A story by Ceramic: ceramic762@yahoo.com

In our previous episode: “Mischief of the Night”

Lightbeam and the Vampire Princess. Syrenade’s distraction. A buzzing beacon. Two men and a little lady. Truck, Troll, and a little bit about the Beacon.

A Ravenous Ring

Doc Burnsides hated these waiting games. Not that he had any illusions about being a real superhero like the rest of them. Bullets didn’t bounce off of him even if he did wear a kevlar vest. He couldn’t put people in a stasis field so they couldn’t move. He wasn’t even a particularly fast runner, but that you could blame on his gimpy knee.

Carefully, Doc adjusted his black mask that covered his head with the exception of his goggles. Although his features were hidden, no one would mistake his pointed profile or the slight slouch that he tended to use. Like Praetorian, Doc Burnsides favored the ever vague black combat suit, but instead of the combat flexible armor that the Strange Defender’s leader wore, he was festooned with weapons, equipment and gadgets of all kinds.

Although he had little in the way of powers, what he did have made up for it all in a big way. Leaning forward on his padded mat, Doc Burnsides peered through the heavy duty scope of his Impaler .50 Caliber Sniper Rifle, courtesy of the Pentagon, of course. It was the newest and most advanced sniper rifle out there, and against most targets, even invulnerable folks, it did quite a bit of damage. Captain Mudfoot had offered to allow the military R&D scientists to test it out on him since he rarely ever took damage. The poor Captain was stuck in a military hospital for a week afterwards. Lucky thing he healed quickly.

Because of all this, he had to make due with the Military’s test equipment and newest weapons. And although he couldn’t fry people just by looking at them, he had the comfort of knowing that the weapon he was carrying at that particular moment could blow through a foot of concrete and still put a gaping hole in the bastard on the other side.

**hiss-crackle-hiss** “Doc… you there Doc? Come in Doc… you’re not sleeping are you?”

Doc Burnsides groaned and rolled his eyes. From his position upon the tall office building across the street from the Museum, he was separated from Wind Raven’s assault force. He had a microphone and headset on so they could still talk to him, but it didn’t mean they had to check in on him every minute. “Yes Bubble Girl. I am still here.”

“Okay… good,” Bubble Girl replied, “Wind Raven and Nike have checked the perimeter. Razorjaw’s boys have got the place locked up pretty good. They took control of the security center and have all the cameras on the doors working. You see anything up there?”

Doc grunted into his microphone, “No. Some movement in a couple of the windows, but nothing clear. Have they verified that Razorjaw has hostages?”

“No… not yet, they’re still waking up the curator…”

Suddenly, Doc sensed movement upon the roof of the museum building. “Wait… Bubble… someone is coming out on top of the roof…”

From the rooftop access door, two figures emerged. The first was a frumpy looking older gentleman in a security guard uniform. That the man was there was definite proof of hostages to Doc’s cynical eye. The second figure was more notable. He was a tall man, formidable and strong with broad shoulders and bulky, bunched muscles beneath a tank top and heavy cargo pants. Reflections from the police lights reflected off of the man’s shiny shaven pate, and along the metallic edge of his jaw-line. As Doc Burnsides sighted himself in, it occurred to him that even if they hadn’t met before, he would know that this was the dreaded Razorjaw. Even if his rifle shot could blow through the thickest of steel, upon Razorjaw it might at the most knock the bastard down.

Swaggering out amongst the spotlights, Razorjaw shoved the hostage forward to the edge of museum roof and looked down upon the gathered protectors of New Albion. Smiling broadly, he flashed his even rows of filed-sharp teeth for the cameras of the reporters and glared down upon the police officers with his dark red, blazing eyes. “Strange Defenders…! I know you’re out there! I know you’re the first people that the cowardly bitch mayor would have crawled to when she found out her beloved Museum was taken over. And since I’m never going to get out of here with you out there, I’ve got something to announce to you. I’ve got hostages! A ton of them.” Again he smiled like a shark, “And you know how much I hate stand-offs, so… I’m going to make you a deal. Give me and my boys safe passage out of here, and I won’t immediately start killing off any more hostages.”

Razorjaw let his words sink in to the crowd below. Then, finally, the villain added, “Praetorian, you have one hour.” Grabbing the security guard by the collar, he gave his victim a hard smile. The villain didn’t care that the man was blubbering, nor did he care that the fellow was begging for his life. Coldly, he pitched the security guard over the edge and down to the pavement below. He relished the gasp of horror from the watchers nearly as much as hearing the sickening crunch at the bottom.

Doc Burnsides growled, “Damn him…!”

“Doc…! Doc! Don’t shoot him. He has more hostages!”

“Yeah… Bubble, I know! Damn the motherfucker! Not that it would do anything to him anyways…”

Razorjaw turned around and sauntered to the rooftop access to head below. Before he entered the building however, the Supervillain paused, as if he knew he was being watched. Slowly, he turned his head to consider the tall buildings all around him.

Rising to his feet, Doc Burnsides growled quietly at the villain across the rooftops. His voice dripped with venom, “One of these days, you bastard…! I’m going to figure out how to put a bullet through your fucking head!”

The villain’s head whipped around to gaze up at Doc Burnsides’ building. Damn, the Doc had forgotten about Razorjaw’s famously keen hearing. The villain could often tell what you were thinking just by the change in your breathing patterns. Squinting, he searched for the source of the voice but could not see the hero at such a distance. Nor, did he recognize the speaker. All the same, Razorjaw was not afraid, and to show this he flashed a cocky smile to the buildings at large before disappearing down into the museum.

* * *

“We have to go in,” Wind Raven said. Surrounding her in the huddle, the rest of the assembled team listened and shook their heads. Bubble Girl, always full of energy, bounced on the balls of her feet. Syrenade, oddly enough, stood quietly and soberly as she listened to the team’s second in command. Off to the other side stood Nike and Lightbeam. Doc was still at the top of his building, and there Wind Raven had asked him to stay and keep watch.

Nike nodded and fixed the strap to her goggles. Her dark brown hair, as always, was pulled back into a tail. The goggles that she wore protected her from changes in light and bright flashes. Glancing towards the front doors, Nike said, “He’ll expect us to do something, I’m sure. We can’t let him get away, especially with all those innocents.”

Wind Raven smiled briefly, grimly to Nike, “Yes, that is so. Doc is going to take me to task because we don’t know how many men Razorjaw has.”

“Don’t forget Garrotwire,” Lightbeam added, rubbing his jaw with some familiarity, “He’s no lightweight.”

Wind Raven continued, “And Garrotwire. We’ll split up in to two groups… Lightbeam, Bubble-girl… I want you to come in from the West end. Head towards the security room… do you know where that is?”

