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Sapphire touched down on the edge of the balcony railing, holding still for a moment, perched like a butterfly on the edge of a flower, taking a deep breath, arms moving slowly in and out as if to fan her wings, mentally preparing for the confrontation to come.
She didn't expect them to come along quietly. In fact, she hoped they wouldn't.
The winged heroine stepped down to a feather-light landing on the industrial carpet floor and moved weightlessly down the main hallway of the executive suites. Large brass signs next to the wide double doors called out the name of each suite. Joel on the left, Hornsby on the right. She reached an intersection and turned right; they would be in the last one on the right. McDonald on the left, Faltermeyer on the right. The next one on the right was it: Hammer.
The walls begin to thump rhythmically; they must be testing the sound system, Sapphire noted. Well, it's time to do a little thumping of my own.
A splintering crash rang the room. Ginger and her men turned in unison to see the double doors tumbling inward off their hinges.
And from behind them, a vision of feminine power strutted into the room like she owned it.
Long slender legs perched on sapphire-adorned high heels; short sassy skirt and shorter top doing little to conceal the girl's curves; arms akimbo, sapphires glittering from wrists; and a luxurious mane of swept-up hair cradling a shining tiara.
An angry goddess descended to earth to put evil in its place.
Sapphire.
By reflex, guns were drawn and triggers pulled. The heroine reacted with devastating effect. Knees bent slightly, a broad sweep of the left hand bowled over three men and the woman; they hadn't hit the floor before a quick jab of the right hand blasted the last man standing back into and over an armchair.
Sapphire surveyed the damage, ready to fell anyone who dared get up for another try.
Suddenly she found herself in a chokehold, barrelled forward by something large and fast; she felt the mass coming down on top of her.
"I got her!" Taggert yelled.
But Sapphire had the wherewithal to land with her hands beneath her. She blasted up, sending both her and her attacker/backpack flying up and back as if shot from a cannon. The pair impacted the back wall high up, the man's head breaking through the ceiling tile. They slid down the wall, slowing to a soft landing. Sapphire shrugged the dazed man off, who fell to the floor with a thud.
"Cease fire!" Ginger shouted. There was no point in shooting at a bulletproof girl; they could only hurt each other. The crafty agent began to pick herself up, already formulating a plan, when she felt herself smacked back down by an invisible kick. She looked to her subordinates as they too had the rug pulled out from under them a second time. There came a crash from across the room as Cooper, too, took another invisible hammer blow. Taggert remained motionless near the doorway, probably out cold, possibly worse.
The men had the sense to stay down, eyeing the fiesty female from their prone positions, but Ginger was not so easily put down. She was up to her hands and knees and ready to get to her feet. Sapphire made a move toward her; Ginger felt a vicious invisible kick in the side, but refused to go down.
"Don't do that again, or you'll never see your mom alive," she hissed between gasping breaths.
In an instant, a pair of sapphire stilettos were in her field of vision. Damn, I'll never get used to her flying leaps. Ginger felt herself hoisted up by the back of her dress, and came standing face to face with the haughty heroine. The renegade agent realized she'd lost her shoes; the girl had literally knocked Ginger out of them.
Sapphire's eyes burned with hatred. "You already killed her, you... bitch!"
Sapphire belted Ginger across the cheek with an open hand; Ginger fell back on the couch from the force of the blow. It felt like she'd been hit with a crowbar. She felt a mix of disgust and fear.
So she knows. And she's here to kill us. Fuck.
But the expected death blow didn't come; the beating did not commence. Instead, the bejeweled beauty stunned the room with a line wholly unexpected.
"You're all under arrest."
Ginger laughed. It began as a quiet snicker that grew into a giggle. Chuckles in turn gave way to head-tossed-back, maniacal laughter.
"What's so funny?" Sapphire scowled.
"Under arrest for *what*?" Ginger said through fading laughter.
"For the murder of Gladys Barrett."
"Oh, you're not serious."
"Why not? You did it."
"How do you know?"
The question stopped Sapphire in her tracks. How did she know? She just *knew*.
"The police told me."
"The *police* told you? The *police*? Or Detective Aquino, who's currently suspended from duty for insubordination and gross incompetence?" Ginger rolled her eyes. "Is that all you've got?"
Sapphire thought fast. How else did she know? "I recognize your voice. You kidnapped her. You killed her."
"Oh, you recognize my voice. From what, a brief conversation on a *wireless* phone? It'll never hold up in court. If it ever got to trial, which it won't."
"You shot her. Ballistics will prove that the bullet came from your gun," Sapphire reached.
"*I* shot her? No, sugar, I didn't shoot her."
"One of your men did."
"One of my men." Ginger looked around the room, amused. "The police have to find the gun. They won't. They have to put the man at the scene. They won't. They have to know we *exist*. *They* *won't*. Do you have *any* idea who we are?"
"You work for the government."
"Your *mailman* works for the government. We are something else entirely."
"It doesn't matter. You killed my mom. And you're going to jail."
"You bust in here, you attack us, you accuse us of murder, and you have no proof. No evidence. Nothing that links us to the death of your mother. For a mighty defender of justice, you don't seem to know much about how the justice system works."
Sapphire was silent. Ginger was right. She didn't have any proof. She'd thought that Mr. Aquino could have figured all that out later... but if these people were as shadowy and powerfully connected as they implied, maybe there wouldn't be any evidence to find.
Ginger found her shoes on the floor in front of her; she put them on and stood up. She seemed to tower over her younger adversary.
"What, this was your big plan, come barging in here and shout 'you're all under arrest?' That's the problem with you amateur hero types. All action, no planning. What are you going to do now? Kill us all in a fit of rage over the death of your mother?"
"You killed her," Sapphire repeated, feeling disoriented. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go...
