Joey Malokovich made the final adjustments to the doll. Setting down his tools, he picked up a small remote control device from atop the workbench. A thin telescopic antenna extended from the top of the device. Joey examined it before grunting in approval.
His meaty thumb pressed down on one of the two buttons that were placed side by side on the front surface of the remote. The doll responded, letting out a brief, yet realistic, cry. Joey smiled. It sounded better than he had hoped. Just like a real baby.
Unfortunately, the doll sounded better than it looked. Under the bright fluorescent light of his workshop, there was no mistaking it for the real thing. Glassy blue eyes stared back at him from under a flat, colorless face. Plastic arms extended outward at unnatural angles. Stubby legs were stiff and inflexible. But it didn’t matter, he decided. The light on the pier was less brilliant and, in any case, the doll would only need to fool the super-heroine for a brief moment.
Thoughts of his quarry were never far from Joey’s mind. He looked away from the doll and toward the wall above the workbench. Pictures of a beautiful blonde woman wearing a bright, skin-tight red and black costume covered the wall. Each picture was tacked or stapled carefully in place, each aligned perfectly with the one next to it so as not to cover any portion of the woman’s remarkable image. There were not many pictures, for the super-heroine was rarely photographed. Of those he had been able to find, most were black and white, taken from newspapers, and of low quality. But a few, those that he had positioned most prominently, were in full color and came closer to doing justice to her extraordinary beauty.
“It won’t be long now, Doll Face,” Joey muttered under his breath.
He sighed heavily. How he longed to again feel the super-heroine’s flesh under his fingers. How he longed to feel her firm breasts and slide his hands through her blonde hair. How he wanted to caress her smooth hips and slide his fingers along the insides of her powerful thighs. How he wanted to taste her womanhood and feel her body tremble beneath his touch.
He realized that he was obsessed. But it was an obsession to powerful to resist. Ever since he had first seen the young beauty, ever since he had first battled against her in Prince Lomac’s mansion, he had known that he must have her for his own. He had been thwarted, then, not by Ms. Marvelous, whom he had defeated, but by his own superiors. Lomac had denied him first, then later it had been the super dyke, Heatwave. In both instances, Ms. Marvelous had been helpless before him. In both instances, she had been defenseless and utterly vulnerable. And in the end, because of the foolishness of his masters, she had escaped him.
Consumed by anger, Joey had considered leaving his bosses and striking out on his own. But he quickly abandoned the idea, knowing that few escaped the Refrain crime family with their health intact. But, at least, his talents had been recognized—Don Refrain had granted him some small amount of status within the organization. Joey still reported to Lomac, but he was now allowed to freelance. Refrain and Lomac knew that he was after Ms. Marvelous and they now gave him free reign to track down their common enemy.
It was a task for which he had limitless energy. The search for Ms. Marvelous consumed his every waking hour. In his sleep, too, Joey was obsessed with the young blonde, dreaming of her incessantly, fantasizing of the things he would do to her. Since that first time, in the mansion, Joey Malokovich had known that he must have this woman.
The obsession was like nothing he had ever before experienced. No woman had ever so captivated his imagination. Closing his eyes, he could still see her, in all her proud majesty, even more vividly than when he looked at the pictures. He could visualize every aspect of her great beauty—Her wide, blue eyes, her radiant, long, blonde hair, her slender, athletic figure. He remembered distinctly what it had been like when he had been atop her, straddling her abdomen, his hands caressing and massaging her swollen breasts. He remembered the way she had gone weak beneath him, the way her once powerful body had flattened limply against the floor. Her soft moans and whimpers had served only
to arouse him all the more and he knew, at that moment, that he must be allowed, ultimately, to satisfy his overwhelming lust.
The search had been long and sometimes arduous. How does one track down a super-heroine? The girl’s true identity was a secret. Her patrol routes were varied and uncertain. He never knew when or where she might pop up. And even if he did come across her by happenchance, what then? Despite his earlier victory over her, Joey knew that Ms. Marvelous was very powerful. No, he could not risk a chance encounter. He had to ensure that the circumstances were in his favor.
Joey opened his eyes and looked again at the pictures on the wall. The photographs had been the key. Ms. Marvelous disliked the limelight of public attention. Though she was a well-known and beloved character in the city, she avoided all members of the media whenever possible. Or, at least, almost all. Curiously, one particular reporter seemed to have an inside scoop on the mysterious crime fighter.
Joel Reiner was a prominent columnist and beat reporter for the Megapolis Gazette. He had also taken most of the pictures that were now tacked above the Joey’s workbench. His columns frequently contained quotes from the heroine. He was the only reporter known to have interviewed the secretive beauty. Perhaps he was a good reporter, Joey considered, but how was it that he, and he alone, seemed to have access to the enigmatic Ms. Marvelous?