“Yes.” comes Bubble-girl’s quick reply. Lightbeam nods solomnly

“Syrenade… Nike, you’re with me. We’re going to try to find out where they’re keeping the hostages.” The two women nod, having been given their assignments. “Okay… lets get going. Lightbeam, we’re going to give you fifteen minutes to get to that control room and prevent them from warning Razorjaw.”

“Right, Wind…” replied Lightbeam, turning about quickly, his long cape swirling. “Lets go Bubble.”

Nike straightened and looked up into the night sky, “I wish Troll and Praetorian were here.”

“So do I… But they’re not,” sighed Wind Raven. “So we must do what we can.” The buckskin clad Superheroine gazed off towards the broad windows of the museum with a measure of concern.

Behind them, a short little man approached the three remaining Superheroines. He was a frazzled little man, something like an over fed science professor. Nervous and twitchy, he unconsciously mirrored Wind Raven’s gaze as he glanced towards the museum. Finally, the man took a deep breath and screwed up his courage. “Ex… excuse me… ladies?” he fumbled.

Nike turned around and considered the man through her red goggles. Her goggles, although useful for keeping flash grenades from blinding her, also did several other things – such as have telescopic sight, lowlight vision, and heat sensors. For a moment, she gazed that the man’s curious heat signature before nodding to Wind Raven. “Windy, we have some company,” she said quietly to the second-in-command.

Wind Raven turned around, the leather tassels from her poncho and her short skirt swishing from the movement. Fixing the man with her steady gaze she said, “How can we help you sir? As you can see, there is a situation going on.”

“Yes…” replied the nervous man, “My name is Fredrick Eddigar.” He tugged at the collar of his ill fitting shirt, “I’m the… um… interim curator to the museum.”

Wind Raven frowned, her broad lips tightening, “Please to meet you Mr. Eddigar. The… Interim curator?”

“Well… yes. Interim,” the man replied, pulling a handkerchief from his coat pocket. He dabbed his brow even though the evening air was quite cool. “You see,” he continued, “Our original curator, Mr. Donahue, suddenly quit not three days ago.”

“He quit,” came the quiet reply.

“Yes miss,” Mr. Eddigar, “For no reason. Just up and quit. Are you going to save these people?”

Wind Raven frowned once more and turned her head back towards the large building, “Yes, we are. When we’re through, you and I will have to talk, Mr. Eddigar. But now, we have only a little time, before Razorjaw begins to kill his hostages.”

“Oh… yes… of course.”

Nike sighed and tightened the straps holding her goggles in place, “Yes, of course.”

* * *

Grunger looked at the monitors and watched as they scrolled through all of the security cameras in the Museum. He hated this job and would prefer being out with Razorjaw or Garrotewire down in the Museum itself. At least down there, he might have the opportunity to kill or maim someone. Or even better, fuck a Superheroine. He knew that Razorjaw has done that a few times with him being invulnerable and strong like he was.

But no, he had the lousy job of sitting up in the security office and watching for those damnable Strange Defenders. For some reason, Razorjaw thought that the superhero group might try something to save the hostages, but Grunger wasn’t sure. He personally thought they were fucked.

“Hey… deadbeat…!” came a rowdy voice from behind him. Grunger turned around in the swivel chair he was seated in to take a look at the door to the office. There, he spied Fisk coming through the door. Fisk, like Grunger, was another one of Razorjaw’s burly boys. Like every one of Razorjaw’s Bruisers, they wore a jean jacket over a white tanktop and a pale bandana about their head.

Grunger snorted, “Yeah, limp-dick? Whatcha want?”

Fisk flicked Grunger off and slapped the inside of his thighs, “Why don’t you come and suck it, boy. I know that’s what you liked to do for the lads in the pen.”

“You’re th’ only one that gets off on that sort of thing, Fisk. I’ve caught you looking at my pouch before.”

“Asshole,” replied Fisk with a dark grin. Striding forward, he says, “Razorjaw wants us to lock it up and get down to the Dinosaur hall. Since you haven’t seen anything, he thinks they must be coming in another way.”

“Great,” smiled Grunger, “I’ll be down…” The Bruiser’s smile faded slightly as something about the door to the office caught his attention. “Hey… what the hell is that?”

Fisk turned around and his eyes grew large and round, “What th’…”

There was static in the air. Arcs of electricity seemed to jump from the door and the wall like a badly damaged light socket. Snapping and crackling, ferociously, the threat of electrocution caused Fisk to take a step back away from the door.

Then, like a ghost emerging from the wall, moving wisp-like through the popping electricity, a large, white opaque sphere about six feet in diameter pushed into the room. The sphere, practically a large bubble, billowed and undulated as it seemed to seep its way into the empty space in front of the door. Fearfully, the two Bruisers backed away. “Grunger… you have to do something…! Call th’ boss. This is way too weird…”

Once inside of the room, the bubble shimmered suddenly. A rippling effect made its way from one side of the sphere to the other, until all of the sudden, the shape… popped! Silently and quickly, the sphere ceased to exist, much like when a soap bubble loses shape in the breeze. And in its place stood a tall, green-clad Asian woman with an elfin face and a lopsided smile upon her lips. Her long, green pigtails swayed menacingly like a snake as she gazed upon the two Bruisers.

Grunger gaped and stared, “Oh… Hell…”

“You stupid fool, call the Boss! They’re here…! This is one of them Strange Defenders!” cried out Fisk frantically.

Grunger nodded and turned towards the intercom. Reaching out with his hand to key the communicator switch upon the control board, the Bruiser suddenly stopped… as if frozen. Fisk, in a panic now turned to his comrade and shouted, “Call him! They’re here!” But his voice trailed away in disbelief as he saw Grunger’s still form.

Surrounding Grunger was a large bubble, solid looking, but translucent. And within it, sat Grunger with his hand outstretched but paused in time, his mouth half-open and prepared to call out warning to Razorjaw. Grunger, to Fisk’s horror, had been turned into a snow globe without the snow, unable to move or act.

“Its called a statis field,” said the woman in a disturbingly bright voice, “He’s stuck there until I release him.”

Swinging back around to the Superheroine, Fisk raised his large fists and snarled towards her, “I’m gonna beat ya to a pulp, you bitch! An’ then, I’m gonna break you in half with my bare hands…!”

“I don’t think so,” came another voice, this one from the corner of the office away from the Superheroine and the Bruiser. Turning his upraised fist away from the woman, Fisk had just enough time to see the flutter of a gold and white cape when a bright light flashed painfully in to his eyes. Crying out, he raised his palms to his face and screamed, blinded.

“Its time for you to go to sleep,” came the woman’s voice once more as Fisk fell on to his back and began to rock back and forth. Gently, his hands were raised from his sightless eyes, and then in one fell swoop, a swift and rigid hand struck him in the side of the head. Fisk fell into a blessed darkness.

* * *

“Have I ever told you that Invisibility and Intangible bubble of yours is really handy?” Lightbeam asked Bubble Girl as he crossed the security office.