"How do you know who killed her? Did you see it happen? Were you there when she died? Or did you just take the word of someone you hardly even know, someone who's already lied to you about who he is and what he wants from you? How do you know your handsome online lover Scott didn't kill your mom? Scott isn't even his real name; it's Eric Lockwell. He worked for me until he stole the sapphires and disappeared. Sure, we took your mom hostage; as far as we knew, you were working with him; we needed leverage to get you to give up the sapphires before anyone else got hurt. But why would we kill her? You don't kill a hostage, that's just stupid. Think about it! We had no reason to kill her; Eric had every reason. Maybe he did it just to get her out of the way because he knew your mom wouldn't take too kindly to a forty-year-old man banging her daughter. Or maybe he set us up so that you'd come here and kill us all in a fit of blind vengeance -- that way the only people who can catch him, the only people who even know he exists are all dead, and he gets off scot free, pardon the pun, with the most powerful weapon in the world at his disposal. And he leaves you behind to take the fall. It's a brilliant plan. All it takes is a little wooing of a sweet girl from the suburbs. Who cares what happens to her?"
Ginger leaned into Sapphire. "Face it, you little wannabe Supergirl. You are in over your head. We didn't just spring forth from some corny Saturday morning cartoon, sweetie. We're professionals. We're here to do a job. We're here to clean up a mess -- a mess that *you* made." She punctuated her point with syllabic finger jabbing into the young woman's chest. "You should be *thanking* me for *saving* *your* *ass*."
Sapphire was torn. She *knew* Ginger was responsible; even if she hadn't pulled the trigger. But the things she'd said about Scott, er, Eric... it was true, Sapphire didn't really know anything about him. And things were certainly a mess. No, they were beyond that; her life had been nothing but a nightmare ever since Scott had sent her that damned package.
Ginger pressed her advantage. "Do you have any idea how many laws you've broken? Assault with a deadly weapon. Illegal search and seizure." She ran up a count of the offenses on her fingers. "Unlawful detainment. Willful destruction of property. Possession of stolen property. Operating in public airspace without filing a flight plan. Flying without a license." Sapphire had to take a step back to keep from being knocked over as the taller woman leaned into her. "And that's on top of the dozen people who seem to have turned up dead under suspicious circumstances after crossing your path. You see, the people of this city won't rest until they've found someone to blame. It's always about finding fault. And with Black Widow out of the picture, the blame is going to fall on *you*, little Missy." Ginger jabbed Sapphire in the chest again, pushing her back another step; the young heroine was halfway across the room now. "Which is where it should be in the first place, isn't it? Since it's your own *stupidity* that lost half the fucking stones in the first place. I had to fix that for you -- that's right, it wasn't Bates who killed Black Widow, it was me. And now it's time to solve the original problem -- you. So if you don't mind, why don't you take off those gaudy baubles and hand them over and just maybe, if you're lucky, I can fix this mess so that you don't spend the rest of your life behind bars."
Sapphire felt the wall behind her -- and terrific guilt crushing down on her. This woman was right. How could I have been so stupid? I *should* give up the sapphires.
But one thing wasn't certain.
"What are you going to do with them?"
"That's none of your concern."
"They're dangerous. I won't give them up until I know how they're gonna get used."
Ginger shrugged; this was going better than she could have hoped. She was about to *talk* this stupid girl right out of her sapphires -- without any collateral. "If it makes you feel better, the sapphires are going straight back to Washington, where a team of scientists in a top-secret lab is waiting to study them. The military is interested in their application as a defensive weapon against terrorist attack." Ginger congratulated herself on such a jingoistic lie.
"First I want you to help me bring my mom's killer to justice."
"I've already taken care of that. Eric Lockwell is being dealt with as we speak."
"No. No more killing. I want him to stand trial."
"That's impossible. He'll talk about the sapphires. No one can know they exist; don't you get that?"
"But-"
"Look, I'll make sure the police find out he did it. I'll give them his gun. But he has to disappear. That has to be good enough."
"And my house. You blew up my house."
Jesus, what was with the conditions? "Fine. We'll get you a new house. A nice new house in a nice new neighborhood. I'll even throw in a new car, all right? A cute little Miata -- sapphire blue, of course. Now, hand over the sapphires while I can still help you."
Sapphire's eyes narrowed. She took a step forward, right into the older woman, knocking her off balance. "I'm not giving them to you. I don't trust you. Maybe you didn't kill my mom, but you're still a bitch. I want someone else. Someone with authority, who can put all this in writing, who can prove you're all who you say you are."
Ginger cursed to herself. Fuck. Things were going well until Miss Do Gooder here had to pull the 'let me see some ID' shit. I don't have time for this. The other team could be here as soon as tomorrow.
Ginger mounted a bluff.
"No deal. You give me the sapphires now, or I call in Special Forces and they take you by force."
"Fine. Maybe I can reason with *them.*"
"You don't reason with the military. They'll kill you."
"They'll try."
"What, you think we don't know how to subdue you? You think you're invulnerable? Don't be so naive. We know all your weaknesses. We know how to disable your powers."
Sapphire immediately thought of the Hunter; she shivered. Maybe he was working with them. Maybe he'd been the one to kill Black Widow.
But if they knew all about the sapphires, why would they have sent a half-dozen agents with nothing more than a few guns to her house? And why would they have been so surprised to get their butts kicked by a girl?
And if the government wanted something so powerful to be kept secret, why bother with taking hostages and making deals? She'd seen enough movies; secrets like this were kept by killing anyone who found out.
No, they didn't know how to stop her. Sapphire had caught Ginger in a lie.
"You know how to disable my powers? Do it."
"It'll kill you," Ginger probed.
"I don't believe you." She crossed her arms emphatically over her chest.
"Look, it doesn't have to end this way. Just hand over the sapphires. It's still not too late."
"Make me."
"'Make me?' Are you for real? What is this, junior high?"
Sapphire stood resolute, hands on hips.
"Fine," Ginger said, exasperated. "Hand over the sapphires... or else."
"Or else what?"
"Do you have any idea who you're dealing with? Didn't Eric warn you not to fuck with me? Face it, you're way out of your league. You're just a stupid little girl. You don't have the experience or the intelligence or the training to amount to anything."
