A story by Ceramic: ceramic@sbcglobal.net

Author’s Note: This story takes place around thirty years before the events surrounding Allure’s birth as a Superheroine. At this time, the Strange Defenders did not exist. Instead, New Albion was defended by different names and different faces. Here is a story about one of them.

A Tale of New Albion:

Night of Silver and Sable

        "We only have two days left."

        Jim Raskell was in the middle of his first term as the Mayor of New Albion, and fear was beginning to settle in to the pit of his stomach. Not to mention, the ruination of his political career. He would forever be known as the Mayor who let his city be destroyed.

        Mr. Orson shook his head, perspiration beading on his shaved pate as he stared up into the sky out on the steps of City Hall. He was Mayor Raskell’s assistant, a proud straight-backed man that has spent his life in one political position or another. And he had the nerves of a crack-head on a caffeine high. "Oh god," Mr. Orson hyperventilated, "We’re going to die."

        A junior assistant that Mayor Raskell did not know piped up from behind the two men, "Sir…! Someone will save us!"

         "Who?!" screamed Mr. Orson, wheeling around like a maniac, turning on the assistant, "Who? Who’s left?! All of the police helicopters went up and were turned to slag. Mr. Amazing flew up there and was burnt to a crisp… they have him on life support in the hospital as we speak!" His eyes flashed as tears began to form, "The Suicide Soldiers well… they went up in their fighters and… well… they’re dead! Dead! There’s no one left!"

        For the most part, the populace was in a state of shock. Mayor Raskell could see it upon all of the faces of his constituents as they gathered on the street and stared up on the sky. Three hours ago, it was a normal Monday afternoon. Cars were on the street, people were shopping and coming to and fro from work, and children were laughing in the streets. But then, that is when the starship came.

        It dropped from the sky, out of the clouds like a descending monster: huge, strange, and alien. As big as a skyscraper, as frightening as an archvillain. The starship settled over the city like a storm looming over a tiny island.

        Or at least he thought it was a starship. The Mayor rubbed his eyes and stared up at the massive, flying contraption that floated threateningly over his beloved city. Sort of shaped like a large, overgrown metal-shod grapefruit, ripe and heavy as it seemed to hang from an invisible tree, it was some sort of ship or a floating base. Heavy thrusters jutted out its bottom and burned slow and steadily, keeping the ship aloft, and long metal arms spread out from its equator like a cybernetic octopus. From its top, antenna and sensor arrays formed a circle like a crown. The most horrifying thing about the ship, however, was the translucent green energy shield that it projected around the city, covering it like a glass cup placed securely over a bug.

         Originally, the heroes and police forces of his fair City didn’t know what to make of it. Only that whatever it was, it had to be stopped. Police choppers rose up to meet this threat, but great beams of laser light shot from the starship like a kid with a microscope. Then came Mr. Miracle, one of the City’s newest Superhero defenders. A young man in blue and red tights, a cape, and a really catch slogan: "If Mr. Miracle can’t, you don’t have a prayer." Well, he couldn’t. Apparently, he was invulnerable to many things, but he didn’t fare any better than the police helicopters against the superheated laser beams..

Finally, the Suicide Soldiers formed up in their jets. They were the *new* Suicide Soldiers, having been recruited by mad Doctor Mazlow from the refuse of the city, and given purpose to help their fellow men. They had only been together for a month, having taken over from the last Suicide Soldiers who gave their lives to fight off Lord Violantis. Their plan was to fly their jets up to the ship and blow out the engines, thus crashing the ship and destroying everyone inside of it. They, alas, did not suffer a laser blasted death. Instead, the starship just rotated some unused thrusters and roasted them all to a crisp. Once again, Doctor Mazlow had to look for some more Suicide Soldiers.

It was then, that the starship revealed its intentions. From its hull, a holographic projection was cast into the air, displaying a terrifying masked face. Although the projection rippled and shuddered in waves, all of New Albion knew the face that was there. It was the dreaded Bloodbake, a man who long ago vowed to destroy the city of New Albion. For it was in New Albion that he knew his greatest pain, the death of his wife at the hands of hoodlums and thieves. Ever since that fateful day, ten years ago, Bloodbake had strove to choke the life out of the inhabitants of New Albion to pay for what they allowed to happen.

Bloodbake wore a demon mask created by villainous former-monk Chan Han the Destroyer, something he picked up on his many travels through the orient, with bright green eyebrows, crazy orange hair that surrounded his head like a lion’s mane. The lips of his mask were pulled back into a terrible smile, and hooked tusks sprouted up to nearly touch his nose. The mask’s eyes were wild and crazy, and no one was ever sure if it was a trick of the lighting, or that the mask was just designed that way. Either way, the mask had its effect, and all who knew Bloodbake trembled in fear.

From Bloodbake’s image, the citizens of New Albion could hear him quite clearly. "People of New Albion. You are defeated! Your lives are now forfeit and you shall die, just like you let my Helen die so long ago. Your evil and villainy shall be removed from this planet like the stain you are," the holographic face said, "Behold! Before you is the Blood Star, my finest creation! From it, I shall watch everything in your fair city die a gruesome suffocating death, for surrounding you is a force field of indomitable power! Soon. In two days, your oxygen supply shall disappear, and every single of you wretched beasts shall cease to breath! Ha hahahahahaa! Now, I shall leave you with a parting gift that you never gave me. Say goodbye to your loved ones, before your time is over."

Mayor Raskell bowed his head and shook. He could not let his city come to that. There had to be something that could be done. There just had to.

As Mayor Raskell gazed at the old worn steps of City Hall, a strange sensation came over him through the despair. There was a change in the air, as if suddenly, a door had been opened a whiff of fresh air was let into his city. All around him, his sycophants gasped out loud. Some even cried in joy. And the young junior assistant, "Look sir! I told you sir…! I told you! It is the Silver Seraph!" Mayor Raskell raised his eyes and watched as the lovely vision descended from the sky to the steps before him.

"I see," came the Silver Seraph’s, low melodic voice, "That things are not well here, Mayor Raskell."

        The Silver Seraph was one of New Albion’s staunchest defenders for many years. A common sight, flying amongst the skyscrapers, she was a beautiful Superheroine, as well as one of the most well respected heroes for her conduct and honor. Never had New Albion witnessed savagery in her presence. Never had she ever been defeated.

        She was a tall woman, just under six feet in height, with a gorgeous body. Silver Seraph dressed in a skin-tight silver bodysuit that hugged the curves of her hourglass figure and drew attention to her long, sleek legs, and her impressively large and shapely contoured bosom. Many a man found themselves comforted by the sight her heaving chest as she fought to defeat villain after villain. Among those glorious breasts, despite the fact that her bodysuit went all the way to her neck and showed no cleavage, they knew they were safe.

