Disclaimer: This story should only be read by extremely sick, twisted, perverted and amoral people with no sense of decency whatsoever. That means you. Also, if you are below the legal age of consent, do not read this story. Do something more positive with your life... like smoking crack.
PROLOGUE 1:
The Near future...
Sinture City was a sprawling metropolis located in the northeastern United States, similar to many modern American cities -that is to say it was filled with poverty, drugs, corruption and crime. Except this city was worse than most of the other urban centers. Not too long ago, the crime rate had soared to unprecedented proportions as the town quickly became known by a new name... Sinner City. The situation had become so bad, a state of near marshal law was declared as possession of firearms was turned into a capital offense. Though guns became scarce in Sinner City, still the crime rate continued to rise. Eventually, most of the town's male population was dead or in jail. Yet, impossibly, crime in the streets ran even more rampant. For as Sinner City's male criminals disappeared, they were replaced by a new, even more vicious element... the female criminal. In a town largely devoid of men or guns or effective law enforcement, only the strongest, most evil, most dangerous women could thrive. Meanwhile, costumed crimefighters - so-called superheroes - who had sprung up over the years in other hotspots of crime, considered it beneath themselves to combat gangs of mere women and so stayed away from Sinner City. Thus, a new breed of crimefighter was born. Female heroines, often wearing masks and costumes as their male counterparts in other cities did, arose to meet this threat to society. These were not superwomen from other worlds, but rather real, flesh and blood women, who would combat evil with nothing but their skill, determination and courage. These were...
THE SUPERHEROINES OF SINNER CITY
BY
THE GOOD DOCTOR
PROLOGUE 2:
Barbie Johnson adjusted her Lone Ranger style mask and entered the darkened building by an open rear window. She'd been watching the building all night and finally been rewarded when she saw the group of women enter 15 minutes earlier. When she was convinced they were not coming out for a while she decided to go in and get them. After all, this seemed like a job for... Superwoman! At least that was the name Barbie had decided to give herself. She'd always been a big fan of the comic book character Supergirl and figured if she was going to be a costumed crimefighter herself, she might as well use a cool name. But it wasn't like she was some naive kid. The 21-year-old brunette had done her homework on crimefighting. She had read everything there was to read about the superheroine vigilantes who had sprung up in Sinner City, learning what she could of the profession from these accounts. She paid particular attention to the exploits of Intrepid Lady, the most successful of all the female crimefighters. After nearly two years of karate lessons, the shapely 5'6" 121lb. girl felt she was prepared to embark on her new career. Wearing a snug, pink spandex bodystocking, she had managed to track down the source of a large amphetamine distribution network and was now going to shut it down for good. The would-be crimefighteress cautiously made her way down a darkened hall until she got to a partially opened door. There were voices coming from within. "We'll be able to expand our distribution by 20%, Mrs. Scar," someone said. "Good," replied a haughty feminine voice. "Now about this new deal, selling those special items to the middle eastern gentleman..." It was now or never, Superwoman thought to herself, as she crashed in through the door and stood confidently, her legs spread, fists resting on her sexy hips. Before her stood five startled-looking women. "What the fuck..." said an elegant, dark-haired lady, obviously the leader. "You better surrender, or face the wrath of... Superwoman!" announced the buxom heroine. "Not another costumed bimbo," whined a short, mousy woman who stood beside the raven-haired leader. "What should we do, Mrs. Scar?" The dark-haired woman said in a thoughtful voice, "Teach her a lesson she'll remember a long time." "You heard the boss," the mousy girl said to the three other women standing beside Mrs. Scar. "Get rid of this bitch!" The three female thugs, all considerably larger than the lone heroine, advanced forward. In a blur, Superwoman lashed out at the nearest one, planting a good front kick in the girl's stomach. "Gee, this is easy," the heroine thought to herself, her confidence soaring. It was then that the tallest of the three thugs, a cruel-looking, platinum blonde caught Superwoman with a beer bottle across the side of the head. The would-be superheroine dropped to the floor, clutching her damaged face and groaning in pain. Immediately, the three hoodlums seized her. They pulled her arms and legs apart as the terrified young girl writhed helplessly. "N...no! Please...Don't!!!" Superwoman whimpered as the thugs began to rip the pink spandex from her body. Barbie screamed in horror as she felt the women pawing at her now exposed genitals. In all her fantasies of being a superheroine, she had never imagined this happening to her. "Please! Please don't hurt meee!!! Please... Stopppp!!!" she shrieked, tears beginning to stream down her face. The platinum blonde looked at her boss for a signal and when the raven-haired woman nodded, she lowered a second beer bottle down between the helpless heroine's legs. "No! Please don't!! Please... don't do th... Aaaiiieee!!!" Superwoman shrieked in complete agony and terror as the beer bottle was rammed deep into her vagina. She writhed helplessly, held down by the larger women while her nether regions were viciously ravaged. The young woman continued to sob and beg for mercy as her most private parts were horrifically assaulted by the glass implement till blood began to stream down her thighs. Still, the horrible rape continued...