A spark of remembered conversations struck Sapphire. This was Eric's boss. His old flame. He'd lied about so much -- well, basically everything -- but he'd been telling the truth about her. She *was* an egomaniacal bitch. Well, this bitch didn't know who *she* was dealing with!
"I'm not scared of you. From what Eric told me, most of your experience and training happened while you were flat on your back."
Smack! Sapphire heard more than felt the blow, but it stunned her nonetheless. The sound of the slap echoed through the room; Ginger's men couldn't believe it.
Ginger grimaced, holding her own hand. That was stupid, she told herself; you could have broken your hand. But she steeled herself through the pain; she wasn't going to let this little tramp get the best of her.
"That washed-up playboy has no idea what I'm capable of. And neither do you. I knew you couldn't take on the Black Widow, so I killed that man-hating bitch myself. Nobody else, just me. That's right -- don't look so surprised. I may not have the secret to your powers but I know how to find human weakness and exploit it. Your weakness was your mother. Black Widow's weakness was Gerald Bates. It didn't take much to get him to cooperate."
"Is there anybody you're *not* fucking?"
"I didn't fuck him." Not lately, anyway. "And you should talk. Between you and your arachnidian adversary I doubt there's a straight dick in the entire city that hasn't had a taste of the blue goo. That's the problem with you teenagers, you spread 'em for any cute stud instead of using your gifts to your best advantage."
One of the more sinister-looking men spoke. "She gets it from her mother. That old broad wouldn't stop begging for it the whole time we were with her."
Sapphire let loose a furious blast that sent the man flying across the room, slamming against the wall to collect in a floppy heap in the corner.
Her rage surged. She was about to deal a death blow to Ginger when she was asked a curious question.
"Aren't you the least bit curious why we're not afraid of you?" Her men had a 'speak for yourself' look but she was on a roll. "God, you're stupid. You better get with the program. Maybe I can't hurt you, but I can continue to hurt the people you love. You've already lost your dear mother."
"She was all I had. You've taken everything," Sapphire said, choking back emotion. "There's no one left for you to hurt."
"What about your little boyfriend?"
Sapphire felt ill.
"I don't believe you," the heroine protested; but she lacked conviction, and Ginger could smell it.
"Suit yourself. How about I bring you a finger? Would you believe me then? He's left-handed, isn't he? Johnson, go bring me Ricky's left pinkie. No, wait. Bring me his left ring finger. Then he can't draw *or* get married."
Sapphire's heart fell. "Please don't hurt Ricky," she said, barely a whisper.
"Oooh, please don't hurt little Ricky!" Ginger mocked with a girly-girl squeal. She pranced in a circle around the heroine, playing up a scathing charicature. "I'll do anything you want, just don't hurt him!"
Sapphire gave Ginger a glowering but vulnerable look. She was at this woman's mercy.
Ginger stepped right up to the smaller girl, grabbing her by the chin. "Say it," she hissed.
Sapphire's voice was barely above a whisper. "I'll do anything you want," she sobbed, "just don't hurt him."
"Ahh, the helplessness of innocent sacrifice. Now *that's* more like it!" Ginger said, rubbing her hands together in an expression of maniacal glee. But she suddenly frowned. "Actually, that's *not* more like it." She turned with a dramatic flair. "From what I've been reading about you, your crown is a little tarnished." Ginger flicked a finger at the tiara in Sapphire's hair as she circled her prey, watching with satisfaction the conflict play out over the girl's face as she started and then suppressed reaction. "From what I've been reading, you're far removed from the sweet girlfriend with the righteous puritain superhero alter-ego. From what I've been told, you're a lot more like your cross-town rival than you'd like to admit."
Ginger relished the look of surprised denial on the heroine's face. "Oh, don't play the innocent with me. I know better. This naive suburban schoolgirl thing is just a facade." She leaned in close to her prey's ear to whisper, "that means you're faking," taking the opportunity to denigrate Sapphire's intelligence as well as her virture. "Maybe little Ricky thinks you're a good girl -- maybe he even thinks you're a virgin!" Ginger almost laughed at the thought. "But we know better, don't we?" Ginger stopped circling, standing behind and to the side of the superheroine, reaching around to gently trace her fingers up Sapphire's gently curving form, flipping up both her skirt and her top slightly before letting them fall. "We know you don't dress like a slut merely to distract the enemy. You don't just show off your hot little body for its effect on others. You do it for its effect on you."
"That's not true," Sapphire said softly, compelled but afraid to defend herself.
"Oh really? Why do you do it then?"
Sapphire said nothing; as awful as it felt to be thought a tart, she couldn't reveal the extent of her weakness.
Ginger thought she felt a little tremble in the girl; she smiled wickedly as she quickly withdrew, resuming her stalking circle.
"You used to think you're different from other girls. You'd look at the way the popular girls in school flaunt themselves in front of boys. You'd hear their stories in the locker room about giving it up for the captain of the football team. You used to tell yourself you're better than them. *You* won't use sex as a weapon to get what you want. You won't sink to their level. You won't degrade yourself. You won't succumb to the pleasures of the flesh. You've got a level head and a bright future. You're going to make something of yourself. You're in control of your body, not the other way around.
"But you don't tell yourself that anymore, do you? Maybe it was in the back seat of a Buick, or on Josh's couch while his parents were seeing a show. The first time didn't even feel good, but you were compelled to try it again -- something everybody warns you not to try has to be good, doesn't it? And before long you found the call of the wild irresistable, didn't you? But what to do? You can't disappoint your dear mother. You can't give all those other girls the satisfaction of knowing that you're just like them -- no, worse than them. So you push those feelings deep down inside you, hoping that your nightly D-Cell sessions will keep the beast at bay long enough to keep up daytime appearances."
Johnson looked on. Ginger seemed to have Sapphire's number; somehow, she'd tapped into the younger woman's psyche and was drawing it out, with a surprising, venomous passion. Johnson wondered if perhaps Ginger's tirade might be a little autobiographical.