        But it wasn’t just her body that made her lovely, but her face as well. Slender and fine, her features were classically noble, with an aristocratic nose and full, succulent lips in dark red. Her eyes were the deepest of blue, steady and keen, and she had delicate eyebrows and lashes. Combined with her porcelain skin, and the silky slow smile, she had caught the heart of many a man, and some women who dreamed of hot, cum shuddering nights drawn from her lips.

        Framing her comely face, blond hair cascaded about her in soft, platinum ringlets before spilling down her back in a waterfall of beauty. Her long hair trailed all the way down to the center of her back and practically begged to have hands gently run through them.

About the Superheroine’s brow, she wore a tiara of silver that bore wings that rose up and over her ears, a gift from a friend of hers that she called Hermes. Some say that it allowed her to fly through the air as graceful as a bird, but others thought that was absurd as everyone knew that it was Hermes’ boots that let him fly and run so fast. And since she wore black, leather boots with wings at her ankles, then obviously it was that that allowed her to soar. Lastly, about her shoulders, she wore a long cape that had the look of bird feathers. Often as she flew, she would grasp its ends and spread the feathers out like large wings, or when she landed, she draped them about herself like a cloak. At her side, a sheathed longsword stretched behind her – the Sword of Saint Michael. It was the weapon that was awarded to her towards the beginning of her carrier by a vision, and for all these years it had served her well.

In another age she could have been a supermodel, as she had been one of the top requests by many of the city’s photographers for a long time. Playbunny, the famed sex magazine, even asked her to be Ms. December in their latest ‘Superheroines for all Seasons’ photo set. But, the famous Superheroine always declined, politely and graciously. And New Albion loved her for that.

Mayor Raskell nearly cried as the beautiful woman alighted to the ground before him. She could look him in the eyes. "Oh… Silver Seraph… we had thought you had abandoned us!"

The Silver Seraph smiled gently and shook her head in denial. She had been gone from the Superhero circles in New Albion for several months. In fact, the Mayor thought, the last time anyone saw her was the last time that Bloodbake had shown up. But that thought was fleeting and the Superheroine responded, "No, Mayor Raskell. I was gone for a time, but I would never leave New Albion to be destroyed by such evil. I am here now, and we shall stop Bloodbake as we always have."

"But, what are you going to do," demanded Mr. Orson frantically, "You are a Superheroine, Silver Seraph, but unless you have gained new powers, you do not have Super Strength… or Invulnerability… or the power blow things up." Mr. Orson spoke like a man who had all the answers, but desperately desired to be proved wrong. "Your fighting ability and your ability to fly will not help you get through the armor of that spaceship! I doubt that even Saint Michael’s famous sword would do the trick."

Silver Seraph sighed, but smiled patiently to Mr. Orson. Mr. Orson was a realist. That was what Mayor Raskell paid him for, and the Silver Seraph could appreciate that. But, he was also something of a worrywart. Despite all of these things, though, she still liked the man. And he did have a point, although slightly off the mark. She would never draw her sword to use it for something as crass as a can opener.

Silver’s powers did indeed include flight and an unnaturally acute sense of combat. Her Combat Sense was almost a precognition, for often she could feel the moves that her opponents made even before they themselves had decided to make them. This ability had given her a clear advantage over every single villain that she faced and had saved her life many times over. Her last power, however, and perhaps her most secret one, was that she was classified as a Regen. She healed quickly, and on the rare instances that an enemy’s blow did land, it was not long before she was up on her feet again ready to do battle.

But, once again, Mr. Orson’s point. Turning to Mayor Raskell, Silver Seraph asked, "Mayor… I require a favor from you." She paused to gaze up towards Bloodbake’s massive starship, "And then, I shall fly up there and defeat Bloodbake."

Mayor Raskell nodded. Indeed, he would do anything that Silver Seraph asked at this point.

* * *

        Silver Seraph sat quietly beneath a tree in one of her favorite spots in New Albion, Candle Park, a large public park in the center of the city, not far from Bloodbake’s starship. She loved this spot and would often visit there in civilian guise during the day. It was a peaceful place. A place to relax and watch as the world passed you by. And a good place to reflect and remember.

        "Tell me about Bloodbake," Silver Seraph asked the man in the dark suit on the other side of the table. He was a non-descript fellow, one of thousands of agents that Bureau 9 likely employed. Weeks ago, she had traveled away from New Albion to the City of Angels: Los Angeles. There, she sought the advice of one of the most dangerous organizations for Superheroes and Supervillains alike: the dreaded government Agency called Bureau 9.

        Entering the tall building of black, reflective glass at the heart of Los Angeles, she knew that she was subjecting herself to scan after scan as she passed through the long corridors as Bureau 9 attempted to determine her genetic make-up and build upon her file. But it was a necessary evil for her to do this, for she needed to know the things that they knew. It was their job to classify and track all super-powered activity, and they were very, very effective at it.

         "Bloodbake," repeated the agent slowly, gazing impassively at the Superheroine. "Yes, we know of him. As we know of you, Silver Seraph. We’ve been tracking your exploits for many years now, and all the clashes that you and he have had. You are a very well regarded Superheroine amongst our office, Silver Seraph. Or… should we call you Katherine Crane?"

        Silver Seraph blinked in surprise at the agent before her as he speaks her true identity. Opening her mouth to deny the obvious fact, she was gently cut off by the Bureau 9 agent, "Silver Seraph, do not worry. It is obvious that you are not comfortable with that name at this time. So we shall use your Superheroine name. That will be fine by me." The agent paused to allow Silver’s heart rate to slowly return to normal. "Nor, shall we… ‘out’ you, never fear. Unless, of course, you go rogue."

        "No… never," the Superheroine replied.

        "We shall see," the agent continued, "Now… we know quite a bit about Bloodbake. Much of which, I am sure that you already know. But… for the things that you don’t know, we require a favor from you."

        "A favor? What kind of favor?" asked Silver Seraph suspiciously.

         "Well… an unspecified one for now. A future one that we may collect upon at any time."

        Silver Seraph frowned and shook her head. It was a well-known fact. One did not make deals with Bureau 9. To do so was to make a deal with the devil himself.

         "Silver Seraph… we would never ask you to do anything that would harm you, nor would we ask you to do anything against your principles, for we know you are of honorable alignment," assured the agent.

        Again, Silver Seraph shook her head. The Bureau was not known for its trustworthiness. More than one Superhero had found themselves on the business end of Bureau 9’s big stick. But, to be fair, it was always when had have stepped out of line.

         "And…" continued the man in the dark suit, "You shall never defeat him unless we tell you his weakness." The agent shifted in his seat, and for the first time seemed uncomfortable, as if the next bit of news was painful to admit, "You should also know this and be warned. Recently, it has come to our attention that he has hired the services of someone that we know not how to destroy."

        Silver’s eyes grew wide and she gave the agent a sidelong look, "Who?"

        The agent hesitated and straightened his tie before squaring his shoulders. Only then did he softly deadpan the name: "Warhound."