Bubble Girl laughed and grinned towards Lightbeam, “Have I ever told you that you Teleporting in like that saves my ass more times than not? You didn’t laser out his eyes did you?”

“No, just a good shot of bright light. Nothing permanent… I don’t think. And my dear, I truly do like saving that ass of yours.”

“Oh, you say such sweet things. Do you tell Syrenade that too?”

“Um…”

“Just call Wind Raven in, Lightbeam,” Bubble Girl said as she leaned over the security operations board. “It looks like the main contingent of the Bruisers is gathered in the Dinosaur Hall next to that big ol’ skeleton of the Tyrannosaurus Rex. I don’t see any sign of Razorjaw or his brother around, though.”

Lightbeam shook his long hair back and lifted his Emergency Beacon to his lips, “You hear that Wind Raven?”

“Yeah, I heard it Lightbeam, keep us updated. We’re going in.” Wind Raven’s voice came through the communicator.

Snapping her communicator shut, Wind Raven turned to Nike and Syrenade. “Lets go… through the front doors. They’ve secured the Security Office.” Then, turning towards the entrance to the Museum, Wind Raven made quick strides with her long, tanned legs. The tassels along the edge of her boots swished softly as she climbed up the marble steps and stepped between the white pillars at the front of the building. Behind her, Nike and Syrenade quickened their pace to keep up.

The foyer to New Albion City’s Museum was a dusty and dark looking room, with tall cathedral-like ceilings and long tapestries and paintings that showed various points in history and historical figures in heroic poses. Wind Raven had never visited the Museum outside of her costumed life and she doubted she would ever do so on her own time again. Looking up and around the large room, she moved through one of the turnstiles that blocked the entrance into the main hall and noted with annoyance that the metal people-counter clacked in that there was one more visitor to this repository for old ‘so called’ knowledge.

“My god,” breathed Syrenade, “I don’t think I’ve been in one of these since I was in Junior High.”

“You mean, you haven’t seen the replica of my statue yet?” Nike asked innocently.

Wind Raven half turned to arch a fine eyebrow towards Nike, but it was Syrenade that giggled, “Yeah, but I couldn’t tell it was you, though. As it had no head and arms. And there were wings on its back. I don’t see any wings on your back.”

To this, the Team’s Second in Command smirked, “Okay… get serious girls. There are some people that are counting on us.” Turning about, Wind Raven strode down the main hall towards the ‘Dinosaur Room’ that Bubble-Girl had talked about.

As they moved, Wind Raven fiddled with her buckskin vest, making sure all the ties remained down. Beneath the short vest that went no further than her waist, she wore a skin-tight, white athletic tank top that exposed her midsection and seemed to barely contain her voluptuous chest. Of all of the Strange Defenders, she showed perhaps the most skin as not only her midsection was bare, but her muscular arms were as well. Armbands of brown and blue showing tribal patterns decorated her upper arms, and her bracers, backed with metal to deflect weapon attacks and to guard her wrists from her own bowstrings, had silhouettes of deer etched upon their outer surface. She was a huntress.

Wind Raven’s weapon of choice was much like her ancestor’s, the bow. Her bow, although aesthetically designed much like the weapons of old, was of modern make with tensions that were built and measured using modern technology and materials. Although slung over her shoulder, Wind Raven was adept at drawing it forth. As well, over her shoulder, she had her quiver of arrows. Some of her arrows were special, like the kind that emit smoke when they strike their target, but she had quite a few that were of the normal sort: sharp and deadly.

Over her legs, she wore a short buckskin mini-skirt with leather tassels that brushed along her smooth upper thighs as she moved through the corridors. Although not nearly as short as the sort that Allure liked to sport around, it did add to the amount of bronzed flesh that Wind Raven showed off through the course of a mission. Lastly of course was the huntress’ boots. Soft leather with hard, rubber soles and heels. From the top peeped the hilt and grip of long daggers that Wind Raven often used for short ranged combat.

As they moved down the long hall, Wind Raven idly wondered what her ancestors thought of all this history that was in the museum. More importantly, she wondered if they approved of their representation within these dull rooms. Not far away, in the distance, she saw a diorama of a Native American family standing together amongst the backdrop of the western plains. The diorama showed their expressions to be happy, but were they really? Wind Raven took an unconscious step towards that direction.

“Wind Raven,” whispered Nike as she gently touched the group leader’s shoulder, drawing her attention back to the present, “There… to the right. The Dinosaur Room.”

Nodding, Wind Raven lifted her finger to her lips and moved off to the side of the hall. Creeping along, the huntress moved silently along the wall until they reached the Dinosaur Room’s entrance. Only there did Wind Raven signal her companions to stop. Again, she lifted her finger to her lips, but instead of peeking around the corner, she dropped to her knee and cautiously put her ear to the floor of the museum.

Ever since Wind Raven young, she had been blessed with amazing senses. As a child, she often could tell, just by listening to the ground, or smelling the air, or even just by gazing at the environment around her, when someone was approaching, or more importantly where a person was going. She could never explain how she knew these things, only that she knew and she was rarely wrong. And when she was, it was never by much. There were times, even, when she could tell how many there were. Glancing up to Nike and Syrenade, she flashed her hands twice, and then held up three fingers. Twenty-three. Her companions nodded. They had been with the huntress long enough to know her ways.

Rising once more to her feet, Wind Raven drew her bow and murmured quietly to her companions. “They’re all moving about, and I can not tell if any of them are the hostages.”

“Its alright, dear,” replied Syrenade smoothly, silkily, “Let’s go.”

“Yes,” agreed Nike, unworried by the odds. They had faced worse before.

Nodding, Wind Raven drew an arrow from her quiver – one of her sharp, pointy ones – and stepped out into the Dinosaur Room beyond.

The Dinosaur Room was one of the largest rooms in the Museum and rather befitted the gigantic reptiles that the room was designed to celebrate. Here, large murals of Stegosauruses and Brontosauruses seemed to loom over any visitor, and large skeletons of Tyrannasaurus Rexes prepare themselves to engage in battle. Smaller exhibits, such as petrified dinosaur eggs, could be found here as well, but by far the pictures and the skeletal remains of the great lizards were the centerpieces of this particular room.

They were the centerpieces, but not the focus of the heroines’ attention however. For there, lounging about as if they had been expecting the women, were a group of men. Bruisers they all were, for they wore the vest and shirt of the ones that followed Razorjaw. And they were armed and ready with guns, clubs, and chains.

“Wind Raven, dear,” murmered Syrenade, “I only count twenty-two of them.”

“Could you have gotten in wrong?” asked Nike in mild disbelief.

“I… I don’t think so,” replied Wind Raven with a frown. “But, what can we do about it now?” Taking a step forward, she cleared her throat, “You there… criminals! Put down your weapons and surrender, and none of you shall be harmed!”

