Black Canary: The Warlord’s Woman

by Dark Lord Priapus

“Men surrender by lifting their hands, women surrender by lifting their knees.”

- Warlord Voodoo

The Congo. A terrain of deep valleys covered in thickets, vines and jungle brush which services the meanderings of the indigenous wild life. Great forest trees and miles of jungle greenery are home to a myriad of wild life, some benign, some treacherous. On this late African evening the sparkling waters of the Komondo river reflect orange and yellow as the sun heads toward the horizon on its nightly trip to the other side of the world. Long pink and purple stretches of colored clouds stretch horizontally across the distant panorama where the untamed land meets the vast, ever expansive sky. Long, black shadows begin to grow along the crests of the mountains and from the base of the towering trees. On the plain, a lone giraffe beings to darken into a slowly moving silhouette. In the village of Tonka Banda, Maleek, a lone servant, awaits patiently as the heat blurs and obscures his vision of the giant amber sun which seems to melt as it settles into the distant landscape. In the distance, a far off mournful cry of a jungle bird can be heard cawing. Its call seems panicked and alarmed as it signals the end of a day. For Maleek, it would soon be time.

Once the cover of darkness falls and the village torches have been lit, burning brightly with their darting and flitting orange flames, Maleek makes his way into the nearby village of huts made of sturdy amber bamboo and tree fawns. He wears his leopard skin taanak and has a small spear strapped to his side with a leather cooch. In his hands he holds a small wooden box which holds a precious piece of cargo. The villagers mill about in the cooling night air of the village. They work to prepare the days final meal now that the heat has abated with the setting of the sun.

“Maleek!” A tall Masai warrior looking man calls out as Maleek makes his way to the master’s huge, central hut within the village compound. “Come and help us to skin the 'bushmeat’ for tonight!” He calls out in his native Congolese tongue.

Maleek holds up the small wooden box and replies. “I cannot! The master waits for dis here! It is dee box from Am-er-ee-ca.”

“AHHHHH!” The native replies with raised eyebrows, intimating his understanding and also his surprise. “Den do not keep de master wait-ing!” He continued while waving Maleek on toward the main hut.

The main hut is huge and multi-roomed. Even from the exterior it brings an impressive promise of the power and prestige within. Large, stone statues guard the entrance to the hut, their faces as large as a man’s upper torso and their mouths chiseled in an open scream. Maleek pauses a moment at the main door which stands closed and silent, and is festooned with skulls and small images of items used in the dark arts of voodoo. He takes a breath and then enters into the darkened hut. It is not his first time there, but it makes little difference, as the magics that reverberate from the very walls have a palpable sensation. When any man, friend or foe, enters into the hut of the master, he is instantly aware that the world around him has changed in a darkly, metaphysical way.

The interior is pitch black in its darkness despite the small fire torches that decorate the corners of the hut walls. As Maleek makes his way through the maze of corridors that lead to the master’s chamber, it seems to him that he enters into a deep chasm of darkness only meant for those who are not quite human, not quite god. He bows his head as he passes through the colorless beads that hang from the masters door which lead into the great chamber. Few have been there save Maleek and others whom the master favors. Maleek’s eyes struggle to look into the deep darkness before him as he waits for the master to address him. There is flat silence, even surrounded by the awakening nightlife of the jungle, for no sound from the exterior world may encroach upon this protected sphere.

Before him, there is a small perception of light, first one and then another, which in reality are not light, but the master’s materializing eyes. Slowly, evanescent eyes take shape as solid white triangles lying on their sides. Maleek has been closer to the master than this and knows that in fact the eyes belong to the great mask of the master. The mask is black and oblong shaped with rounded ends at the top and bottom of the face. Surrounding the mask is a “lion’s” mane of wild grasses and special tree barks that fan out from the edge like long, irregular shaped sun beams. Somewhere in the darkness before him, the master sits, and waits.

“My Lord.” Maleek begins. “A package has arrived from dee Yoo-nye-ted States.”

After a long moment the deep, booming voice of the master replies in slowly spoken syllables. “Excellent..... I ‘ave been awai-ting dee arrival of dee mes-sen-ger. Open dee box now, Maleek my servant, and inform me of its much needed contents.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Maleek responded and then began to work the lid of the wooden box. In a moment the box was opened and Maleek reached within to retrieve its contents. Within the small rectangular box was a doll figure of a Caucasian woman. It was about eight inches tall and was dressed in a black and blue costume. The doll also had a long blond coif of hair upon its head. Maleek lifted the doll into the darkness for the master to see.

“My Lord..... it ees dee doll of dee wo-man.” Maleek informed the figure in the darkness.

“So I see.... so I see....” Came the deep, resonant tones of the master’s voice in response. “Dee bushmeat.... dee bushmeat...... is ready.”

“Your orders, my Lord?” Maleek queried.

“Notify dee men at dee Eye-vory Coast. Tell dem dat dee carrr-go is not to be harmed. If any-ting happens to dee carrr-go..... dere blood will boil wit-in dem. I have so spo-ken eet.”

“It shall be done, me Lord.”

“Leave dee doll and go.” Came the order of the dark voice.

Maleek nodded and placed the doll upon the ground before him and then turned without looking up and exited into the labyrinth of hallways and alleyways of the master hut. In the master’s chamber there was silence for a few moments and then the plodding of slow heavy steps. The small doll of a woman stirred and then seemed to float upwards into the darkness. It then stopped about eight feet from the chamber floor. Large, glowing white eyes appeared just above the doll’s position.

There then was an echo of deep laughter. “HA ha HA ha HA!” And then the voice continued. “Always do the weak..... fall before the strong.... I ...... the strong........ I ..... the Voodoo Warlord!”

There was again a chorus of echoing laughter as both glowing eyes and voodoo doll faded into blackness. In but a moment, the chamber was once again a tomb of silence and darkness.

*******

Sonny Giovanni stood on the docks at the Jersey shore at midday as the docks were surrounded by crates and ships from all over the world. There was a hustle and bustle of business all around him as workers milled to and fro, and crates and boxes were lifted and lowered from ship to dock and then back again. He wore a new tweed suit that was ruined in its sartorial design by a gaudy, striped necktie. His hair was slicked back with oil and mirrored sunglasses hid his aging gey eyes. He lit up a fat cigar and smiled at the African gentlemen who stood before him ready to take possession of the large, rectangular crate that laid at the feet of them all.

“I’ll say one thing I’m glad for, fellas.” He said nodding. “You guys don’t waste a minute getting here for the exchange. I hate hanging onto this thing!”

The Africans stood by dressed in military camouflage gear, with black beret’s on their heads, thick army boots on their feet and opaque black glasses hiding their eyes. “Our boss don’t suffer no idiots. He wants his crate.... your ass better get it for him.” One of them said shaking his head.

“Open dee crate, mee-ster.” The other African began. “We don’t take no-thing back to dee boss that aint what he wants.”

“Yeah! Yeah!” Sonny assured them. He then motioned to two of the men who stood behind them on the docks awaiting his call. Vinny and Carmine hurried forward with a large crowbar and began work on the thick wooden lid of the crate. In a moment it was opened and the two large Italian men stepped back to allow the Africans a view of the contents.

The Africans smiled as they looked upon the sleeping form of a young blonde woman. She was dressed in a blue and black costume and her arms and legs were tightly secured with heavy duty ropes around the chest, the elbows, the knees, and the ankles. Her wrists were encircled by ropes on each one and they were tightly bound to her sides. “Yeeesssss..... “ One of the Africans hissed out. “Dis IS dee Black Cah-nary!”

“In the flesh, boys!” Sonny spat out like a used car salesman trying to impress. “Your damn voodoo doll really did the trick!”

“Oh, yes....” One of the men interrupted. “Weee... must ‘ave dee doll. We are to send it ahead of us once we have reached dee Ivory Coast!”

Sonny looked at Vinny and with an open handed jesture asked, “Vinny! Get the man his doll, willya???”

The six foot five, 225 pound Vinny Bonano, turned quickly on one heel and ran for the Bentley.

“Don’t worry, boys....” Giovanni assured them. “We got ya doll.”

Vinny made quick time as he returned back to the men with a small wooden box in his hands. He then gave it to the first African and said, “Here ya go! I tell ya I sure wish we had more of dowes......”

The African took the rectangular box and said, “Don’t be disrespectin’ dee dark mag-ics. You treat dem with moc-ker-y..... or a lack of care.... and your blood will boil in dee veins.”

“No disrespect, Mister! No disrespect... The evidence is right here in the crate.... “

Sonny took a look around the docks nervously and said, “Yeah. And even though it’s kinda crowded today... feds could be anywhere....”

The African looked into the box and saw the doll with the blonde hair dressed in the same fashion as Black Canary who was inside the crate. “Yes.... dis is dee one....very good. If dis goes well, as dee master plans, he has promised to assist you with other dolls for your own biz-ness ad-vent-ures.”

Sonny chewed on his cigar, gave a nasty smile and said, “I’m looking forward to that....”

The African looked once again into the crate and said, “Dere is one more ting...... “ He turned to some of the men on the ship and called to someone named Pamonda. In his native tongue he gave an order to the man who then retrieved something from inside and shuttered down the ladder of the ship to the ground. He handed it to the first African.

In his hand was a miniature red canister with a nob dial and a small aperture. He broke off the cap of the aperture and then kneeled down next to the crate and the sleeping form of Black Canary. As she lay there unconscious in her blue and black superheroine outfit, her better than average breasts showed tight, bulging cleavage in the top of her bustier. The African inserted the small canister between her heaving cleavage and then turned the small dial on the neck of the tube. Lightly colored green gas began to emit from the tube and the aperture was faced directly at the dark red, bee stung lips of Black Canary’s slightly parted mouth and also her attractively structured and small, “scoop like” nose. She gave with a slight gasp of breath when the gas entered her nostrils but then quickly and quietly sighed as she fell deeper into her captive sleep.

“My master al-ways be-lieves in redundancy back-up measures. He never trusts an-y-ting 100%.” The African told Sonny and his boys. With that he signaled for the lid to be closed post haste as not to allow too much of the sleeping gas to escape before Black Canary was freed on the other side of her destination.

As the crate was lifted up by ropes and a crane that was positioned on board the ship, Sonny watched the crate being lifted high into the midday sun and told the African, “Tell your boss it was a pleasure doing business with him.”

“Same here.” The African replied and handed Sonny and his boys three suitcases filled with USD stacks of large bills. The Africans then boarded their ship and the preparations began for leaving harbor back to the Ivory Coast.

Sonny chuckled and told his boys on the way back to the car, “Best money I ever made, boys! Best money I ever made!”

*******

Eighteen. She was the tender age of eighteen when Dinah Lance first saw the impressive figure of Mr. “Goalie” Washington. She was a cheerleader at Riverside High School and often attended the regular practices that were held in the afternoons just after classes had ended for the day. The football team would be practicing as well, and on the side of the field where bleachers could be moved, the cheerleaders, in their “sky blue” shorts and white cotton tops with a big blue “RH” on the chest in cotton sewn lettering, would run their own drills for the up coming Friday night game.

Rodney Jefferson Jackson was the starting quarterback who had taken the entire state by storm. His exploits on the field while leading the team to another un-defeated season had caught the eye of scouts from all over the country. The Riverside Warriors often scored points in the 40's and 50's while other schools struggled to 6 - 3 games. This was of great interest to many college scouts and also quite a few NFL pro scouts who had taken the initiative to start looking for the next big thing early and often. Goalie Washington was from the St. Louis area, which was quite a plane ride from the Riverside home town. But he had been interested in Rodney since the boy was a freshman. Now that Rodney was entering his last year, it was time to start “romancing” the boy early for his pro career.

Dinah and her cheerleader friends were standing in a group of six chatting away, as young girls will, just before practice. They had all been excited for the next homecoming game that evening as the Riverside Warriors took on the boys from across the city at Newton High. They had, of course, noticed Goalie Washington before as he’d come by the field at their Friday night games and also a few times at practices on the school field. Today would be no different, as the chatting group suddenly quieted to a hush as a black Escalade pulled up to the parking lot just outside of the main gate.

Goalie Washington stepped from his vehicle dressed to the nines in a fine dark, pin striped suit. The sun reflected off of his expensive black ray ban sun glasses and his shining black dress shoes. There were a few tasteful gold rings on one hand and an earring graced one earlobe. His short, tight black hair had a fade down the back of his head and a pencil thin beard circled his chin from ear to ear while highlighting his dark brown, handsome face. At six feet two, 200 pounds, he was muscular and slim. His years as a college tight end for a team in St. Louis were now behind him due to knee injuries which had side lined his budding career. Goalie, at 32 years old, found his fortune in the scouting ranks of the NFL professional scouts and now stood tall and proud in his accomplishments.

“Oh my, God!” Whispered LaWanda to the rest of the huddled group of cheerleaders. “There’s that guy again!”