        At the utterance of Warhound’s name, the Superheroine felt her voice catch in her chest and her lungs constrict. Enough so that she felt the need to press her hand above her breast. "Warhound…?" she repeated, "Are you sure?"

        "Yes… we are sure. Large amounts of money were reported to be transferred to his accounts in Switzerland from accounts that we suspect are controlled by Bloodbake."

         "No…"

        "We agree, Silver Seraph," replied the agent, "That news is definitely not good."

        Silver Seraph had fought the mercenary Warhound many times before, and always to a draw. He was a huge, mountain of a man, standing nearly eight feet tall in height with shoulders like a football player’s. His favored weapon was a large, cruel executioner’s axe that he wielded with great proficiency. But the most dangerous part about him was that he was incredibly strong and invulnerable. The agent later told her that he was perhaps the most indestructible man on the planet, for they knew of nothing that could even so much as give him a bruise. He was truly a dangerous man, and his services did not come cheaply. She prayed that they were wrong and that he was not there. Bloodbake was enough.

        That… and something else troubled her heart. Of all the men on the planet, Warhound was the one she feared the most. The memory of their last meeting was still strong in her mind: their weapons locked together in mortal struggle, his grey eyes and strong jaw, and the smell of him he practically threw her aside with a heave of awesome strength. The battle did not end there, but it was all she could remember of the affair. The rest blurred into a mosaic of still shots in her mind.

        Silver Seraph shook her head as she recalled her meeting with the agent and Warhound. Carefully, she rose to her feet and stood beneath the tree in Candle Park one last time. If she failed, she may never see her city again. She was troubled, and a huge decision lay before her.

* * *

        The city was dark when Silver Seraph flew through the sky towards Bloodbake’s starship. They had chosen that time of night not only because it was the darkest, but it also allowed the best use of the distractions the city had devised. She could only hope that the actions of the Mayor would be enough, or else she would be burnt to a toast, just like Mr. Miracle who died of his wounds only an hour ago.

        As she approached the massive starship, the Superheroine glanced down towards the ground. They should be starting any minute. Then… suddenly, she saw it. A small, flare-like sparkle that shot up high into the air, followed by another, and then a third. Rising up to just about her altitude, there was a sudden flash as the small flare quite unexpectedly exploded in to rings of Red and Green, showering phosphorus all about. A loud bang, like the shot of a cannon, resonated in the sky as well, followed by two more explosions: flowers of silver and blue. There it was, the Mayor’s distractions. The Founder’s Day Fireworks that the city had hoarded might very well save the night.

        The fireworks seemed to work too as it fooled the starship’s defense lasers. Bright burning beams shot from the base of the starship, blasting holes through the air where each Firework exploded. As more fireworks were shot into the sky, the more were blasted by the lasers. The distraction was working.

        Flying forward at full speed, Silver Seraph flew along the hull of the starship looking desperately for a service entrance, or a window she could break through. It was a good five minutes before she found an access hatch. And with all of her might, she yanked the thing open, and closed the door behind her after she climbed in.

        The interior of the Blood Star was desolate. She was surprised, as she figured that such a large construct more than likely required a large crew. But, by the emptiness of all the dark, Deathstar-like corridors, she knew that she had been wrong. And thankfully so, as it may have been difficult to fight them all. So, Silver Seraph was content with sneaking around in the stark, dimly lit hallways.

        Following her instinct, Silver Seraph crossed through several portions of the ship that seemed to have been used at one point in time by living inhabitants. There was a small barracks, with unmade bunks. And a galley, that still had a smoky smell about it. Several rooms that she passed appeared to be storerooms, filled with boxes and crates. Someone had at one point in time lived on this facility.

        It wasn’t until she reached the dining hall, with its single long mahogany dining table that dominated the center of the room, that she realized that she was being followed. Occasionally, through her searching, she thought she often heard footfalls behind her, however when she turned there was no one to challenge her, or be challenged. She feared that she might have just been jumpy and it was almost a relief when he finally revealed himself. Almost.

        She saw him first as he emerged from the shadows behind her at the far end of the dining hall. She knew who he was. He was unmistakable with his great height and broad shoulders. Upon his head, he wore a metal helmet that might have been patterned after those worn in ancient Greece: an open face that exposed the eyes and his mouth, but protected his cheeks and nose, with a horsetail plume down the back. His armor was heavy and steel plated, strapped on about his chest and his forearms and legs. And across his back, she saw the great axe that he used to slay with. The sight of him took her breath away. He was a formidable man.

"Silver Seraph," the mercenary said with familiarity in his deep, voice. He stood by one of the entrances to the hall. With one hand, he reached out and pushed a button on the wall and large, steel doors feel into place all about the dining hall exits.

         "Warhound," nodded Silver Seraph softly in return. As the security doors slid in to place, she pursed her lips. The security measures were not unexpected. Slowly, she circled around the dining table, her feather cape draped all around her and hiding the features of her body. "I had hoped you wouldn’t be here, Andrew," she added quietly.

        Warhound hesitated, his eyes flashing for a brief moment in surprise, before he too circled the table, keeping the wide piece between himself and the Superheroine. He had learned long ago not to underestimate this woman. "How… did you learn my name?" he asked in puzzlement, his words halting as if he wanted to draw out the conversation and stall their inevitable confrontation.

        Silver Seraph shrugged, but her words and smile contained a hit of playfulness as she responded, "Bureau 9 told me. I know a lot of things about you Andrew Glazer. Where you were born – Ohio. How old you are - twenty-seven. Even what your favorite food was as a kid… Lasagna."

        Warhound considered Silver Seraph’s words as the Superheroine watched his hands. They were calm and steady. And large. Very large. He was a confident man, as he never even made an attempt at wielding his axe. Finally, after several moments, the mercenary admitted grudgingly, "I still like Lasagna."

        "As I said, I learned quite a bit about you, Andrew," continued Silver Seraph, her smile fading. Her words were low and faint, almost whispered as she spoke, "The reason why I say this, Andrew, is that I don’t want to have to kill you." The Superheroine stopped and allowed the mercenary to approach.

        "You won’t kill me, Silver Seraph," Warhound replied, closing the gap between them with each ponderous step.

        "Yes… I think I could," whispered Silver Seraph, watching each step as Warhound drew himself nearer. "We have fought many times… and this time shall be the last. I know you, Andrew." Then she added, as if to herself, "To defeat an enemy, you must know the enemy."

        Warhound did not respond. Nor did he slow his approach, each step bringing him closer and closer to the Superheroine until he was no more than a foot away. He could feel her warm breath upon his face as she gaze into his grey eyes with her clear blue ones. And although he could not see the curves of her body beneath that soft cape she wore, he knew that she trembled, ready to attack. He exhaled himself, "Before I draw my axe, Silver Seraph, I would know your name… as it is only fair since you know mine."