The Bruisers, glanced between each other. For a moment, it looked like they might have actually considered the idea. That is, until one of them in the back laughed. It was a loud and jeering laugh, “Oh yeah? We don’t have nothin’ t’ be afraid of from a few wimmens!”

“Yeah!” said another, his courage growing. “Why don’t you three surrender b’fore we all hurt you!” The rest of the Bruisers called out in agreement.

Wind Raven sighed, “Well, we tried…”

“Oh well,” grinned Nike as she cracked her knuckles. The Mistress of Victory crouched down slightly, waiting for the word from Wind Raven. Syrenade, to show her readiness smiled serenely to Wind Raven and touched her throat.

“Okay… girls, try not to kill any of them. And, Syrenade, be careful where you shout. We wouldn’t want all these ancient artifacts to come tumbling down if we can help it. Praet’s insurance is good… but I don’t want to test it if we can help it,” ordered Wind Raven pulling back her bow string, “Here we go.”

Without another word, Nike was off, charging into the center of the twenty or so Bruisers, her fists and feet flailing like a whirling dervish. She was Nike, the Mistress of Victory. None could touch her, her speed and dexterity was too quick and nimble for their clumsy swings and strikes. Cutting through the center of the Bruisers, literally dividing their large group in half, she struck with a flurry of fists at the man in the back. The fellow that had laughed so hard at the idea that they should be afraid, felt bone after bone break from Nike’s fury. And when his brutalized body staggered back from the shock and sudden pain, Nike straightened and smiled matter-a-factly, “That, sir, is why you should fear.”

But Nike was not the only one in battle. Wind Raven, rushing forward, took aim and released her arrow. Speeding forward truly, it struck the hand of one of Bruisers, piercing all the way through, and sent the handgun he had been aiming flying back into the exhibits behind him. Not waiting for the man’s reaction, the huntress drew another arrow and closed in for the kill.

Not before, however, she heard the high soprano of Syrenade’s lovely voice resonating through the room. A sonic blast can be devastating outside amongst the grass and trees, but within the closed interior of the lonely museum, the single wavering note was destructive. Glass shattered all around room. Even the large skylight that normally let sunlight in to this room during the day rained down shards amongst the combatants. The damage that the room suffered though, was nothing compared to the Bruisers that she had focusing her blast at. She had decided to aim towards one of the groups that had been bisected away by Nike. Wind Raven had chosen the left, so she chose the right. It was with great satisfaction that she managed to blast them all off of their feet, each of the dozen covering their ears in agony.

“Syrenade…!” shouted Wind Raven, “Be careful!”

“Sorry…!”

The battle raged on.

* * *

Lightbeam frowned, “We should help them.” Both he and Bubble Girl watched the monitors intently from their view in the Security Office. Both Bruisers that they had taken out were still there, one his frozen snowglobe self, the other knocked out in a heap in the corner.

Bubble Girl shook her head, “You can teleport down over there, but I can’t.”

“Maybe,” replied Lightbeam, looking uncertainly at the monitor in the Dinosaur Room. “I’ve never tried to do it indirectly like this.”

Both he and Bubble Girl leaned their head closer to watch the fight. And neither of them noticed that one of their incapacitated Bruisers was not so incapacitated any longer. He was, in fact, climbing to his feet and rubbing his eyes, gaping at his buddy that was stuck in the bubble and the two Superheroes that had ceased to remember he was there.

* * *

She was amongst them now, swatting with the length of her bow with one hand, and drawing her sharp bit of steel from her boot with the other. Wind Raven easily dodged a heavy two-handed blow from a Bruiser with a lead pipe and slapped him behind the ear to send him to the ground. Using the momentum from her dodge, she shouldered herself straight into a second Bruiser knocking him over on to his back and sending his revolver skittering along the hard surface of the museum floor.

With a scream of rage, the Bruiser reached fitfully for his lost weapon as Wind Raven smashed her weapon’s hilt up along side of his head. The battle was over for this one.

Climbing to her feet, Wind Raven watched as the remainder of the Bruisers attempted in vain to fend off her comrades. Nike, as always, was a blur of martial arts as she crashed about. And for those that managed to get out of the Mistress of Victory’s path, they had to contend with the sonic blasts of Syrenade. Pursing her lips, Wind Raven knew that the battle was almost over. But, something bothered her. Where was Razorjaw and his brother, Garrotewire?

Wind Raven closed her eyes once more and listened to the air through the grunts and the shouts of combat: The meaty smacks and the horrified groans, the shrill cries, and the lovely single and shocking notes that reverberated about the room. And there, she sensed them. A small group, through a particular doorway. There, to the left of the entrance that she came through. Down a short hall and into a small gallery. Wind Raven followed her feet and left the scene of battle.

It was a smaller room with one other exit at the far end. But, it was because of its lesser size that the room had a much more crowded feel to it. It was a room of statues. Greek replicas were placed along side modern attempts at the human form. Some were small, and some were large. And there, Wind Raven spied Nike’s namesake: the poor statue with neither head nor arms, but identified as representing the Goddess Nike to those ancient Greeks.

Upon a small raise dais, however, her gaze was drawn like a magnet. For there were the remaining hostages of museum guards that were taken by Razorjaw, six in total. And over them stood a remaining Bruiser holding an uzi, guarding them with his life. Upon seeing Wind Raven, the Bruiser hesitated a moment before pointing the muzzle at the first museum guard’s head.

Like lightning, an arrow was nocked and aimed at the Bruiser. “Put down your gun,” Wind Raven ordered quietly, “Or you shall regret it.”

The Bruiser looked like he regretted being anywhere near the hostages, however he did not take his gun away from the man’s head. Instead, his eyes flickered away from Wind Raven and the hostages to someone else in the room. Someone who laughed, long and harshly. Someone who’s voice sent a shiver of dread down Wind Raven’s spine.

Frowning, Wind Raven swiveled her gaze and aim to the source of the laughter, a tall muscle bound man sitting casually in the lap of a statue of Venus at the far end of the room. “Razorjaw… you scum,” she said, “Let these people go.”

Indeed, it was Razorjaw, the cruel and sadistic, with his filed teeth and his bald head. Stretching like a great, big cat, Razorjaw unwound himself from his seat in the lap of a statue of Venus. About his neck, he wore a small little red statue that dangled from a piece of rough twine. Wind Raven did not remember seeing it before when he threw the guard from the museum rooftops not too long ago. Razorjaw climbed lazily from Venus’ lap to his feet. “Oh my! Its Wind Raven! I had totally expected Praetorian to be there waiting for me. Not you. Where is he? I really was looking forward to a rematch.”

Wind Raven glared back at Razorjaw, fearing to move forward but unwilling to retreat from the room. “You’re waiting for him to come and beat you down again, and toss you back in to the slammer? I heard you just broke out. How’d you like it there?” she asked, her eyes flickering from the supervillain to his gun toting flunky.