Ginger stopped circling suddenly, snapping to face Sapphire. "And then salvation comes! Just when you think you're going to lose control, a handsome man comes along. Not a boy, a real man, an older man, a sophisticated man." Ginger began to pace back and forth; Sapphire's eyes followed the older woman's form, uncertain fear arising from the fact that this woman could have stripped her of her sapphires and shot her dead, but instead chose to assault her verbally. The bewildering behavior underscored Sapphire's sense of utter powerlessness, rooting her to the spot.
"Scott Phillips, globetrotting business executive, successful and good-looking and witty and charming. He could have any woman in the world, and he wants *you*. He's attracted to your innocence, your suggestive good girl flirtations, but even better, he encourages your sexy side. He doesn't call you a dirty slut. He tells you that your urges are natural and healthy and nothing to be ashamed of. And so the flirting goes further, but it's all make-believe; liberating yet secure, helpless yet harmless. You become whatever he wants -- whatever *you* want -- without fear of discovery or reprisal. And through it all, your cyberlover builds you up. You're smart. You're beautiful. You're sexy. You're strong. He has you wishing you could be more than the sweet little schoolgirl everyone else sees. He has you wishing your online life could replace your real life. He has you wrapped around his little finger. He could have you whenever he wanted you, all he had to do was show up on your doorstep and whisk you away from your so-called life.
"It's what was supposed to happen. But it didn't. Your knight in shining armor didn't come to claim his princess. But he did send you a gift. A consolation prize for not being able to break away from his busy life, a temporary condition he swears he'll more than make up for when his ogre of a boss finally lets him take a vacation. A gift. A lavish gift. A gift of love and admiration and commitment. The last thing you'd expect, and exactly what you most wanted. That you couldn't possibly wear such adult extravagances only served to emphasize how childish and ordinary life with school and friends and mom really was. On the surface it was just a reinforcement of all the things he'd been telling you -- your beauty, your allure, your maturity.
"But it went far beyond the power of woman, to something far more extraordinary. Suddenly what he'd told you *was* true. You *were* strong. He'd given you unbelieveable power. It amazed you, it excited you, it scared you. And like all good little girls who were shielded from the harshness of the big world, who were told that the bad things you saw were just temporary problems, momentary afflictions that good people like you had the power to fix, you put two and two together and found your calling. *You* would set the world straight! *You* would keep bad things from happening to good people! You would make a *difference*! This man who'd empowered you was right; it was time to free yourself from the shackles of mediocrity and take your place among the extraordinary, lift yourself above all those petty things you used to secretly covet.
"And everything changes, doesn't it? You truly *are* different now. You have a power, a grand destiny to fulfill, one that other girls could scarcely dream of. You can make a difference! Your attempts are pathetically small-minded and short-sighted, but you still see a glimmer of potential. And it revives you, it lifts you out of the doldrums of being just another average-looking teenager living in an average suburban house with decidedly average prospects for the future. You're reborn, filled with wonder and promise and determination, eager to shed your boring old self and embrace greatness.
"But there's a problem. There are some things of life before Scott that you just can't shake. Indeed, some feelings become stronger. You'd thought that Scott had helped you conquer and control your sexuality, but now you see that he's only made things worse. A heroine should be above such human frailties as selfishness and sexual appetite, but you are not. Your weakness grows with your strength. The more you prove yourself a superheroine, a symbol of all that is good and pure, the more your own invincibility emasculates you. The more you carry the mantle of feminine might, the more you long to have it taken from you. What was simple sexual need before becomes twisted into a desire to be dominated. Your very success, what little of it there is, makes you feel inadequate, unworthy, unfit for the power bestowed upon you. You fear exposure as a fraud, and this very fear drives you to behavior that virtually guarantees such hubris." Ginger was far too fired up to recognize another opportunity to belittle her victim's intelligence; Sapphire for her part was too afraid to ask.
"And the irony of your situation is that your alter ego became the one thing that could less afford scandal than you could. Look at the public outcry against the Black Widow. She's chosen almost the same path as you have -- okay, so she kills the baddies instead of merely boxing them about the ears, but since most of your own adversaries eventually wound up dead anyway, what's the difference? But she chose to send a message -- that male sexual predation was not acceptable -- and instead of being lauded for it, instead of being a hero to womankind, she was hunted like an animal. Typical male-dominated society just can't stand a powerful woman -- not unless she's suitably neutered and harmless looking, like you, dear. So, instead of the freedom of anonymity, instead of an outlet for your sexual frustrations, you unwittingly constructed an even more stifling prison than your conservative good-girl background.
"So after a hard day making a slut costume, and a hard night wearing it, you spend the wee hours of the morning thrashing about on your bed ripping it off in some one-woman show called Fuck Me, I'm Helpless."
Sapphire turned pale. "How do you..." she cut herself short, realizing too late that she'd admitted Ginger was right.
Not that it mattered. "How do I know? Hell-lo, McFly!" Ginger rapped her knuckles hard on Sapphire's forehead; the heroine cringed but made no move to stop her. When Ginger finished, Sapphire's frightened eyes conveyed confusion. "What, nothing? Haven't you seen Back To The Future? Don't you get TBS? Jesus!"
Ginger returned to the matter at hand. "How do I know? I know because we've been watching your house. I have to admit, the Super Girly rape fantasy didn't make a whole lot of sense to me until after your little demonstration when we showed up to collect, but I didn't have all the facts then; you're not the only stupid person I have to deal with." She rolled her eyes in Rosewood's direction; he grunted.
