerful, the heroine realized. But she was strong and tough, too. Ms. Marvelous would only take so much abuse.
She snapped up her right knee, crashing it into the jaw of the attacker on her left. The powerful blow sent him toppling into and through a lamp table. The sound of splintering wood indicated that he didn’t land well. A left cross hammered into the chest of the second man and left him gasping in pain. Ms. Marvelous grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him over and across her body. He skidded face first across the smooth floor before crashing into the wall some feet away.
The heroine was back on her feet quickly, ready for any further attacks. Unfortunately, Lomac was waiting for her. He had recovered from his bout with the china cabinet and looked pissed. “I had you once, Ms. Marvelous,” he snarled. “I’ll have you again.”
“Never!”
“You may resist if you like, but know that Lomac is the greatest of all warriors. The outcome is certain.”
The Prince launched himself at the heroine, letting loose with a series of punches and kicks. Ms. Marvelous blocked each blow in succession, though they did force her to back peddle several steps. Lomac kept up the attack, determined to score. He feinted with a left to the head, then drove a right at her chest. She avoided the blow, but backed into the sofa as she did so. Seeing his chance, the Prince spun and drove a vicious side thrust kick at her chest. The blow landed solidly against the beautiful heroine’s sternum and propelled her up and over the couch. She crashed back to earth through a glass coffee table.
Ms. Marvelous found herself on her back, surrounded by shards of glass. Ignoring the pain in her back, she somersaulted backward and rose into a crouch just in time to see the Prince leaping over the sofa and hurtling toward her with a front kick. She met his attack head on, driving upward under his kick and propelling them both into the abused sofa. They came down hard, in a heap, Ms. Marvelous on top. The sofa could take no more and crumbled beneath them.
Ms. Marvelous cared little for the damage being done to the furnishings of the fine home. All she cared about was the enemy in front of her. He clutched her wrists, trying vainly to control her. Wrenching her right hand away, she drove her fist down into his chest with everything she could muster. Lomac howled in pain but was not yet finished. Wrapping his powerful thighs around her slender waist, the Prince squeezed with all his might. The blonde heroine straitened up and gasped as she felt her ribs being crushed. It was a good hold, she knew, and one that she herself had used many times to subdue opponents. It brought the human body’s two most powerful muscles, the thighs, to bear on two of its
weakest points, the waist and lower back. The Warlord obviously had experience with the hold, as well— He shifted his weight and tightened his grip, locking his feet together behind the young heroine’s back. Ms. Marvelous arched her back and vainly tried to squirm out of the hold. Her left wrist was still ensnared in Lomac’s grip and her right hand clutched at his left thigh in an attempt to generate some wiggle room. As the massive legs of her attacker tightened yet again around her slender waist, it seemed that the torturous pain might be too much for her. The heroine’s head drooped backward and for a moment she considered surrendering. Lomac was too powerful, too strong.
But she could not surrender—Too much was at stake. The cold-hearted Prince was not the kind of man to accept the surrender of an opponent graciously. He would enjoy his victory over her, doing with her as he would, probably raping her. To surrender to such a monster would surely be to surrender all dignity and perhaps even life itself.
Ms. Marvelous tried to ignore the pain. Her back, already abused after the fall from the loft, the slam against the floor, and the crash through the coffee table, throbbed in pain. The legs around her waist squeezed tighter. It felt as if every rib was being crushed but she had to fight through it. She thought of what this man had done to her in their first battle, on the pier. She thought of how he had ravaged her, humiliated her. But these thoughts seemed only to weaken her resolve, not strengthen it. Once again, the Sartak began to torment her, to tease her with memories of how his strong hands had felt as they massaged her breasts, and how his thick fingers had felt as they danced across her hardened nipples. The memory of his massive cock, penetrating her time and time again, grew vibrant in her mind. Again, her head slumped back. Her eyes closed. Her lips parted and her breath came in pants. Lomac, sensing her weakness, redoubled his efforts, squeezing her slender waist between his powerful thighs with everything he had. The heroine groaned loudly and went limp between his legs.