CHAPTER 1:
A RATHER LONG INTRODUCTION
The night fog that rolled in off the bay made the city, normally dingy and depressing even at its best, seem even more sublime. Yet the figure on the roof of the abandoned tenement building found the gloom comforting. The dark could be a powerful ally if used wisely. The figure detached itself from the shadows and moved silently across the rooftop, a stray bit of light from a street lamp momentarily reflecting off a silvery piece of lycra clothing. The figure paused at the edge of the roof and surveiled the surrounding area. "Another fun night in Sinner City," the figure said, pushing her wind-blown blonde hair away from her masked face. "Good thing Intrepid Lady has nothing better to do with her time." The tall, attractive 27-year-old blonde woman continued to survey the street below her. Caution, she new, was always critical to someone in her profession. It had been -what? -over a year since Summer Smith had quit the local police force, fed up with that institution's inability to make a dent in the crime rate. Her superiors had called it a great loss. Summer was not only one of their best undercover operatives but was also the best unarmed combat instructor the department had and a key member of its SWAT team. But they couldn't convince her to stay, she had already decided she could do more operating outside the normal chain of command. Shortly after leaving the department, she made her debut as a costumed crimefighter, breaking up a particularly heinous group of female home invaders and garnering her "hero" status in the local press. Someone had called her an intrepid young lady in print and the name had somehow stuck... Intrepid Lady. Well, there were worse things she could have been called, Summer reasoned. Thus, the mysterious, masked heroine Intrepid Lady was born. Since then, she had been busy attempting to combat the various criminal gangs, almost exclusively female, that terrorized the city. She wasn't entirely alone in this mission. A number of other women had come up with the same idea. Unfortunately, most were woefully unprepared and soon faded away. Just last week one of these new heroines, Superwoman or Wonder Lady or some such ludicrous name -Summer had trouble keeping track of them all -had met up with the Scar Gang and was so badly beaten and tortured, the emergency room doctors were lucky to save her life. Summer felt pity for the girl but also a bit of scorn. There was no place in this business for amateurs. Still, more and more women seemed willing to risk their lives by donning masks and trying to be "superheroines." Only a few seemed to have what it took. Two new female crimefighters, one called the Red Avenger and the other Ninja Girl, had sprung up recently and appeared to be doing okay for themselves. Summer had run into them breaking up a bank robbery several weeks back and had to admit they handled themselves well, though they both seemed rather young.. Still, she'd reserve judgment. After all, chances were anyone who got into costumed crimefighting wasn't completely stable. "There's a comforting thought," Intrepid Lady reflected as she stepped from the shadows and dove over the side of the building, grabbing the edge of a fire escape ladder to swing down to a ledge on the neighboring building. Her silver, bathing suit-like uniform offered little protection from the cool night air but allowed for maximum flexibility. Standing on the narrow ledge, the heroine's blue-gloved hands grabbed on to a drainpipe and she began to shimmy her shapely, 5'7" 129 lb. body up to the roof of the new building. She swung her legs, clad only in knee high blue boots, over the rooftop and stood atop this taller structure, pausing to tuck her flowing hair beneath the silver headband she wore. Intrepid Lady's bright blue eyes glanced over the far edge of the rooftop to see her target for the evening, a seemingly deserted warehouse. But if her information was correct, and she believed it would be, the Scar Gang and their infamous leader, Mrs. Scar, would be inside. "Time to go to work," said Intrepid Lady as she disappeared over the far side of the building.