"But it's not just a fantasy with you, is it? It's an obsession. It's what drives you. It wasn't enough to twiddle yourself while your Ken doll watched, so you put yourself in harm's way, and you let yourself lose. Oh, don't give me that 'how could she know' look, missy. It's obvious once you know what to look for. The QuickMart duo was apprehended, but the boys behind the club were never identified -- why was that? Then the serial rapist you caught in the park -- I heard you were his favorite, even though you crippled him. Maybe *because* you crippled him. I guess he's not the only one who's conflicted about it. Then there's the article buried in that Saturday edition of the paper about street toughs who were beat up by a hooker -- most people assumed it was your sinister sister-in-arms, but she wouldn't have let them live. And one of my agents saw you get stopped by a cop and said you practically begged him to show you his nightstick. I bet you even got a little action from Mr. Quarterback, didn't you?
"It's a shame I wasn't here to see you mix it up with the Black Widow. Given a few more minutes I bet she would have kicked your ass. And I bet you would have liked it, too. She swings both ways, you know. Well, I should say, she swung both ways. I could smell it on her. Like I can smell it on you. She smelled it on you too, didn't she? I bet if she hadn't been interrupted she would have beaten you, stripped you, and pussy-fucked you until you couldn't stand.
"Lucky for you your boyfriend was there to bail you out. How lucky indeed," Ginger said with not a little sarcasm. "Yes, good little Ricky Aquino. He saved you from yourself. A tender young lad of sixteen -- quite the cradle-robber, aren't you? -- who just thinks the world of you. He told the whole world about how you saved him and everyone else and almost captured the Black Widow. What a romantic! It wasn't hard to read between the lines to understand what really happened. The footage Bates turned over from the one camera you managed not to bust up didn't hurt either. You were a goner until he stepped in. Such an innocent boy -- it's a shame he doesn't understand exactly how Black Widow had you pinned. Or maybe he just refuses to acknowledge the seamy side of Sapphire. You should see the website he's built -- it's a Sapphire Shrine, dedicated to Oak Valley's champion, a young woman who stands for truth, justice, and all that crap. A righteous, virtuous superheroine. He goes on and on about your exploits in the message boards -- sanitized, of course. And the pictures! A person would think you were some kind of angel from heaven the way he draws you. Nobody looks that good, believe me. Not even me. Art bestowing perfection on the unworthy. Talent utterly wasted on the banal. He might as well have drawn you in a habit. (That's the funny hat that nuns wear.) God. The whole site was so sickly sweet I got a cavity just looking at it.
"Yes, you've put quite the spell on him. It's too bad you broke up with him, maybe he could have scratched your itch and kept you out of trouble. Did you do it just to protect your secret identity, or was it a lame attempt to protect him? You shouldn't have bothered -- a boy like that gets worked up, he has to have an outlet. You should know something about that. Sweet irony that after Angela Barrett crushed his heart he chose the mighty Sapphire as a surrogate. The unattainable, perfect Sapphire, a priceless jewel, a woman he could never have. Of course, he'd already had you. Or could have had you, if only you'd shared your proclivity for being taken by force. What a sixteen year old male wouldn't give for a girlfriend with your problem! You could have hung up the stones and lived happily ever after.
Then again, a boy like that, with a strict father and a religious upbringing, maybe he'd be so horrified to know the truth he wouldn't want to have anything to do with you." Ginger let the observation hang in the air like a threat.
"And so you continue to live two lives. One life, you're Angela Barrett, sales girl for a respectable fabric store. You have a social security number, you pay your taxes, and you... help your mother carry out the garbage. The other life is lived on the rooftops at night, where you go by the heroine alias 'Sapphire' and spend as much time fucking criminals as catching them. One of these lives has a future, and one of them does not."
The men all did a double-take. Did Ginger know she was practically quoting from a movie?
"As Sapphire, you're just a little hussy, prancing about town wearing next to nothing. You're not a superheroine, just a super tease." Ginger noticed the way Sapphire's nipples poked wantonly through the flimsy material of her blouse; the girl's skin became flushed. My, she was easy to master. "Or maybe super slut," Ginger continued. "It makes you hot thinking about all the men who can't have you, doesn't it? But it makes you even hotter thinking about the men who *take* you. Not to mention the women."
Ginger moved in from behind, her mouth next to Sapphire's ear. "How does it feel, standing there, with all that power, and yet totally helpless?"
Sapphire's lips parted slightly, as if to voice protest, but she remained silent. Ginger resumed circling.
"Even now, so soon after blowing into this room like a storm of justice, you stand before me, eagerly anticipating the moment of your final surrender, and wishing that there was something more than a simple defrocking. You want to give me the stones; you've wanted to give them up ever since you got them. But you want much more than that. You want to be dominated, humiliated, broken, reduced to a quivering puddle of sexually-sated shame. Only by wallowing in the domination and destruction of your superheroine self do you hope to kill both of the demons that haunt you and return to that simple, normal life you'd so eagerly abandoned. As long as the boy doesn't find out, everything just might turn out all right."
Ginger stopped again, stepping right up to Sapphire who nearly wilted in the stronger woman's presence.
"So what do you think, princess? Am I close?"
Sapphire stood, silent, her head hanging in shame. Ginger watched as a tear slid down the girl's cheek.
"Don't just give me that hangdog look. When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it!" She raised her hand to strike the smaller woman, and Sapphire flinched; but Ginger held back, the pain of her first blow still coursing through her hand.
"That's not who I am," Sapphire finally answered, looking up at her tormentor. But as Ginger held her gaze, Sapphire had to look away.
"No? Then tell me how this feels?" A hand suddenly wedged itself between Sapphire's legs, middle finger pressing into her vulva, thumb folded over and pressing against her bud. The unexpected contact made her shiver. No one, not even Josh, had been so uncaringly heavy-handed, so direct in their violation. Even with the lowliest criminal she'd ever faced, she'd always seen their crude advances coming. Except once: against the Black Widow. And it had almost been her undoing.
Now, facing this new threat, a woman who compared to the Black Widow was older, smaller, more feminine, and without the benefit of any supernatural force, who had nonetheless already vanquished the naive superheroine and had just laid bare her weakness -- now Sapphire felt a rising tide of helpless lust beyond any she could have imagined.
Now with a single touch she knew what it was like to be dominated.