Joey smiled as he remembered. Yes, the reporter had been the key. In recent weeks, he had tailed Reiner constantly, following him every day, watching his every move. He had grown to hate the man with a passion. He had grown sick of watching him going to work, going to the laundry, going to the grocery store, going to the post office—The man’s life was a total bore. But despite his growing frustration, Joey had persisted. And eight days into his vigil, his persistence finally paid off. Late on a Thursday evening, he had followed Reiner as he drove to the docks. He had watched as the reporter parked his car and walked briskly to the far end of Pier Fifteen. He watched as the man lit a cigarette and stood, all alone, his back leaning against a large crate.
The pier was secluded. It was a good place for a secret meeting. A sloped metal roof stood atop steel girders and protected the crates underneath from the elements. During the day, the pier might have been crowded with workmen as they unloaded freight from barges, but this late in the evening it was abandoned. Reiner was alone.
Moments later, a dark figure dropped from sky, slipped in under the roof, and landed softly nearby. It was Ms. Marvelous. Joey’s suspicions were confirmed. There was a link between these two. He watched as they talked, wishing that he could have been close enough to hear their words. But it didn’t matter, he supposed. The topic of their conversation was irrelevant. All that mattered was that he was now one step closer to catching his lovely prey.
Joey watched through a pair of binoculars from a hundred and fifty feet away. Even at this distance, the heroine’s beauty was almost overwhelming. Her taught thighs and butt, her femininely muscled arms and shoulders, her golden blonde hair, her virtuous expression. The bare, lightly tanned skin of her abdomen and back glistened beneath the soft overhead lights. Joey ached for this woman. His massive hard-on threatened to rip through his cotton pants.
Reiner and the heroine talked for a few minutes more before she vaulted back into the night sky and quickly flew out of sight. The reporter returned to his car and headed for home. Joey stayed behind, thinking. He didn’t have to be a genius to know what had transpired. Reiner was feeding Ms. Marvelous information in exchange for exclusive interviews and photographs. He got to look like a great reporter
while she got the lowdown on crime in the city. How nice for them.
In the days to come, Joey continued to tail Reiner. Six days after the first meeting, Joey watched the same event transpire once again. As before, the meeting was at the pier. As before, it lasted for only a few minutes. What Joey couldn’t figure out was how the meetings were set up. How did Reiner get in touch with the heroine? There did not seem to be any regular schedule to it. Although the location remained a constant, the time of the meetings varied. The first night it had been at eleven. The second time it had been at nine. How did Reiner initiate a contact?
The night after the second meeting on the pier, Joey broke into the Gazette. He was a smooth operator—it was no problem avoiding the alarms. He sat at Reiner’s desk and hacked the password on his computer. On the third try, he had it. It was easy. By this point, he knew so much about the reporter
that it was a simple thing to guess the word he had used. “Bullwinkle”, he typed, remembering the name of Reiner’s pet Yorkshire.
The screen came to life in front of him and he began digging through the files. He was looking for something—anything--that might lead him to Ms. Marvelous. He searched through Reiner’s e-mail. Nothing. He searched through his contacts. Nothing. He did a system wide search for any files containing the words “Ms. Marvelous”. The search brought back seventeen files, all old columns in which he had mentioned the heroine. Joey was growing frustrated. Finally, on a whim, he searched for the phrase “Pier 15”. Nothing came back so he tried “P15”. To his surprise, a file popped up. He opened it with the word processor.
The file was an electronic submittal form for a classified ad. “For sale: 1984 Pacer, P15-2100”. Some additional information at the bottom of the form indicated that the ad should run for a single day and supplied Reiner’s credit card number for billing purposes. Joey smiled. He knew for a fact that the reporter did not own a Pacer, and that nobody would want to buy it if he did. The remainder of the ad obviously referred to a place and time. Pier 15, nine o’clock.
That was it. That was how the reporter made contact and scheduled the meetings. He clicked the submit button before powering down the computer and walking away. He guessed there was still time for the ad to make the afternoon edition the following day. It didn’t give him much time to make preparations, but he would be ready.
Joey inspected the doll one final time before carefully setting it aside. He looked at his watch. Yes, he had made good time. He was finished and there were still three hours to spare. Three hours until he would finally have his dream. Three hours until he would have Ms. Marvelous.
Elle Mental walked away from the theater with tears in her eyes. The movie had been everything she had hoped for and more. The story had enthralled her from the opening credits until the final, heartbreaking conclusion. Yes, she acknowledged, Hollywood had really out done itself this time.
She wiped a tear from her cheek and forced her mouth to form a weak smile. She looked at the large, opening night crowd that was exiting around her. Mostly women, she noticed, and most just as choked up as herself.
“God,” she mumbled silently as she remembered the to good to be true relationship depicted in the film. “Why can I not find a love like that?”
But the brave lad had perished in the end, she reminded herself, leaving the fair damsel with nothing but memories. Was it really true, she wondered? Was it truly better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? Who had said that, anyway? Had it been Shakespeare? But he was a man, Elle acknowledged miserably. And what could any man possibly know of the feelings of a woman?