Inside the warehouse, a smartly dressed, darkhaired woman in her late thirties walked down a hallway, several bodyguards in close attendance. Nicole Scarlotti had inherited the remains of her husband's illegal empire after his untimely demise and had since built it into one of the most feared criminal gangs in Sinner City. Mrs. Scar, as she was called, was a tall, attractive brunette with a dark complexion and an even darker psyche. She had the complete fear and loyalty of her employees. "Are we on schedule, Matilda?" Mrs. Scar said to the short, bookish-looking woman who walked beside her. "Yes ma'am. The shipment of nuclear material is almost ready for transfer to our buyer in the mid-east. It should net us a nice 15 million." "Good," said Mrs. Scar. "You've done an excellent job putting this together, Matilda. You're doing much better than the last personal assistant I had." "Thank you, ma'am," said Matilda, shuddering at the memory of Mrs. Scar's previous right hand woman, who had angered the boss and wound up with an iron bar hammered up her vagina. "I'm just worried about interference from one of those costumed do-gooders." "Don't. After what we did to that interfering little superheroine last week, I'm sure the others will stay clear of us." The tallest of the bodyguards, a six-foot platinum blonde named Ludmilla, grinned, remembering how, after using a beer bottle, she had raped the little crimefighter with every other implement available till she passed out. That had certainly been a pleasant evening. Matilda tentatively answered her employer. "I'm not so sure, Mrs. Scar. Those new vigilantes, Red Avenger and Ninja Girl, don't seem to know any better. And then there's always... Intrepid Lady." Mrs. Scar stopped short at the mention of that name and turned to darkly face her assistant. "That bitch has cost me enough money. One of these days it will be my pleasure to dispose of her in a fitting way. But we needn't worry. This transaction will go through without a hitch... or someone will pay!" With that, the lady crimeboss turned on her heel and proceeded into the warehouse's main storage area. Nervously, Matilda and the others followed.
Intrepid Lady soared through the night sky as she leapt from the neighboring building on to the roof of the warehouse. She landed silently and immediately moved into the shadows of a nearby chimney stack. On the far side of the roof a lone female guard stood watch. Intrepid Lady slowly made her way around the edge of the chimney to approach the unsuspecting guard. When she was six feet from the woman's back, Intrepid Lady called out, "Excuse me, I'm collecting for the Sinner City Civic Improvement League. Would you like to donate?" As the startled guard turned around, Intrepid Lady lashed out with her shapely right leg in a devastating roundhouse kick. Her shin slammed into the side of the woman's head dropping her to the ground, unconscious. "I guess not," quipped the heroine, who stepped around the prone body toward a large skylight. Peering down through the glass she glimpsed what she had come seeking this evening. Eight figures stood around some large crates. Intrepid Lady immediately recognized the crimeboss, Mrs. Scar, and her assistant, Matilda. "So, the big enchilada did show up, after all," mused the heroine. "She's pulling out all the stops for this one." The costumed crimefighter noticed that two of the gang members surrounding Mrs. Scar were even male hoodlums, rare these days in Sinner City. With eight criminals, including two men, it should make for an interesting evening. Still, she'd faced worse odds in the past. The heroine eased the skylight window open and swung her body over the side, then let gravity do the rest. Mrs. Scar was just telling her employees how pleased she was with the night's work, but she never got to finish the thought as a female form crashed down atop one of her male henchman. "What?! Intrepid Lady... How?!" shouted Mrs. Scar as the heroine spun around, striking the second male gangster in the groin with a devastating spinning back kick. As he doubled over, she raised her bare thigh, slamming her knee into his face. The buxom heroine then turned to face Mrs. Scar. "Yep, it's me, in the flesh, scarry-poo." "You