Razorjaw smiled, flashing his sharp teeth towards the heroine, “A bit dull, actually. Is that what he told you? If I remember correctly, that it was *he* that was getting beaten down and the only thing that saved him was the rest of his… team… coming to his rescue.” The Supervillain’s smile slowly began to fade as he advanced towards Wind Raven at maddeningly strolling pace. “Now, where is Praetorian? Or is he going to come to your rescue?”

* * *

“Where’d Wind Raven go?” frowned Bubble Girl, “I don’t see her on the screen any longer.”

“I don’t know,” Lightbeam replied as he searched the screen, “There’s Nike… and Syrenade. But, wait… my god. Who’s that up there on top of the Tyrannosaurus’ head? Way up there on the skeleton!”

Bubble Girl squinted, “I don’t know… what’s he going to… Aaaah!”

Suddenly, from somewhere behind them, a heavy fist swing out and struck Bubble Girl in the side of the head, sending her sprawling to the ground stunned. “Take that, bitch!” roared Fisk, suddenly conscious and fighting once more.

“Bubble Girl!” cried out Lightbeam as he raised his hands to blast Fisk away, no stunning light in his eyes this time.

But, it was too late. As Bubble-Girl slowly faded out of consciousness, so did all of her stasis fields that she kept up. And quite suddenly, Grunger found himself awake… and free… and in the middle of a confusing battle that had somehow gone on without him.

“Grunger, you ass!” screamed Fisk, “Warn the Boss! Warn the Boss!”

Grunger turned towards the Security panel and reached out to push a very specific button.

* * *

“Stay away, Razorjaw,” threatened Wind Raven, backing away from the Supervillain, her arrow aimed directly at his face.

“Or what… you’re going to shoot me?” asked Razorjaw.

“Yes,” replied Wind Raven, her voice becoming shaky. She took another step back towards the door.

Suddenly a loud, metallic sound thundered through the room and repeated throughout the museum. Wind Raven could see something happening to the door at the far end of the room. Something slid in to place and with a resounding clang shook the floor. Steel security doors now blocked off all exits to the room. Red bulbs, hidden at the base of the walls, began to spin and whirl turning the room into a burlesque show of flashing lights. For the first time that evening, Wind Raven felt truly afraid

“Well well…” Razorjaw said, pausing for a moment to gaze about at the festive show, “Someone tripped off the emergency sequence and locked us all in.” His slow, feral smile spread back to his lips. “And now, there’s a big metal door between you and your friends back there, Wind Raven.”

Wind Raven swallowed hard as she let fly with her arrow. The huntress had just become the hunted.

* * *

“What the hell was that?” shouted Nike as she struck a Bruiser in the throat. Letting out a pathetic gurgling noise, the poor lackey slid to the ground and clutched helplessly with his hands. Turning about to gaze at Syrenade, she could not help but notice the swirling red lights and the steel security doors at every entrance. Even the skylight had been closed over. Suddenly, a flying movement caught her attention. Raising her hand to her teammate, she called, “Syrenade… watch out!!”

Syrenade glanced up but never saw the huge body that had hurdled itself down from the uppermost top of the Tyrannosaurus skeleton. Crashing down upon the slim woman, the man sent her to the ground. Lashing out from his hands, a long slim piece of rope snaked around Syrenade’s throat and pulled tight to choke her. Stunned, all that Syrenade could do was gasp out in pain and tug ineffectually at the rope about her throat.

Nike shouted and charged forward towards the brute that pinned Syrenade to the ground. He was a hulk, perhaps even larger than Razorjaw, but if not so then he was definitely more heavily scarred. The man, like Razorjaw, had shaved his head to a glossy gleam. And his broad shoulders fairly bristled with muscles. He too, like Razorjaw wore a white tank top, but his legs were slim and narrow in comparison to the deadly villain’s thick thighs. There was no doubt in Nike’s mind that the man before her was Razorjaw’s brother, Garrotewire.

Raising a dark eye towards the charging Nike, Garrotewire tugged the rope looped around Syrenade’s neck so that the Mistress of Victory could see her teammate’s pinched face as the woman slowly lost conscious from the lack of oxygen. Pulling the rope tighter, the villain snarled, “Back off, girlie, unless you want to see me snap your friend’s neck.”

Her chest heaving from exertion, Nike brought her fists up again to a guard position, but her eyes betrayed her worry. Before her, her teammate stood on the brink of death, a quick twist away from having her neck broken and in the hands of a Supervillain. Even worse, a Supervillain that she did not know well, for although the Strange Defenders had defeated Razorjaw before, his brother Garrotewire was an entirely different entity. And all about her, the Bruisers that she had been fighting were beginning to pick their broken bodies up from the ground and surround her. Things did not look good.

Garrotewire smiled as Nike backed away slowly from her assailants. Jerking the rope around Syrenade’s neck violently, he listened happily as the helpless heroine wheezed pathetically. “You’re friend here is beginning to choke to death. Do you surrender?”

Nike’s hands clench angrily, her muscles flexing as the situation rendered her amazing physical abilities impotent. “What do you want, Garrotewire?” she asked, eyeing the ever tightening circle around her.

Razorjaw’s brother glanced to the Bruisers that surround Nike. “Well, girlie, I think that these young men that you have slighted wish for an apology.”

The Mistress of Victory could feel the sweat beading upon her brow, but she could not brush it away. Feebly, she offered a wan smile to the men around her, “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t think that’s going to be enough, girlie,” Garrotewire replied as a low throaty growl seems to resonate from the men around Nike lustfully. “They want a bit more from you.”

Nike raised her hands once more to fend off the Bruisers, “No way.”

“Hold on there, girlie,” Garrotewire beamed, “Remember what I have here.” Once again, the rope is tightened and Syrenade gasped quietly from her prone position. At the Superheroine’s gasp, Garrotewire gazed down at his captive, “Oh… the little girlie can’t scream? That’s too bad. Now, if your friend zips down the back of that pretty jumpsuit of hers and indulges my fellows with a bit of… apology… then we’ll definitely let you live longer.”

Anger clouded Nike’s fine facial features as she watched Garrotewire slowly choke the life out of Syrenade. Finally, with her voice simmering with rage, she sighed, “Okay… you win, Garrotewire. Don’t hurt her.” Reaching behind her neck, Nike found the zipper to her body suit and began to slowly pull it down.

All around her, the Bruisers laughed as they watched the mighty Mistress of Victory disrobe before their eyes, their gaze following the fabric down each curve of her body to the flair of her hips. Angrily, she stepped out of her suit. Tossing her body suit aside she was then instructed to remove the sports bra that held her breasts in place, and then the tight, lacy panties that rested about her slim hips. Cat calls and wolf whistles echoed about the secured room raising an angry flush to the Superheroine’s cheeks.