And yet she knew this was the beginning of her surrender, not the end. And she knew that despite herself she welcomed it.
"There's just one problem, sweetie. Do you think things can ever go back to the way they were? Do you think anyone will ever look at you the same? Do you honestly believe that no one will ever know that Sapphire is really Angela Barrett?" Ginger's other hand roamed freely over the inflamed girl's body, gentle, tickling touches alternating with possessive dehumanizing grabs; such manhandling would have turned a normal girl off like a switch, but on the humiliated heroine the effect was devastating.
"It took long enough for you to figure it out," Sapphire protested, her weakening resolve diffusing any withering effect her comeback might have otherwise had.
"And you think I'd keep your secret?"
"B-but you... you said... no one could know..." Sapphire said breathlessly, her eyelids beginning to flutter at the insistent pleasuring of Ginger's fingers.
"Oh but I have to tell someone," Ginger said with mocking enthusiasm. "I'd just *die* if I had to keep it all inside! Maybe if I just told one person. Don't tell me you never wanted to tell anyone. I mean, just look at you! Don't you wish you could tell people who you are?" Ginger's sarcasm cut deeply. "Isn't there anyone, not even one person?" Sapphire shook her head vigorously, interrupted by a gasp of unbidden pleasure as she felt her flimsy panties pressed deep between her floating lips. "Oooh, I know who we can tell! Let's tell Ricky!" Sapphire's eyes pleaded with the evil woman who so unscrupulously lorded the heroine's weakness over her.
Ginger withdrew her ministrations and stepped back, looking over to Johnson. "Yes, let's tell him right now!" Johnson gave her a look; what the hell? "No, even better, let's show him!"
"No!" Sapphire heard herself cry.
"No?!?" Ginger leaped back to her prey with alarming speed and aggression. She produced a slender leather belt from somewhere and, before Sapphire could even think to react, brought it down across the heroine's scarcely-covered ass.
Sapphire squealed and jumped forward in surprise, nearly losing her balance before the steadying force of her gemstones made solid her footing.
"Oh, will you look at that," Ginger said, cross. "I've gone and put a little hole in your lovely little skirt. We'd better take that off." Ginger came around her captive heroine and looked her in the eyes, nodding with a cruel facetious helpfulness. "You're going to need it later; we mustn't mess it up."
Sapphire's pleading, desperate look was priceless. She was about to be stripped by this woman in front of these men. Her cheeks burned crimson.
Without another word, Ginger tugged the skirt down the helpless girl's legs; it pooled around her feet. "Oh, look! Matching underwear!" Again she surfaced to taunt her prey face to face. "You simply *must* tell me who your tailor is." In a moment the panties caressed her ankles.
Ginger grabbed the lower edge of Sapphire's top. "Arms up," she said cheerfully. When Sapphire didn't respond, Ginger grabbed a nipple through the material and twisted it cruelly; Sapphire withered in agonizing ecstacy; how could her forcefield be so useless against a sexual attack unless simple sexual gratification had been its intent? "Arms up!" Ginger hissed. Sapphire complied meekly. In a moment the top had joined its companions as a puddle of delicate fabric.
Ginger touched Sapphire's ankle; the gesture was understood as the humiliated heroine weakly lifted one foot and then the other, allowing the removal of the last scant vestiges of her modesty.
Ginger made a show of folding the delicate garments into neat little bundles. "Everything you wear is so frilly and feminine and flirty. It really is a marvelous look for you," she taunted as she crossed the room and handed the little squares to Johnson, who seemed unsure of how to hold them. After a few awkward moments, the man set them down on the floor next to the busted door before resuming his vigilant observation of his employer's atrocious revelry.
"There now, that's better, isn't it?" Ginger said with scathing tenderness. Her fingers delicately traced up and down the nude girl's quivering body. Sapphire began to cry, tiny, silent sobs freeing lonely tears.
"Oh, honey, don't cry," Ginger almost whispered. "I said, don't cry!" she yelled, her voice piercing the room. Again the sting of the belt, humiliation more than pain doing damage to an already fragile psyche. Sapphire did her best to straighten up and blink back her tears, but try as she might, they wouldn't stop flowing.
"Christ, what a baby," Ginger groaned as she positioned herself behind her captive, turning the girl so that Johnson could stare at her full-on. Sapphire's chin touched her chest as she sagged back against the woman who seemed to own her. "You probably cried like this when your first boyfriend popped your cherry. Fucking slut still acts like a virgin," Ginger said to Johnson, "I think you'll like her." She grabbed a handful of Sapphire's hair, pulling her head up and forcing her to look at Johnson. "Come on, honey, show Johnson here how much you hate this rough treatment." Sapphire's eyelids fluttered as Ginger renewed her sweet dextrous assault between the folds of the younger woman's sex, now glistening and baldly exposed. Sapphire's chest heaved with the effort of fast, shallow breaths; the utter humiliation was the cumulation of all her darkest fears... and most desperate hopes. She wouldn't last much longer.
Johnson looked on, amazement and arousal beginning to overcome practiced detatchment. Ginger looked for all the world like a virtuoso playing an instrument, the passion of her playing reflected in the way her look of intense concentration broke more frequently to an expression of satisfied joy.
Ginger felt her own heart race; the tempo of her breath rose in concert with the intensity of her touch on sweet skin. Breaking this girl, bringing low such a mighty force with nothing but sharp words and a soft touch... it was more than fun, more than exciting. It was arousing.
But to bring the distressed damsel to blessed release was not the ultimate expression of domination. To show her the edge and then pull her away was a much tastier dish. Besides, Ginger had learned enough about the girl's featherweight sexual trigger; it was time to move on to other areas of study.
Ginger suddenly stepped back, abandoning her sex-puppet to collapse in a pile of naked frustration. "What a slut," she said, disgusted.
"Uhh, Ginger..." Rosewood said nervously.
"Shut up, Rosewood, I know what I'm doing." She looked around the room; her men were transfixed. "All right, you've seen enough. You've got work to do, you best get to it."