interfering bitch! One day you'll grovel at my feet and beg me for mercy, damn you!" screamed the crimeboss, backing toward an exit, followed closely by Matilda. "Get her, girls!" The four female bodyguards advanced on the lone heroine. "It'll be fun to torture another superheroine," grinned Ludmilla. "You must have me confused with someone else, sweetie. Allow me to demonstrate," said the crimefighter, jumping in the air and kicking out, splitting her legs and catching the two women directly to her left and right with the toes of both her blue boots, sending them reeling.. The third bodyguard attacked, grabbing the heroine from behind as Ludmilla advanced on her. "Now I'll teach you a lesson, superbitch," snarled Ludmilla. "In the words of Homey the Clown, ?I don't think so,?" said Intrepid Lady as she grabbed the arm of the woman holding her from behind, simultaneously dropping to one knee and judo tossing the girl over her shoulder into the onrushing Ludmilla. The heroine quickly grabbed the stunned six-footer by her platinum blonde hair. "I've got one question for you, babe," said Intrepid Lady. "Who was it that worked over that girl you captured last week?" "I did," grinned the defiant hoodlum. "So what?" "So, this is for her," said Intrepid Lady, smashing her gloved fist into Ludmilla's face, sending the woman flying across the room, minus a few teeth. But that was alright. With luck, the prison she'd be going to would have a good dentist. "Damn," the heroine said quietly, looking around to see Mrs. Scar and Matilda had escaped. The crimefighter knew that to make an arrest stand up, she had to catch the criminal at the scene of the crime. Sinner City may have relaxed their legal code a bit for costumed vigilantes, but it still wasn't possible for someone to testify in court using a secret identity . Still, there would be another day. And a total of seven gangsters in hand wasn't bad. Intrepid Lady quickly removed some zip strips, thin plastic handcuffs, from inside her left boot and secured the criminals, before making a call to the police. It would have been good to catch Mrs. Scar, but the heroine knew she could only do so much. "Not bad for a single girl all alone in the big city," she thought. "But I'd like to know what normal girls do with their evenings."
Jenny Williams was alone in her bedroom cleaning her grappling hook. It wasn't the most exciting way to spend the night, but she new it was important to keep all her equipment in working order. And this was the only time she had to do it, what with that book report she'd been busy writing for school. Being a high school senior was tough enough, but with her "extracurricular" activities, Jenny sometimes felt worn to the bone. It was a good thing she had a partner to rely on. The 17-year-old redhead put down the stainless steel implement and walked down the hallway to the nearby bathroom. She didn't have to worry about waking anyone. With her mother in Paris on a long-term modeling assignment, Jenny had the house to herself. Her mother, Courtney, had understandably been reluctant to leave her teenage daughter alone for a prolonged period of time. But Jenny had finally convinced her to take the modeling job. The elder Williams had, after all, always preached independence to her daughter. Courtney had given birth to Jenny when she, herself, had only been 17. Despite this, she had supported them both by joining the army. In fact, Courtney became one of only two women ever to qualify for the ultra-elite commando unit, Delta Force. Jenny had grown up around military bases, watching her mother train and eventually learning many of the military's most advanced survival skills, the adolescent girl soon becoming more skilled than even many of the instructors. Courtney had tutored her daughter, never expecting the girl would make use of the knowledge, but wanting her to be self-reliant, nonetheless. Eventually, Courtney had left the military for a modeling career and then the job in Paris. She never suspected her daughter had ulterior motives for encouraging her departure. The young girl ran the shower in the bathroom and then stripped off her blue jeans and blouse, revealing her firm, athletic, 5'5" 112 lb. figure. She then removed her bra, exposing