Although not the bustiest of Superheroine’s in New Albion, Nike was nonetheless a wet dream waiting to happen. Her breasts were high, full, and firm, and her legs were long and graceful. An athlete to the extreme, she was quite flexible with a lean, knife-like body and a resilient sheen about her skin. More than one convicted felon had her poster up on their cell wall to beat off upon on the lonely nights when they couldn’t get to their bitch in the next cell to come over.

Nike barely had a chance to remove her goggles when the Bruisers fell upon her like a pack of wolves. Shouting out in defiance, she felt as each of her arms were pinned to the ground and hungry mouths and noses took in her sweaty scent and the salty taste of her skin. Groping and grasping hands caught hold of her booted ankle and slipped beneath her round ass, pinching and squeezing. As harsh laughter escaped from her tormenter’s lips, she could hear the telltale sound of sliding zippers as the men began to free their pricks from the confines of their pants.

Lifting her hips up without warning, Nike felt the first swollen dick penetrate deeply into her unlubricated pussy. Long and hard, she cried out helplessly as the meat dragged in and out of her body violently and with frenzied speed. As her booted feet were raised higher and spread apart by her brutalizer’s friends to allow her to be violated more thoroughly, Nike’s mind swirled about in a panic. She was being gang raped again! There was no way she could escape it this time with Syrenade caught as she was. And they were going to make her cum as none of them really had to hurry. She knew the stimulation was going to be too much, and there was going to be no rest.

“That’s right, boys,” Garrotewire gloated as he watched the first of the Bruisers began to ram the mighty Mistress of Victory, “Fuck that cunt like a ten buck whore.” Hearing the faint, defeated cries of heroines always gave him a hard on. By the end of all this, he knew he was going to have to fill one of those two bitches with his own seed.

Helplessly, Nike twisted as the Bruiser increased his speed. His ramrod cock felt so big as it stretched deep and rubbed her just right along the nub of her clit. “No…” she pleaded softly to the Bruisers. And then, to her horror, she felt herself being pulled upright. Using her body weight, the violent rapist pulled her down, impaling her even further upon his probing tool. Nike suppressed an erotic scream, but could not suppress the vulnerable shudder that ran down her spine.

“My turn!” shouted one of the Bruisers, turned on to the point of desperation.

“I’m not done, you fuck head!”

“No matter Wrench. Take her in the ass!”

“Yeah!”

Nike sobbed quietly as she rode the large, skewering cock, feeling the Bruisers strong hands guide her along her waist. But then, another musky presence made itself known as it took position behind her. Another pair of hands took hold upon her waist above the first pair as she felt another cock nudge at her rear entrance. “No… please…” she begged before letting out with an agonizing scream as a second Bruiser cock slammed its way into her ass. “Goddess…” she cried, “Please… stop…” But the two marauders took little pity upon the Superheroine and they began to ravage her nether regions with increasing speed. The sound of sex filled the museum room, the men’s guttural grunts mingling with Nike’s muted tears.

“Now… boys. I’m sick of her whining. Gag her,” came the order from Garrotewire.

More than one Bruiser jumped forward, eager to fulfill the demand, and a small argument broke out. No matter, they would each get their turn.

* * *

“No…! Its too big! Ahhhahhhhhh!!!”

Razorjaw smiled as he plunged his huge cock into Wind Raven’s dripping cunt. The bitch was tight. But then again, he was really big. God… she felt good. After months of man ass in prison, a Superheroine’s twitching twat was the best way to put a man into a good mood. He hadn’t felt this hard, or this big, in a long time.

Reaching forward, Razorjaw made sure the Wind Cunt’s hands were firmly pinned above her head with his large, broad hands. His bulging muscles flexed as he increased the steady pressure to hold her down. He had the huntress bent back across one of the museum’s statues: a flat, stone bench with creeping vines and a cupid standing precariously upon one end. A love seat for two perhaps? Razorjaw was going to be sure that it was going to be used.

With his other hand, he lifted her left leg up and increased his speed. Upon each thrust, Wind Raven’s sticky nectar practically exploded from her pussy, coating the Supervillain’s massive meat and soaking his dark pubic hair. He laughed as he pushed himself all the way in, feeling as the heroine desperately tried to buck away, but unable to as she was pinned in place.

“Oooh… that’s right, Wind Raven. Take it all… take it all like the bitch you are,” he cooed softly to his victim.

“Ah…! Ah! AH!” Wind Raven arched her back as she felt Razorjaw’s dick stretch her tender sheath with each thrust. It was massive, like a log being shoved painfully into her body, ramming itself deeply and relentlessly. Throwing her head back and forth, splaying her long, dark hair about the bench, she couldn’t stop him. The villain was far too strong and her body far too weak to fend him off. His monster member plumbed her depths and the tremors of an orgasmic defeat began to run up and down its length.

She had tried earlier to get away, firing arrow after arrow at the Supervillain, but the man was impervious to each attack. He didn’t even bother dodging, just letting each shot bounce harmlessly off of him. It was only a matter of time before he stunned her with a hard forearm to the throat that sent her careening into a wall. With super strength, her tore away her weapons and arrows, and tossed them aside. And now, she was being mercilessly raped in front of a group of museum guards and one flunky with an uzi.

Her legs, spread wide by the sheer width of Razorjaw’s torso, jerked and spasmed as he filled her hole again and again and again. She could see the red statue more clearly as it hung about Razorjaw’s neck. It was the statue of a tiny red bull. A minotaur to be exact as it stood on its hind legs. But such observations were fleeting as Razorjaw began to use a portion of his infamous super strength in his thrusts. With each increase in power, every penetration became more violent and jarring.

Arching her back once more, Wind Raven bit her lip and moaned. The villain had left her mostly clothed, tearing off her vest and pushing up her skintight top to expose her large tits, which his hateful eyes never left. To each powerful thrust, her beautiful buxom chest rolled and rippled like an intense aftershock from an earthquake, and the heels of her still booted feet clacked together, keeping time to the penetrations like a metronome.

Helplessly, Wind Raven closed her eyes as each pounding thrust sent her high, girlish voice echoing about the enclosed room. Between the violating slaps of her ass smacking his thighs, her youthful, wordless cries, and the spinning red lights that flooded the room, she could barely keep out the thoughts of the high priced smut video the Museum cameras must be recording. The Ravaged Wind Raven, Fucked in to Cum Induced Submission… The Movie. “Oh… ah… no… NO!” sobbed Wind Raven as Razorjaw increased his speed, sending her deliriously active mind reeling. She was conquered. “AhhhaahahahaaaahhhhHHH!” she came, her pussy seizing violently around the Razorjaw’s girth as he continued to plow her in half.

“Yeah… bitch… yeah… cum on my dick as I fuck you to death,” Razorjaw gloated, his speed undeterred by the near back-breaking orgasm that racked his Superheroine victim.