        The Superheroine lifted her chin, a part of her inexplicably wanting to blurt it out to him, the man who had been many times her opponent. For the first time she was with uncertainty.

        Warhound watched as Silver Seraph bit her lip slightly. He had seen her do this in the past before, but wasn’t sure if she was aware of her habit. And as he watched her worry, something stirred in the man’s breast. Something troubling… fearful… crazy. Long ago, during one of their many deadly encounters, a seed had been planted in his soul. The seed was dormant for so long. It was surprising to Warhound, for he didn’t think it would ever sprout.

        Silver Seraph had questioned her soul many times on this. She feared it. She longed for it. And… in so many ways, she needed it. Her eyes closed and she slowly exhaled through her lips, allowing her fluttering heart in her breast to ease. Then, with the lightning reflexes of a devastating warrior, she reached up and grabbed either side of Warhound’s helmet in a grip that could have been strong enough for her to snap a man’s neck.

        The mercenary’s eyes widened with shock, as this was the last move that the canny man had anticipated. A strike between the eyes, or a punch to his gut in an attempt to wind him he expected. But, to try to snap his neck? No one had tried that on him in a long time. Warhound stiffened and raised his hands to pull himself away. Why had he been so slow to react?

        But, Silver Seraph held on tightly, and through great will, slowly pulled the tall man down towards her until they were face to face – grey eyes to blue eyes, stubbly chin to red lips, heroine to mercenary. As their eyes met, she whispered her devastating phrase, "This…Andrew… is what I’ve feared for so long. To truly know the enemy, you must love the enemy…" Her body trembled in apprehension and anticipation.

        Warhound’s eyes widened as Silver Seraph’s lips slipped through the face of his helmet and gently caught hold of his own. And she kissed him.

        The kiss, their first kiss, was both tender and sweet, especially given their present location and situation. But, to Silver Seraph, it sent shivers down her spine. Every nerve ending in her body cried out in victory at their touch, and when his arms reached around to embrace her slim body, her heart rejoiced. As their tongues met, her mind began to recall the mental images of the constant dreams that had tormented her from the first time they met in battle: the hot, sweaty, humping… the thorough pumping… the dark, dominating sex upon beds, the floor, in secluded night-spots where heroes and villains might meet. Her heart beat faster as the unthinkable possibility of this might actually come true.

        Warhound’s mind raced as warning bells rang, shouted, and sirened about in his head. But… his gibbering mind was not in control, and instead a more emotional set of commands took over. He could not help it as his arms snaked around her body. She was tall, but she might as well have been a paperclip in weight to him. It was all he could do not to crush her up against his frame and smother the life out of her by accident. He could feel her slender body shake beneath his hands, and slowly he began to realize that his whole body shook with desire as well. How long had he been like this? How could his mind have not known how much he wanted this woman, but his body be so sure?

As their kiss continued, he could feel a change take place. Silver’s lips began to soften, and unexpected a low moan of want escaped from her lips. Her tender noises elicited an uncontrollable groan from Warhound as he carefully broke the kiss. She tugged at his dented helmet to remove it, and he allowed her to.

        Tossing the helmet aside with a loud clang, Silver Seraph looked for the first time at the mercenary that she knew so well. He was tall, with dark brown hair and a ruggedly handsome face. Being invincible, he had no scars as she had expected. Instead, he had a fine straight nose, and wonderfully pliable lips. Lips that she captured once again with her own, guiding his face to hers with her hands upon his cheeks.

        Warhound and the Superheroine kissed feverishly as he lifted her up and deposited her gently upon the dining table, her wonderfully long legs wrapping themselves around his midsection. Moving from her lips, the mercenary kissed hungrily at Silver Seraphs neck, moving down along the sensitive tendons of her throat to the delicate arch of her collarbone beneath her bodysuit. From each burning kiss, he drew a starved moan from her lips.

        Silver Seraph’s mind was awhirl as she realized where Warhound’s hands were beginning to roam. And his lips, those devilish lips that had plagued her thoughts for so long now, caused havoc with her senses and lit her desire like nothing had done for so long. Again, she captured his face with her hands with half a mind to guide it away. She knew what they were going to do. But… here? Now? His right hand caught her globe-like, left breast through her bodysuit and began to massage. She felt her nipples growing hard and her back beginning to arch into the hand. Yes… yes. Now would be fine.

Warhound groaned softly in his throat as he felt the Superheroine’s body respond to his touch. And as her body moved sinuously beneath his palms, he felt his own body respond as well. As she directed his face to her eyes once more, he not only marveled at their beauty, but also the burning desire he saw there as well. She was ready for him, right then and there. Kissing her throat once again, he groaned, "You… I need you right now."

To these words, she smiled serenely as if she had planned all this from the beginning. That was all the acceptance he needed, and soon, his hands tugged and teared at the body suit, pulling it off and away from the Superheroine’s body. He was amazed that such a suit came away so easily as it practically seemed to be painted on. Hidden seams made the work quick and timely. Off went her bodysuit, her cloak, her sword and belt that got in the way at her side. The only things left upon her glorious flesh was her boots and circlet.

Warhound too found himself frantically undressing, his armor a bit more complicated than that of the Superheroine’s, but finally it too was deposited upon the floor and he stood before her in his naked glory. He was big, oh so big. Twelve inches long at least, and the monstrously thick. It was a long time since he ever felt so hard, and his titanic cock was more than ready to be sheathed into the Superheroine’s body. Upon seeing Warhound’s member at rigid attention, Silver Seraph let out a soft gasp in anticipation. She could nearly feel her pussy being split in half by the mammoth meat just by the sight of it.

Leaning forward again, Warhound felt Silver’s body stretch out luxuriously upon the dining table, her long finely formed arms and hands reaching forward and brushing his broad chest. She was the finest creature he had ever seen. Large, firm, round breasts rose and fell heavily in excitement as she patiently awaited his body. Her long, platinum hair spread out behind her like a pillow of silky softness. And her belly… Warhound let his fingers glide along the smoothness of her concave belly to the narrowness of her waist.

"Andrew," Silver Seraph whispered intimately with heavy lidded, sultry eyes. "Please… your touch burns. It’s been so long since I… I last… had a man…" she breathed haltingly, her need plain in her voice. As she spoke, she rotated her hips, sending erotic pangs twitching through Warhound’s foot-long cock.

"Silver," he murmured huskily, haggardly as his hands slipped up to take her beautiful round tits into the palms of his large, broad hands. And for a moment, he let them linger there, marveling at their size and delicacy. Even with his large hands, he could fill them with her chest. Her heaving bosom pushed erotically up into them and he watched as Silver Seraph closed her eyes. Warhound longed to drive his colossal hard-on deep within her willing body… but, his eyes wandered up and down the long table before him. She was, after all, upon a dining table.