Johnson remained. Ginger now assigned him the task that had already been their implicit understanding, made explicit now only to remind Sapphire of her place. "Johnson, if she so much as touches me, signal Johnson to kill the boy."
Sapphire saw through her tears a pair of legs move away from her, twin predators no doubt off in search of another means of humiliation. She heard Ginger's voice cut through the fog of her ebbing sexual frustration. "I'm gonna take this little bitch down a peg or two. I want to see where her limits are." She heard a hollow thud followed by a metallic ping as her tormentor fished something out of an equipment case.
A cruel grip yanked her upright by her elbow. "Stand up, slut." Sapphire stood, head down, shoulders slumped, drained and defeated, still vaguely aroused but too mortified to touch herself, no longer curious what her cruel master might be doing behind her.
Nothing could have prepared her for what was to come.
A terrific blow belted Sapphire across her back, rocketing her forward, leaving a brief optic shower of blue-white luminescence in her wake. It felt as if a bomb had gone off behind her. And it *hurt*.
She stumbled forward, hands out in front of her as her feet rushed to catch up, finally tumbling and rolling on the couch. The stunned superheroine looked up, blinking her eyes in shock and disbelief.
Ginger stood over her, wearing heavy gloves and wielding a long blackened crowbar.
Sapphire backed herself over the arm of the couch, standing unsteadily, feet moving back in small, uncertain steps, hands raised in front of her chest, both to hide them from leering eyes and protect herself from the unimagined menace wielded before her.
"I'm through letting you push me around. Let's see how *you* like getting the shit hammered out of you."
Johnson's tone was cautionary. "Ginger..."
Ginger craned her neck around to inspect Sapphire's backside. There was no blood, no bruising, no swelling. A hit that hard on an unsuspecting target should have crippled the girl, but she was still standing.
But the look in Sapphire's eyes told the real story.
Ginger sneered. "Relax, Johnson. Maybe it won't leave a mark, but I bet it still hurts. Let's find out."
The end of the crowbar was ablur with wicked speed. Each blow bounced grotesquely, percussive trauma inflicted to the strobe of bright blue light. Forearms, shoulders, torso, backside, legs, blows rained down on Sapphire from everywhere, and no stumbling retreat could escape them.
Ginger followed Sapphire around the room, Sapphire backing feebly away, Ginger smacking her with the crowbar as she advanced. "S-Stop it," Sapphire finally squealed.
Ginger paused, the end of the crowbar dancing up and down in a deadly rhythm. "Or what?"
They both knew the answer.
"Y-you can't hurt me," Sapphire stammered, betrayed by the fear in her eyes.
"Why don't I believe you?"
Ginger raised the crowbar above her head. Sapphire shrieked, hands flying up to protect her head. An involuntary, unfocused blast struck Ginger over her chest, face, and arms, knocking her back and wresting the weapon from her grip.
Ginger coughed and spat, more surprised than hurt. She picked herself up, rhythmically squeezing the crowbar in both hands like a golfer adjusting her grip.
Her voice was low and hateful. "Do that again, and I'll use this on your boyfriend."
The depths of the woman's evil chilled the room.
Ginger wound up a roundhouse swing, the crowbar smashing into Sapphire's midsection, sending her staggering back and down to a knee, gasping for breath.
"And the crowd goes wild!" Ginger said, raising her hands in the air as she mimed a trip around the bases.
Sapphire felt broken. Her whole body screamed with pain. She couldn't believe she wasn't dead, or paralyzed, or coughing blood. She'd never felt so raw. Or so vulnerable. The sapphires seemed to protect her on the surface, but the searing hurt from the blows she was able to sustain was a torture no one could be meant to suffer.
She wanted to fall to the floor, pass out, give up, end this nightmare. Her body begged her to quit.
But if this monster was going to unleash her rage, Sapphire could not let it leave this room.
Not while she could still stand.
Not while she could still breathe.
If the beast named Ginger thought that the limits of her cruelty exceeded Sapphire's limits of resolve, she would have to prove it.
Sapphire's hand steadied itself on her raised knee.
Slowly, deliberately, against a hurricane of hurt, the heroine pushed herself to her feet.
Ginger looked at the girl, incredulous. Though it left not a mark on her infuriatingly perfect form, the crowbar's blows obviously hurt, and not just emotionally. The heroine looked stiff; she winced with every shallow, labored breath; and she no longer put forth any effort to cover herself. By all rights she should be cowering in fear. But despite the pain, despite the beating that would surely continue, she stood.
Sapphire spoke not a word, but through the fear and confusion in her eyes shown a glimmer of defiance that said You Will Not Break Me.
Ginger took it as a challenge. And an opportunity to vent her ire upon this naive waif who'd cost her so much already, and nearly cost her everything. Who is she to defy me?
It was time to begin in earnest.
"You stole my [Whack!] *man*..." Sapphire lurched sideways, collapsing to her knees.
"...you stole my [Whack!] *jewels*..." Knocked forward; ass upended; breasts, face, and elbows scraped the carpet.
"...and you damn near [Whack!] *killed* me." Hips rocketed sideways, crashing to a gangling heap.
"Payback's a bitch, and her name is *Ginger*!"
The crowbar sang with the impact. Its horrific hollow ringing faded with Sapphire's will to resist, growing silent against a background of frightened sobs.
Ginger paused. Johnson stepped forward, expecting to gather up the undamaged-yet-dismantled bundle of heaving limbs now that the beating was over.
But Ginger was just catching her breath.
The crowbar rang, again and again. Ginger's hands buzzed with every impact, but her rage squelched any sensation of pain.
Sapphire threw up her hands in mindless defense, the abused gems reacting mercifully to her instinct with a diffuse wave of force that pushed Ginger back and nearly knocked her over. Johnson stiffened, either to signal his partner or intervene on behalf of the tortured creature wailing helplessly on the floor, but Ginger waved him off.
"Get up, cunt, I'm not finished with you."