her small but shapely breasts. Jenny had always been civic-minded, showing a deep concern for other people. The horrible crime wave she saw in Sinner City was something she couldn't abide. She felt she had to do something about it, to try and make a difference. With her mother out of the country, she had the freedom to act. Stepping out of her white cotton panties, Jenny walked into the shower, allowing the warm water to beat down on her milky, lightly freckled skin. She took a bar of soap, running it over her small, pink nipples then down her firm, flat stomach to the patch of curly red pubic hair between her legs. It was almost six months ago that she undertook her first mission. Feeling daring, she dressed up in a skimpy red bikini her mother had once worn on the cover of a popular sports magazine. Wearing a small red mask to help conceal her identity, she had foiled a robbery, putting three female muggers in the hospital.. When the victim asked who she was, Jenny told her, half in jest, "The Red Avenger." The moniker had stuck. Since then, she'd become something of a scourge to the local criminal element, who had no clue one of their greatest foes was a 17-year-old high school girl. Stepping from the shower, Jenny ran a towel up and down her lithe, nude form, then went back to her room where she put on a fresh pair of panties and a large tee-shirt, finally climbing into bed for a good night's sleep. Only one person knew her secret identity. She'd met Cindy two months ago when they had both shown up to foil an armored car robbery. The two girls shared a passion for justice and the skills needed to fight crime successfully. Working together, as they often did, they were a tough combination to beat. They'd even managed to give the dean of female crimefighters, Intrepid Lady, a hand recently. The young redhead turned off her bedside lamp and closed her lovely green eyes. She'd need her rest. Tomorrow night she and Cindy were going to bust the biggest cocaine operation in Sinner City.?
"That no good, interfering cunt! I want her head on a stake!" screamed an irate Nicole Scarlotti. She was alone in her uptown penthouse office with Matilda. "Yes... it was an unfortunate setback," offered the smaller woman, tentatively. "It was a fucking disaster! Now I'm going to take care of that costumed slut for good!" "But how? She's very... tough." "We'll just hire someone tougher, my dear. Money can buy anything in this city." "I don't know... who could we get?" Coming around her desk to face her assistant Mrs. Scar smiled menacingly and said, "I know just the person. What about Goliatha?" Growing even more nervous, Matilda said, "But... but... she's very expensive... and dangerous..." "So am I," replied the crimeboss, stepping behind her assistant and cupping the shorter girl's breasts in her hands. Matilda sighed slightly and said, "She's very unusual. I'm not sure she's completely stable." "She's perfect for what I want.," continued Mrs. Scar, reaching one hand down the front of her assistant's tweed skirt, slipping it beneath her underwear to stroke the outer lips of the girl's vagina. "But what about... the Queenpin and her rule?" said Matilda, referring to the true boss of all criminal activity in Sinner City. Though individual gangsters like Mrs. Scar controlled territories within the city, it was the fearsome Queenpin who had the final say in all criminal matters throughout the town. Backed by a menacing array of bizarre enforcers and assassins, her word was law. And the Queenpin's first rule was that there should be no unauthorized killings of important local figures without her specific say so. The Boss of All Bosses felt it would attract unwanted attention to kill, cops, politicians... or costumed crimefighters. At least without a good enough reason. The Queenpin was one boat even Mrs. Scar was reluctant to rock. "We can deal with the Queenpin," said Mrs. Scar, an unaccustomed note of caution in her voice. "Anyway, my plan doesn't necessarily call for Intrepid Lady's death. No, I have something more productive and far more horrible in mind." With that, the gangleader began nibbling on the nape of her assistant's neck as she pumped her fingers into the other woman's already lubricated cunt.