The Superheroine sighed as she felt Warhound’s hands begin to massage her sensitive breasts with his strong hands, stroking, fondling, and pushing them together. Each touch took her breath away, and caused her to whimper with desire. She needed him so badly and she was disappointed when his hands pulled away to take firm, but delicate hold upon her hips. Carefully, he lifted her up. And it was then, that she felt his face push between her legs and up against the fold of flesh along her delicate twat. Gasping, her eyes flew open and down between her heaving breasts to watch as he took his first long, loving caress of her pussy with his tongue.

Warhound’s tongue spread the lips of Silver’s nether region like an expert tickles a clam into revealing the pearl inside, and instantly he could taste the sobbing Superheroine upon his lips. He could smell her rich scent. It didn’t take long for him to work her tight cunt open and soon, his dexterously long tongue wreaked havoc all along the length of her sex. Listening to her cry out helplessly, Warhound could feel as Silver Seraph’s body began to buck at the sensuous invasion into her pussy. Again and again she cried out, her soft voice beginning to beg, "Oh…. Ah…! Andrew…! Eat… e-eat me! Yes!"

The mercenary smiled into the blonde patch of pubic hair that framed her spasming cunt, his lips and jaw already thickly coated with her dripping nectar. Not wanting to disappoint, he backed his tongue out and began to cover the length of her breach with long, broad strokes, slathering her with his hot saliva.

"Aaaahahah!" Silver trebled, arching her back and pressing her sodden cunt into his face. Her pussy gushed honey as she came again and again when his tongue finally found her swollen clit. As his deft tongue began to swirl around the protruding spot without mercy, the Superheroine bit her lip and shook, her body overcome with another violent orgasm. It was all too much… she needed a reprieve, so she began to pull her hips away.

Silver Seraph’s girlish cum spattered all over Warhound’s face as he cheerily licked and probed the Superheroine’s delicious twat with expertise. Fuck… his mind wandered… I could eat her out all night! As Silver came again, Warhound could feel her begin to twist away from his mouth. What? Where was she going? He wasn’t done! Moving his hands beneath her, the mercenary held on to her tightly, his strong fingers holding on to the cheeks of her shapely ass. Pulling her pelvis closer, Warhound exuded just enough pressure so that the Superheroine could not escape so easily, and once again, his tongue flicked and lapped about her convulsing cunt and clit.

The Superheroine’s mind and voice cried out again and again as her pussy was probed mercilessly by Warhound’s wonderfully persistent mouth. She was too tender, her clit too swollen. Yet, she couldn’t pull away. He was too strong, and that devilish tongue attached too enduringly and invasively. No… her thoughts sobbed… orgasm… too hard… need to slow down…! Frantically, her hands clutched and tugged at the hair atop his head, but these half-hearted pulls only served to increase the frantic molestation of her snatch.

Helplessly, Silver Seraph could feel another monster orgasm building. She could feel it, a tidal wave of cum broiling within her body as Warhound mercilessly ate her out. "Ah…!" she cried, "Andrew! T-tooo much! Nah-ahhhh! AHH! AHHHHH!" The Superheroine screamed deliriously, and wantonly pushed her hips into his face as she exploded and drenched him with her musky self.

Warhound lapped and lapped as Silver’s juices discharged from her pussy, dribbling down his chin and puddling tellingly upon the surface below. The mercenary smiled as he hungrily continued to eat, using his weight and hands to push her to the table and pacify his meal. She was so tasty, and her incoherent screams only made him want to titillate her longer with his tongue. He could feel her perfectly shaped hands grasped ineffectually at the back of his head, and her slender legs spread and tremble from the continuous assault of sensation at their apex.

Pinning Silver Seraph with his tongue and lips, Warhound devoured his fill and finished her off relentlessly for the next forty-five minutes, her cream-centered pussy feeding him like a quivering seven course feast. Her mind blinded by end-on-end orgasms, the Superheroine could only scream and take the ministrations in hopes of mercy, her body trapped until the mercenary was through with it.

* * *

        Bloodbake sat alone in the control room of his Blood Star, but for the various robots that acted as his servants. It was dark, and all around him lights winked on and off like a sad little house festooned with Christmas decorations. Once, long ago, something like that might have delighted him. Back when he actually had a family to care about.

        Usually, such reminder of the past filled with such rage, but that evening, the only thing he could feel was a triumphant delight. He would get the two things he wanted most: the destruction of every man, woman, and child in New Albion… and the video-taped violation of his most hated enemy, the Superheroine Silver Seraph.

        Bloodbake grunted raspingly as he jerked his fist hard around his rock-hard cock, his eyes glued to the monitor before him. On the monitor, a silent, black-and-white shot of Warhound and Silver Seraph going at it glowed back. God… watching the bitch squirm made him fucking want his cocked sucked. He hadn’t been fortunate enough to see the beginning, but as Bloodbake watched the silent, flickering screen, he knew that his man – Warhound – clearly had the advantage. He had her pinned, his face snugly stapled between her gyrating legs. And there she was, arching her back with her eyes closed and her mouth partially open in a continuous silent scream, her lips forming an inviting ‘O’. He really should run on down to the… where were they… the dining room and take advantage of those glistening lips. But no… he might miss something if he did that. He had been watching them for the last half hour, and he didn’t want to miss another second of her defeat.

        On the screen, Bloodbake watched as Warhound’s hand slipped out from beneath Silver Seraph’s ass and push up into the crook of her knee. Then, with his immense strength, he began to lift the squirming heroine up so that her cum coated cunt was elevated in the air. Holding her in place, the mercenary began to once again ravish the Superheroine’s pussy with his relentless maw, diving into her spread legs like a man gorging himself on a drippy pizza.

        Oddly, as Bloodbake’s hands pumped mechanically on his shaft, the Archvillain could feel his belly growl in hunger. A hunger for what? He paused for a moment in thought. Then he had it. Watermelon. A whole slice of watermelon. Idly, he wondered where he might find something like that at this time of night. But it didn’t matter. He might never be able to eat solid foods again, as he had never been able to remove the mask from his face. He was cursed, but blessed at the same time. The only nourishment he could have, came through a straw. Again… he was depressed. He had to do something about that.

        Lifting his hand, he snapped into the air. He had creations that did this sort of stuff for him. From the shadowy darkness, the feminine figure of a fuck-bot appeared at his side. Although not a real woman, it certainly looked and felt like a lady if one could ignore the metallic sheen of its skin. The shape and the various orifices were in the right place, and the bot’s hair was long, dark, and smooth. He wished that it had bigger, more real looking tits… sort of like Silver Seraph’s jiggling ones on camera… but, he supposed he couldn’t have everything.

        Gesturing imperiously at his crotch and the stiff cock, he commanded the Fuck-Bot, "Suck it! Suck!"