She tried to focus, tried to think of something else besides her vulnerability to this man. She remembered what had been said in the study, how the girl in violet had accused Lomac of raping and murdering her sister. With no sign of remorse, Lomac had confirmed the accusation as truth. How many others had he killed, she wondered? How many other lives had he destroyed?
Anger welled up inside the heroine. It was not just for herself that she fought, she remembered, but for innocent people everywhere. If she didn’t stand up to this brute then who would? No, there was too much at stake. Lomac had to be stopped.
Ms. Marvelous lifted her head and glared down at the Prince. He snarled back and squeezed all the more. His legs were locked tightly around her waist. He held her left wrist firmly in his right hand. Her own right hand was free, but could seemingly do little on its own. Futilely, she pulled at his left thigh in an effort to gain some wiggle room. It was hopeless. If she was to escape, she realized, she would have to smash her way out.
Mustering her strength, the heroine raised her right hand over her head and formed a fist. Prince Lomac sneered defiantly. She brought it down with everything she had, driving the side of her hand into his rock hard abdominal muscles. The Prince grunted but did not relinquish his hold. She hammered him on the stomach again. Lomac continued to sneer. His face contorted with effort as he squeezed down harder in an attempt to break the struggling heroine in two and end her resistance. Ms. Marvelous gasped in pain. She knew that without leverage behind the blows, her strikes against the Prince’s well-conditioned stomach were practically useless.
Discouraged and nearing the end, the heroine’s head drooped forward. Her chin rested on her upper chest as she began to lose consciousness. Her blonde hair, now damp with perspiration, fell alongside her face, hiding her profile from view. She looked down at the powerful legs that pressed inward on her waist. Like two massive cylinders of muscle, Lomac’s thighs pinched in on her, squeezing with an unrelenting force. She could tell that he was enjoying his victory—along the inside of his right thigh, clearly visible as it pressed outward against the fabric of his skin-tight body suit, his enormous cock stretched nearly to its full length. Oh, god, she thought. Would he soon be pressing the huge thing inside of her?
But then another thought occurred to her. The Prince’s cock might be his ultimate and favorite weapon, at least when battling against her, but it might also be his greatest weakness. The heroine well knew that a man’s pride was also quite sensitive. If it was within reach, as his was now, and if pressure were appropriately applied, even the strongest warrior could be reduced to a howling mush of pain.
The heroine reached for the huge shaft with her free hand but hesitated-- Did she dare touch it? Just the sight of the bulging muscle gave strength to the Sartak and filled her with unwanted feelings of erotic desire. She had felt the thing once before, on the pier, inside her. Oh, to feel it again! If just the sight of it, still beneath the tight fabric of his costume, could make her feel such, then what would happen if her fingers actually touched it? What would happen if she wrapped it in her hand?
Ms. Marvelous raised her head and shook it vigorously from side to side. She cursed herself and the weakness that was a part of her. The Sartak was a stealthy enemy. It had a way of sneaking up on her and clouding her mind with destructive feelings and thoughts. The Sartak meant to destroy her even as did the Prince, but it was a more sinister foe because it existed within her. Before she could defeat the Prince, she knew, she had to defeat the demon that lived inside her.
Pushing thoughts of it out of her mind, Ms. Marvelous wrapped the thick shaft of her enemy within her black clad fingers. It was warm to the touch, even through the material of Lomac’s costume. She could feel blood pulsing along its length. She could sense that it, as if having a mind of its own, separate from its owner, wanted to be freed from the fabric that bound it, wanted to be free to plunder and ravish the beautiful heroine that now grasped it. Lomac smiled evilly up at her. He enjoyed the soft touch of her hand on his massive cock.
“Yes! You want Lomac, don’t you? You want me to take you, just as before--”
The Prince’s words were cut short. He flinched in pain as the heroine squeezed his shaft. She drove the tips of her fingers into his flesh and wished, for once, that she might have had longer fingernails. But she could rend metal in her powerful hands—The supple flesh of a man could hardly resist her.
The Prince screamed in pain. “Damn you, you infernal wench! Damn you to all the burning hells!”