It was time to get going. Alone in her single-occupant college dorm room, 18-year-old Cindy Adams took off her clothes and opened the padlocked chest she kept in her closet. The pretty, 5'2" 102 lb. short-haired brunette pulled a pair of tight, black lycra shorts from the chest and stepped into them, slipping them over the pale, smooth skin of her small, well-toned buttocks. She next put on a snug, black lycra halter top which revealed the fair skin of her firm little belly but managed to cover up her pert breasts. Finally, she put on a thin black strip of cloth with holes cut out for her large brown eyes. This served as her mask. She wore no shoes as was the custom of her martial arts-based discipline. Removing a handful of throwing stars and a nunchaku from the chest, the young girl recalled all the time she'd spent during her young life training with these implements. The thought process naturally led her to think of her martial arts instructor, the venerable Master Yama. She had been eight-years-old, walking home from school when a bunch of bigger kids had begun picking on her. Master Yama had happened along and driven off the other children. He had befriended the lonely little girl and eventually shared with her his sacred family secrets. He had taught her all the skills of the ancient Shidoshi clan, the greatest of all the ninja warrior clans. For ten years, Cindy Adams had trained with Master Yama, gaining a rare level of proficiency as she blossomed into an attractive young woman. But it was when she enrolled at Sinner City University, that Cindy decided to put her skills to use protecting the community as the costumed crimefighter... Ninja Girl. Ninja Girl replaced the padlock and put the chest back into the closet. Placing the throwing stars and some miniature smoke bombs in the small pouch she wore on her left hip, Cindy finished her preparations. She then slipped out through the open bedroom window and blended into the night. It was almost time to meet the Red Avenger and do some crimefighting.
"Another beer!" roared the huge woman standing alone at the bar. The bartender instantly rushed to obey her. She knew that when Goliatha asked for service, it was best to hurry. The enormous female scratched the stubble of her crew-cut hair and turned to survey the rest of the establishment. It had, not surprisingly, emptied out for the most part since she had shown up. Though the patrons of the Bloody Hook Pub were mostly hard-core criminals themselves, few had any desire to tangle with Goliatha when she got in one of her moods. Not that the woman was upset at the moment. In fact, she was quite pleased with things. She'd just been paid a nice fee for doing what she enjoyed most. Frank Flex had been one of the last hold-outs, one of the few remaining male crimebosses in Sinner City. He had angered more than a few of his female competitors and several had recruited Goliatha to show him the light. The 6'8" 310 lb. Goliatha had strode into his office earlier in the day, carrying a briefcase and wearing only a khaki-colored bikini which displayed her hugely muscled physique. The physique had been developed years in the past, when she had taken every muscle-enhancing drug under the sun and set every record there was in women's powerlifting. The khaki bikini was a holdover from her days as a lady wrestler. She would have been champion of the world, had the promoters not banned her for crippling too many opponents. "I've come for you, Flex. You've pissed off the wrong people!" Goliatha announced, standing before the surprised crimeboss with her enormous arms folded across her 58-inch chest. "Fuck you, you big-assed bitch!" shouted the gangster, rising from his chair. Flex, himself, was an imposing 6'4" 270 lb. specimen who had carved out a criminal empire with nothing but his 23-inch arms and his ruthlessness. There were a pair of 200 lb. male goons standing in front of Flex's desk, ready to do their boss? bidding. "Get her!" Flex ordered. The two hoods took a step toward Goliatha when the big woman grabbed each of their heads in her huge paws and smashed them together, crushing the two skulls like grapes. "This is it for you, limp dick!" snarled Goliatha, coming around the desk. "Now I'll show you who has the power around here!" "You fucking cunt!" screamed an enraged Flex, hurling a haymaker right hand at his female assailant. But possessing shocking reflexes for one so large, Goliatha caught Flex's hand in mid-air, squeezing his sizable right hand in her even larger left hand. "Ahhh! L...Let go... you bitch!" said the gangster, in considerable pain as the bones in his hand began to break. "Sure," said Goliatha, rearing back her huge, nearly shaven skull, and slamming a headbutt into the helpless man's face. Flex dropped to the floor as Goliatha loomed over him. She kicked the criminal on to his stomach and said, "Now I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget!" The enormous female savagely ripped the dazed crimeboss' trousers down and then removed a gigantic dildo from the briefcase she had brought with her. "Nooo!!!!!!" screamed the gangster as Goliatha rammed the dildo up his ass. While she didn't mind doing this, it didn't really turn her on. She would have preferred raping a woman instead. The big female smiled to herself as she stood alone at the bar of the Bloody Hook Pub, remembering how Flex had, needless to say, agreed to move his operation out of Sinner City immediately. "There's a message for you, Goliatha," said the bartender, leaving an envelope beside the beer she had brought the ominous woman, then quickly departing. Goliatha downed the beer in one gulp, then tore open the envelope and read the message. It was from Mrs.Scar. Goliatha smiled to herself upon finishing the note. Maybe she'd get to rape some women afterall this week.