Sapphire just quivered, curled up in a defensive position.
"Get UP!" Ginger didn't articulate any particular threat. She didn't need to.
The shattered superheroine slowly stood, staggering a bit as she got to her feet, obviously dizzy.
"Why? Why are you doing this to me?" she blubbered.
The answer was pure evil. "Because I *can*."
Ginger flew into a murderous rage, hammering the heroine with blow after thundering blow, lighting the room with a sickening string of strobelike sapphiric flashes. She hated this younger, stronger, and most vexing, prettier woman. She needed to destroy her.
Ginger was vaguely aware of someone shouting at her, but her vision was tunneled, focused on the cringing, flailing, fleeing, crumpling ball of confusion that was the cumulation of everything Ginger had ever hated.
Suddenly the crowbar felt heavy, as if locked in cement. Ginger looked up to see Johnson standing over her, his white-knucled hands wrapped tightly around the weapon, eyes entreating her to stop. But when he saw her eyes, he went pale; he was surely looking into the soul of the devil herself.
Ginger wrenched the crowbar free with an animal scream, taking a defensive swing at the intruder before turning again to the thing on the floor, the infuriating fragile-looking thing that couldn't be broken, couldn't be crushed, couldn't be defeated.
It took the sound of two, then three crackling explosions to finally break her fevered fury. She looked up, gasping, the black crowbar raised over her head, crouched over the pitiful slackening wreck of a girl. Johnson's own black agent of death was pointed right at her. And she knew its next report would not be a warning.
"Remember our agreement," Johnson said evenly. "You don't hurt the girl."
Ginger blinked, taking a moment to fully retreat from her madness. "Yes, you're right. I guess I got carried away. I'm sorry. She's had enough." The crowbar went slack. Ginger grabbed a wrist and hauled the whimpering lass to her feet with a squeal.
Johnson holstered his piece; "I'll tell Johnson she's ready." He turned to leave the room.
Ginger stepped back with lightning quickness, drawing herself into a sinewy coil. The end of the crowbar rose over her head, wagging in anticipation and measurement. The air hummed with the speed of the beastly black bat as it unleashed all the energy of Ginger's taut form into a single cruel arc; a vicious, high swing connected with the side of Sapphire's head.
The room glowed hot with blinding white light.
The small girl seemed little more than a twisting skeleton, limbs trailing loosely as her body shot forward.
A glittering silver tiara drifted weightlessly away from its wearer, tumbling gracefully end over end, taking final flight until crashing into unyielding concrete hard wall, bouncing and spinning inexorably to the floor.
Johnson was a rocket streaking across the room, shoulder hammering into Ginger as if to cut the woman in two. The combined mass skipped and skidded to a stop against the wall. Ginger found Johnson's hand on her neck; middle knuckle of thumb and second finger twitched against her carteroid arteries.
"Enough!" he bellowed. "Or by God I'll snap your pretty little neck." Ginger went limp to signal her acquiescence.
Johnson shoved Ginger's head cruelly against the wall as he pushed himself up off her. In an instant he was kneeled over the nude form of the fallen sapphire princess.
Sapphire was motionless for a long moment, but Johnson's gentle touch against her neck made her awake. She spit and coughed and heaved, moving weakly to get to her knees before rolling over and collapsing on her back. Her round tits stared blankly at the ceiling, her limp legs splayed lewdly.
"Remarkable," Ginger breathed. The blow should have broken the contemptible little bitch's neck -- should have crushed her skull, or taken it clean off -- but there she was, alive and uninjured. Well, alive, at least.
"Get her up." Johnson helped the girl to her feet as gently as he could, as if holding a priceless china doll. Sapphire's head lolled forward. She threatened to collapse under her own weight; Johnson had to hold her up with an arm under her shoulder.
Ginger grabbed the limp heroine's chin. "Had enough?"
It took great effort for Sapphire to find her voice. "Please... stop," she whispered.
Ginger felt up her fallen foe, poking and prodding all over the battered body and watching the girl's face for reaction. Nothing felt broken, and there were no specific points of agony, but the young woman's whole body seemed to ache, like she'd run back-to-back marathons through the fiery pits of hell. Ginger's own hands shook from the abuse they'd taken at the other end of the crowbar.
"All right, highness, it's time to abdicate your throne." Ginger held out her palm, flexing her fingers in a "here" motion. "Hand them over."
Johnson reached for the girl's arm, but Ginger smacked his hand.
"No," she scolded. "Let her do it."
Sapphire sluggishly peeled off her left wristband, feeling the sickening, comforting warmth dim slightly. She held it out for Ginger to take it, her head bowed in exhaustion and shame.
"Look at me," Ginger tormented.
Sapphire looked up.
Tears streamed down her face as she handed Ginger first one, then the other bejeweled wristband.
"Now the shoes."
Sapphire bent down stiffly to untie the makeshift wraparound straps that for once had stayed on of their own accord. Her hands shook as she struggled with the knots. "Hurry up," Ginger commanded.
Sapphire stood again, stepping down out of the high heels. Ginger seemed to loom over her.
Angela suddenly felt very cold. And very small.
"Just so you know," Ginger said in a husky, triumphant voice, "even with the sapphires, you were never anything more than a stupid little girl."
Ginger nodded to Johnson. "She's all yours. Have fun." The man stepped forward, turning toward the door around the flawless abused girl.
"Before you take her, one last thing." Ginger moved around Johnson to stand in front of Angela one last time. The girl's eyes were teary and unfocused, signals of her retreat into some unknown purgatory inside her mind.
Ginger wound up and slapped Angela hard; so hard that the girl was loosed from Johnson's grip and went tumbling to the floor.
Ginger flexed her hand in satisfaction as she looked down at the pathetic heap of submission that was once a mighty superheroine. The girl slowly raised her head, as if with great effort; her lip was split and bleeding.
Ginger bent down to address her prisoner, shivering in mock orgasm. "Was that as good for you as it was for me?"