They all giggled and blushed as they tried hard not to be obvious to the approaching young professional that they were indeed watching him from furtive glances and peripheral looks. Dinah watched the young, confident professional out of the corner of her eye and had a slight, sly smile as she privately enjoyed the approach of the finely dressed gentleman. She didn’t want to be obvious like the rest of her friends. She held back on purpose due to the fact that she knew the slightest little look, the slightest verbal response, might result in complications she would rather not engender.

Goalie walked the length of the outside fence and then turned into the entrance gate. Soon he was passing right near the spot of the huddled cheerleaders on his way to the football field where he could see the team entering the playing field with their coach. As he passed the quiet, self censoring group of girls, he shot a thumb and forefinger “gunlike” gesture and said with a bright, white smile, which made several of them swoon. “Hello, ladies! Keep up the good work.”

With that he headed on toward the field. Dinah watched him come and go the whole way, she could’nt deny that she had blushed when he had passed by them. And when he had smiled she had parted her own lips in a quiet return smile. But she had said nothing as a few of her friends had with complimentary hellos and waves. She did’nt realize that he had seen how she was the only one who had’nt verbally said anything, or even waved. She had only brushed her shining brunette hair aside as the breeze gently blew a few strands across her creamy white cheek. And, of course, she had given him a pleasant, small smile.

******

With a grunt Black Canary struggled to force herself awake. She cleared her throat and suddenly noticed the acrid lingering smell of some type of gas hanging in the air. The crate was stuffy, and more than uncomfortably hot. Her face was covered in sweat which ran down her neck onto her back and she could feel the gamy moistness of her clothing. Especially the soaked stockings within her boots which she hated having to deal with at any time. Opening her eyes, she noticed her vision was blurred and her current location was pitch dark. Her shoulders were pinned in and her head was only inches from a plank of wood which kept her from looking downward toward the rest of her body. Her entire body seemed roped and tied as she tried to move her wrists and ankles which refused to budge.

Something metal was poking her just under her chin and seemed stuck in between her breasts. Its hard metal cover seemed firmly ensconced in her mammillar crevasse. “OOohhh... Dinah...” She moaned to her self with a choke and a dry cough. “What have you gotten yourself into this time, girl?”

The crate she was contained within suddenly rocked back and forth and there was a cracking noise as the cover of the wooden crate seemed to be operated upon by some unseen outside force. It was obvious to her that whatever long journey she had recently been on, it had come to a final end just as she had begun to awaken.

Time to find out... She thought to herself as the lid was removed and bright sunlight flooded her face and blinded her unadjusted eyes. There was a noise of movement by many persons whom she could not see above her prostrate form. There was a foreign tongue being spoken between agents and she struggled to get a look at her captors as they moved above her in silhouette shards and half shapes. She felt mostly aware of the sudden vulnerability of her entire form. Roped and tied from head to toe, whomever the dark figures above her were, they could view her whole body and if they had a notion, could take full advantage of their superior position..... even if they had wanted to drive a knife though her unprotected chest.

As the hot, yet cooling breeze of the African landscape rushed into the sweltering crate and cooled the sheen of sweat which covered her body, a dark hand reached in and pulled the metal tube from her breasts. He spoke in his Congolese accent and gave orders to several others whom Dinah Lance could barely make out through one thinly closed eyelid. They grabbed her shoulders with powerful hands and lifted her from the crate. She grunted and moaned as her body suddenly found freedom to move and stretch after her cramped confinement. The two men held her aloft as her booted feet dangled just above the sandy grassland beneath them.

A large African dressed in ceremonial grasses and reeds with many beads and strips of animal fur around his torso and arms appeared before her as her chin still rested on her chest. He grabbed hold of Dinah’s chin and raised her eyes to meet his own. With tightly squeezed eyes and chapped, dry lips, she faced him silently.

Looking down into her eyes he said in surprising English, “You are de wo-man know as dee Black Cah-na-ry.... no?”

Still hurting and uncomfortable, she struggled to find her voice, and only garbled some gibberish to him in response. She did this mostly to allow her inquisitor the opportunity to see how parched she was and perhaps, in order to get the answers he desired, he would bring her some much needed water. Impatient, he spat orders to another she could not see behind her as she hung in the grip of the two huge, powerful men who held her above the ground. In an instant there was a clear jar of shining water brought to her captor who then held it high in the sunlight.

“Do not waste dis, wo-man.” He told Dinah as her eyes adjusted to the brutal midday sun. “Dee wah-ter comes from far away, and is for MY people, not for dee en-ti-tled A-mer-icans.”

Thankfully, the water was very cool, and as he poured it into the weakened and dried out heroine’s mouth, she felt a swelling of deep appreciation for which she might have indeed become quite presumptive. Mostly, the presence of clear, clean water. She drank and cleared her throat. She then nodded her appreciation to the big African.

“Thank you.” She said with an added measure of respect. “Yes, I am the Black Canary.”

He regarded her silently for a moment with an air of approbation. “Brave. You are a wo-man of honor and spine. If I were dee man who wanted dee Black Cah-na-ry dead, you would have just sent-enced yourself.”

“I am .... who I am....” She said while straightening her spine.

He nodded. “Dee master will be most pleased.”

She swallowed hard and asked, “Where am I? Why am I here?”

He gave her an incredulous look and snapped his fingers off to the side of the surrounding crowd of warriors. “You will ask no questions.” He said frowning.

Another man brought him something that resembled a horse bit and gave it to the commanding warrior. He took the bit and forced it between Dinah’s teeth. She groaned and made noises of protest as she was shocked to have herself suddenly muzzled by an animal bit. He then fastened the bit with a strong strap around the back of her head, but below her billowing, slightly breeze blown, blonde hair.

“EEEnnnnrttthh!” She protested. But the men holding her aloft moved her forward as the inquisitor warrior turned and moved away. Her toes dragged along the ground and she noticed her surroundings for the first time as the men carried her away to some unknown destination. She regarded the city-like layout of the grass and tree huts that made up the city of Tonka Banda, the many citizens, men and women milling about the city from house to house, dressed in characteristically third world African attire. There were strung up animals here and there hanging silently in death, and also one gorilla who had been laid out on the ground and tied to bamboo branches by his hands and feet. Obviously, he had been killed and was being left out to dry in the sun. Dinah felt a tinge of pity for the poor animal.

She was dragged to a stone tablet-like table that was positioned under some low hanging trees and was blessedly cooled by the shady, breezy area. The spot seemed reserved for some type of outdoor dining, but was today reserved mostly for the Black Canary. The large men who carried her stopped at the table. African women hurried with bags and cushions filled with grass and weed stuffings and then placed them upon the table.

The warrior African stepped up into view and told the men, “Water dee woman well, she is de-hy-drayt-ted. Dee master will not be pleased.”

The two sweating, strong scented men who held Black Canary aloft, grunted their understanding. When the women were done covering the stone table with cushions, Black Canary was lifted up by shoulders and feet and placed upon the table. Still bound, extra cushions were then placed behind her head and the two men then checked her position. They nodded to the warrior and voiced some Congolese words to him, to which he then nodded his approval.

Water pitchers were brought and the women sat down on nearby stools and prepared to water down the dehydrated heroine. Her bit was pulled forward and placed tightly beneath her chin. She regarded the women as they began to dip the pitchers of water toward her and pushed their pouring lips between her own. She could only quietly watch and observe while filling her body with the much needed water of life, as any attempt to speak was met with alarmed facial expressions and shaking fingers by the attending women. “No! No! No! “ They warned her with large, frightened eyes. Taking their advice, she kept quiet and drank, all the while testing and tugging at her restraints in an investigation of the extent to which she was bound. Secretly, she worked upon her method of escape and she thought to herself sarcastically: Okay, Dinah, do you think we might be somewhere in Africa?

*******

The lights of Condon’s All American stadium shone brightly against the black night sky. To Dinah, they made everything look false, shiny and slightly orange. It was an odd thing to see that behind all this stadium light was the darkness of the night sky and the unseen stars above which were blotted out by the strong stadium lights.

Riverside had won once again and the football team was now filing into line as the opposing team did the same so that each team could fist pump and shake the other teams member’s hands. Rodney Jackson was of course the main attraction as his team mates all surrounded him in congratulations. He was tall and athletic, and curiously also a good student. Dinah felt a bit of pride about her school and her team as she considered that.

All the girls loved Rodney, the star quarterback, and they secretly wished they could be seen in public on his arm at some dance or school function. Dinah, however, held back from even attempting to get Rodney’s attention. She dated Tom Bronson and they had been together since sophomore year. Tom understood her consistent need to be secretive as to her not being available four to five nights a week. He was patient and kind, and she liked spending time with him. He was however, an aspiring policeman, and she just could’nt see herself having any future with him beyond high school.

Rodney, on the other hand, would probably have huge problems with her schedule. The girls also knew how demanding and controlling Rodney and other boys like him could be. He wouldn’t understand her schedule and would demand to know why she needed to train as a multiple martial artist so many times a week. If she were Rodney’s girl, unlike being Tom’s girl, she knew that she would be unable to keep herself from revealing her life as a future superheroine.

Besides, being Rodney’s girl was the job of cute and sweet Catherine McGregor, with the freckled face and long auburn hair. She hung with Rodney everywhere he went and never went anywhere without him. She was his main squeeze and anyone could tell, from the way she constantly placed little angel kisses on his jaw line in order to illicit some affection from him, that she worshiped the ground he walked on.

For Dinah, there would be constant conflict as she headed toward a future life as the new Black Canary, and she just couldn’t have those complications. So, there she stood, all alone on the sidelines of the football field as the crowd dissipated down the exits to their cars in the parking lot, and the two teams shook hands at the end of the game.

The cheerleaders had all gone into the locker room, and she had been given the job of picking up the stray pom-poms and other items from the sidelines before heading into the locker room herself. She smiled as she stood silently watching Rodney and his friends, knowing full well that if she had designs, she could have been his. But her life of love would have to wait. Bigger, and more important things called her to service.

“Hello, miss cheerleader!” came a voice from behind her and up in the stands.

Dinah turned and saw that there was a man standing in the first row of the bleachers leaning on the rail and smiling big at her as she turned to see who had greeted her. She almost choked when she noticed that it was Goalie Washington, the NFL pro scout. He stood there smiling and leaning forward to speak with her with a big white toothed smile on his face. Feeling a bit socially awkward that this handsome, older man was now suddenly greeting her... she blushed.

“Oh... h-hi there....” She gushed. The moment was a curious surprise for her since only she knew that during one of her recent karate training sessions she had been lambasted by her teacher for not concentrating and allowing her mind to wander. He had been very brusk and upset, and she was duly apologetic, but she simply could not bring herself to admit that the thought of Mr. Goalie Washington had invaded her private mind. And now, as if in some bizarre intrusion, he was here.... chatting her up.

“I saw some of the routines tonight, Miss.” He said nodding. “You and your buddies are very well practiced.”

“Oh, yeah... well.... thanks.” She replied. She felt somewhat stymied by the moment for she had never envisioned that Goalie would ever engage her.

“By the way...” He began. “I’m Goalie Washington. I’m the man who is gonna make a superstar out of your team’s quarterback.” He said with a smile.

She felt a bit embarrassed by the man’s attention and bit her lower lip as she turned coquettishly on her heel. “You’re the NFL scout, right?” She pretended.

“Uh-huh. And I know a few people in the cheer business, too. I think you might be a superstar just like Rodney.” He said motioning to the field.

She shook her head and replied, “Oh, no... he’s much better at what he does than I am I what I do.” She insisted.

“Trust me.” He said confidently. “I judge talent. I know talent. You are talent.”

Dinah blushed and insisted, “Ohhh... your sweet to say that.”

“It’s the truth. Rodney is in his league and so are you in yours.”

She blushed and moved a little towards his upper deck position. “Thanks... but I don’t plan on being a cheerleader....”

“Well, I know you like Rodney.” He said jokingly. “I see you watching him. But you’ll have a lot of competition to become his lady.”

Dinah spat a laugh that caught her off guard and she covered her mouth in surprise. “I am proud of the whole team, sir.” She insisted.

“Goalie. Call me, Goalie.” He nodded and smiled.

She looked down to the ground and them up into his eyes and responded, despite her better judgment, “I’m Dinah. Dinah Lance.”

He gave her a slow, approving smile, making her wait for the response and then said after a few beats, “Very nice to meet you, Dinah Lance.”

*******

The village was a rush with hurried and excited bodies. Warriors ran into their huts and retrieved their spears then rushed again out into the city and down the major pathways. The women hurridley gathered up their frightened children and ran for cover wherever cover could be found. There was shouting and confusion on every path.

A man noticed the sudden panic of the citizenry and poked his head out of his hut to investigate. As he did, the lead warrior came running up to him with a wild eyed face.

“Chief! Chief!” He shouted. “We have big problems! Big, big problems!”

The first man held up his hands and tried to steady his comrade. “What has happened? Why are you so upset?”