The dozen hard-looking women expertly went about their business in the processing lab. They were known as the Medellin Ladies Auxiliary and were the official arm of the Medellin drug cartel in Sinner City. "Let's get this done, pronto!" ordered their boss, Conchita. They had recently received a shipment of pure cocaine brought up from Bogota on an airplane by a team of mules. The mules were six female flight attendants who had swallowed condoms filled with the powder and then walked right through customs. Conchita had been in too much of a hurry to wait for the six stewardess to excrete the condoms the natural way, so she had their bellies cut open and the contents removed. It also saved her the cost of paying the flight attendants for their services. After disposing of the bodies in acid vats, the twelve women began to cut the cocaine and package it. Working on the ninth floor of an otherwise deserted nine-story building, they felt they were safe enough. They were wrong. The two masked heroines dangled from a pair of secured ropes, observing the Medellin Ladies from outside a large, ninth floor window. The two women looked at each other and nodded, then pushed themselves away from the building and swung back in toward the window on their ropes, crashing through the glass to face the startled drug dealers. "Madre de Dios! Who the fuck is this?!" screamed Conchita. Standing confidently, side-by-side, the two heroines surveyed their opponents. The taller, redheaded girl, dressed only in a red bikini, mask and footwear that was so thin and snug as to appear almost like knee-high socks, said, "The names are the Red Avenger..." "...and Ninja Girl!" chimed in her brown-haired partner. "You putas have to be kidding! Kill them!" commanded Conchita. "I was hoping you'd say that," replied the Red Avenger, dashing toward the Colombian crimeboss and leveling her with a flying sidekick to the chest. A tall, heavyset woman rushed Ninja Girl who, quick as lightning, spun around, lashing out with a devastating spinning heel kick, catching her attacker across the face and dropping her instantly. Three more Medellin women were rushing the Red Avenger, holding large knives. The young heroine grabbed a handy wooden chair and smashed one of her attackers across the side with it, splintering the chair and her assailant's ribs. Quickly, the redheaded superheroine grabbed two legs of the broken chair, using them as double batons to duel with the other knife-wielding attackers. Meanwhile, as Ninja Girl dispatched yet another female thug with a powerful open-handed chop to the collarbone, she spied one woman across the room who was reaching into her coat pocket for something. The woman on the far side of the room, named Guadalupe, was fresh off the boat from Colombia and did not know or care that possession of a firearm in Sinner City was a capital offense. She pulled the black .9 mm automatic from her pocket, ready to introduce these two masked interlopers to the real world. "Eat lead, chiquita!" she yelled out, drawing a bead on Ninja Girl. "You first, banana," replied the poised, young martial arts expert, pulling a throwing star from the small pouch on her left hip and hurling it backhand at the gunwielding woman. The metal star caught Guadalupe across the shoulder, making her jerk her arm up. Before she could take aim again, she passed out. The star had been coated with a fast-acting nerve toxin which wasn't lethal but caused instant unconsciousness. The masked heroine had no time to admire her handiwork though, as yet another large attacker charged in from the right. Her attention focused on this huge woman, the young crimefighter's normally ultra-keen senses failed to pick up the threat from behind her. Toward the rear of the large room, a second woman, who was also a recent arrival from Colombia, pulled a .357 magnum from beneath her leather jacket