And all men were the same, she was convinced. All of them bastards. Criminals, rapists, thieves, abusers—bastards, all of them. Even those that seemed ok, she was sure, were bastards at heart. Always looking, always watching. Ever on the lookout for vulnerability. Ever watching for a weakness.
Elle stepped out onto the sidewalk, relishing her melancholy, feeling good now that the movie had made her feel so sad. The brave young lad had not been a bastard, she reminded herself. He had given everything, even his life, in the end, in pursuit of his true love. Why could she not find such a lad? Why could she not find love?
She lowered her eyes and stared solemnly at the hard cement on which she now walked. She had never known love, she knew. In her entire life, she had never known the kind of intense feelings that the movie damsel had known. In just two hours, the fair maiden had experienced more than she had in her entire life.
Elle smirked as she wiped away another tear. “Do not be silly,” she chided herself. The damsel was but an actor, and her brave lad as well. Hollywood was good at making things up and a good filmmaker could wrench teardrops from the coldest of souls. Perhaps there was not even such a thing as love, she considered. Perhaps true love was as fictional as the space aliens haunting the cinema next door. Yes, Elle decided glumly, she would have been better off going to see “The Uranus Probe”, instead.
But as Elle choked back a sob, she knew that she would probably wind up back in the same theater two or three more times before the end of the week. She was a sucker for sad movies—girl flicks, as the guys liked to call them—and would no doubt spend more of her hard earned money to see this particular one again. Maybe it was because she had no one special in her life and because she assumed that she never would that it appealed to her so. How sad was that, she wondered? How sad that the only medium through which she could find such strong and passionate emotions was a Hollywood picture?
She turned a corner and continued on, her eyes downcast and her hands tucked in the pockets of her leather jacket. A warm breeze licked softly at her legs, penetrating her black silk stockings and raising goose bumps on her flesh. The cold winter had finally given way to spring, fading away like an unwanted houseguest that begrudgingly departs and leaves in its wake a new energy. Like a rebirth, of sorts, the new season had seemingly re-energized the city. People once again took to the streets, milling here and there, going to shows, going to movies, going to restaurants, ready to stretch their legs and live again. Even now, on a Saturday evening with the sun just ducking down behind the western horizon, the rediscovered warmth of spring seemed to fill the air with a new sense of hope for the people of Megapolis.
Elle, too, and despite the fillings of self-sorrow that she allowed to clutch at her heart, knew that life was not all bad. This year, especially, had marked a new period in her existence. She had made a new friend and discovered a new purpose. Jody Walker was her name and being super heroes was what they did. They were the M-Girls, dedicated to bringing justice to a city that rarely knew it and committed to making miserable the lives of criminals and wrong-doers everywhere. Even now, Elle was on her way to the café to meet her new friend so that they could plan their next move in the never-ending war on crime.
Just thinking of Jody made Elle feel better. Not a lot, but at least a little. The young brunette sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She undid the bronze clasp at the top of her small, overly packed purse and peered inside, looking for a Kleenex. She shuffled through a collage of lipsticks, eyeliners, powders, mirrors, combs, brushes, and a condom—“How did that get in there?”—before finding one. She placed it against the base of her nose and blew. Elle’s cheeks blushed and she looked up, suddenly embarrassed. Whenever she blew her nose, she knew, it sounded like the blaring of a badly out of tune trumpet. It was completely unladylike and she hoped that no one had taken notice. Though how could they not notice such a loud—
“What?” Elle said aloud. “Where is everyone?”
To her surprise, the young woman found that she was alone. Without knowing or thinking, she had apparently taken a wrong turn and now found herself in a dark alley. The crowd of moviegoers and street revelers was gone. She was quite alone.
“Well!” Elle exclaimed. “That will teach me to walk around with my head down and tears in my eyes!”
The beautiful brunette refastened the clasp on her purse. She tossed the well-soaked Kleenex at a nearby garbage can but missed. A twinge of environment-friendly guilt tugged at her conscious but was quickly replaced with disgust as she noticed the heaping piles of trash that littered the alley. It was clear that the can was not on any of the regular sanitation pickup routes.
“Oooh! Yuuk!” Elle exclaimed as she tried to tiptoe her way back toward the main street. The stiletto heels of her shoes made things difficult and she considered removing them, as they had cost her almost a weeks pay, after all. At least, they would have cost her a weeks pay if she had actually had a job. But in any case, they were valuable and Elle didn’t want to get them all mucked up with some stinky old garbage.
But taking the shoes off didn’t seem like such a great idea, when she thought about it. Her black silk hose were nearly as expensive and twice as hard to find. Plus, this was the first time she had worn the delicate stockings and she didn’t want to crease them. No, she decided, the shoes would stay on.