* * *

        Between orgasms, Silver Seraph found herself gasping and sighing in awe at the endless pleasure. Her body was by no means a virginal one, as nubile and pure seeming as it was, but never before had she experienced such a controlling hold over her body by anyone. She was helpless before Warhound, more vulnerable than she had ever been before. Dominated by both his strength, and… she didn’t think her checks could grow any hotter… his expertise. As she watched him lift her up and force her to straddle his face, her tired, sweaty body shook again and again with potent release and her mind burned white with pleasure.

        What seemed like an eternity later, the heroine found herself gulping for air and her tongue-fucked frail frame was lowered back to the table. At the base of her spine, and spreading itself over the shapely cheeks of her ass, she could feel the lake of cum that detonated from her over-sensitive quim mingle with the plastering sweat that seemed to cover her body. Heaving uncontrollably, Silver found herself once again looking down between her breasts to the amazing man that stood there. The sight of him caused her eyes to open ever so slightly more as her mind yammered in disbelief. Could he actually have grown even bigger than when she originally saw him?

        Warhound looked down at his engorged prick in amazement. God… he was so hard… he needed her so bad that his massive tool practically ached with pain. Lifting his eyes to meet the wide, sex-sparkling gaze of Silver Seraph, the mercenary moved forward and nudged his thick tool to her cum-smeared pussy. As he neared her sex, he could feel the heat pouring from her body and her excitement growing. Her magnificent bosom rose and fell as her breathing quickened. From her lips, he heard a quiet pleading voice, "N-now…! Fuck me! Fuck my c-cunt hard!" He pushed the torpedo-like head of his penis to her opening and his eyes widened. She was so small in comparison…

        Sensing his hesitation, Silver turned her head to the side and closed her eyes, unable to watch. "Andrew," she instructed, "I need you in me!"

His eyes clouded with indecision, but his ears registered the need in the woman’s voice. He needed to feel her wrapped around him… she demanded it. Mindfully, he eased the tip of his gigantic member into her pussy, stretching her vaginal lips impossibly wide around his solid girth. She was so tight… he could feel all of her muscles spasm and protest as she distended to accommodate his phallus. Her beautiful voice sighed at the fullness.

        But that was only the first few inches. Grasping the heroine’s narrow waist, Warhound pushed himself deeper into Silver’s lovely body with a short grunt and several more inches thrust in. Crying out in surprise, the heroine reached out to grab the mercenary’s forearms to use as handles to crush. Thrusting again, he managed to slide in a few more inches. Her pussy, glittering with her cum, spread gapingly around his man-tool. Again, Silver Seraph cried out, her body being impaled inch by inch, by what may be the largest cock on the planet.

        Tossing her head side to side, Silver couldn’t believe how big Warhound really was. She didn’t think that anyone could be so… filling. Even pushing in slowly, he had to use his mighty strength to ensure that he made progress. Inch after inch explored her willing, if not tormented, body. Even with all her cum greasing her tight sheath, the advance was painstakingly slow. Her soul burned for him, and her darkest desires commanded him to act. "Andrew…" her voice trembled, "I can’t take much more of this… torture!" She opened her eyes wide. "P-please… take me! Rape my little pussy out with y-your b-big cock! You won’t hurt me… you can’t…!" she begged, "Split me in half and be the r-ravishing monster that breaks my w-will…"

        Warhound exhaled with a hiss. Oh god, he needed to take her. *She* needed him to take her. Grasping hold of her once more, the mercenary pulled her body towards him and surged forward with his hips. In one, ball-jarring motion, he had her impaled completely upon his monstrous prick, sheathing the last of his length in her hot body, as she seized and convulsed in erotic bliss. Filled so completely and brutally, the Superheroine let out a long, wordless scream of joy.

        Silver Seraph bucked and arched as she felt her body stretch fully to accommodate his marauding monster. Her pussy and clit, already sensitive far beyond any levels she had achieved before from being so masterfully eaten out, sent explosions of maddening orgasmic jolts through every fiber in her body. And that is when the hard, dirty fucking began.

        Warhound rutted and rutted into Silver Seraph’s voluptuous body, his huge dick pillaging her defenseless sex like a man with nothing to lose. With each thrust, he stretched and strained her spread cunt, reaming it wide with his girth and pounding out her brains with his length. Again and again, she screamed incoherently as her ripe body was violated and abused with all manner of speed. He used her like a cheap whore, such was his dark need. Never before had he ever been asked to just let go and just fuck.

        Crying out loudly, Silver found herself banged every which way for the next two hours. She had her pussy pounded on her back, long and hard, his leaden balls bouncing off her ass and keeping time with each ramming aftershock. Then, rising up, he fucked her tits and forced her to suck his bulging cock, filling her mouth up with his honey soaked meat. She couldn’t believe that he could grow even harder and longer. Turning himself over, he lifted her so she could ride his thick dick like a rag doll on a pony, her juices spurting down his length with each stroke. Until finally, he turned her over and took her cunt from behind.

        Crying into her arms, for she had never felt anything so deep in her life, Silver’s body shuddered helplessly into another one of her countless orgasms. With each stroke and hump, her soul broke into a million twinkling pieces. She had never been taken for so long or so hard in her life, her centers of pleasure laid bare by the seemingly untiring mercenary.

As he banged her from behind, Warhound’s tempo began to waver, and suddenly his thrusts began to become more harsh and frantic. Clasping her hips once again, he began to thrust harder and harder into Silver’s body, each penetration forcing a mewling cry that resonated from her pussy to her mouth. He couldn’t stop… he needed to cum. Clutching her hard now, he began to ream out her constantly tight cunt using all his might.

Noticing the change in speed, Silver gasped as he began to force himself deeper and deeper into her slit. His thrusts grew in power, and her whole body could feel it resonating through each cell. The helplessly fucked Superheroine could feel him penetrating into the most sensitive spots of her core, powerfully and heartlessly forcing scream after cum-gushing scream from her lips. God… so big… too much cock… her mind whimpered. A final, mind-splintering orgasm grew with ever increasing speed in time with his fierce penetrations.

Crying out himself, Warhound let his mind and body go to the self-centered fucking. Beneath him, the cock-filled heroine was just a beautiful body to be used and broken. Each mindless sob and sex inspired cry drove him to ream her harder and harder. Until finally, his will no longer able to hold out from release, he shot his potent sperm deep within Silver Seraphs seizing body. His balls, big, mighty, and heavy, squeezed and squeezed as it emptied itself of its seed into her waiting womb.

Silver Seraph screamed the greatest of her shattering orgasms as she felt her mercenary’s cum first fill her thoroughly, and then flood back out her corked channel to erupt all over her stretched pussy-lips, anus and smooth thighs. Her cunt, well fucked beyond measure, squeezed the shooting cock begging for every last drop until he was thoroughly empty. Ten minutes later, the two exhausted lovers were through… his seed spent, her body conquered, and their love… for the first time, but not the last… utterly consummated.