* * *

Cock after swollen cock found their way into Nike’s body. Her eyes stung from the cum that was shot into her mouth and splashed in her face. She felt like a gallon of spunk had been shot up her ass from the last beast of a man, and her slit was already on its third ride. And as the next man held up her face to slip his salty smelling burro dick down her throat, a sickening feeling began to make its way into Nike’s belly. She had been gang banged thoroughly before, but slowly she began to come to realize that she actually… liked it. The powerlessness… the domination of being vanquished by overwhelming odds. A flush crept to her pale cheeks as she could feel herself growing ever more excited as the men lined up to fuck her one after the other.

The man tool pushed towards the back of her throat as the Bruiser grabbed her hair and began to brutally give her mouth a solid fuck. Nike’s eyes rolled as she felt an excited, defenseless orgasm begin to quiver through her reamed body. She could feel each long hard penis stretch and explore every crevasse in her athletic frame, plundering her and probing her with fiery, relentless heat. Nike sobbed, her inaudible words catching in her throat, and suddenly her body stiffened as her gang fucked brain sent her into merciless bliss.

Three sets of Bruiser cocks jerked horribly as their balls emptied into the writhing Superheroine. Each pelvis thrusted in time to a syncopated, pounding rhythm. The three Bruisers rode Nike like a mechanical bull, pounding away at her cavities with abandon as they cried out their release. Exhausted for the time being, they withdrew their dicks from the sperm filled girl and Garrotwire smiled as he watched three more Bruisers take their place. Quickly and eagerly, they invaded the unoccupied fuck-holes and began their own promised rewards.

“See… girlie,” Garrotwire chuckled softly to the half-conscious Syrenade, “You should watch, as this is what we’re going to do to you later on.” His voice dripped with promise as he ran a sweetly gentle hand along the length of the woman’s body, his touch feather light. His own fingers rubbed gently at the thin, red material of Syrenade’s leotard, searching lovingly for the mound at the apex of the Superheroine’s legs.

Suddenly, as if the sun had opened up the museum and shone its rays into the grotesque interior, a bright flash of light seared through the room. The Bruisers, distracted from their delightful rutting blinked and shielded their eyes from the blinding rays. Garrotwire, having the found Syrenade’s snatch, paused his industrious attempt at worrying a hole through the thin fabric covering her mound to gaze blinkingly at the glowing being that materialized in the air above them.

The sunbeams slowly faded and the villains blinked in confusion at the floating figure above them, clad in white and gold with a cape billowing behind him. A few of the underworld’s denizens recognized him and gasped out the man’s name, “Lightbeam…”

Lightbeam flashed angry eyes down towards the villains as he spied the abused, cum soaked Nike, and the prone Syrenade. Raising his hand threateningly towards Garrotewire, he glared towards Razorjaw’s brother. “Garrotwire, you’ve abused your last Superheroine.” Light, brighter than a thousand suns coalesced in the palm of Lightbeam’s hand. Garrotewire barely had time to wonder what the flying pansy was talking about when he was blasted off of Syrenade and sent flying through a Plexiglas covered display of a amber rocks.

* * *

“NaaahahahAHAHAAAAAH!” Wind Raven’s pussy erupted with cum as Razorjaw cackled wickedly above her. She could feel each vein on his oversized cock as it rubbed again and again against her honied clit. Each timely thrust drove her more dizzy with forced pleasure.

“Oh… god… yeah, baby,” roar Razorjaw as his own heavy ball sack began to convulse, “I’m going to shoot so much cum through your cunt that it’s going to ooze out your eyes!”

“Noooo…!” cried out Wind Riven as the villain leaned in to her overcome body, sending ripples of unending pleasure through her core to her jiggling tits and up into her sex-hazed mind.

“Yes!” crowed Razorjaw, “Aw! Aw! Yes! YES! YESSS!!” Thrusting all the way into the Superheroine, the villain’s body went rigid as he felt his hefty balls heave and then constrict. Thick jets of pale jism were shot load after load into the sobbing Superheroine, filling her raped body and flooding every inch of her sensitive center with his seed. Accompanying each jet, Razorjaw forced his body as far as it could go into her vulnerable sheath, until finally, with a wordless grunt he slumped forward to lean over the totally defeated heroine.

Wind Raven’s body jerked and convulsed as Razorjaw’s prick went through its dying throes, each shot of cum was a faint reminder to her orgasm rattled brain that she had been defiled and used by a Supervillain, and there was nothing that she could have done to stop him. Thick strands of his potent cum oozed from her violated pussy to spill to the bench and mingle with her own expelled juices. She knew that it was no use. She could not escape, and her body for the foreseeable future was going to be used and abused as a sex slave for Razorjaw’s pleasure. That is until he grew tired of her and crushed the life out of her. She shouldn’t have gone off by herself. She knew better.

“Ah…! God, bitch. Maybe I won’t fuck you to death… tonight. But, sure as shit I’m going to use that slutty little pussy of yours from here on out,” Razorjaw gloated, “Give me a bit here to get my wind back, and I’ll fuck you once more tonight – up the ass I think this time – before I kill off these security guards. Man… what a great night, I tell ya.”

Wind Raven’s chest heaved from the violence that Razorjaw placed upon her body and tears began to form on the corner of her eyes. She would not save the hostages. She could not.

“What… are you crying, you cunt? Oh… don’t cry,” the villain mocked, “Here… suck my hairy balls, bitch. Give you something to think about.” Pushing her down again, Razorjaw pulled himself up over the defeated heroine and dangled his sack above her nose. The power of invulnerability often made those who had it cocky, and Razorjaw was no exception. Wind Raven could not hurt him there, or anywhere for that matter.

Opening her mouth wide to accept the sweaty growths, Wind Raven’s mind was slowly becoming blank with despair. Her senses dulled as she reached up with her hands to guide the hanging semen sacks towards her lips, and her eyes closed not quite willing yet to see the sight fill her gaze. Her mind, succumbing to her sex plundered state nearly failed to register the loud groaning noise that suddenly filled the room. With her pretty lips open and her tongue drawn out to take a long, sensual suck, Wind Raven quirked eye open. The groan had not come from Razorjaw. For that matter, the groan had not come from any man at all.

Razorjaw lifted his gaze towards the far end of the statue room to the second of the heavy metal doors that blocked the exits. And to his amazement, he watched as the ten foot door, with a half a foot of steel in thickness, buckle underneath the weight of a strength he hadn’t thought was possible from the Strange Defenders. As weightless as air, the steel door buckled and then broke from the reinforced glides that guided the portal into place, and floated to the side of the doorway, held up by a mysterious force that Razorjaw could not see. What remained in the doorframe, silhouetted by the spinning red emergency lights beyond, froze the blood in Razorjaw’s veins.