and took aim at Ninja Girl. The petite superheroine was busy with the hard-charging 200 lb. foe bearing down on her. She snapped off a sidekick with her right leg, driving the edge of her seemingly delicate little foot under the big woman's chin, dropping her to the floor. The woman with the .357 had Ninja Girl's back in her sites. The other heroine, the Red Avenger, was also easily within range. She'd take them with two simple shots. The woman began to squeeze the trigger when her own back exploded in agony, a foot catching her square in the spine. Falling to the ground, the criminal groaned in pain as she saw a masked woman with blonde hair remove the gun from her slack hand and then smash her across the face. "Goody, a noisemaker," said the blonde woman, emptying the bullets from the gun. "But if you were going to have a party, you should have invited... Intrepid Lady!" Across the room, the Red Avenger polished off the last two of her foes, leaping high in the air to avoid a knife thrust as she kicked out with her right leg, nailing the first girl in the face with a round kick. She then gracefully dropped to the ground, going flat against the floor as she spun around, her leg extended, to sweep the second woman off her feet, finally finishing her by smashing the twin batons into the girl's head. Intrepid Lady dispatched the last of the Medellin Ladies with a sidekick to the stomach and then looked at the other heroines as the three masked women stood amidst their twelve downed opponents. "Thanks for the assist, Intrepid Lady," said Ninja Girl. "You appeared to be doing pretty well on your own. But you better learn to watch your back," said the blonde heroine, tossing the empty pistol aside. She strode forward to greet the other heroines, looking them over. Finally, she said, "Aren't you girls a little young to be doing this sort of work?" "We're really in our thirties but we look young because we drink milk," joked the Red Avenger. Ninja Girl giggled and said, "We may be young, but we're feisty." "I don't doubt that," said Intrepid Lady. "And judging by the look of things you're good at this. But you've got to be careful. Crimefighting's a dangerous business." "That's why we work together -safety in numbers," the Red Avenger replied. "Yeah, we bag more crooks this way. Hey, maybe you'd like to join us?" said Ninja Girl. "Thanks. I appreciate the offer," said Intrepid Lady, striding to the window. "But I work alone. Good luck, though. And remember to be careful." With that, the blonde heroine leapt from the window to disappear into the night. She really had been touched by the younger girls' offer of teaming up. But she figured she was safest if she relied on no one but herself.. After all, no one had ever come close to defeating the mighty Intrepid Lady.
"So do you want the job?" "Of course, it's right up my alley," said Goliatha. She was standing in the darkened penthouse office of Mrs. Scar. The two women were alone. "Very good. You understand exactly what I want?" asked Mrs. Scar. "Sure. I won't kill her if you don't want me to. Have you cleared this with the Queenpin?" "Since there's no murder involved, I see no reason to consult her. Why? Does the Queenpin worry you?" The huge mob enforcer, still clad only in her khaki bikini, gave a harsh, chilling laugh. "Nothing ever worries me, Scar. But the Queenpin can make it tough for even me to find work in this town. And I do enjoy Sinner City so much." "You let me deal with the Queenpin. Everything will be fine as long as you stick to the plan. Now are you sure you know what I want done with Intrepid Lady?" "Sure. Capture, rape, torture, humiliation... the usual." "Good," said Mrs. Scar, rising from her chair to escort her new employee out. "Together, we'll turn that interfering slut into a broken, whimpering, little fucktoy who'll never dare bother me again! Hahahaha!"
NEXT TIME...