His hips jerking reflexively, sending tortuous shudders through Silver Seraph’s soaked body, Warhound wrapped his strong arms about the Superheroine and drew her close in a tender embrace, and for a time they said nothing. Finally, he whispered in her ear, his voice raw and spent, "Silver… what do you want me to do?"

* * *

        Bloodbake groaned as he slowly, muzzily came awake. He could feel something bouncing up and down in his lap, and his eyes creeped open to a startling discovery. He had fallen asleep with his fuck-bot still riding his spent cock. With an angry slap, he knocked the hapless machine off his sore crotch and onto the ground where it continued its undulating motions to the air. "Stupid machine…" he muttered.

Blinking, he yawned and wondered how long he had been out. But, suddenly he came fully alert. Silver Seraph? Defeated and destroyed by Warhound? Did he dream that? Quickly, his eyes flickered towards his monitors. Where were they at…? Oh yes! The Dining Hall! He could remember that clearly. Owlishly, he gazed at the black and white screen and the broad table that his camera focused on. Bloodbake, however, could see no one. Only a large pool that dripped from the edge of the table and puddled messily upon the waxed floor. "Where’d they go?!?" Bloodbake yelled at the screen. "But wait," he hissed, getting a hold of himself, "I have the video of it… now where are the controls…"

Suddenly, Bloodbake’s senses came alive. Something had woken him up, and it wasn’t the fuck-bot. Someone was in the room with him. Someone… that wasn’t supposed to be there. Behind him, a familiar, serene voice said, "A video huh? I hope you enjoyed it, Bloodbake, because I don’t think you’ll ever see the like again."

The Archvillain whirled about in his chair and glared into the darkness, "Silver Seraph… you bitch! I always knew there was a whore inside of that oh-so-prim body of yours. I bet you liked it… him defeating you like that, huh?"

Silver Seraph stepped into the dim lighting of the control room, fully clothed if not a bit disheveled looking. She smiled secretively, "Well… if you were watching…" She let her thought trail away before nodding towards Bloodbake’s pants in their pooled state about his ankles, "Are you trying to start a fashion trend, or are you just airing out your… mini-privates?"

Bloodbake growled in fury and reached down to yank up his trousers, "Bitch. Where is Warhound? Did you kill him?" Yelling, "Warhound, you fuck-head! Where the hell are you?! You were supposed to take care of this cunt!"

Behind Silver Seraph, the entrance to the command room slid open with a hiss, and the hulking figure of Warhound emerged. And apparently, Bloodbake’s words had managed to travel through the closed door. The mercenary offered a low, dark chuckle in response, "Yeah… I took care of her cunt…" Menacingly, he hefted his wickedly sharp axe, "And now… I’ll take care of you. By the way, all of your expensive combat-bots in the ship? Well… they’re destroyed, so don’t bother calling for them."

"You…" snarled Bloodbake, "You… traitor! Your career as a mercenary is *over* now, you piece of shit! I paid you good money…!" The Archvillain sneered as he belted his pants, "But, I don’t need you. I’ve never needed you, you hack. If both of you haven’t forgotten, I am Bloodbake!!"

The eyes of the mask began to smolder as he began to step towards the mercenary and the Superheroine. Both Warhound and Silver Seraph could see the power rising from the villain in vision distorting waves. Come to think of it, Warhound hadn’t ever really seen the Archvillain use his powers before, and suddenly he wondered if Silver Seraph could stop Bloodbake, even with his help. He brought his axe before him and watched as Silver Seraph drew her blade and did the same. Suddenly, Bloodbake exploded into flame, wreathing his body in fire.

"Oh! The Sword of Saint Michael…. Silver Seraph! You’ve never tried to use that against my minions before? By the way… you never did tell the media how you got that," jeered Bloodbake as he raised his hands flaming hands.

Silver Seraph’s smile seemed to be set into stone as she gazed down the length of her longsword towards the villain, "I borrowed it, Bloodbake. This will be your only warning. Surrender now, or we shall be forced to hurt you."

"We? We?!" cackled Bloodbake maniacally. His mask smiled eerily at them through the flickering shadows and the flames. Then he turned his palms towards Warhound and shot out a jet of living magma. The blast exploded into Warhound’s chest sending him into the wall causing the mercenary to cry out wordlessly from the force of the impact. Crashing to the ground, Warhound emitted a low groan of pain and his eyes fluttered closed "No… I do not think there is a ‘we’, here, Silver Seraph. There is only a *you*," continued Bloodbake as he gazed at Warhound’s still form, "And to think… he was supposed to be Invulnerable. I guess I was overpaying the asshole." He smiled, "Or perhaps I was expecting it. Try to fly, my dear Silver Seraph, in this room. I bet you can’t. It’s lined in Negite… and it negates all powers derived from your genes."

Silver Seraph glanced worriedly over towards Warhound, shock clearly expressed upon her face. She had not expected that. "Andrew…" she whispered as she watched his chest begin to shudder. She turned her gaze back towards Bloodbake with loathing rage. Again, she readied her sword, "You will not leave this room, Bloodbake."

Bloodbake had stopped laughing as he gazed towards the silvery blade. Closing his hand to a fist, he formed a long, jagged, spike of flame that held the shape of a sword. "Well… that is debatable, Silver-Cunt," he hissed. For a moment, he watched Silver Seraph through his mask, before yelling shrilly and launching himself towards the Superheroine. "Die!"

The Superheroine watched as the firey sword swung down towards her head, then with lightning speed raised the sword of Saint Michael to meet it. With an arc of sparks and flame, the two weapons met each other in mid-air. Pushing against the weapon, she replied, "I… don’t think so, Bloodbake." Then, spinning the blade around she whirled it hard against the front of his mask, cutting a deep slice and sending the Archvillain staggering away. "I see that… your mask isn’t so indestructible as you are, eh?"

Touching the deep gouge in his mask, Bloodbake gasped in ragged breaths. "You… you… how’d you do that?" he rasped, before raising his hand once more to point his palm towards Silver Seraph.

Silver Seraph raised her sword. "My sword is… as you identified, the Sword of Saint Michael, Bloodbake. It’s consecrated."

"Consecrated…! What the hell are you talking about?! Die, bitch!" A jet of fire shot once again from Bloodbake’s hand, but it struck the defending longsword and deflected past the Superheroine.

"Yes… consecrated. Consecrated by a priest, against *you*, before I assaulted the… Blood Star." she replied softly. Arching a brow, she advanced upon the Archvillain, "You do not know the story of Chan Han the Destroyer?"

Slowly, Bloodbake backed away, "Dumb-ass during the Korean War, killed many soldiers. I wear his mask now, dumb bitch! Die…!" Again another blast of fire, and once again the burst was deflected away.

"You’re not doing so well," she chided softly, "Well… you never heard how he was defeated. He was drowned in a river of Holy Water… and well, melted away. You know why? Well… it was because he was a demon. And now, well, you put on that mask and now you’re a demon."