“Dee wo-man.... dee wo-man we brought from Amer-ica has escaped!!!!” He told him with as much breath as he had left in him.

The first man looked upon the warrior with wide, panicked eyes and responded, “ We are all dead men! We are all dead!”

In the village, several of the women who had attended Black Canary when she had first arrived where being brutally interrogated by large warriors with long swords and thick, baseball bat like sticks. They begged and pleaded for mercy from the men, but the men simply would not listen.

“You are dee ones!” The huge warrior shouted at the women who were now down on their knees in the mud. “You helped dee woman to escape!”

“No! No! We only did the job you told us to do..... she escaped all on her own!” They forcefully protested.

“Silence!” The warrior insisted. He then took his large sword and began to slit the women’s throats one by one. They each fell into silence on the grassy, dusty ground as they were executed by the warrior’s bloody sword.

“Dee master does not tolerate failure.” The man spat at the fallen women as others now approached from the village with wails and tears, holding the dead bodies of the wives and mothers who were just slain. Tearful embraces and rocking bodies followed as the shock of loss took hold upon the surrounding gentry. The blood of the dead pooled and darkened the nearby land.

The warrior turned to the assembling men who now had their swords and spears well in hand and were reporting back to their leader. “Get after dee wo-man!” He ordered them. “Dee master will have our troats cut next if she is not recovered!”

Three dozen warriors had gathered at the spot and received the order to head into the jungle to re-capture the escaped Black Canary. They turned enmasse and charged out in to the jungle brush with a mighty, thudding rumble. The rising dust obscured them from view as they left.

Black Canary ran with all her current strength deep into the jungle. She had an analysis running in her mind the whole time with each heavy breath she took. The sun was behind her, therefore she was headed east. East was the closest shoreline according to her memory of the African landscape.

One of the men had mentioned the Congo area in a shared conversation with another so there was at least an idea of her location. But how far into the Congo was she? She could be hundreds of miles from some type of civilization. Would she be able to run the whole way? She would need to eat.... and water... she would still need water. The river. Like the girl scouts, when lost in the wild: one follows the river. Where was the river? The water is full of nasty things she could pay big debits on if she ingested something her system wasn’t ready for. And then she would be sick, alone and with out assistance. The river, but no water.

Using what acrobatics she had, Black Canary was forced to endure a course of fallen trees, thick entangling vines and sudden muddy, foot slowing terrain. There were also small frittering animals and annoying insects everywhere, they ran and sqwaked and scattered as she made her way.

She had no brush knife and only her two hands and the Black Canary costume she wore, which now was covered in mud and grass and the multi colored results of pushing through bogs and thick gatherings of jungle trees and plants. She was amazed that anything alive could find its way in such a roadless, clearingless maze of twisted and twined brush, vines and trees.

After a few hours of exhausting trekking though the dangerous brush, Black Canary was starving for anything to eat. She also had dried out again as there had been no pools of water anywhere for her to access. The jungle eventually thinned and she made her way, with much hope, into a flatland area where she could actually see something in the distance besides the choking, cloying jungle growth. Breathless, she trotted out of the tree area and surveyed her surroundings.

“Finally!” She spat with exasperation. She looked around and saw, much to her delight, the river she had sought about two hundred yards away. The plain stretched out before her also, and she could see gathering animals watering by one of the bush growths near the slowly moving river water.

“I’m starved!” She said to herself. Her knees and legs were a bit shaky with the long hike through thick jungle and she felt herself in much need of some type of nourishment. Regaining a light trot toward the river, she thought to herself: Those animals are water buffalo. They are defensive, and only attack if their young are threatened. I could blast them with my Canary yell, but then how do I cook the meat? Can I really kill an animal just so I can eat it? Is that what I have become.... a hunted hunter?

She reached the side of the river and then began to head north east with the river’s direction, trotting along its shore line. The river was indeed a beauty to behold, deep and treacherous but also shining and glittering in the African sun. Breezes would rise up every now and then and carry the fleshy smell of wild animal to her nostrils as it also cooled her now weakening body. After another hour of exhausted traveling on foot there was no sign of the warriors whom she knew must be after her. She stopped along the shore and placed her hands on her hips to take a look around.

She regarded the surrounding wild, untamed landscape and wondered to her self: This is just the thing Oracle would have yelled at me for. Impulsive behavior. What have I done here? If I don’t eat something soon.... something is going to eat me. She turned slightly on her heel, feeling a need for some other type of directive other than the straight ahead run she had now been going at for what must have been about four hours. The sun was now setting and the plain was soon to be enveloped by more jungle brush on the horizon of her current quest. The cold night jungle air would replace the oppressive heat and her knees where about to give out.

She experienced a long zen moment as she thought about silly things she had left behind at home that needed to be done, like getting the mail and the half eaten cake in her refrigerator. But the distraction was only temporary as the inevitable had surrounded her like the coming darkness. She was lost, starving and dehydrating in a wild, untamed jungle land with no way to know where she was and no way to contact anyone on the outside for help. Black Canary was dead. Killed by her own inability to control her impulsiveness. It was just as Oracle had warned her.

The woman attending her had large, kind eyes which were encased in a sunken, skeletal face. She had just emptied the current water jug and placed it on the ground beside her. She bent over and began to prepare to give Black Canary the next jug of water. She looked to her and said something in a smiling, gentle way which Black Canary could hardly understand verbally, but she did understand the woman’s intent. With a land so befret of clean water for their basic daily living, Dinah wondered how she could empty jug after jug into her own tummy while the woman herself sat there, wan and skeletal and obviously in need of some type of nourishing food and water.

Black Canary pulled slightly at her wrist bindings and reviewed her imaginary consequences of enacting her escape. The woman smiled and lifted yet another jug of water to Dinah’s lips and as she drank, she met the woman’s caring yet starving eyes for a long moment. She thought to herself: No, I’ll have to wait to see what madman runs this place and starves his own people like this before I look for a way out of here. I won’t be responsible for causing their death’s just because I want to be free. Dinah then smiled with big blue eyes at the woman as she was given long, cool drafts of “gold” like water.

*******

Damn! I can’t believe I am so late from the last period, Dinah told herself. She sat alone in the cafeteria as the last few students milled around the lockers and retrieved their books and other items from their respective student assigned lockers. Dinah placed her trey of food from the nearby serving line on the table before her and the books and notebooks she had held under her arm fell to the floor.

With a frustrated shake of her head she knelt to pick them up and briefly saw some scribbling she had done on the back of one of the notebooks. There were little hearts and her name: Mrs. Dinah Lance-Washington. She quietly smiled to herself as she mused at how silly a moment it had been almost three weeks ago. She had gotten herself lost in a daydream during a study period and then scribbled the moniker on the cardboard back as merely a wistful act. She had then quickly forgotten it.

There she was in a fabulous church wedding scenario. The church was huge and beautiful. It sat upon a mountain top and out of the long, verticle windows one could see a majesty of landscape and clouds. There were lots of long, hanging white ribbons connected to the cathedral ceiling which hung in casual bands above the crowded throng below. There were doves flittng back and forth across the internal expanse of the church interior. The pews were packed with Goalie Washington’s family and friends. And they were all happy to be here. All happy to see Goalie joined in holy matrimony with the much younger Dinah. There were no conflicts about age, or even her race, just an overwhelming feeling of joy at being in the presence of love.

As she entered the entrance door in her spectacular wedding dress, all ready to make her approach to the altar where Goalie waited patiently in his handsome tuxedo to make her his wife, she couldn’t believe how lucky she had been to be chosen as the woman who would bear his children. She headed down the isle toward the altar to the tune of blaring organ wedding music, where she would be delivered up as his woman, she smiled at all the African-Americans who watched her on either side, as this pretty as a picture young lady, was to join their family.

It had been a silly moment of imagination for Dinah, and though she had enjoyed it immensely in her inner private self, she had held it in her secret heart from revealing it to anyone, even her best friend. Dinah Lance-Washington..... what a fantasy, she told herself.

Behind her, somewhere by the entrance to the cafeteria, and down a hall, came a voice, both friendly and familiar. “Well, hello there Miss Dinah Lance!” Goalie Washington called in greeting as he made his way over to her lunch table.

Recognizing his voice, her eyes went wide and she quickly hid the notebook back under some books as she turned to look behind herself at the on coming greeter. It had been almost a month since the last time she had seen him around the school, and felt a mixed emotion of glee and ambivalence at the fact that for some reason, Goalie Washington kept running into her wherever she might be around school or the football stadium.

He was dressed sporty today, like a football coach with a white sport shirt and black shorts, which for the first time displayed to her his strong, muscular legs. He held a cup of soda with a straw in one hand and walked over and joined Dinah at the lunch table, taking a seat across from her as she sat down in front of her food trey.

“How are you doing today, Dinah?” he asked with the usual charm and affability.

She couldn’t believe he was actually here, sitting across the table from her, just the two of them alone in the cafeteria with only a few lunch workers and meandering students to keep them “chaperoned”. She blushed and responded, “Hello, Mr. Washington, how are you yourself?”

“Now, look...” He insisted. “We’ve talked about this, call me “Goalie”.....”

“Okay... okay... But really? How does someone get the name ‘Goalie’?” She asked and took a sip of her morning juice.

He raised his eyebrows in response. “Can you guess? It’s a Bible name.... my mama was kind of proud of it, but I prefer the shorter version.... it sounds like a nickname, y’know?”

It made good sense to her due to the fact that he was once a tight end in college football. She supposed that it had been a name earned for always crossing the goal line to score. The name 'scory’, might not have been as workable. She thought a moment about his challenge and then gave up in resignation. “I have no idea.... I thought it was because you scored a lot in college.”

“I DID score a lot in college! Many times!” He said with a sly smile.

“But how often on the football field?” She responded with a straight expression as though not to give away a secret, naughty implication, but to leave the slate clean for his own revealing response. She then took a bite of her sandwich and waited for him to respond.

“Dinah...Dinah....” He said shaking his head and smirking. “You’re not the 'bad girl’, you know that.” He nodded.

She blushed and half giggled with a mouth full of food.

“No...it’s 'Goliath’. My momma raised me a good Baptist boy, and she wanted me to take the name of a powerful figure from the Bible.... but I think she also wanted to give me a 'red flag’ to carry around for other people to see. Y’know like she wanted them to be a little afraid of me.”

“Oh, my....Goliath, huh?” She said with a curious expression at the unexpected esoteric nomenclature.

She joked to herself as she briefly imagined a wedding cake with the icing spelling out ‘Goliath and Dinah’ on the top layer. It’s close to Delilah.... her own name.... she privately joked. But that was ‘Samson’, wasn’t it?

“Did you grow up in the hood?....... or.... in the ...... ghetto?

“Yes, I did...”

“Well, then it’s totally understandable that your mother gave you the name she did.....”

“You know.... that’s one of the things I did want to chat with you about, Dinah...” He began with an assuring and caring tone. “My momma DID raise me to be a good Baptist boy, and I want you to know that my coming around to talk to you about this cheer-leading thing...... is straight up. I have a career to protect, and sometimes I have to deal with young ladies like yourself when I find talent here and there at various places I go all around the country.” He said nodding as if to ask her if she understood the nature of his work.

She nodded and said, “Yes, I understand.”

“A lot of times I have to work with minors... and you are one of those times.... so I want you to understand that I never want to talk with you alone..... when there is no one else around.... it’s not personal.... just protective of you .... and me... y’know for legal reasons.”

She nodded her understanding. “Oh, I know that. I would never want to cause you a problem, especially if you’re really interested in helping me.” She assured him.

“I am... I am.... but hell, you’re eighteen...”

“You know in two months I’ll be nineteen....” She said with a bit of pride.

“OOOohhhh.... well, Happy Birthday... if I am not around to say so then.” He nodded in response. “I just wanted to clear the air on all of this, okay?”

“I understand.” she said nodding and continuing to eat.

He looked around himself nervously and regarded the few people around in the cafeteria and said, “Now, there are really not enough people around right now, so I have to make this quick. I have a contact, a Ms. Pamela Tryon, who is a professional cheering coach with the NFL. We have an agreement where we refer talent to each other as we find them in our work travels. All of the scouts do it. And she is interested in seeing you perform your routines and talking to you about the future.”

“That sounds nice.” She told him. “But I have told you of my plans to go into social work as a career...”

He nodded. “I know, I know.... but many cheerleaders have a career and they cheerlead five months out of the year on the side. You could do that, too. Really, Dinah, I have seen what you do.... and as I told Pamela..... You are either a natural athlete or you have extensive Wu Shu training.... with all the flips and twirls you do.....” He told her.

She suddenly froze for a second at the mention of “Wu Shu”, for surely she had indeed been practicing Wu Shu as one of the many of the brands of martial arts that she was taking in her training. But she hadn’t realized there was anyone who could spot that as a difference in her cheerleading performance apart from the other girls in the squad. It gave her a real start.