She took several steps, carefully avoiding the old food wrappers, wine bottles, cigarette packs, and oily rags. She paused to look around and tried to remember the way from which she had originally come. The alley branched off in several directions. Elle knew that she had turned more than one corner during her brief odyssey since leaving the theater, but had to admit that she had no clue as to which ones or even how many. Worsening her predicament, the evening was quickly growing dark now that the sun had disappeared.
Elle considered the various options available to her. “Well, I suppose I just need to pick a direction and go,” she mumbled aloud. She set off on a route she guessed might lead back to the theater. Her tight leather mini-skirt forced her to shorten her normally long, athletic strides. “I hope that Jody does not mind too much that I am late.”
The breeze was stronger in the alley than it had been on the street and Elle ducked as a leaf of dirty newspaper whistled past her head. Her warm brown eyes followed the paper as it sailed past, then widened as it landed at the feet of a previously unseen figure standing in the shadows to her right. “Who are you?” Elle asked in surprise.
The figure replied with a female voice that was at once barely audible, yet at the same time clearly heard. The voice sliced through the springtime breeze with a tone warm yet starkly terrifying. It made Elle feel that she was somehow being seduced and assaulted at the same time.
“My name is Whisper,” the voice hissed. “I have been following you. Your emotions—they are stronger and sweeter than any I have felt for a very long time.”
“My emotions?”
“Very strong. Very sweet. Yes. Delicious.”
Elle took a step back, suddenly wary of this stranger. “Step into the light so that I can see you.” “Light?” the strange woman asked. “But there is only darkness here. Earth. Such a cold place. Such a cold, dark, place.”
“You know what I mean. I can barely see you there, in the shadows. Step into the center of the alley so that I can make you out.”
The woman hissed again. Her voice sent a chill up Elle’s spine. “You are not afraid of Whisper? You must be brave. Yes. Very brave.”
Elle instinctively reached toward her right hip, the fingers of her hand stretching out to take hold of her rope. When they found nothing but the leather of her skirt, she remembered that she was out of costume. She knew that without the rope to channel her telekinetic abilities, she would be unable to utilize her mutant powers should there be a fight.
But the young heroine had other talents at her disposal. She took another step backward, putting some distance between herself and the stranger. The alley was wide—There would be plenty of room here for her to exercise her martial arts skills, if it turned out that they were needed.
“That’s right, I am brave. And strong, too, so do not try anything. Now, come out into the open and let me see you.”
The stranger took a step forward. Elle’s eyes narrowed. She half expected to see a monster emerge from the shadows. Instead, and to her surprise, she saw something quite different. Out of the darkness materialized a beautiful woman. Long, sandy blond hair fell down across her well-defined, majestic features and seemed to glimmer in the dim light of the alley. Her smooth, white, skin was flawless. The features of her face were likewise perfect—high cheekbones, a ruler straight nose, full lips, a narrow jaw— and seemed to radiate wisdom and confidence.
The woman’s clothing could only be described as a costume. The skin-tight fabric shimmered in the darkness, somehow alternating in color between light metallic blue and pure silver and all the shades of the spectrum in-between, so that Elle could never be sure of what its true nature might be. The costume fit tightly on the woman’s voluptuous form, like a swimsuit. The unblemished skin of her thighs and knees was bare, though she sported a pair of boots, made from the same unusual fabric as the costume, that covered her calves and feet. Likewise, her upper arms were uncovered but her forearms were shielded by the shiny material. All in all, she made an impressive sight.
But Elle possessed a meticulous eye for detail. Even in the failing light of the alley, she could begin to see that all was not as it first appeared. Just as the woman’s voice seemingly possessed qualities of both good and evil, so to did her appearance. As the young heroine looked closer, she could see that the majestic features of the stranger’s face possessed a certain hardness. Her white skin was pale and without warmth. Her sandy blonde hair possessed a dirty tint. Her high cheekbones seemed somehow hollow. Her full lips were without color. Her narrow jaw seemed tight and unforgiving.
Then Elle noticed the woman’s eyes. Though wide and round, the eyes were completely black. It was the kind of black that could fill a person with coldness and despair, should they gaze into their dark
depths for more than an instant. The eyes struck fear into Elle’s heart and she knew now, without a doubt, that this woman was trouble.
“Why have you been following me?” the young brunette demanded to know.
“Your emotions. I sensed them from far away. Yes. Very strong. Very sweet.”
“You sensed my emotions? Are you a mutant, then?”
The woman’s voice seemed to sizzle as she spoke. “I am Whisper. I feel what you feel. I consume your feelings. Yes. Delicious.”
“Are you some kind of empath?”
“Yes. Empath. But more. Must feed. Must consume you.”
Elle took a fighting stance and glowered at the woman. “I do not know what you are, witch, but you will not feed on me, I assure you!”
“Yes. Very brave. Not like others. Not run away. Yes. Whisper not need to chase.” Elle looked at the woman in horror. If she was a mutant, then she was like no mutant the young brunette had ever encountered before. No, there was something different, something alien, about this person. Maybe she was not even a person at all. Maybe she was an android or something. Just talking to her made Elle feel sick to her stomach. It was as if Whisper’s voice was causing an allergic reaction inside of her.