"That’s right…" Bloodbake hissed, "A demon from hell. Now die!" The villain hurled himself at the Superheroine, his fire sword upraised.

Smoothly, Silver sidestepped the clumsy swing and then thrust her sword deep into Bloodbake’s belly and watched as it protruded from his back. The villain made a pathetic urking sound and stumbled against the wall as the heroine jerked her blade away. She watched as he slid heavily to the floor.

"You… you stabbed me. Oh… fuck…" the villain whimpered, "My innards are burning… my innards are burning!"

"So… since you’re a demon, I asked a Priest in Los Angeles to bless this sword – naming you as the Demon, as I know your true name, Harold Walter Ebbert. They have your Social Security Number still, you know," she said quietly to the slowly combusting villain, "And since you’re a Demon from hell, its time for you to go home."

Bloodbake blinked behind his mask, his breathing becoming more and more labored as he was slowly consumed from the inside. Finally, he began to laugh, "You think you have me, you cunt! But I have you…! I am now immortal! I can come back, but you… you’ll only be dead!" Raising his hand, Bloodbake lifted a small remote that he had hidden in his sleeve and clicked the tiny red button. All around the control room, the lights began to blink in synchronization and Bloodbake laughed harshly, "One minute, bitch… and the Blood Star will go up like a star-spangled fuck-up! You and… *urk*!!" Gripping her sword with both of her hands, Silver Seraph swung the blade and beheaded the demon Archvillain, his head exploding in a fireball of light and sound.

Breathing hard, the Superheroine turned and ran towards her fallen lover where he lay. "Andrew… Andrew!" she cried, as she crouched down next to Warhound. "Oh… shit… less than a minute." Taking the mercenary’s arm, she heaved and dragged Warhound towards the door, "Oh god! We’re not going to make it… I can’t get him away." With tears beginning to form in her eyes from the strain, she heaved him through the door and into the hallway, and almost cried as she heard him groan with pain when she dropped him.

Falling to her hands and knees, she crawled towards Warhound’s prone body. "Andrew," she whispered, climbing over him, "I’m sorry…"

Warhound blinked his eyes open as the pain seemed to seep through his chest, molten lava pure and simple. He had never felt so much pain… but there was Silver Seraph, her beautiful bosom mere inches away from his face. The mercenary gazed up into her face and saw that she was biting her lip as she always did. "Did… you get him, Silver?"

"Yes," she replied quietly, turning about to curl up in his arms, careful not to touch his burnt chest. "But, I’m sorry… we’re about to die. He is destroying the Blood Star with us in it."

"Oh," sighed Warhound as he engulfed Silver Seraph with his body, draping his frame all around her. "Before… this whole ship explodes… I have only one question. What… what’s your…"

"Its Katherine, Andrew…" she whispered.

"Katherine," mused Warhound softly, closing his eyes, "That’s nice." He pulled her as tight as he could to his body, ignoring the pain in his chest.

"Yes… I’m glad you think so." And the world about them suddenly went white as the Blood Star exploded into a million melting shards.

Upon the destruction of the Blood Star, the shield suffocating New Albion fell and the populous rejoiced. But, their rejoicing was short lived as it was soon reported that their beloved Silver Seraph did not return from the battle. A period of mourning was called for her, and for all the heroes that had lost their life defending the city. Finally, a great statue of the beautiful Superheroine was placed in her memory at Candle Park so that all could remember her heroism. Larger than life, it was set upon a lonely hill, next to a large tree that overlooked the great city.

* * *

        Several years later…

        Cheryl Yeager placed the final touches upon the hors d’oeuvres for the party. She was a perfectionist, a true homemaker. That was why she was proudly chosen by the association, out of all the women there, to hold the welcoming party for her new neighbors. They had gone and purchased the Finley’s old house and had moved in but two days ago.

        Carefully lifting the platter from her kitchen top counter, Cheryl teetered across her kitchen and through the sliding doors on to her patio. There, the whole neighborhood milled. "Here we are, everybody! Try these ham wraps…!"

        Across the patio, sitting in some poolside chairs and enjoying a couple of beers, her husband Richard sat with their new neighbor. "So… Andy Glazer… what is it that you do?" he asked the man next to him.

        Andy smiled. He was a young man, with dark brown hair and rugged features. Finally, he shrugged, "Nothing much any longer, Richard. I’m retired. Used to do contracting work."

         "Contracting… like construction?"

        "Um… yeah. Something like that," Andy replied.

        Richard nodded and took a swig from his bottle. He could see that, as Andy Glazer was quite a large man. Could have been a wrestler, or some sort of football star. He certainly didn’t like he would have any problems carrying around heavy things as he had to be like eight feet tall.

        "How about your wife there," Richard asked, gesturing towards the small gaggle of women that sat closer to the house, "She retired too?"

         "Um…" replied Andy a bit uncomfortably, "Yeah… she is. She uh… used to be a firewoman."

        Richard gaped, "No shit! Well, I suppose she’s tall enough for it. Is that where she got all those scars on her left arm? They look like burns."

         "Well," murmured Andy lamely, "I… she…" He sighed as he tried to collect his thoughts, "A burning… house… fell on her, and we couldn’t get her covered by a… fireproof… man. Or at least completely covered. We were fortunate that only her left arm and leg burned. Her leg… healed alright, but her arm took enough damage that it was scarred for good."

        "But… everything else was okay."

         "Yeah. Everything else was okay. Thank god," Andy agreed. The… retired contractor… gazed thankfully towards his wife’s back as she laughed along with the other women, her low, beautifully melodic laugh. And then he exhaled with a smile, truly, thoroughly amazed at his good fortune.

        All the women laughed loudly and crowded around Kathy. They all agreed, what a beautiful, gracious woman she was. They loved her hair, and they loved her dress. And, although they bemoaned the fact that she suffered a horrible accident in the fire, they all sighed happily as she told the story of how her husband had gone in to rescue her.

        "He just charged in and covered me with himself!" Kathy said with a brilliant smile. With a slight shake of his head, she continued, "I would have most certainly died, but he’s big and strong, and we were lucky that we were in the hallway when it happened. Otherwise, I don’t think that he would have been strong enough. Instead, I just have a slight scar. I don’t know what I would have done without Andy." Half-turning, Kathy glanced towards the pool to meet Andy’s gaze. She smiled softly, serenely.

        But, again, the women around Kathy laughed with delight. "Well, you wouldn’t have been able to have had this little guy without Andy, would you now?" giggled Cheryl, looking at the cute little boy that sat in Kathy’s lap.

        Turning back again, Kathy beamed and nodded, smoothing the child’s hair back. He had dark, fine hair like his father. "Yeah," she replied, "He’s my little man."

        "How old is he?"

        "Ten months," answered Kathy. Then with a smile, she added, "We named him Jason."

The End