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American Made (Delta City Villains no. 4) - [Heroines Lose Ending]

by Sigma

(Author's note: A giant-sized 4th of July Story! This one has two endings, because I'm pretty sure I'll get arrested or something if I have Americana losing in a story that takes place on the Fourth. The winning ending can be found on my story page. I'll let you decide which one is the canon ending.)

I

"Tanya O' Donnel here at the Delta City Museum, reporting live as the museum gets ready to reveal its new 'History of Delta City' exhibit ahead of tomorrow's Fourth of July Celebrations," the statuesque, blonde haired reporter smiled for the camera. "We're here with none other than Brenda Wade, one of the museum's biggest donors to explain what makes this exhibit so special." She then turned to her side and the camera panned with her.

Brenda smiled, leaning in slightly to the microphone. "Good evening, Tanya. We're all here today because at the center of the new exhibit are the personal journals of General Cyrus Marsh. Many people know him as one of the founding fathers of Delta City following the American Revolution, but what they may not know is that his personal journals were actually taken by the British and have been in the United Kingdom since, until today."

"Who had the journals?"

"They were in the possession of the descendents of Lord Rupert Hill, a British Admiral. They're being returned by Lady Pippa Hill, who I've had the wonderful pleasure of hosting since she arrived in town two days ago."

"Wonderful," Tanya smiled. "Well, the ceremony won't be starting for another few minutes, but we'll be sure to bring you coverage when it starts," she addressed the camera. "Back to the studio in the meantime."

Anita Jackson, Tanya's camera operator, lowered the device from her shoulder and gave her a thumbs up.

Brenda exhaled deeply and rolled her eyes.

"What's wrong with you?" Tanya asked.

"I get a bad taste every time I speak that woman's name. I thought she'd just come in, do the ceremony, then go back to Queensborough, but she brought her costume and wants to go patrolling, fight some 'real American crime' as she put it. She'll just get in my way."

"Uh huh..." Tanya grinned. "Are you sure it's not because Union Jane is just as popular as Ms. Americana?" she asked, keeping her voice low, only to get a glare from Brenda. "We keep getting questions about her on social media since she posted that she'll be visiting town this week."

"Hellooo, Brenda, my love," a tall woman with light brown hair said, wrapping her long arms around Brenda's shoulders in a hug. Her thick British accent was heavy with cheeriness.

"Pippa..." Brenda said simply.    

"Isn't this wonderful? Our two countries coming together like this?"

"Well, it's celebrating us giving you guys the boot, so..."

"Water under the bridge, my dear!" Pippa laughs and hugs Brenda again. "And the people will know it when they see Americana and Union Jane giving some ruffians what they deserve later tonight, yes?"

"Are you sure you don't want to just go to the hotel and rest?"

"Nonsense! There's so much to see and do here," Pippa laughed and then turned to Tanya and Anita. "Oh, apologies, ladies. Hello."

Tanya smiled and waved at the socialite.

"Maybe they can come with us tonight? We'll make a girls' night of it!" Pippa said. "I have to get ready for my speech. Don't go far, Brenda," Pippa said, finally breaking her hug and walking away.

"I like her," Anita said.

Brenda rolled her eyes as Tanya laughed and she and Anita walked away to cover the ceremony. When a caterer walked past, Brenda grabbed a glass of champagne and downed the whole thing in one gulp. The crowd around her chattered, laughed, and ate appetizers in the closed-off street in front of the museum. The front stairs were flanked by a pair of giant screens that showed the podium so people in the distance could see the person speaking.

Just then, the screens blinked and the image changed from the podium to a background of an American flag. A tall man in a white top hat with a blue band decorated with white stars appeared, adjusting his red bowtie and stroking the white beard on his thin face.

"Uncle Stan..." Brenda growled as confusion moved through the crowd.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, Uncle Stan here with some good news for all of you patriots in Delta City!" He held up a thick, leather-bound book. "I have here one of General Cyrus Marsh's journals, liberated from the British oppressors and back in the hands of a real American!"

The people in the crowd gasped and Brenda narrowed her blue eyes.

"These are the writings of an American hero and thus belong with a true American. I know that bikini-clad harlot Ms. Americana is out there somewhere, watching this. If you think you're woman enough to try and take the journals back then, by all means, you're welcome to try my dear!" he laughed. "Until then, enjoy the holiday tomorrow and God Bless America."

Confused chatter swept through the crowd while Brenda put down her empty champagne glass and slipped away. 

II

A sleek British sports car sat in a secluded alley not far from the museum as a tall brunette in a red mask and a bikini-like costume fashioned in the colors of the British flag with matching stilettos approached it. The fabric was stretched by her ample curves, with the bottoms stuck between her plump butt cheeks.