“You stay back or you will regret it!” Elle demanded.
“Must feel. Must feed. Your emotions will subsist me.”
Elle felt lightheaded. She realized that the woman was somehow feeding off of her. Though Whisper had not moved and still remained several feet away, Elle knew that she was never the less being assaulted by the woman. And with each passing moment, her energy was being sapped.
“You are feeding off of my fear, aren’t you? Is that what you do? You scare the bejesus out of people with your eyes and then feed off of their fear? Well, it will not work, do you hear me? I can control my fear. I can beat you!”
The young warrior leapt at her unusual attacker and fired a front toe kick toward the woman’s chin. Elle was an expert martial artist. She had been trained by the masters of the East. She was a mutant and had a strength and toughness greater than that of normal men. But she was out of uniform. More used to the freedom of movement provided by her violet costume, she now found her tight leather skirt to be restrictive. Her spiked heels limited her jumping ability. Her kick came up woefully short and her opponent easily blocked it to the side. A sudden, snapping clothesline dropped the girl hard to the pavement.
“Ow! That hurt!” Elle looked up at her attacker through the field of stars that now clouded her vision. She felt as if she had been run over by a truck. But the beautiful brunette was a warrior. Having engaged the enemy, her fear was quickly replaced by her lust for battle. She would show this blonde bitch a thing or two.
Whisper frowned. “Sadness gone. Fear gone. Not so strong. Not so sweet. Must assist. Must consume.”
Elle had other ideas. She quickly rolled onto her stomach and planted her hands firmly against the alley floor. In an instant, the young mutant vaulted into a handstand and then flipped backward onto her feet. She landed several feet away from her surprised foe.
“Chow time is over, bitch! Now it is time to pay the check!”
Whisper hissed. Her voice reminded Elle of fingernails scraping across a chalkboard. “Different! Yes. Not like the others, this one! More. Much more!”
“I am Elle Mental, you fish-eyed witch! And you are going to regret attacking me!” “Elle Mental,” the woman whispered evilly. “Yes. Very delicious.”
Whisper moved forward with surprising speed. Her right hand clasped around the young heroine’s throat like a vice. Elle found herself being lifted off the ground by her neck. “Good… grip!” the heroine gurgled. She hung there, suspended in the air, for several long moments. She scratched at the hand of her opponent, but to no avail. She reached toward Whisper’s face, to scratch her eyes out, but again failed. The field of stars was growing larger. Elle’s lungs burned. She had to have air. She had to—
Whisper flung the weakening heroine’s body across the alley, sending it tumbling into and through the garbage can. Elle lay face first among the filth for several seconds without moving. Finally, she groaned and lifted her aching head. She slowly pulled herself to her feet. Whisper stood several feet away, her face tight, as if she was concentrating on something. The woman slowly licked her lips with a thin, pale, tongue.
Elle slumped against the brick wall at the side of the alley. Again, she felt lightheaded. “You are feeding on me again… Stop… Stop or I will…”
“You will do nothing, human. With each passing moment, I consume more of your emotions and through them your strength. Soon, I will possess the entirety of your life-force.” Elle raised her hand in front of her as if to block the unseen flow of energy that was passing out of her body and into her adversary. She somehow knew that what Whisper had said was true—She could feel the strength being slowly drained from her slender, athletic form.
“I will not let you… do this…”
Whisper licked her lips again and smiled sinisterly. “You can not stop what has begun. Though you are strong and brave, you cannot stop me. Yes. Like all the others, you will be consumed. Your life force will subsist me.”
Elle slumped backward against the wall. It was a struggle simply to maintain her feet. But she knew she could not give up. She had to muster her remaining strength and continue to fight. She took a deep breath and forced her mind to focus on the task at hand. She forced her muscles to tighten. She would never give up.
Whisper’s expression changed. Her smile disappeared. “Your emotions,” she hissed hungrily. “What has happened to your emotions? Where is the delicious sadness? Where is delightful loneliness? Give them to me. I must consume them.”
The beautiful brunette raised her weary head. Her long brown hair fell loosely across her face, partially concealing her features but not the look of determination set into her countenance. “Sadness? Loneliness? Are you talking about the way I was feeling before? While you were following me? Of course! But those emotions were not real! I mean, not really. It was simply the movie.” “Movie?” Whisper asked without understanding.
Elle pushed away from the wall and stood tall. She brushed the hair away from her face. She put her hands on her hips and forced her mouth to form a smile. “Yes, just a movie. It is a girl thing, you know? Go to a sad movie, get sad, stay sad for a while, then pick up the pieces and carry on. We do it for fun, for crying out loud. But the emotions are not real. They are just borrowed.”