She stared at him coldly. “What’s the matter, Lomac? I thought you liked it rough.” With an angry snort of resignation, the Warlord released the leg-lock around her waist. He lifted his right leg and lashed out, catching the heroine solidly under the chin and knocking her backward, off of him. She landed awkwardly several feet away, but was relieved to be out of the hold. Lomac rose off the flattened sofa and glared at the lithe heroine. His hands covered his crotch, comforting his injured member. “You will pay for that, bitch! Lomac will make you pay!” Ms. Marvelous sprang to her feet, suddenly feeling much better now that she was free of the leg lock. “The only one that is going to pay is you, Prince. I’m taking you and your lackeys down!” The heroine sidestepped a couple of paces, positioning herself so that she could see each of the three men. The Prince’s two subordinates had picked themselves up and now stood next to their boss. Ms. Marvelous cursed her luck—They weren’t the ordinary thugs that she usually came up against. These two were large and heavily muscled. Each stood several inches taller than she did and together had her outweighed by more than two hundred pounds. Worse yet, the two had put the time she had been entangled with the Prince to good use, retrieving a pair of ominous looking toys from a nearby cabinet. The first man waved his toy out in front of his chest, mocking the heroine. In his hands he held a twelve-inch dildo. The heavy piece of rubber was two-inches thick and molded into the shape of an enormous cock. The long shaft ended in a large knob.
“Compensating for a physical shortcoming?” the heroine asked while trying to remain even keeled. “What’s the matter, nothing below the waist so you have to use a cheap toy?” The man laughed sourly. “The boss told us all about you, bitch. About how you get all weak in the knees when you have a cock inside you. I figure this dildo should do you good!” The second man grinned in response to his buddy’s statement. Ms. Marvelous was chagrined to see that he, too, possessed a toy. It was smaller than his mate’s, but no less dangerous to her. White and thin, with a smooth, six-inch shaft, she quickly identified it as a vibrator.
“You’re a tough little bitch, I’ll grant you that,” the man with the vibrator said. “I didn’t appreciate you hammering me in the chops. I think it’s time for some payback!”
The man flipped a switch on the vibrator and a gentle humming sound filled the room. He flipped the switch a second time and the humming grew louder. “Two speeds,” he boasted. All the better to beat you with!”
The red and black clad champion stood her ground boldly. “Let’s stop talking and start fighting!”
The violet assassin struggled against her attackers. The two on the sides tightly gripped her upper arms and shoulders, holding her down in a kneeling position. The man in back had his hands locked in her hair, holding her head steady. The one in front held her chin in his left hand and peered down into her face.
“You made a big mistake coming here, skank,” he said with a smirk. “We expected Ms. Marvelous, but you… You’re a pleasant surprise.”
She glared up at him but did not reply. Words were a waste of time with men like these. If she could escape their hold, she would let her actions speak for her.
“Nothing to say, huh?” he said with apparent disappointment. “I thought you super-hero types were full of the witty remarks. Oh, well, maybe you shut up when you know you’re about to be handed your lunch. Me and the guys have been looking forward to getting our hands on a little cutie like you for a long time.”
The assassin almost laughed. She, a super-hero? What a joke. A super-thief, maybe. A super ninja, sometimes. But a super-hero? Not in this lifetime.
She studied the man in front of her. He seemed to be a bit older than the others, though maybe his silver hair made him appear older than he really was. In any case, he seemed to be the leader in Lomac’s absence. The right side of his face had been damaged at some time in the past—It gave him a withered appearance that added to his already evil disposition.
The man cocked his right hand at shoulder level and formed a fist. He aimed it at the young woman’s face. “There’s four of us, but I get to go first. I like ‘em better while they’re fresh, you know what I mean?”
The girl in violet remained silent but did not try to hide her anger. Her scowl and piercing brown eyes burned a hole into her antagonist. She struggled to break free of the hands that held her, but was unable to escape them. She was still weak from her battle with Ms. Marvelous, she knew. Damn her! Why had the heroine interfered? Why had the blonde champion stuck her nose in where it didn’t belong?