Union Jane grabbed the handle of the driver's side door and paused when someone cleared their throat. She spun on one spiked heel and turned to see Ms. Americana leaning against a motorcycle with her arms folded. Americana then stepped forward, holding up a small, blinking device.

"You put a tracker on my bike?" Americana asked.

Union Jane chuckled. "In case you needed help...?"

Americana sighed and rolled her eyes. "I thought this might happen. I bugged the journals, so I know how to find Stan. You wanted to fight American crime so bad, so I might as well keep an eye on you. Let's go."

"Delightful!" Union Jane cheered. "Er...shouldn't we wait for Ms. O'Donnel and her ward?"

"They have to cover everything for the news. They aren't coming," Americana said before climbing onto her bike. Her long, bare legs stretched to keep the machine upright as she straddled it.

"What about your ward?"

"She's at the beach with her friends. They're hours away."

"So it's just us?"

"Yes," Americana answered while putting her helmet on.

"Yay!" Union Jane said, running over, hugging Americana, and then running for her car.

Americana shook her head. "I am making a huge mistake..." she said before starting her motorcycle and riding off, followed closely by Union Jane in her car.

***

"Is this a biker bar?" Union Jane asked as she and Americana stood outside of a bar called the Flat Tire.

"Yup," Americana answered, checking her tracking device to make sure they had the right place. "This isn't Stan's usual thing. What's he doing here?" She asked out loud when she heard a click and then saw a flash. When she turned to Union Jane, the woman had a phone raised and took another picture. "What are you doing?"

"Taking pictures. I've never seen a biker bar before. Queensborough doesn't have any biker gangs."

"Put the phone in the car and let's go."

Union Jane saluted but, before Americana stopped her, she slipped next to her and took a selfie, and then tossed the phone in the car. "Right. Off we go."

The two heroines then crossed the street, walking right up to the door of the Flat Tire. When they got close, Union Jane darted past Americana, her Aphrodite physiology allowing her to accelerate faster than any human could. The busty Brit then leapt and kicked the door open, knocking it completely off its hinges and riding it inside the bar like a surfboard.

Loud rock music played on the bar's jukebox, and every last pair of eyes inside stared at the two bikini-clad intruders. Union Jane stood up, cracking her knuckles and grinning as Americana stood behind her, arms folded.

"Okay, as far as entrances go, that wasn't bad..." The Queen of Justice admitted.

"So where's Stan?" Union Jane asked.

Americana walked up next to her and looked around as the burly bikers stood up and began eyeing them. She recognized some of their patches and colors. Members of Delta City's biggest biker gang, The Grim Reapers, were there of course, but so were members of the Barbarians, The Black Vipers, and The Midnight Raiders. She counted just over 30 of the leather-clad men and women in total, and no Uncle Stan among them.

"Can I do the speech?" Jane asked.

"Floor's yours," American motioned and stepped back.

"All right, you hairy wankers. The first one of you to tell us where Uncle Stan is gets to keep their teeth in their head," the British heroine threatened. She looked back at Americana, who shrugged and made a 'so-so' motion with her hand, causing Jane to pout.

"Stan ain't here, Mary Poppins," a voice said from the crowd. The bikers parted to make way for a pair of muscular twin brothers, one dressed in dark blue coveralls while the other wore gray. "You just got us, missy," the one in gray said.

Americana leaned in toward Jane. "Billy Yank and Johnny Rebel, two of Stan's henchmen," she explained. "They're tough. Be careful."   

"Hey Ameri-tits, how are you doing?" the one in blue said, stepping ahead of his brother. "Stan dropped by, told us you might be coming. Said we should give this back," he told her while tossing something small.

Americana caught it and opened her gloved hand to reveal the tracking device she put on the journal. She growled and crushed it in her palm. "Where is he, Billy?"

"You know we aren't gonna tell you that. Not without a little fun first, right Johnny?"

"That's right, Billy. I want the English girl. She's cute," the brother in gray said.

"Let's let our friends have their fun, first. We've got beers to finish," Billy slapped his brother on the shoulder. At that, the brothers turned and walked back to the bar in the distance and the bikers yelled and charged at the heroines.

"Go!" Americana pushed Union Jane in one direction while she ran in the other so they'd split the crowd. 

Jane immediately ducked under a barstool and brought the biker who swung it at her to his knees with a punch. All around her, men and women in leather jackets and vests attacked, throwing punches and swinging weapons, and Jane ducked, dodged, and weaved out of the way while striking back, taking her attackers down with skillfully placed punches and kicks.

One biker got behind her and hooked her arms under his. When another swing a pool cue, she spun around and the man holding her took the hit. She then flipped him over her shoulder before kicking back and sending the man who swung the stick flying into the wall.