Anger and confusion flashed across Whisper’s face. Her voice sizzled like grease on a fire. “Borrowed? Not real? I do not understand! You lie! Yes. You will give me your emotions! Now!” The woman leapt at her prey, determined to extract that which she so desperately required. She moved with the speed and agility of a tiger, but this time Elle was ready for her. The brave champion dodged to her left, over a torn bag of garbage, and somersaulted into the middle of the alley, landing softly in a crouch. Sensing her opponent behind her, she spun on the ball of her foot and extended her right leg. A perfectly executed leg sweep dumped her attacker to the asphalt.
Elle Mental’s pleasure at scoring some points was tempered by the sound of tearing leather. She stood and looked down at her damaged clothing. Sure enough, a large rip extended from the top of her right hip all the way down past the hem on her thigh. “My skirt! Curse you, Whisper, you made me tear my beautiful leather skirt!”
The empath hissed and quickly rose to her feet. Her own clothing had undergone an even more dramatic change. The costume, which had formerly been alternating in color between metallic blue and silver, now took on the distinctly darker shades of gray and black.
“Human different! Yes! Human more!”
Elle smirked. “Yes, I am a human. But what are you?”
A smoldering fire seemed to glow in the pits of Whisper’s black eyes. “Not human! Different, yes. Home is far away. Many light-years, yes.”
“So, you are saying that you are some kind of alien or something?” Elle asked dubiously. “What I am should not matter to you, human. Only what I will do to you.”
“Fine,” the young beauty responded confidently while kicking off her shoes and taking a fighting stance. “Bring it on!”
Whisper did not hesitate. Letting out a frightening shriek, she charged the mutant heroine once more. As before, her prey tried to dive out of the way, but this time the alien attacker was expecting the move. Her right hand shot out with lightning speed, catching the young brunette’s slender ankle as it passed by. With a snort of victory, Whisper lifted the girl up and held her suspended, upside down, by her right leg.
“Let me go, you witch!” Elle cried.
The alien cackled sourly. “As you wish, brave one.”
Elle landed on her head and then fell onto her back. Once again, she found herself at the feet of her attacker. Things were not going as well as she might have hoped. The young mutant knew that she had better get her act together quickly or she would end up on the losing side in this battle.
Raising her legs and snapping them into the air, Elle used the momentum to propel herself quickly back onto her feet. She turned and stood face to face with her opponent. Both women were about the same height. Both were about the same weight. Whisper was strong, but so was Elle. The young beauty knew that the outcome of the battle would be determined by fighting skill, and though she had not displayed much skill yet, she had been trained by the best.
Her masters in the East had been amazed at how quickly their young student had picked up their techniques. She had quickly risen above the other students and taken her place at the top of the class. Certainly, her mutant athleticism contributed to her success. But unlike in the West, where her special talents disqualified her from organized competition, her enhanced genetics and abilities were accepted in the East as a natural extension of her inner Chi. All of the students were expected to take advantage of their natural, god-given, abilities, and that included her.
She sometimes wondered if she had made a mistake by returning to Megapolis. Her quest for revenge against Prince Lomac had so far been thwarted. Her parents, the ones that had betrayed her by handing her over to the MCT, were no longer a part of her life. Her sister was dead. There was little left for her here, other than the derision of a mutant-hating citizenry. But home is home, she surmised, and something always seemed to pull her back to the crime-ridden streets of Megapolis.
Perhaps it was the excitement, she supposed. Where else could she find such an abundance of criminals to battle? But that had not been it, she knew. In truth, crime fighting for her was not the all important crusade that it was for her friend, Jody, a.k.a. “Ms. Marvelous”, Walker. She did it because it was fun and different and because it gave her something to do with her time. If she managed to help some folks along the way, then great. Otherwise, it was enough that she got to test her skills against villains like Whisper.
Elle lashed out with a straight left and followed up with a chopping right. Both blows were deflected to the side. She tried again, this time letting go with a fast three punch combo. Again, all the punches were deflected. Her opponent countered with a cross and a spinning back fist. Elle blocked the first blow and ducked under the second. Seeing an opening, she let out a cry and slammed her left knee into Whisper’s stomach.
The alien grimaced but countered quickly by slamming her left forearm across the young brunette’s face. The blow was powerful and sent Elle crashing to the ground. Whisper was on her instantly, straddling the girl’s torso and arms with her legs and pinning her to the pavement.
Elle struggled to get free, knowing that she was momentarily defenseless against her strong opponent. At any moment, she knew, the alien could hammer home a finishing blow to her exposed head. But the blow never came. For whatever reason, Whisper seemed to hesitate. Elle didn’t know why, but she was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Wrenching her right arm free, Elle stabbed her thumb into Whisper’s side, just below the ribcage. The alien yelped in pain and instinctively moved away from the attack, giving Elle the opportunity to push her off. Sliding behind her opponent and getting to her knees, the brunette wrapped her arms around Whisper’s waist and locked her hands together. Maintaining control of the alien’s struggling form, she pulled them both up onto their feet.
“Let’s see if you can take it as well as you dish it out!”