“Wu Shu, huh?” She said teasingly. “Well, you have me.... I am secretly a ninja.... no, I am a superhero....and now that you know my true identity I cannot let you live..... Mr. Goliath Washington.” She said straightening her back and raising a menacing eyebrow while staring him down.

He gave her a laugh, which she just loved down to her toes to see, and sat back in his chair in a relaxed move of resignation. “You’re beautiful and smart, Dinah. I just want you to know that the comfort zone is full of wishes and hopes... the success zone if full of results.... if you always hold back, and you never take any risks.... you’ll never know that success.” He told her quietly.

He reached for his wallet and pulled a card from its folds. He handed it to her and said, “Here is Ms. Tryon’s card. What you do with it.... is all up to you, okay?”

She took the card and looked at it a moment. “Thanks, Goalie. You’re a good friend. The best kind.”

He winked at her and said, “I have to go for now, but we’ll be in touch.” He then took her lovely hand in his own and shook it lightly as though they had just concluded business.

As he rose and disappeared out of the exit to the football field, Dinah returned to her lunch and said to herself under her breath, “So .....it’s a BAPTIST church, then?”

*******

Maleek knelt in the pitch black room of the master’s chamber and awaited his arrival. In a few moments the glowing white eyes appeared fading in from the blackness to hang silently, with little clue as to the emotional position behind the mask which Warlord Voodoo wore. The booming, base-y voice then slowly spoke as he asked, “What .... has happened....? Why do you pause in ..... bringing dee wo-man to me?”

“My Lord, tings were not as perfectly planned..... directions not followed as dey should have been.....” Maleek meekly informed the great master.

There was a deep, almost angry inhale of breath and then the voice spoke again. “What has happened to my bushmeat?”

“She came to us de-hydra-ted, my Lord. Dee crate was hot.... and cramped.....and I fear that dee agent in America did not do everything dey could have done to secure dee prize properly.”

There was a long moment and then the voice replied, “Feh! Am-er-icans....... Deir time has come....... dee world will not be in-cohn-ve-ni-enced by dee curse of dee United States....... into dee next cent-ury. Dis is not your fault, my servant. Dere is..... no need.... to be concerned about those you love. Now...........when will dee bushmeat be ready to receive my blessing?”

“The sun has set, my Lord. We have yet to undo her bindings......”

“I can sense her.... I can reach out and feel her presence wit-in dee city...... she plans much du-pli-city...... much re-si-stance.....deere is little dat she can hide from me.”

“What is your order, my Lord?”

“Hmmm.” Warlord Voodoo seemed to intone as he considered his position on the matter at hand. “I will NOT see dee wo-man....... not before she has been..... prepared as I had instructed..... there would be only conflict in her speech..... insolence in her de-mea-nor.... what she has to say ....is of little consequence to me....”

“The night is long, my Lord.” Maleek replied.

“Tomorrow.... at sundown.....”

“As you wish, my master.” Maleek said and bowed as he then turned and exited the master’s main chamber.

In the darkness, the eyes seemed to move and glide without a solid form and then there was a sudden flash of flame, as though special seasoning had been thrown upon a grill covered in the hottest of cooking oil. PUh-tasssshhh! came the sudden rush of noise and popping sounds. Then a torch was lit and buried into what seemed to be a large pot which had always been sitting there in the corner of the room.

Smoke rose and the liquid boiled and bubbled. There was low level moaning and chanting and then a small skull materialized above the glowing orange and red water. “Maleek’s service has provided him with many strong sons.....I now speak to his continued blessing of progeny...” Warlord Voodoo half sang and half spoke as the room filled with dark smoke and ethereal magics.

“I now call forward my own progeny.... the progeny that awaits to be born to Warlord Voodoo.......and the Black Canary! HahaHahaHahahahahahh!!!!!”

The head warrior stepped up to Black Canary, who had now been moved to a pole in the middle of the compound. She was still bound hand and foot, but was now standing and attached with rope to the pole. The cool night air of the African jungle caressed her exposed skin on her neck and cleavage and it gave her a small shiver. She addressed the warrior with a bit of aggravated pique and asked, “Okay, you have me well watered, when do I get to see the boss?”

“Dee 'boss’ will not see you, Am-eri-can bitch!” He spat at her with more than a little anger, whose source was hard to decipher. In his hand he held a long pipe with a hole at each end. It was made of some type of dark grey wood from the surrounding trees and he lifted it to his lips, while watching Dinah with predator eyes.

“Nooo.... WAIT!” Black Canary protested as she tried to defer the obvious actions of the warrior. Her attempt was of little effect however, as he took a deep breath and with great force quickly blew into the tube. There was a quick “TssssShhooo” sound and Black Canary did her best to try to turn and avoid the projectile that had left the tube. Unfortunately, she couldn’t turn far enough and the dart found its projected destination as it inserted its drugged tip into the top of her right breast, just above her bodice covering.

“Aggghh!” She groaned. “.........Don’t I even get a fair trial?” She queried as she felt the warmth of the drug flooding through her breasts and into the rest of her body.

The warrior grabbed Dinah’s face with his powerful hand and stared down into her eyes. He told her, “Aban-don all hope, Am-er-ican bitch. You belong to dee master now.”

Black Canary groaned as her body began to overly relax, and her mind began to fog over. Thinking and focusing her eyes was now becoming a major accomplishment and her knees began to give way.

There were strange, yet amazing smells, making their way toward her nose, and in the back ground, somewhere behind her, there was a slow and steady beat of drums. The drums seemed to call to her with their repeating bongo sounding rythms. Dum-dee-dum dum, dee dum dum deeee. The drums went and the sound seemed to mix with the cocktail of magically altered fluids that had now been injected into her blood stream.

She felt the warrior place his hands on her shoulders and then begin to push her jacket down her arms. He then pulled forward on her bodice, exposing her well plumped breasts. His intent was clear, though Black Canary could hardly defend herself against it. He looked at her full, bulbous mammaries and nodded. “You.... are well fed.... well watered.... not like dee women here in dis land..... and yet.. you take what is ours..... what is meant for us...... even our glory..... as dee master wishes.”

Black canary tried to respond in her own defense, but her mouth simply would no longer form words. She felt her body being untied from its restraints and unseen persons holding her up so that she did not collapse on the ground. Her boots were then removed, as well as her stockings and body suit. Then the rest of her clothing was removed until she was now as nude as the day she was born.

She was then allowed to collapse to the ground. Unable to bring her hands up to cushion herself, she fell hard and flat on her stomach with a grunt. She lay in the grass and dirt, face down and with her exposed behind high in the air. And the drums kept beating as she swam in their syrupy, sexual thumping rhythms.

Dum dee dumm dumm dee dumm dumm dee dee. The drums went, and Dinah floated away on a sea of mystical sounds, smells and a curiously increasing lustful desire within her breast. The warrior watched the vanquished heroine for a moment and then commented to his men surrounding them all, “Dis is the great.....Black Canary....” And then he shook his head in derision.

Several of the men lifted the moaning, writhing heroine high in the air and placed her nude body on a mat made of strong intertwined palm leaves, which had two poles tied to each side of the bed. Black Canary lifted her face to look around her as she struggled with her eyes, which were now demanding to roll in her head.

She saw dozens of torches, villagers all dressed in strange regalia with skull masks on their faces and they surrounded the mat as it was lifted high above the people. Her breasts were now swelling, her nipples hardening and her loins were becoming almost too hot to withstand despite the gushing flood of female juices that rolled out of her sex and onto the mat in an increasing torrent of wanton lust.

Dumm dee dumm dumm dee dumm deedumm deedum.... went the drums.

The people sang as a group in a low, slow tone. “Oom takaaaaaa noddoo sloommo oom takkaaaaaaa.....” they sang in rythm with the pulsating drums.

Black Canary smelled strange concoctions of burning scents in the air surrounding her as the torches pitched and swayed while the people carried her to some unknown destination. She writhed and turned on the mat with unbridled, animal lust as her vaginal lips had grown large, swollen and began to purple.

“OOOOhhhhh!” she moaned with deep need. She then squeezed here naked thighs together and rolled her hips while grinding her teeth to the rising tide of sexual desire that accompanied the pounding pulse in her throat. She tried to slip her hand between her legs to massage herself for relief, but her hand was slapped away by an unknown person in the surrounding crowd who held a long switch and swung it at her hands as she tried to touch herself.

“NO!” Came the command from a stern voice. She stretched her mouth in a grimace of mixed pain and need as she reached behind her and grabbed hold of the mat in order to not receive any more attention from the person with the switch. And the drums played as the procession moved forward slowly rocking her back and forth.

“EEErrrgghh!” She groaned in frustration.

Dum dee dumm dumm dum dee dee dumm dumm.....

“Oom takaaaaaa noddoo sloommo oom takkaa.....” they sang.

Black Canary’s superheroine outfit was collected and placed upon the pole that she had been tied to when she had been stripped. The jacket hung around the one piece body suit. The suit hung above the stockings. The stockings hung above the boots on the ground. And there her heroine outfit hung in an effigy to her defeat at the hands of Warlord Voodoo.

The crowd moved forward with their writhing, drooling captive as they entered a large, single hut. Within the hut were blazing torches and dozens of multi-colored candles which shone with a strange bluish aura. There was strange smoke which hung in the atmosphere and cloyed to her nude skin with a consistency of spider webs. She raised her head from her mind blowing sexual reverie to peer around her, and as she did there was a low howl in the room, one like a wounded animal in the far off jungle.

“OOooowwwOOOOooowww......” Moaned the high pitched sound. And it repeated and reverberated throughout the room. The drums remained out side and continued their throbbing pulse but the people carried her into the room and toward the center while still singing their hypnotic song.

“Ooomba takaaaa noobum takaaaa soooohli....”

In the center of the room was a large black cast iron pot. It had been partially filled with a mixture of oils and water, and there was a slow flame beneath it burning on large pieces of dark wood. Warmed, the oil rose to the surface and then rolled back down into the pot once more, with tiny little air bubbles trapped within its undulating waves. Black Canary was guided over to the pot while held high on the mat and then the procession gently lowered one half of the mat and allowed her to slide feet first into the pot of oils.

As her naked body slid into the oils, an intense warming sensation filled her mind and she gasped in rapturous surprise. Up and down her spine there was a thrilling needling of her skin and her muscles relaxed and tensed to the epidermal sensation. She grabbed the sides of the pot lip and hung on. It seemed she might pass out and slide whole body and head long into the bubbling, sensuous mixture. She half stood, half sat in the pot, her mouth hanging open in amazement at the carnal reaction of her body as she accepted the effects of absorbed liquid magic in her most private places.

The villagers danced and marched around her in the now crowded room, the candles flickered and the incense filled her nostrils.... and the howling, haunting call continued.

“OwwwOOwwwwowwwww..... oow ooww wooooooooo”.

And the drums played on. Dumm dee dumm dummm dee deed dumm.......

Black Canary closed her lovely eyes and her body began to sway with the rythm of the drums and the villager’s song. She had never felt anything so incredibly rapturous right down to her most private parts.

Some women, with faces painted like skeletons and grass and cloth costumes brought her a trey of spiced meat, steaming and sizzling from being freshly cooked. They took pieces of the meat and pushed them into Dinah’s mouth for her to eat. At first, she resisted but then the women ignored her and doubled their efforts to have her eat. The meat tasted heavenly in her mouth, and she tried to chew despite her raging libido.

She wondered what kind of animal this was.... she thought about the gorilla laid out in the sun.... and it almost made her queasy. But then she comforted herself in the knowledge that protein is protein and she swallowed. Surprisingly, her tummy loved it, and it left a meaty, fleshy aftertaste on her tongue.

“Ooowwwooooowwwoo.....wooowoooowooo...” Howled the unseen beast.

Through dizzy, glazed eyes Dinah watched the people dance around her, the candles and torches blazed and she listened to the drums and the howling. The women stuffed more meats in her mouth and then brought her a jug of liquid. She needed the drink and willingly accepted it, despite the fact that the contents could not be seen through the jug’s exterior. It was rancid and shocking, and she tried to push it away and grimaced at its horrible taste.

But the women insisted once again and all she could do was allow some of it to pour out of her mouth and down the sides as they forced her to drink. She held her hands up in protest and squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to pull away, but it did her no good to resist the women.

“Gak! Please,......(cough, cough) .... that stuff is like formaldehyde....!!!!” She protested as they forced more into her mouth and into her gullet. There were hands all around her, some held her arms by the wrists and others had their fingers dug deep into her hair in order to hold her in place as the purification medicines were forcefully administered. All the while her raging libido grew more and more ferocious.

Dizzy and weakened by her ordeal, Dinah’s limbs became languid and she she began to sink in the oil of the pot as her legs could no longer sustain her. The villagers noticed this and moved her to the edge of the pot where she was lifted to sit upon its rim. She then was lowered backwards onto a mass of awaiting hands and arms that then lifted her above them.