A muscular woman with a scar on her face managed to catch Jane across the face with a chain, making her stagger. Before the heroine could recover, the chain wrapped around her neck and tightened. The biker woman lifted Jane up, keeping her feet off the floor, and another biker punched her hard in her tight stomach. The biker holding then chain then slammed Jane into the floor, letting the chain go and locking her in a sleeper hold.

"Looks like your ass is mine, your highness," The biker woman laughed, licking Jane on the side of her masked face as she flexed her muscles. One rough hand cupped Jane's left tit, moving her bikini top aside. Jane growled and drove her elbow back, hard into the woman's ribs.

"Hands off, you slag!" She choked, hitting the woman over and over, hearing the woman grunt under the repeated blows. When the hold on her neck was loosened, Jane managed to get her feet on the floor and then pushed up with a powerful jump and fell back so she landed onto the woman and rolled back, free of her hold.

The biker woman lay on the floor, holding her side and Jane flipped forward, extending one long leg and bringing her heel down on the woman's face, knocking her out cold. The moment she was back on her feet, another biker attacked, the same one who punched her moments ago. Jane spun to the side of his punch, grabbed him by the arm and flung him at the bar in the distance with a loud crash.

She put her hands on her shapely hips, one tit exposed, and looked at the beaten up bikers on the floor around her. "Come on now, lads. This is no time to lay down on the job," she laughed, only to yelp and jump in surprise when a rag covered her mouth. In her panic, she breathed deep, the familiar scent of chloroform filling her nostrils and lungs, and things got hazy almost right away.

"You made me spill my beer, Mary Poppins," Johnny Rebel said, dropping her to the floor once her body went limp. He put a big boot to her side and rolled her over, her supple body splayed out under him. His cock stiffened under his coveralls as he smirked and tossed the rag aside.

On the other side of the bar, Americana slammed a biker down on a table, completely destroying it. Another biker tackled her from behind, forcing her toward the wall. The Queen of Justice lifted her legs and ran up the wall, flipping back over the man and sending him into it head first. She looked at the unconscious bikers and shook her head and then turned to check on Jane, who was laying on the floor with Johnny Rebel kneeling next to her. He had the beaten heroine's naked legs in the air, his tongue deep in her pussy as she lay there unconscious.

"Jane!" Americana cried out and ran to help, only to stop in her tracks when a barstool flew at her. She blocked it and lowered her guard just in time for a surprisingly powerful blow to stagger her. Billy Yank stood, fists raised and looked her up and down. "No no, you get to play with me, honey."

Americana knew this was going to be tough. She secretly dreaded this when she saw the twins. She had no idea where Billy and Johnny came from, but they were always stronger than any human man should have been. She remembered having Lady Midnight look into it some time back, and the only thing she found was that Stan had been meeting with an unnamed organization rumored to have been kidnapping and breeding Aphrodites all over the world, and turning the offspring into fighters who could go toe to toe with the superpowered women. The last time she fought the twins, she and Wolf Woman barely beat them. And now Jane was down and Americana was facing them two-to-one.

Billy moved with superhuman speed across the bar and was on Americana before she knew it. A hard punch sent her into the wall and follow-up punches put her on the defensive. She blocked the blows, but she could feel each one leaving bruises on her forearms, and the wall was cracking behind her under the force of the repeated blows.

Ugh! He's fast! Americana thought, unable to find an opening to hit back.

Billy then pulled back for a big punch and American struck, throwing a jab. Billy leaned to the side and the blow glanced his shoulder. All the Queen of Justice could do was tighten her abs and brace herself.

The punch sent a shockwave of pain through her body and the wall behind her gave out completely, sending her flying into the storage room on the other side. She tumbled and a shelf fell on top of her with a loud clattering sound. Billy walked up, lifted the shelf off of her and stepped on the back of her head. He then leaned down and removed her power belt.

"You won't be needing this," he taunted, tossing it aside. He grabbed the dazed heroine by her long, black hair and lifted her head. "Now comes the fun part," he grinned with a stiff erection poking at his clothing. He lifted her up and hoisted her onto his broad shoulder.

"Oh, you finally bagged her?" Johnny said to his brother, lifting his face from Jane's snatch.

"Billy dropped the stunned heroine and ruffled his brother's hair. "Had to take the easy way out, huh?" he laughed. "We got these gifts, you shoulda used yours on Ms. Moneypenny here," he motioned to Jane.

Almost on cue, Jane stirred awake. Her eyes fluttered open, her face flush and body warm with the sensation of a tongue plunging inside of her. She gasped at the site of Johnny's head between her legs and he glanced up at her, a muffled laugh escape his throat as she gripped her meaty legs close to his shoulder.

The heroine groaned, gripping at the floor under her while arching her back and gasping as Johnny plunged his tongue in and out. He then lifted his head and looked at his brother. "Come on, get you some. That bitch is gonna be out for a while the way you hit her," he said while nodding to Americana.