“Praetorian,” the Supervillain hissed. For indeed it was the leader of the Strange Defenders that stood nonchalantly in the doorway, his hands down easily at his sides as if he had just come from a stroll in the park. Nevermind that he was wearing street clothes and a leather jacket. The dark bandana that he had hastily tied about his head to cover his hair didn’t fool anybody, nor did the strip of cloth with two holes in it that he used as a mask. It was Praetorian alright, for no one else would dare show such arrogance when faced against the mighty Razorjaw. Razorjaw barely even noticed the slight, dare he say petite, girl with long blonde hair that stood ready at Praetorian’s side. She had her hands raised in a vaguely mystical gesture that told him that she had something to do with the floating door.

Praetorian gazed across the distance between himself and Razorjaw. He did not miss Wind Raven’s sprawled form, nor the pants that were pooled about Razorjaw’s ankles. A lesser man might have paled in horror, or shouted obscenities in anger, but the warrior’s expression was cool and collected as he lifted a hand and made a single gesture towards the Bruiser with the Uzi. And then he smiled, a dark, chilling smile.

Allure already knew what to do. Heaving with all of her mental strength, she hurled the large steel door towards the Bruiser with the Uzi. The brute, already panicking with fear, had already turned his gun upon the Strange Defenders in the door when the broad sheet of metal came flying. Screaming and shouting, the Bruiser emptied his weapon into the bulletproof fly swatter as it sped towards him, bullets ricocheting in all directions. Ceramic heads burst from the deflected bullets and holes appeared magically in the walls as the lead slugs came to rest. The security guards, no longer having the gun pointed at their heads, ducked and scampered for cover as the battle, for a short moment, turned away from them.

As the large metal door sped towards the Bruiser, Allure smiled sweetly as she concentrated on rotating the object in the air. For on the other side of the steel door, she had one more surprise waiting for the lackey. Gripping to the steel tightly, bending the strong skin and melding it like putty in his fingers, flew Troll. The smallest Strange Defender rode the door like a huge shield and as it flipped, so did he – straight towards the Bruiser with the emptied gun. With a shriek of battle, Troll leaped from the door and cannonballed himself straight into the Bruisers midsection.

Razorjaw gaped in confusion as the huge metal security door attacked his last remaining Bruiser like it was shot from a cannon. And then, that Troll creature appeared, smashing his Bruiser to the ground. His eyes followed the fight for the briefest of violent moments, before they jerked back to the doorframe. Praetorian would be coming for him next.

But Praetorian wasn’t there. Razorjaw backed away from the ravaged Wind Raven as he hurriedly pulled at his pants. Praetorian wasn’t in the doorway any longer, and neither was that girl. She had moved as well. Frantically, the Supervillain cast his gaze about the upright and bullet riddled statues. There! One of the statues moved! But no, it was the shadows. Somewhere on the other side of the room by the raised dais, he heard the sickening crunches of his Bruiser being beaten down by the ugly Troll creature. Razorjaw winced and then turned again as some more movement caught his eye. Or was it the shadows again? Self consciously, Razorjaw clutched at the small red statue about his neck.

It was then that Praetorian struck, dashing from behind one of the statues and aiming a powerful punch straight in to Razorjaw’s midsection. To Allure’s surprise, Razorjaw reeled from the blow, clutching painfully at his belly as if he were hit by a sledgehammer. It occurred to Allure then, that she had never actually seen Praetorian in action before. The media always talked about how nasty of a fighter he was, crafty and savage, but they never mentioned his incredible strength. Nor, the speed at which he moved. Not amazingly quick, like Nike, but… more like a cobra. Deceptively quick. Praetorian’s fists were a blur as blow after mighty blow was rained first upon Razorjaw’s body, and then as the villain doubled up, upon the chin and the side of the face.

Razorjaw gasped as stars lit up his vision. He had forgotten how much fighting Praetorian hurt. The Strange Defender was by no means as strong as Razorjaw was, but he was very nearly so. Enough so that each pummeling strike that landed hurt immensely. Razorjaw would be quite bruised in the morning. Lifting his hands up, the villain tried to ward off some of the blows, knocking a swing to the side and then launching an upper cut of his own back. But, his moves were anticipated, and Razorjaw’s vengeful response met only with empty air.

Praetorian smiled thinly as he paused just long enough in his blistering attack to allow Razorjaw his one response, and then he was at it again. This time, he got in close and swung his elbow in a jaw breaking attack that would have brought down any other man. A sharp crack shot through the room as his elbow met with the metal plating that reinforced Razorjaw’s face and the villain staggered once again. Using his momentum, Praetorian grappled the stunned villain and began the merciless process of bending Razorjaw over and kneeing the man roughly in the gut.

For what seemed like an age, Allure watched Praetorian beat the ever living shit out of Razorjaw and it chilled her. Even as she helped Wind Raven off of the bench and adjust the poor heroine’s clothes, she could not take her eyes off of the hero as he rampaged through the Supervillain unchecked. For the first time, she finally understood what the media meant by their graphic descriptions of Praetorian. If she had not been there from the first, she would never have been able to tell which was the man of justice and which was the man of crime.

* * *

“I’m so sorry, Windy,” Praetorian said quietly to the Strange Defender’s second-in-command. The man’s expression twisted into a look of utter sorrow, a far cry from the cold, calculating warrior he had been a half an hour before. He and the raped Superheroine sat quietly on the bumper of one of the many ambulances that had been brought in. Wind Raven was given one, Nike was given another. “We should have gotten here sooner.”

Wind Raven shook her head gingerly, her body sore from the hard fucking it had received. “I’m sorry we didn’t wait for you, Praet. You couldn’t have helped being pulled over by a cop for speeding.”

Praetorian shook his head nonetheless and gently placed a hand upon Wind Raven’s shoulder, “Never you mind. We caught them. All of them, and saved the rest of the hostages. You should lay down and rest. We’ll have the ambulance take you home and the Doc can check you out.”

Numbly, Wind Raven nodded and allowed Praetorian to help her into the back of the vehicle. Once the heroine was inside, Praetorian backed away from the ambulance and walked slowly towards Allure as she waited by his truck.

“They’ll be okay, Praet,” Allure whispered to Praetorian as they climbed into the vehicle.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied shakily, glancing up towards Allure. In his eyes, she could see the weighty doubt that she was told he suffered through. But, it was not there for long as Praetorian took a deep breath, “Lets get you back to your apartment.”

Allure reached back to remove the cloth mask she had borrowed for herself and nodded. For a moment, she eyed Praetorian speculatively, but then shook her head to herself. Finally, she said, “No… take me home, Praet. We’ll go back to the apartment tomorrow.”

Praetorian blinked at Allure’s words, and then allowed himself a slight smile, “Okay… home. Buckle up. Lets go home.” Disengaging the hand brake, he shifted gears and turned out into the darkness.

End Chapter