Raised high in the air, her back arched in accommodating fashion and her breasts, swollen and pointed with hard eraser shaped nipples, reached forward into the smoky air above. She slowly writhed as her head fell backwards and her hair dragged over the villagers beneath her naked, helpless form. There was a strange breathing in her ears... an in and out..... in and out..... that sounded like someone taking big gulps of air in long, sensuous draws.

And as they moved her over to a pre-arranged altar that was surrounded by dozens of colored candles, the drums played on. Dumm dee dumm dumm dee dee dumm dumm.

And the unseen animal howled. Oooowwww wwwwoooooo wwwoooooo...

There was an added musical chiming now within the cacophony of sound that seemed to be inside her very head now. “ta-tiiiiiing..... ta-tiiiiiiiing....” Went the chiming.

The crowd bearing her body lowered her once again onto the stone table and for the first time she felt the oils rolling off of her flushed and warmed skin and draining over the table top. “MMMMmmmm.” She hummed and arched her back in response to the waves of pleasure now taking their full ownership of the heroine’s mind and body.

Deep in her womanhood there was the building of an orgasm that now no longer held itself in place, building and building, stronger and stronger. The villagers poured more warmed oil on her delightfully flat tummy, and then followed that with dozens of black skinned hands massaging and groping and feeling her creamy white, shining with oil legs, swollen breasts, ripped stomach and even her private labial region.

Black Canary’s eyes went wide with the realization that she was about to explode in multiple orgasms. Two pairs of dark hands brought a beaded collar, colored in bands of black, red and green; and fastened it around her muscled throat. “OOOhhhh oohhhhh....” Black Canary groaned while writhing in unbelievable sexual ecstacy.

And the animal howled. “OOOOowww wwwwoooooo..... oowwwww woooooo....”

Called by the siren song, Dinah found herself joining the animal as she signaled her desire for release. “OOOoowwww......wwwwwwwoooooooo..... “ She moaned and howled in unison with the beast. As she did this over and over, despite the prying, groping hands of the villagers who worked the magical oils into her skin from her head to her curling toes, she arched her back and lifted her knees and grabbed onto the sides of the stone table with her hands. She looked toward the ceiling with wide, unseeing eyes and her chest heaved in lascivious, lust filled undulations. Her legs parted as though to receive a lover and more dark skinned hands began to stroke her swollen, delicate sex. Fingers were inserted. Entrances and exits were violated.

And the drums beat on...... dumm dee dumm duumm...

and the heavy breathing in her ears became more pronounced....UUhhhh....ooohhhhhh...UUhhhhh....ohhhhhhh

And the chimes echoed in the chamber...... ta-tiiiiiing ta-tiiiiiiing tinnggggggggggg

and the villagers sang low and lustfully...... taakaaaa.... noo mmmmooooooo daaaannn takkaaaaa......

And Dinah felt a maelstrom of fire and brimstone begin to release down deep in her inner being, roiling and churning and demanding to be freed. “OOOohhhh..... OOOowwwww.... wwooooo... “ She howled at the top of her lungs..... forgetting just who she was, where she was and why she was there...... her only thoughts now were to open the flood gates of lust and sin that had been held back deeply within her inner body and mind.

“”OOOOOOOOhhhhhhh OOOOWWWWWW...... OOOwwwwwwoooooooOOOOOO!” She groaned and twisted and sounded off with all the force her lungs could produce.

And then it happened.

Wave after crashing wave of orgasmic energy came flooding down her chamber of love in torrents of gushing, rushing, exploding, cascading sexual energy. And as she came over and over she grabbed hold of the arms around her and bounced and jerked upon the stone table in and epileptic fashion. Only this time.... the howl she released was her ear splitting Canary yell.

“EEEEEEEEEAAAAAEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

The villagers screamed as a group and collapsed to the ground holding their ears. The ceiling blasted out into the sky in shards and splinters. The walls blew away and exploded against nearby huts, which themselves then collapsed in domino repetition. The candles went out all at once and were also taken away by a wave of sound which swept them quickly away with the walls as they evaporated. The World War II era cities of Nagasaki and Hiroshima would have recognized the effects of Black Canary’s yell all too easily.

And then, amidst the rubble and quiet that replaced the wild, venereal ceremony that had exploded all around the village city...... there was silence. A silence unheard in the jungle since before the age of man. Not a bird, not an insect, not a rippling river could be heard.

Though she lay comatose and unaware upon the stone altar now drenched in her sexual fluids, Black Canary had indeed silenced Warlord Voodoo’s jungle.

*******

It had been an exciting trip to Chicago, with airports new and unseen, and cityscapes only previously viewed online or in magazines and movies. The late year trip during December had been an exciting time as well, the city of Chicago had been trimmed in holiday festive decoration and had an added excitement in the air with the promise of snow.

Dinah and the whole cheerleading team had joined the football team, after their final city championship, in a trip to take on the best team in Chicago in a bowl game that was held every year after the high school season had ended. Dinah was, of course, excited to get away on a free trip to Chicago, but mostly she was secretly aware that Mr. Goliath Washington would be in attendance.

It had been two months since she had last seen him and despite her reasonable resistance, she had indeed called the famous cheerleader coach to make contact. Arrangements had been made and meetings scheduled and now all three of the principles would meet, discuss and also attend the upcoming game. Dinah wasn’t sure just why she had given in, she knew it wasn’t responsible to make plans with professional people and then back out afterward, wasting their time and money..... but she felt that might indeed have to be the future scenario. Goalie would be there, though, and in an uncharacteristically immature move, she had forged ahead with the prospect of seeing him one more time.

While settling down into her hotel room which she shared with two other girls, Goalie had called her on her cell phone. “Dinah? Hey, Girl! You really made it!”

“Hi, Goalie!” She responded blushing and moving into the bathroom for some privacy so she could talk without interruption. “I can’t believe I am in Chicago!”

“A great town, huh? Are you excited about the game.... meeting Ms. Tryon?”

“I am! I am!” She said with restrained enthusiasm. “This is so great!”

“Now, before I forget....” He said with a pause. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!”

Dinah had sat down on the toilet seat to chat with Goalie and when he had said that, she twisted and ground her butt into the seat cover. “Hee heee heee!” She giggled. “Thank’s Goalie! I can’t believe I am nineteen! I am nineteen!!! AAAHHH!” She laughed out.

“Well,” he told her.... “I know just what a birthday girl needs....” He said and then waited for her response.

“Hmmmm.... What’s that, Mr. Washington?” She asked curling a strand of her hair with one finger.

“Well, how about a birthday dinner to celebrate?” He asked confidently.

She almost squealed when she heard his suggestion but then chose a more careful and responsible route which left her half disappointed to have to relay to him. “OOhhh.. Goalie... I don’t know, it sounds so great.... but I’m not even out of high school yet... I mean, I am legal ...yeah, but.... your career.... and there are a lot of people here from my school.... if they saw us...”

“Mmm-hmm. Mmm-hmm.” He hummed in response. “Yeah.... you’re a smart girl. For sure. It’s too bad you couldn’t use some type of disguise for us to make it happen.....y’know since you’re a superhero and all...” he chuckled, not really expecting to get a response but instead hoping to agree with her premise with a light hearted tone.

Goalie waited for her to laugh at his reference to the conversation they had some time ago, but the phone was silent. “Uh... Dinah? You there girl? I was only joking....”

After a long moment she asked in a quiet, secretive whisper. “What kind of disguise?”

He chuckled. “No... no... I was joking..... you’re right, it’s inappropriate..I’m sorry I brought it up.”

She pushed out a pouting bottom lip and whispered, “.....Goal-eeeeeeee....”

“I’ll send you some flowers.... you like flowers....”

“Flowers are nice.....” She nodded with a low whisper. “But they are not time spent with someone.”

“Dinah....” He began apologetically. “I know what you....”

“A blonde wig......” She interrupted with. “A blonde wig and an evening dress. You’d be surprised how blonde hair can make a brunette look different.... and an evening dress makes you look older....” She told him, fully conscious that the wheels had come off of her reserve.

“Uhhhh....” He paused and hummed in a loss for words.

“.......Please.....Goalie .....” She asked in a small voice.

“Girl, you are nothing but trouble. Where are you going to get a blonde wig and an evening dress?” He asked while shaking his head in amazement at his own reflection in the mirror in his bedroom.

“I’m a high school student with a $200 dollar line of credit co-signed by my parents.” She said flatly.

“.....You’re right. Stupid question. My bad......” He told her in resignation.

“It’s okayyyyy....” She whispered into the phone with a kitten-ish voice.

Goalie Washington then made arrangements with a local department store and a five star restaurant to deliver on the birthday promise to Dinah that he now regretted. She made arrangements with her suite mates to stay in the room watching movies all night and to tell anyone who asked that she had been there too. At 8:00pm on the Thursday before the big game, Dinah walked into the Chateau de Charlene dressed in a sequined, strapless blue evening gown that fit her like it was painted on, and on her head was a well fitting, and very convincing, long blond wig with a tasteful adult hair-doo.

She said to the Maitre’ de, “I’m Mrs. Goalie Washington.”

“But of course, Mrs. Washington. Your husband has already arrived. Please follow me.” The prim older man in the tuxedo greeted her, and then lead her to the table where Goalie sat waiting.

He had been interrogating himself for a few hours now as to what kind of craziness was going on in his head concerning his plans for the evening. It would never work. He was a dead man professionally, and there was nothing he could do about it. Yes, Dinah was legal, but she was still in high school. And he had a lady back in St. Louis. A lady he very much cared about. How could he ever explain this to her.... or anyone for that matter?

He sat mumbling to himself over self recriminations, trying to down a glass of red wine, until Dinah made her way to the table. When he saw her, all decked out as an adult and hardly recognizable, he almost choked.

“Monsuir,” the waiter began. “Mrs. Washington has arrived.” He told Goalie, as he presented Dinah to him at the table and held out her chair for her.

“Oh, sweetheart I have missed you.” She said leaning in to hug him and peck him on the cheek. He was stunned and speechless, but Dinah loved the cologne he was wearing.... just for her.

She took her seat and the waiter was directed to bring her some wine. “I would love some!” She exclaimed.

Goalie shook his head ‘no’ in silent warning, and when the men had left the table he leaned in and said, “Dinah, you can’t drink. You’re .....”

“Mrs. Goalie Washington..... and quite convincing if I do say so myself.” She said with a naughty smile.

“Okay....okay...” he told her while holding up his hands in resignation. “I hope you enjoy this little silly masquerade for your birthday.” He then smiled at her and tried to calm his stomach.

“By the way...” She mused slyly. “The dress is beautiful....”

He nodded. After a long beat he added, despite his better judgment, “So are you.”

They had dinner without incident, and then went for a walk in the nearby court center overlooking some part of the nearby river, a place called the ‘Moonwalk’. Dinah hung onto her handsome man’s arm for most of the night. Goalie had to admit to himself too, that he really liked Dinah, no matter her age, and his defensiveness sailed away with the slowly passing river.

Rodney Jackson proved himself a mighty force on the next night as the Warriors defeated the opposing team from St. Louis 55-17. His picture would be all over the newspapers the next day holding up his trophy for the bowl in one hand and his other arm around his pretty Irish girlfriend who was joyfully hanging on his neck.

Dinah was joyfully aware of Goalie sitting three rows back from the cheerleader’s position on the field along with Ms. Tryon from Dallas, Texas. She was there to see the magic she had been told about. Dinah put everything she had into her routines, even throwing in some martial arts moves here and there to accent the performance. The entire time she was quite aware that she didn’t do it for Ms. Tryon, but for Goalie. She was now at the point where she would do practically anything for him.

Saturday morning they all met over breakfast before everyone was about to leave for their own home towns around noon, and fortunately the stunning Ms. Pamela Tryon was herself a classy, well-to-do BLONDE. That way, if anyone asked Goalie Washington: Who was that blonde that you were with in Chicago?, he had an easy, ready made.... and truthful answer.

But in Goalie’s heart of hearts, he knew he had been skating on thin ice with his flirtations with Dinah. He had enjoyed the game, and the flirting with disaster, but he had also truly come to like the girl, in a dangerous way. Friday night he had decided that it was time to go his own way again, make a clean break of the association and keep things wholly professional. He would say goodbye for the last time, he just wouldn’t let Dinah know that was what was happening. Eventually, life would simply separate them as time and distance took their toll.

Flight 756 was docked at terminal 14, headed from Chicago to St. Louis and Goalie sat in a mostly empty passenger waiting area for the flight boarding to be announced. He chatted away on his cell phone and held his jacket while keeping an eye on his travel bag. He looked up while chatting and noticed young Dinah slowly and shyly making her way to him from the walkway area.

She had a big smile on her face for him, and held her jacket in front of her in her hands. Her white, cashmere sweater made her already nubile bosom look even more impressive and enticing, and her fresh, young face was exposed due to the blue band that held her curly, wavy black hair toward the back of her head. He saw her and smiled back, and then signed off from his phone.