“I will make you pay for this human! I will make you--”
Whisper’s threat was cut short as Elle lifted her off the ground and belly-to-back suplexed her onto the trash riddled pavement floor of the alley. The alien landed hard on her head and shoulders several feet away before careening into a pile of garbage.
Elle watched with satisfaction as the surprised alien slowly rose. She slipped out of her leather jacket and carefully laid it on the ground behind her.
“There!” she declared confidently. “I think that should be enough of a warm up. Shall we begin in earnest?”
Whisper hissed angrily. “Be cautious, prey, and do not mock me. Yes! I will yet defeat you, delicious one!”
“Doubtful! I figure you had your chance, but you hesitated. I wonder why?”
The alien stammered for a moment. “I did not hesitate. I merely wished to have some more fun with you. I was just toying with you, before.”
Elle smiled, sure that she had figured out her opponent’s secret. “Could it be that I am of no use to you if I am dead? Even if you just knocked me out, might that not have ruined your dinner plans? That is it, isn’t it? If your prey is dead or unconscious, you can no longer feed on its emotions. What a pity! For you, I mean.”
Whisper’s voice sounded like a rusty gate opening for the first time in a millennium. “Do not be overconfident, Elle Mental. Though you are stronger and wiser than most of your kind, there is still much that you do not know. Yes. You no longer fear me. You are no longer sad. But there are other human emotions on which I may feed. Yes. Strong emotions. Delicious feelings. I will aid you. I will help you to feel. Yes, delicious one, I will help you to feed me.”
Whisper launched herself upward from the garbage pile with an impressive display of grace and power. The apex of her leap was over fifteen feet up and she seemed to hang in the air for an impossibly long time before descending downward once more.
“Wow!” Elle exclaimed before stepping back as the alien came down mere feet in front of her. “I bet Nike has a shoe deal for you!”
Once again, the two female warriors engaged one another in mortal combat, each delivering blows that might have easily felled lesser beings. The advantage ebbed from one contestant to the other and then back again, before being lost once more in a flurry of potentially deadly strikes and blows. The women moved with the speed of cats, ducking this way and that and launching themselves at one another with vicious determination. One a sandy blonde, her costume shimmering and changing colors, her pale white skin but a blur of movement. The other an energetic brunette, her almost unbelievably long legs revealed beneath a tattered leather skirt and her striking beauty a contradiction to her courage and strength. The battle raged long before, at last, one warrior seemed to gain an advantage over the other.
“I have you now!” Whisper cackled as she avoided a lunging punch from her adversary. The alien ducked under the ill-conceived strike and allowed the force of it to carry her opponent past her. Finding herself suddenly behind the young brunette, Whisper wrapped her right arm around the girl’s slender waist and pulled her tight against her own body. Her left hand slid under her foe’s armpit and wrapped itself around the back of her neck. She applied some pressure and took pleasure from the muffled scream that resulted.
Elle found herself snared in a half-nelson, her head pushed forward at a painful angle. Her left arm was suspended in the air above her head as Whisper locked in the hold. But her right arm was still free and the young mutant was confident that she would work her way out of the hold without too much difficulty. The masters in the East had taught her how to escape such wrestling maneuvers and she had learned her lessons well.
“If you think a half-nelson is going to finish me you should think again!” she warned her adversary.
“The hold is merely meant to slow you down,” Whisper responded. “I do not desire to simply finish you. I desire to consume you. Yes. I will destroy you utterly.”
“And just how do you intend to do that? I do not fear you, Whisper. I will not give you any emotions to feed on.”
The alien cackled in response. “Ah, but you will. I will aid you. Yes. Assist you.” “What do you mean? What will you--”
Elle’s words were cut short as she felt something odd and totally unexpected. She looked down and saw her opponent’s right hand sliding beneath the torn fabric of her leather skirt. “What are you doing? Stop that! Stop that now!”
The young beauty gasped as her attacker’s fingers pressed against her silk panties and tried to gain access to her womanhood. She struggled to free herself from the half-nelson, but her alien adversary was strong and had the hold locked in tight.
“Just what the hell do you think you are doing!” she screamed while trying to rip the intruder’s hand away with her own.
“I am aiding you,” Whisper responded coolly. “I am assisting you to feel.”
“Feel what? Anger? Is that what you want, for me to get angry? Well, it will not work! I can control my anger.”
“No,” the alien hissed while forcing her hand back under the skirt. “I cannot feed on anger. But there are stronger emotions, stronger feelings. Yes. Sexual arousal is very strong. Very sweet. Hmm… delicious.”
Elle cried out as her head was once again pushed forward by the hand on the back of her neck. She raised her free hand and tried to reach behind her head, to grab at her attacker, to somehow remove or lessen the pressure that was being applied. She tried to swing an elbow into her opponent’s ribs. But her hand could not be everywhere at once. While fighting against the half-nelson, Whisper had free access under her skirt. While fighting against the molestation of her nether regions, she had no defense against the debilitating hold.