The assassin heard the sound of breaking furniture and shattering glass outside the study, on the floor below. She could hear voices shouting and blows landing. It was the sound of a furious battle. Despite her current weakness, the young woman longed to trade places with the super-heroine, longed to face Prince Lomac directly. Instead, she had to be satisfied, for the moment, with the Warlord’s lackeys.
“Pay attention to me, bitch!” the silver haired man shouted at her. “I’m your problem, now, not Lomac. My name is Griffon. I want you to remember that. Remember that it was Griffon that defeated you.”
For the first time, the young woman spoke back at her tormentor. “You did not defeat me,” she said calmly. “It was Ms. Marvelous that defeated me. You are simply a jackal that rushed in to reap the spoils.”
The man was infuriated. “Bah! Do you think I am no more than one of Lomac’s hired guns? Allow me to correct your misperception. I do not work for that fool. I suffer him! My only boss is Don Refrain himself. I am Refrain’s lieutenant. I am his enforcer. I am—”
“You are a fool,” the girl said unimpressed. She glanced at the men that surrounded her. “And a coward. You refuse to face me in one on one combat.”
“A coward?” the man asked incredulously. “How dare you insult me in such a way?” “You are a coward and a liar! You say that you do not work for the murderer, Lomac, yet you obviously take orders from him. Give me the chance and I’ll rip out your heart and feed it to the rats that live in the sewers under this house!”
“I work only for Refrain!” Griffon insisted again. “It is he that commanded me to be here, he that commanded me to keep an eye on Lomac. I am an important man, a powerful man, as you shall soon learn!”
The silver-haired thug slammed his fist into her face. The sound of knuckles against bone resonated through the study. The men at her sides flinched.
“Damn, Griffon! Don’t hurt your fist on the bitch.”
“Shut up, Puck! I’ll do as I please with her. Lomac owes me this much, at least.”
Griffon removed his hand from the violet warrior’s chin and leaned over her. He cupped her ample breasts in his hands. Stubby fingers groped her roughly.
“You bastard!” she cried. “You cowardly bastard!”
“Shut up, skank!” He stopped feeling her up long enough to slap her with a vicious backhanded swipe. “I will not tolerate your insults!”
His hands returned to her breasts, pushing her backward. He leaned his weight against her body, further driving her toward the floor. She could do little to resist as he bent her over backward, driving her shoulders to the carpet. Her legs remained folded under her—Only her great flexibility prevented her from being injured.
“I will enjoy this greatly,” he snickered while continuing to fondle her breasts. I have wanted to test myself against a super-hero for a long time. My only regret is that it has proven so easy a challenge.” “You have proven nothing,” she snarled. “Let me up and face me in solo combat. I am only a woman, not a super-heroine. Surely you can best me fairly?”
He continued to stroke her swelling mounds, running his thumbs across her nipples. The thin fabric of her costume provided little insulation. “Bah! I have you where I want you. Will you, I wonder, respond to stimulation the same way that Ms. Marvelous is reputed to respond? We shall see, I suppose.”
The woman had no idea what her attacker was talking about. “What do you mean by that? In what way do you expect me to respond?”
“You know,” he said with a leer, “like Ms. Marvelous. That blonde bitch gets all weak and gooey anytime someone gets, um, personal with her. Like I’m getting personal with you now.” The assassin still did not know to what Griffon was referring. And since she was hopelessly pinned by the four men and unable to escape, she figured she might as well pursue the conversation. At the very least, she could use the time to regain some of her strength.
“I do not understand. Is Ms. Marvelous somehow more vulnerable to rape than other women?” “That’s a nice way of putting it. I like to refer to it as getting snookered every time she gets hosed. That bitch is strong, all right, but put a cock in her and she becomes a sweet little kitten. She’s a real nympho whore, if you know what I mean.”
The assassin had to admit she did not know exactly what the man on top of her meant. Ms. Marvelous was somehow vulnerable to sex? That didn’t make a lot of sense. But she had heard of stranger things. And though she did not share this odd weakness, she also had to admit that the hands massaging her breasts were starting to get a reaction from her supple body. Her breasts were swelling rapidly and her nipples were hardening. At the very least, it was a distraction.