“The cheerleaders flight is in the other side of the airport.” She told him as he rose to meet her while also hearing the call for boarding for Flight 756.

“You have a good trip home, and good luck on the cheerleader thing.....” He told her while studying her big, innocent blue eyes... perhaps for the last time.

“I wanted to say goodbye..... again....” She giggled. “Silly female, huh?”

“No, no, no... smart and beautiful and funny....but not silly....” He told her with a kind smile.

“Will I ......see you.....again.. Goalie?”

He shrugged. “It’s tough to say... my job here is done.... you and Rodney made me look great to the scout corps.... life may take us here again... or it may not....who knows what tomorrow brings... in world few hearts survive, Dinah.”

She blushed and looked toward the ground. “You told me the comfort zone is full of wishes.... the success zone is full of results.....” She said and looked back up at him.

“And that’s very true...” He responded as the call for boarding came again. “I have to go, Dinah.... and so do you.... “

She nodded her agreement. “I know....”

“Hey!” He said with a most surprised look. “You’re nineteen, aren’t you?”

She flashed a big proud smile and said, “Yes!!!”

With that he touched her chin and leaned into her face, his mouth pressing against hers in a kind, delicate kiss. Her lips were warm, soft and inviting. They tasted lightly of strawberry. As a man, he responded to her accordingly.

Dinah placed her hands on his chest and kissed him back, her butterfly excitement in her belly threatened to ruin the moment, but she managed to contain it. His lips were warm and firm, and he tasted of something a little dark, a little dangerous and forbidden. She responded to him as any budding young woman would when kissed by a man she loved and admired.

He then pulled back and “punched” her gently on the chin. Then he gave her a wink, turned and entered the terminal. In a moment he was gone. Dinah was very pleased that he had kissed her before he left, but she couldn’t quite accept the implied finality of it all, and in her heart she chose to ignore it.

Sunday for Dinah was filled with homework catchup, family dinners and much talk about all the events she had come to experience. She hadn’t watched Sunday sports. She hadn’t listened to the radio. Being out of town, she had missed her Kenpo class and had to fill a makeup on Sunday night. Monday morning was full of thoughts of the upcoming finals before the holiday break, and those subjects she had fallen behind on, because of her amorous preoccupations. Ever since Goalie had kissed her, he had remained in the back of her mind, wonderfully smiling away at her.

The girl’s group of cheerleaders she always hung with in the mornings before the first bell, sat in a group at one of the cafeteria tables. They all seemed a bit “funked-out” and had serious expressions while talking quietly together. Dinah, holding her books in two hands, sat down and joined them while regarding their stressed attitudes.

”Good morning!” She said cheerfully, trying to break the grumpy guss moment between them all. “Did we all have way too much fun in Chicago?” She asked them with “sunshine” and Pollyanna in her demeanor.

LaWanda turned to her, not suspecting a thing about Dinah’s position, and told her with a disappointed shake of her head, “Oh, honey we all bummed out about the news. It’s a damn shame.”

“What news?” Dinah asked trying to be understanding and kind.

They all turned and looked at her with curios expressions. LaWanda responded, “Oh, honey. Aint you heard? That sweet handsome man .... the one from the sports scouts.... the NFL scouts.... he daid.”

Dinah froze as her chest swelled in pre-panic and needles ran up and down her spine. “Wh...who? What?” She stuttered trying to maintain her composure.

“Honey, his plane went down last Saturday and crashed. Nobody survived....” She said shaking her head in pity.

Dinah sat staring at LaWanda in frozen silence, trapped between disbelief and denial.. and the important notion of keeping her relationship a private matter. “Mr. ......uh, Washington....?” She asked meekly. Then she cleared her throat as it began to tighten and threatened to cut off her ability to breath.

“Yeah, Honey....” Mai Ling replied. “We were all talking about what beautiful babies those would have been......” she continued while shaking her own head in disappointment.

Dinah’s breath caught in her chest, and her inner denial kicked into high gear. In a fight or flight reaction, combined with her heroine training and instincts, she instantly knew that there must have been a huge mistake. An identity misapplication .....and the news would be reported correctly on the library’s computers.

With speed that shocked her buddies, she jumped up and over the table of girls with a light, almost cat like reflex. Her face was etched in a stony, tight expression of determination and in a blast of sprint even she had no idea she could accomplish, she headed out of the cafeteria and into the hallway headed for the stairs that would lead her to the third floor. The floor where the library computers would provide the solid rock foundation that would keep her heart from crushing into an avalanche of bloody pieces.

Up the stairs she rocketed for three flights, one or two giant leaps at a time, covering 13 stairs on each rise within a matter of seconds. NO! NO! NO! She insisted to herself privately as her eyes began to tear up and her hands began to lightly shake from the effects of her crumbling emotional underpinnings. Within less that 15 seconds she had cleared three floors and entered the library, her eyes frantically searching for a free computer. She found one instantly and without sitting at the desk, hammered out the request on the key board in the search engine. The request of the fate of flight 756 and its passengers headed for St. Louis.

Wiping her watering eyes with the back of her wrists she stood frantically reading the news reports. When she found the story, and the passenger list.... she stood staring at the computer screen frozen in shock. Her mouth was stretched wide in quiet anguish and her hands gripped the monitor as though to shake the truth out of the computer. She read it over and over again.... her panicked mind refusing to accept that which was clearly before her.

Flight 756 heading from Chicago to St. Louis, had indeed encountered technical troubles during its flight and also had run into wind sheer problems. It had crashed about 100 miles outside of St. Louis and there were no survivors. Among the list of those lost in the crash: Mr. Goalie Washington, NFL Sports Talent Scout.

Dinah began to shake with horror of the news. Huge tears flooded from her eyes as a heavy grief she had never known fell in huge granite rocks inside of her mind, her body .... and her very soul. This couldn’t be possible! She told herself. How could she have gone around all Sunday and not known this had happened? How could she have studied for school, gone to Judo class and had casual dinner time with her family while Goalie had come to a tragic end???

Surely, the connection between them was such that she would have instantly known.... she would have felt something... had some disconnect ......surely somewhere ....somehow..... she was ultimately to become Mrs. Goalie Washington......

“Aggghh!” She screamed out loud and turning quickly, blinded by tears and grief, headed instinctively for the ladies room. If anyone saw her dissolve and explosion, she had no clue... for her whole world had just turned on an ugly, soul crushing and.... final event. A very final event.

Stumbling and fumbling and groping her way to the restroom, she finally made it and closed her self up in one of the stalls. She sat on the toilet, drew up her knees to her face and hugged them. She then emptied her inner guts in long, drawn out groans and sobs of grief. It was a crushing, exhausting grief that in her young life she had never known, one that tore her heart from her heaving breast and drained her of her ability to cry for several days afterward. The tragedy had hit her so hard, fast and close to home that it left an indelible footprint on the young girl’s whole being... and it would change the person of Black Canary forever.

*******

Its immense head slammed against the wall and the snake let out with a disgusting, angry hiss. His large, round body slithered along the stone and wood ground and left shiny, wet trails. His body, like a long black fire hose filled with water, was looped upon looped upon looped of coiled and reticulating convolutions. But the coils didn’t just lay there. They were a terrible reflection of the snake’s virulent anger. They spun and twisted with surreal motions. Its tail slapping and whipping the surrounding walls of the hut with mephisitc intent. His head rose up from having slammed into the wall and showed his huge fangs grounded in the white-pink inner flesh of his oral cavity. His hiss was like a huge hydrolic machine that had just released several tons of air pressured waste.

“HHHaaaaaSSSSSSHHHHHH!!!!” Shot out of its angry maw.

Black Canary, spinning and summer salting in and around his massive coils, dodged and then tumbled below his chin. She swung the small stone tube she held in her left hand and slammed its rounded end into the softness of the snake’s flesh just below its jaw. The snake’s head flew backwards in pain and she quickly followed up with a right handed slam of the other stone pole she held, into the back of his skull as the head continued its reactionary projection. She jumped behind him as coils reached for her naked form, always churning, always slithering, always looking to find a grip on the naked woman’s oil covered body. But Black Canary never paused a moment, never stopped to consider a move without locomotion, and she maintained a step ahead of her adversary at every turn.

“Where are you, Voodoo?” She called out into the main chamber. “You can’t expect your giant black snake to do all the work, can you?” She queried as she spun and danced and landed glancing blow after glancing blow across the snake’s huge, extended body.

“Wo-man....” The big booming deep base voice responded. “You are intrepid beyond good sense.” And with that, on one wall highly decorated with images of death and magic, a huge representation of Warlord Voodoo’s face mask faded into view. Black Canary had not seen her adversary before this, and she regarded for a moment the large oval face mask with the glowing white eyes, no mouth or nose and it’s perimeter surrounded with a “sunray” type blast of twigs, branches and grass plumes.

“Impressive...” She told him nodding. Then she dodged and parried again with the huge snake that was trying to subdue her. She darted and danced so much that the snake could hardly get a grip on the woman.

“But that’s not the real you.... are you ....(agh!) afraid to face.... (uh!) a naked woman?” She then threw one of the stones hard at the snake’s head and it blanched with the impact then closed its eye and moved away with a nasty hiss.

“You impress me.... far beyond what I could have imagined.....I have chosen well.....of course....” Warlord Voodoo intoned with pride. Snake coils attempted to slither around Black Canary’s form and entrap her in their vile, slimy grip, but she ducked, rolled, and spun away.

“Your warriors are incapacitated.... your people cowed... there (agh!) is nowhere for you to hide....(agh! uh!) from me......(huff! agh!) and I will find you.... once I have... (ahggh!) taken down the black snake here....(ugh!) which by the way.... is so wrong.... I mean in so many ways....(uggh!)

“You seek to confuse me, woman?”

She kicked and spun, used the snakes body to swing from and then grabbed its tail and flung it at its own head. The tail whipped the snakes face and it coiled back with a hiss once again. “Oh, come on....(ugh!) .... a huge black snake..... a naked woman.... and a white woman.... (agh!) it’s all so wrong.... a naked woman battling a big black snake....?”

The snake lunged to snap at her, but she avoided him to one side, then cracked him over the head with the stone tube in her right hand. He coiled back and lunged again with open fanged mouth but she dodged a second time and hit him in the head again. Frustrated, the snake hissed and spat. His coils picked up speed and rumbled like a babbling river all around the room.

“What do you speak of?” Warlord Voodoo asked. “Is that some American thing... where color and race are protested under every rock? The snake is black because it is black.... not because it signifies some puerile sexual-populist fantasy.”

“If you say so....” She told him and battered the face of the snake with a full on attack of multiple two fisted fury as the snake again recoiled at the swiftness and brutality that she was capable of.

“You must submit.... woman.... you must allow Papa Ghede to mount you and Papa Legba to assimilate your unique talents and gifts into the African tree.” The voice boomed in casual, laconic speech.

She tossed another stone tube at the snake’s circling body, and then watched as it ricocheted from one coil to another and then again slammed into this head. She jumped, ducked and twirled and then caught the tube as it began to spin away from his recoiling head.

“Nope..... don’t count on it.... no one is going to be mounted today!”

“So be it then....” He intoned. “You have managed to recover quickly from your preparation session..... held off Papa Gheded like no warrior I have ever witnessed.... you have managed to find your way here.... into my inner chamber..... truly you are the stock most worthy of being graphted into the vine.... and this had little to do with you being white skinned ...... “

“Uh-huh.” She replied as she kicked, spun and then grabbed hold of the snakes head in an arm lock with her legs wrapped around his neck. He hissed and tried to grab her, but had difficulty not grabbing his own head due to its three foot width which she was positioned behind. His maw opened in an angry hiss of frustration. He swung back and forth with a panicked motion as she closed off his windpipe and squeezed tightly. His coils rippled and fissured and slapped at the walls with a splattering of rhytm notes.

Beneath her, Black Canary felt the body of the snake begin to become lighter and lighter. She looked around the chamber and noticed that she could once again see the pale stone and weed grass hut walls through the coils of the snake. They disappeared gradually until she no longer had anything to hold onto and then allowed herself to fall to the ground, where she landed on her toes, tumbled and rolled with the momentum and then finally stood up and turned to face Warlord Voodoo’s mask.

“It’s just you and me now....” She told him, palming one of the stone tubes.

From behind her, there came a voice in response. It wasn’t the booming, lambastic echo of Warlord Voodo. It was the voice of a real man. It was slightly nasal, slightly soft in its intonation. And it was also familiar. It was a voice from the grave.

“I thought that’s what you always wanted, Dinah.” The voice began. “Just you an me.”

When she heard it, it was like a knife in her brain. She spun hard and backed away. She looked up and there before her was the beautiful, naked brown body of Goalie Washington. He stood there, real as could be, all smiles and handsome face, ripped stomach and blessed manhood. And he reached out to her with both hands, gesturing for her to come forward.