Whisper smiled evilly and ripped the young beauty’s black silk panties away. She victoriously flung the lightweight undergarment into the center of the alley before returning her hand to the human’s sensitive crotch. Ignoring the girl’s frantic attempts to pull her hand away, she searched for Elle’s cherry with a well-practiced touch. This was her favorite way to feed, she knew. The way she always used when preying on human females. She was not getting anything tasty yet, but it would not be long. “Yes. Very soon, now. Delicious.”
Elle was outraged. “Get your hands off of me, you witch! There is nothing sexually arousing about this! You are only making me mad!”
“Very soon,” the alien repeated. “I will assist you. Using the same energy you gave me earlier, I will help you to generate new feelings. Yes. Stronger feelings. Delicious feelings.” Elle flinched as her opponent’s fingers groped for her nether mouth. Whisper’s hand moved across her pubes and downward, dragging over the sensitive skin of her nether lips. The young brunette forced her long legs together to hinder the unwanted advances of her foe. She tried again to pull away the intrusive hand. She was momentarily successful, but Whisper was strong and soon the hand was back under her torn leather skirt.
Not giving up, Elle again pulled the hand away. Growing tired of this game, Whisper yanked her hand away and shifted her position behind the young brunette. Maintaining the half-nelson hold, the alien grabbed the back of the leather skirt and hiked it up over the heroine’s hips, exposing her ass. Her hand slid across and under Elle’s round butt-cheeks before diving back into her crotch. By touch alone, the alien searched for her opponent’s most sensitive spot. Finally, she had it—The tip of Whisper’s forefinger slid between Elle’s nether lips and into the mouth of the young brunette’s pussy.
The beautiful mutant was infuriated by this assault. Her precious leather mini, already ripped beyond repair, was now hiked up over her hips in the most embarrassing way. Her butt was exposed to the world, not that anyone other than Whisper was around to see it but it was still humiliating. Her left arm was propped in the air uselessly at the side of her head by the half-nelson hold. Her neck was bent forward at a painful angle. Her most private areas were being physically violated. Her right fist clenched in anger. Her face became rigid with determination. She would make this witch pay, she vowed.
But Elle knew she had to take a different approach. She had to ignore the groping hand at her crotch and focus on breaking the half-nelson hold before anything else. She had to concentrate. She had to remember her training. Elle widened her stance in order to get her feet under her. She needed a solid base if she was going to--
Parting her legs was a mistake, the young heroine realized too late. With her thighs spread, her attacker’s finger slid deeper into her hole. Elle’s eyes widened as she felt a small tingle of unwanted and unexpected sensation.
“Yes!” the alien hissed in glee. “Delicious! Yes!”
“Oh, geez!” Elle groaned to herself. Despite the humiliation of what was being done to her, her body was beginning to react to the motions of the finger probing her pussy. It did not seem reasonable that such a thing could occur, but maybe there was something to what Whisper had said—Maybe the alien really did possess the power to transfer some of the energy she had stolen back into Elle’s body. Maybe she really could use the energy to encourage feelings of a more erotic nature.
The young brunette tried to put thoughts of her moistening pussy out of her mind. She tried to ignore the sensations that were emanating from her sex hole and focus on the idea of escape. She had to break the wrestling hold. She had to free herself—
Elle moaned softly as Whisper’s finger dove deeper still into her warm hole. The alien had practiced her devious art on many young women in the past. She knew how to touch a human female just so. She knew how to evoke the feelings of lust that she so delighted in consuming. And this girl, the beautiful brunette called Elle Mental, was like few that she had ever tasted. Perhaps it was due to her warrior nature or because she was a mutant, but her sexual energy seemed to know no bounds. Surely, the alien considered hungrily, she would provide a great feast.
Elle’s struggles lessened as the erotic sensations grew stronger. The young beauty quietly whimpered as Whisper extracted her forefinger from her now moist pussy only to replace it with the larger, middle finger. The new finger slid inside slowly, penetrating the hapless girl to its full length. The alien’s other fingers softly caressed and rubbed Elle’s enflamed nether lips, occasionally brushing against the swollen cherry of her clitoris.
The striking dark beauty could feel the energy being drained from her body. Whisper was now feeding on her fully, she realized. She could feel her strength ebbing. With each passing moment, she grew weaker. With each passing moment, it became more difficult to escape the death grip in which she was held. She could feel the life force being sucked out of her body.
Deep within her now burning box, Elle could feel the beginnings of an orgasm taking shape. Oh, god, she wondered silently. What would happen if she succumbed to the feelings overtaking her body and allowed it to reach its climax? Could she survive such a release of pure sexual energy, or would she be left so weak, and her foe so strong, that she would have no hope of ever escaping her dire predicament?
As the practiced hand of her opponent continued to probe the young beauty, sending ever stronger waves of sensation coursing through her burning body, Elle Mental wondered if this might be the end.