Griffon knelt over her, his hands softly tugging and pulling at her swollen mammary glands while looking for the best way to get the pinned woman out of her costume. The men at her sides held her shoulders and pressed her down against the carpet. They also pressed down on the tops of her thighs, keeping her legs folded and locked beneath her. The huge man that had been behind her now knelt next to her head and gently stroked her hair and face, trying to calm her struggles. She knew that his apparent kindness was a ruse meant only to encourage her to surrender.
The violet warrior wished that her rope were available. She was a telekinetic, able to channel her vast power through the rope and make it a terrible weapon. But the rope was elsewhere; it had been thrown out of the room and over the loft along with the super-heroine it bound. Without being able to see it, the girl knew, she could not command it.
Though powerful when channeled through the rope, her power was pathetic without it. Oh, she could accomplish small tasks, like unlatching window locks and lifting small objects and such, but without the rope the true power of her mind could not be unleashed. She had learned to use her power by working with the rope. It was her medium. It was also, quite possibly, her only hope.
The girl closed her eyes and tried to focus. She tried to ignore the hands groping at her breasts. Since being a little girl, she had always been able to defend herself. She had been a great athlete and a champion gymnast. All that had come to an end when she was fifteen, though—It had been then that her telekinetic abilities had materialized and she had been exposed as a mutant. Her athletic
accomplishments were ridiculed as being the result of an unfair advantage. That this was untrue mattered little. Like all mutants, the girl was ridiculed and cast out.
Her parents had been unable to protect her when the Mutant Capture Team came. They said that they had always suspected her, due to the fact that her sister was a mutant. Only her fair skin had protected her this long, they said. They took her away, as they did all young mutants, and put her in the Institute.
Her life became hell. The scientists and administrators at the Institute cared nothing for her, only for her powers. They trained her with the rope, teaching her to control and channel the vast power of her mind. They discovered that she had gained extraordinary physical strength and agility. They fed her, they clothed her, but they could not control her. When she was eighteen, she broke out of the Institute, taking her sister with her.
Her normal appearance proved to be both a blessing and a curse. She was able to exist in normal society, above ground, so to speak, but because of her sister’s blue skin she frequently had to venture out alone. While her sister learned to survive in mutant society, she had tried, vainly, to reintegrate herself with the normals. She might have pulled it off-- hiding her powers and abilities, working a normal job, living a normal life—had the MCT not hounded her at every turn. They were always at her heels, it seemed, trying to capture her and once again steal away her rights as a human being.
So she had fled Megapolis for lands to the east, lands where her abilities might be respected and even cherished. She studied with the masters, further refining her great powers and learning age-old fighting techniques. Always, though, she dreamed of returning home, of once again seeing her sister.
At the age of twenty-one she had abandoned the east, choosing to return to the land and city of her birth. The masters had begged her to reconsider, for her training was far from complete. But she would not be dissuaded. Megapolis, and the dangers therein, awaited her.
She had arrived to find sorrow and pain. Her sister was newly dead, murdered by the Warlord of Riberia. Her heart grew dark and cold. She determined that she would have her revenge. And here she was, in the house of the evil Prince, being molested by a man named Griffon.
Her breasts felt hot and heavy. The man’s fingers rolled over her hard nipples relentlessly. She had always been able to defend herself. No man had ever violated her in such a way. No man had ever violated her, period. The humiliation was almost too much to bear. But what could she do? Her rope was lost. Her strength was returning, but she doubted she was strong enough to break free of the hold that these four powerful men had on her.
A soft moan escaped from her lips as Griffon pinched down on her sensitive nipples. Though she was being violated, she could not prevent her body from reacting to his touch. She felt a patch of moisture forming at the crotch of her costume. Her struggles lessened. She no longer resisted. At that moment, she had little doubt but that Griffon would rape her on this night. The other men might take their turns, as well.
“Oh, sis,” she whispered under her breath, “I tried. I really did. Please forgive me…” The defenseless girl in violet screamed as Griffon ripped the fabric of her costume away from her chest.