Dinah’s mouth dropped open in amazement at the real-ness of the vision before her. She backed up to the wall of the hut, frozen in wide eyed disbelief. All around them now was a garden jungle filled with trees, multi-colored flowering plants and lush, green foliage. A light breeze blew and caressed her breasts with soft, gentle kisses. There was also long grass around her feet and somewhere off in the distance a brook slowly babbled.

It was a shock to her, the scene before her of her past brimming lust and animal sexual attraction. She was duly taken with the black, naked figure of Goalie before her. Like viewing an accident on the freeway, she found it impossible to look away.

He was like something out of the ancient Greek statues she had seen in art history class. Chiseled, muscular, and with a cock that could hit home runs in any ball park. His body magnetized her presence there before him. She tingled and burned in strange places all over her body. Faced for the first time with his black member that seemed to point her out as the next object of of its pulsing attention, something deep within her commanded her to stay. To be obedient.

“Noooooo....NO!” She objected. “You are a real bastard if you think you can get into my head like this! That was eight years ago..... eight long years ago!”

“Dinah....this really IS me.... no one else.”

“You’re Warlord Voodoo and I am no idiot!!!!” She spat. “HOW DARE YOU!!!!!” She almost screamed with clenched teeth, her face reddening with anger at the very implication of Voodoo’s intent.

Goalie put on his most respectful and patient face and assured her, “Dinah, I promise .... in every way that counts..... every way that is now possible.... I AM Goalie Washington. Really.”

It was quite the impressive psychological feat that Warlord Voodoo had pulled off. Everything was indeed real, from the grass at her feet to the big, friendly white toothed smile of the man before her. He stood chiseled, and firm skinned. He was as athletic as the day she had last seen him, and radiated health, warmth and that special charmed kindness that had won her heart so long ago.

“You .... are .... out of your ..... mind ...if you think I will...” She began to growl.

He nodded. “You remember that day, don’t you...” He began.

“STOP!” She ordered him, her breath catching in her chest with each word he spoke, her heart racing in her muscled throat. “I am NOT doing this!!!!!” She shouted.

“I know you remember.... and you still miss me.....”

“STOP!!!!!” She insisted while covering her ears, but it did no good, for her hands seemed unable to impeded his voice.

“You haven’t been able to go to the movies...... watch a newscast with distressed people....”

“AAAAGGHHH! Get OUT of my head...!”

“You still tear up quite easily whenever you see suffering.... sadness.... tragic loss of life....”

Beyond herself with rage and gulping for air, she couldn’t find words or methods for stopping the infuriatingly intrusive assault upon her inner being. “You....will...... stop!!!!” She gulped out between heavy breaths.

“Why do you think you cry so easily, Dinah?” He asked her while rubbing his hands together.

“None....uhhhhh.... none of your.....” She tried to respond but the hurt and pain and pent up grief she had learned to disavow had begun to swell within her to unimaginable amounts, so much so she could barely find breath and was becoming woozy.

He moved a few steps toward her and said rather casually, “It’s because this wound has never really healed....never full resolved itself.”

She shook in frustration as tears began to flow freely down her cheeks and over her naked torso, right past her knees. “Stopppppppp!”

He held his hands together as if to pray and said, “Let me help you close that wound, Dinah. You do something for me.... and I will heal you in return. Me, Goalie Washington, I will do this from the private little place in your heart where you have held me for so long.”

She grimaced and made a whining sound as the words cut right into her unprotected soul. There was no defense for this newest of strategies.

He held his hand out toward her and said, “You really loved me, didn’t you, sweetheart?”

The term ‘sweetheart’, coming from Goalie’s lips and with his voice cut into her harder than the snake’s fangs ever could have and she grabbed her hair with her hands as she whined in response. Tears broke forth like a collapsed dam of river water and she felt as though she could faint from the psychological strain of it all, right there on the jungle floor.

“You know what? I really loved you, too.” He said with a charming smile.

She grunted and exhaustion returned with this new unimaginable experience. Everything he had said was of course, true. She couldn’t argue with her own experience. It was true that she now had cried at the drop of a hat ever since Goalie had died. It was true that if anyone around her became emotional, she too would loose control.

She couldn’t understand it at first, but ultimately she accepted that Goalie had left a hole in her heart the day he had died, and there was nothing she could ever do about it. It was also true that she continued to love him, even years after his demise.

“Come here, Dinah.” He said reaching out to her. “Let me fill you. Let me close the hole within you.” He requested. “Let me..... love you.”

Crushed that anyone anywhere could have so completely gotten inside of her very being, she hesitated a moment.... knowing full well that Voodoo held all the cards now, and then she reached out to hold his hand.

He WAS warm, his hand strong, firm and yet soft..... just as she had remembered. His dark brown skin shone in the brilliant sunlight and her flesh tingled at his touch. “You..... you ARE real..... your hand... it’s just like I remember......”

“He nodded and gave her that big smile. “Uh-huh..... do you see that it’s really just you and me now?”

She regarded him with reddened, watery eyes and replied, “It....can’t be..... it’s can’t be......”

“But it CAN....in all that ways that are important to you... it can be.... and you can move on....”

She nodded lightly at the truth of the statement. “I want to.... I want to move on...”

“Gimme hug!” He told her gently pulling her into his body.

She felt his warm body around her, his strong arms holding her firmly but gently. She breathed a breath from deep in her gut that seemed to have been stuck there forever. She tilted her head backward and mused, “It’s all in my head.....”

“And in your heart, baby. And in your heart.” He whispered next to her ear.

Putting his hand behind her head he guided her face to his own. His large black lips became prominent in the sun light, they hungrily sought out her mouth. He then kissed her, just like she remembered, kissed her long and hard, and the thrill was more than Dinah could have ever imagined. She was naked and in Goalie Washington’s arms. He had just told her he loved her and they were kissing like newlyweds.

Finding it all too much to resist, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back. The kiss was long, deep and very wet. Tongues licked and sucked and lips pressed so hard together that they became one single mouth. His mouth smothered hers. His tongue entreated her to suck. With her arms around his neck, his kiss sexed her into a confusing cocktail of anger, lust, resentment, surprising desire and revulsion. The emotions exhausted her, paralyzed her into a submissive quandary. She felt the smooth skin, the rippling muscles, the raw naked power of the man. She swooned with lust.

He held her in both his arms for a long, long time as she melted away by the force of his attention. He placed both hands on one of her shoulders from the rear and pushed her into him as he deep mouth kissed her. Reflexively, she found herself grinding her breasts into his ripped chest and raising her knee up his outer thigh. His better than average uncut manhood began to stir between their legs and she felt him begin to expand and grow on her thighs.

For Dinah, this was a heaven she thought she had lost forever, and no matter the consequences of her complicity, she knew in her inner heart that coitus with this unseen enemy, in this fully realized magical way, could indeed put Goalie Washington to rest for the final time.

Placing a hand on her back he slowly let her recline in his arms and he looked down into her sleepy blue eyes. With one hand he fondled and caressed her breast. His long, dark fingers moulded and fondled her swelling mammary, and it was everything she could have hoped to feel as he manipulated her body. He gently pulled on her pink, stiffening nipple as though to play with her, and she gave with a little gasp and a smile of puckish approval. He held her around the waist with both hands and continued to peck lightly at her purpling lips.

Then up close and personal, almost nose to nose he said in a little breathy but deep voice, “You give your love to me... so tenderly.... I feel like I like to feel ... I feel like me.... in every way you know that could ever be.... and you love me.”

She leaned back and gasped. Poetry! She thought to herself. He’s giving me poetry after that kiss.

He continued, “You softly filled that part of me.... once missing..... and helped me find what I had lost.... living. You’re at least a thousand years of wishing...... and you love me.....” He almost sang to her, and he rocked her gently from side to side and smiled almost wickedly, as Goalie was known to do with her. It was a smile she had dearly missed and had compared with all others since then.

“Okay.” She said nodding. She placed her hands on his shoulders and said flatly. “You win.”

With that she lowered herself to her knees, kissing and nibbling his chest and tummy all the way down. There it was in all its glory right in front of her, what must have been eight or nine inches of uncut black manhood meat that called to her inner womanhood. Her smaller hand grasped the fleshy, dark musky tool and it lightly jolted in response to her touch. It was full, veined and felt absolutely rapesome to her.

Her mouth hung open in surprise, her eyes were wild with the sensations flooding her brain and body. She audibly gasped. She placed her other hand next to his tightly bushed groin and lifted the expanded member from its resting place. The skin was gently pulled back a ways toward the base revealing the massive pink glans of his penis. The slit was already moist with pre cum and when she saw it, up close and personal, her own loins began to juice again.

She leaned in with her own lips and covered the crown of his African glory with her now feverish, hot mouth. The bulbous member parted her orifice as it slid over her hungry tongue. It seemed to swell even more as it angled toward the back of her throat. Despite her brief amount of experience at fellatio, she wanted ALL of Goalie Washington’s phallus in her mouth.... all the way into her throat and she forcefully opened her channel to accept him.

There was an inner flame and delicious depredation she felt at taking his penis in her mouth. Her nose nuzzled his rough, curly patch as her mouth covered his pulsing, dark member, down to the base. It had been difficult to get her to take him full at first, but once her throat had adjusted to his girth, she no longer resisted. Before she knew it, his crinkly bush was tickling her nose and she smiled inwardly at her accomplishment. Fully aware that she was fluffing the object of her future insemination, the reality of Goalie being there with her opened up her inner heart to accept all that he had to give.

She tasted the gamy, salty flavor. Felt the pulsing veins and involuntary muscle contractions. She had blown only a few white boys she had dated, but none of them had a tool quite like Goalie’s. Her jaw ached with the back and forth motion and even her facial muscled began to strain. Her body, however, was not up to any physical resistance and offered her no help out of the current situation. Her knees were weak and pained from kneeling on the rocky ground.

The most surprising fact was her flooding womanhood, betraying her, lubricating her sex for his brutal insertion. How could she allow this, she wondered. Surely this was her punishment for the brief seconds she caught glimpses of Rodney playing football. She had quickly and secretly imagined what it would be like to sneak into the locker room and offer herself to him for his animal lust. Oh the taboo. The scandal. Poor Catherine McGregor. But she had quickly dismissed it, knowing that he was just people like anyone else .... and all the manufactured drama was usually unnecessary. The reality being, that people usually provided their own drama quite nicely without the help of introducing theater of the mind into the mix.

Or perhaps it was the more lude fantasy she entertained about the entire football team and the cheerleaders? She imagined them all in the shower with the boys, bathing them with hot soapy water, cleaning them of the sweat and dirt of the game. Would the girls be forced to kneel and rest their upper bodies across the locker room benches? All their pretty back sides would be placed in a row, their tender loins a feast of spoils for the victorious team? But these were thoughts noone but herself were ever aware of rolling around in her teenage mind. Until now.

After about ten minutes of back and forth sucking action by her wanton mouth, she stopped, her lips wet with body fluids, and she looked up towards his eyes in submission. “I think you are ready.” She told him.

He stood above her holding the sides of his head in his hands and with an expression on his face of mixed pleasure and also disbelief. “DDDDaaaaaammmmm! Dinah!” He exclaimed. “All the way, baby??? All the way???”

She smiled up at him and nodded. “Only for you, my love.”

He reached down and pulled her to her feet. Kissed her as best he could with a huge, erect dong now swaying between them and held her as if to carry her away. She expected to be swept up in his arms and held like a baby, but instead, he leaned over and picked her up with his shoulder in an over the shoulder carry. She chuckled and watched his flexing tight buttocks move back and forth as she hung down his back while he carried her away. She thought to herself: Oh, well. Africans! What can a girl do?

In a small grove not far away was a King sized bed all made up with flower pedals across its mattress. He brought her to the bed and then flopped her roughly down onto its expanse. She bounced and gasped at the rough handling, but had little time as he had slid in on top of her before she could adequately respond. Again he kissed her long and hard. They clinched and rolled around in the bed enjoying the closeness of each other’s naked forms. The outdoors blew gentle breezes across their backs, small light flower pedals landed softly on cheeks both facial and posterior. His manhood left little trails of spunk all across her flat, sexy tummy.

She reached down and massaged his scrotum. He took two fingers and “boy scouted” her quivering quim. In a 69 position he deep tongued her sloppy vagina and she ran her tongue across his sensitive feremin between his testes and anus, while also keeping him good and fluffed. It was pubic. It was mammalian. It was animal.

He spun around on top of her and smiled into her loving blue eyes, kissed her and then said, “Raise your knees and hug me.”

She would have, of course, done this without a word. But she was secretly pleased he had given the order. With no reservation she did as told and wrapped her legs around his lower back. They mashed lips and licked tongues and he trust his manhood within her in one fell swoop.

“OOOOooooOOOOOpppp!!!!” She yelled as he invaded her temple of womanhood with his steel-like piston.

“Dinah,” He whispered in her ear. “Some are called to greatness. Other’s have it thrust within them.” And with that he began to rock the girl in his arms with lusty, zesty and vigorous thrusts.

“OOOhhh! OOOHH GODD!!” She moaned, as she writhed beneath his dominating body. “OOO uuuuu....UUHhhggg.... MMMMM.... SSSSyyybbbb..... guh guh guh guh.....” She spat and moaned and gurgled.

Goalie made short work of her, grinding and slamming into her loins like a man possessed. He took Dinah in the way that all men vow to one day take a woman. Totally. Wholly. Without quarter. And Dinah would have had it no other way as he shook and rocked and slammed away at her over and over again to the tune of wet, sloppy, body fluid filled rutting sounds.

Tension built in his loins as he tamed the flummoxed heroine and he knew that soon it would be time to bring her into the tree. However, enjoying his dominance of her just a little too much, no doubt augmented by her complete submissive compliance, he instead spun her over on her stomach in the bed. He lifted her firmly rounded buttocks and separated her butt cheeks to peer down into her most desired fold.

“Hmmmmm...” he hummed in delight at the brown star of her anus. He then spat and pressed his finger into the spittle that rested in her crest, he began to rub her tweeter and she turned and looked back at him.

“Oh, no.... Goalie ... please don’t....” She begged.

He slapped her hip affectionately and said, “Come on now, you know I would have.”

“OOOwwww-whoa...” She groaned, but didn’t act to stop him as she knew, once again, there could be no argument.

The head of his rod, was of course too big for her anal opening, and with the throbbing he felt, he knew that he needed a tight ring to hold back the flood of effluence about to eject from his scrotum. Slowly, workmen like, he made his way into her virginal rear end. Pushing, holding, then pushing, holding and then sliding. She threw her head from side to side as he broke her rectal cherry and she clutched the sheets with a white knuckle grip at the sheer painful and pleasurable mix of sensations as he sodomized her.The entire time, her mouth was pulled tight in a rictus of lust.The flesh of her rump had a lovely curve. It’s shelf-like rise gave luxurious, soft cushioning to his muscular thighs as he began to rutt her like a dog.

“OOOOhhh Oohhhh Goalie...... Oohhh uuunnnhhh OOOhhhhnnnn....” She groaned.

After a few long moments of hard work, her anal muscles freed up and Goalie was able to slide his tamer in and out of her canal with relative ease. He held her buttocks with both hands and leaned back with a big smile as he pumped the girl with abandon.

He then road her long and hard in many positions. Turning her over and over, again and again, as she was tenderized to be his “bush meat”. He never let up while breaking her, bleeding her and finally seeding her in an explosion of hot steam deep inside her hungry, sweaty, animal flesh.

In the cooling afterglow of her debasement at his hands, she lay naked and asleep from exhaustion once more. This time, at the moment of multiple and co-joined orgasms, he had reached his hand down to her flushed, wild eyed face and gently passed his hand over her.

“Sleep.” He ordered. “You will sleep now.”

She sighed and did just as she was told. After quite some time, she gently awoke, once again reviving quickly from a physical ordeal, as was typical of her superior physical abilities. The jungle was gone, the flowers and bed inside the grove were gone as well. Her true surroundings now were revealed to her. As she peered through sleepy eyes, not wanting to give away her now awake position, she regarded her surroundings.

The inner chamber of Warlord Voodoo’s hut was now dark and silent. Several small torches lighted the darkened entrance and the dim light played off of the large pot and altar set up on one side of the room. She could also see ghostly, stealthy images of death which decorated the walls. Their black and white make up mixed and protruded from the darkness in response to the flickering flames. This wasn’t the chamber where she had battled the snake, but it was another chamber, in all probability it was indeed the private inner room of the Warlord himself.

Lying next to her, apparently asleep as far as she could tell, lay the man. It wasn’t Goalie. For this man was bigger, quite a bit bigger in fact, and his skin seemed to shine a reflective blue-black in the flame light. He was totally nude, lying on his back, but his face was covered with the mask she had seen floating on the wall of the snake chamber, only this one wasn’t giant sized. The mask this time fit over a large man’s face, but it was proportional.

She slowly eased upward from her position next to him, and as she moved she was reminded with little aches and pains of the horrid manhandling she had taken at his hands. Ignoring her restrictions, she recognized her moment of escape. It would be just the thing to do

now that this whole episode had come to an end. She would snatch victory from the jaws of defeat and steal away in the night to be rescued by her comrades.... who MUST be looking for her!

Sliding silently away over the bed and then landing on the floor with soft, padded feet, she moved silently away from the bed. With two fingers she pulled at the colorful collar that had been placed upon her muscled neck, and she tugged it free with one hard pull. She then flung it silently to the floor of the hut. Then, calling upon her inner instincts to guide her through the maze of the master hut, she slowly pushed aside the heavy wooden door to the chamber. It made little noise, to her relief and surprise, and she slid out into the hallway.

Warlord Voodoo silently watched Black Canary as she had studied his position, checking on his level of slumber. She had believed him to be asleep, and he smiled to himself behind the mask. He watched as she tiptoed across the room and then deftly moved out into the hallway. He then relaxed and closed his eyes....and waited.

After what seemed to be a period of twenty minutes of scraping around in the darkend maze of hallways, Black Canary found her exit and peered out into the jungle night. Immediately she witnessed that the warriors, women servants and also the children were all prostrate over the grounds as though they had all been tossed about by a great wind. Concern flooded her mind as she walked thought slumbering bodies, checking now and then for pulses and warm skin.

The villagers were all alive, seemingly, but they looked as thought they had all been drugged or perhaps they had all gotten drunk during some party. Had the ceremony continued after she had blown up the hut? She hand’t heard any of the drums, or the howling, or the dancing chants... but it did seem to her that the ceremony had indeed continued during the events of the night. Now that dawn was only an hour or so away, they continued to sleep away whatever insanity had possessed them to drive themselves into a frenzy that ended in a collapse of the citizenry.

Silently she moved toward the pole where her Black Canary outfit hung in memoriam. She quickly and quietly began to re-dress while regarding the crowd of sleeping villagers. The children especially worried her, but she worked quickly anyhow. She pulled on her fishnet stockings first, and then the one piece body suit. She then pulled on her boots and grabbed for her jacket. She stood holding the jacket as she silently looked out over the scene before her.

A major section of the village lay disassembled and destroyed by her canary yell. The villagers lay sleeping across the expanse of the “square”, a tangle of arms and legs and painted skull faces now all silent and benign in their rest. The jungle seemed a bit more quite than usual, from what she remembered. The trees along the perimeter gently moved with small, lazy breeze influenced movements.

She looked upward into the starry host above and saw that the moon had been there all along, full, bright and yellow, punching a hole in the nighttime sky. Africa was a beautiful, wild and untamed land, full of magic and wonders not easily witnessed in the high school cloister of the American school system. And she took a deep breath as she appreciated the untamed land.

Warlord Voodoo still lay in silence upon his bed in the inner chamber of his master hut. He heard a small noise of a falling foot and opened one eye to peer out from behind his mask. He saw the movement of a nude woman as she entered the room. Silently, stealthily, she reached down and picked up the colored collar from the floor of the chamber and then placed it around her neck. She then silently and slowly slid into bed next to him and placed her arm and hand over one side of his naked chest. She then rested her head on his shoulder and relaxed into place next to him. He smiled confidently beneath his mask.

Dinah stared out into the darkness as she lay next to Warlord Voodoo, not really sure why, or how, or when she had decided to return to him. She just did and that’s the way it was. She then closed her eyes and fell back off to sleep, fully confident that he could never kill her now. Now that she probably carried his child. And surprisingly that made her happy and relieved in a way she couldn’t understand.

Out in the burgeoning dawn, the villagers began to awaken with the lightening sky. One by one they began to drag themselves up off of the ground in groans and moans from the work they had done last evening with all of their soul and might. On the pole in the square, still hanging there was the superheroine outfit of Black Canary, a firm reminder of the superior might of their master, Warlord Voodoo.

Over the next year he would fuck her relentlessly. She would become addicted to the feeling of being owned by him. The wantonness, the forbidden lust, it all held magical sexual attraction for Black Canary. Even a rough, across the knee spanking for no offense at all, brought deep passion to her loins and she gladly spread for him. In the midst of orgasm he would remind her of her place as his woman, and how it was the truth of her existence to serve him. The crushing, exploding orgasm of their jungle sex was more than enough proof to her fogged, out of control mind, that whatever Warlord Voodoo wanted, Warlord Voodoo got.

During the first months of her pregnancy she was forced to re-build, all on her own, the huts she had destroyed. She was also instructed to apologize to the villagers, who had lost their homes to her canary cry, on a daily basis. She would personally cook the Warlord’s meals every day, and kneeling before him, bow her head and lift his bowl or plate to him while he was seated upon his master thrown. As her belly became distended and her breasts began to prepare for the feeding of the seed of villany that grew within her, she was ordered to feed many of the villager’s children with whatever her breast would provide. The entire time, her heroine outfit hung on the post in full view of the entire village city.

*******

“I know you’ll make sure that Goliath is taken care of....” She told Warlord Voodoo.

He stood before her, dressed in the full regalia of his exalted position with mask on his face and robes hanging around his body and spikes angling from his shoulder harnesses. A few of the spikes here and there had human skulls that had been pinioned with the iron spike. His warriors stood behind him, silently watching as he dismissed Black Canary back to the world she had been taken from.

“He is no longer your concern. Having now weaned dee child, your usefulness here has come to an end. If it were not for dee fact that you are my son’s mother, I would have slain you in front of dee entire cit-y. Now turn and head off into dee jungle brush you see be-hind you. You will be rescued soon enough.”

She was now dressed once again in her Black Canary superheroine outfit for the first time in a little over a year, and the collar of obedience had now been removed. She turned and looked behind her at the thickening brush at the edge of the city borders and then back to Warlord Voodoo and his company of warriors.

“We’re miles from any civilization.... and all I have on me is the clothes on my back.... you might as well just kill me and then feed me to the jungle.”

“No...” He replied. “You do not realize it, but I have made arr-ange-ments for you to be rescued wit’in dee hour, you need only head east.”

“Arrangements?” She queried.

He sighed in frustration, “If only slitting your troat were an easy de-ci-sion! Dee one called Batman has joined with dee one called Oracle in a world wide search for you. Dis Batman refuses to give up. Despite dee com-bined power of your ‘superfriends’, my dark magics have rendered this part of the jungle invisible to detection. Dey have passed over it several times now. I have purposefully left clues for dee Batman to find, and he is now on his way here, though he only barely suspects that it could be a trap. Despite this, dee only leads he has been able to find on your dis-appear-ance are dee ones I have just provided. Tell heem, when you see heem, he is correct: Warlord Voodoo is a whole new ball game which he has not seen before.”

She looked at him slyly. “He’ll know it’s African. I’ll know where my son is.”

“Once you turn and leave this part of the jungle, you will never be able to find your way back.... even after only ten steps.”

“This isn’t over, Voodoo. I’ll see to it.”

“What you have to say, no longer concerns me.” With that, he waved his hand and the entire group and the city huts standing off in the distance faded from view to be instantly replaced by trees, vines and foliage.

Black Canary gasped in amazement at the completeness of the illusion. Warlord Voodoo, for all his villany, was correct.... he was THAT GOOD at what he does. Overhead she heard the calm, almost silent humming of an approaching aircraft. She turned to look and saw the familiar Batwing heading toward where the city had recently stood. It would be good to be home.

*******

Sonny Giovanni walked up to the post office box inside of his local post office and pulled the keys out of his pocket. He inserted the key for his post office box and turned the small metal lock. In the box he had a group of envelopes and letters which he pulled out in a group and then brought them over to a nearby standing table kiosk. Rifling through them to make a brief survey of the contents, he was surprised to find a large brown envelope from the African Continent.

“Well, what have we got here?” He asked himself. He then broke open the glued flap and reached inside. He grabbed hold of a folder and slid it out into the open. Within the folder where two photographs and a small note. The photos were of Black Canary and the note read: Do with these what you will. And it was signed: Warlord Voodoo.

The first photo was of Black Canary kneeling beside Warlord Voodoo as he sat triumphantly upon his throne. She was naked, obedient and had one hand passively wrapped around his calf. The next photo was one of her feeding an African infant at her breast. She was naked from the waist up with both breasts exposed and holding the tot with one arm as he received nourishment from her body. The expression on her face was one of startled surprise with wide eyes and a gasping mouth, as though the sudden appearance of technology, namely a camera in this instance, had not only caught her off gard at a tender moment, but also seemed strangely out of place in the jungle wild of ubiquitous naturalism.

Sonny began to chuckle with delight at the many possible uses he could perform with these photos and he slid them back into the envelope and picked up the rest of his mail. As he walked out into the sunlight and headed for his car, he mused. “Yeah, life just keeps giving and giving to ol’ Sonny. Hehehehehe....”