Billy shrugged, knelt down, and grabbed Union Jane under her arms. As he lifted her, Johnny pulled his head back and dropped his coveralls. His naked body was impressively muscled, with barely a bit of fat on him. His stuff cock stood upright at its full length, the head dripping with precum. He and his brother carried her to a table that still sat upright, and Johnny grabbed her by the legs, guiding himself in with a slow, deliberate penetration that made the heroine squeal.

At the same time, Billy took his clothes off and grabbed Jane by the sides of her head, forcing his erect cock into her mouth and down her throat. He began thrusting himself in and our while massaging her meaty tits, pinching the nipples and molding the flesh in his massive hands. Jane could do nothing but suck and spread her legs further, her mind flooded with the feeling of ecstasy from being double teamed by the brothers.

She felt Johnny grip her hips and squeeze. Billy put a hand on her jaw while the other hand pinched her nipple. She moaned, her cries muffled by the thick cock in her mouth, and curled her toes as Johnny kept driving into her increasingly wet snatch.

The brothers grunted and groaned, laughing as they played with the helpless heroines, turning her into a shared plaything to be used as they wanted. Flesh slapped against flesh and beads of sweat dripped from Billy's head onto Union Jane's creamy white tits. She wrapped her tongue around his cock and tightened her pussy's grip on Johnny's. She could feel herself getting closer with each thrust, feel herself coming to the point of bursting.

"UGH!!" Johnny groaned, taking several long, deep strokes.

Jane's leg twitched, the muscles seizing up, as she felt herself explode all over him while he burst inside of her at the same time. Moments later, Billy shuddered and ejected a hot stream down her throat, nearly choking her. He then pulled his cock out, stroking the last bit of his cum so that it coated her face and tits. His brother followed suit, taking his cock out from between her legs and coating her tummy and thighs.

The brothers emptied themselves on her and she lay there, staring at the water-stained ceiling, breathing heavily, her naked tits glistening with sweat and semen.

"Ha!" Johnny laughed. "Looks like she's all tuckered out," he said before rolling her onto the floor with a thud. "Time to work this other cow, now."

Americana stirred awake and saw Jane laying next to her. "....Jane?" she groaned, her head swimming.

"Hey," Jane smiled weakly. "Don't worry, love. I have them right where I want them..."

Americana felt one of the brothers grab her by a fistful of her hair and pull her up.

"Your turn now, bitch," Johnny teased. "What do we do with them when we're finished?"

"Take 'em to Stan. Let him decide," Billy answered.

Then, the door to the bar creaked open.

The brothers looked up and saw a woman in a long, closed trench coat standing in the entrance, her face covered by a half-mask.

"Who the hell are you?" Billy asked.

The mystery woman flicked her wrist and a collapsible baton appeared in her hand and extended to its full length. "Now, now, boys...behave yourselves..." she said in a muffled British accent.

"Who do you think you are, threatenin' us, bitch?" Johnny said before he and his brother charged.

Americana fell back to the floor, but heard the sounds of fighting. She heard what sounded like two very loud pops of electricity, two men screaming, and then two bodies hitting the floor with very heavy thuds.

A polished leather boot appeared next to Americana's face before the woman stepped over her and knelt between her and Union Jane. Her baton crackled with electricity that died down before she put the weapon away.

The woman, tall and thin with long, very dark hair, pulled her mask down to reveal a striking woman who appeared to be in her late forties. Americana figured her to be Indian, given her features, and the woman smiled as she put gloved hands on both women's shoulders.

"Quite the mess you girls have gotten yourselves into, isn't it? What would you do without me, Lady Hill?" She said to Jane. She then dropped a small, leather bag. "There's a spare costume in there for you, dear. Get cleaned up."

"Thank you, Ms. Patel..." Jane groaned.

"Right, you ladies sit tight. I'll make these boys tell me where the journals are," Ms. Patel said before getting up and walking back to the brothers.

"Who is that?" Americana asked.

"My personal assistant," Jane told her, slowly pushing herself up.

III

Uncle Stan stood on the main deck of a luxury yacht, looking out at Delta City as the sun began to set. His eyes scanned the pages of one of Cyrus Marsh's journals, but he looked up and over his shoulder when he heard footsteps approaching from behind.

A giant of a woman, solidly built with blonde hair tied into braids, practically dragged a man in a disheveled suit behind her and stopped mere feet from Stan. "Where was he?"

"Hiding in the walk in freezer in the kitchen, Uncle Stan," the woman said, pushing the man to the deck.

"The Galley," Stan said, closing the book.

"I...what?" the woman blinked.

"When you're on a ship, a kitchen is called a galley." He then knelt down and looked the man in the suit in his eye. "Now, Mr. Declan Wallace, do you know who I am?"

Wallace stared Stan in the eye and nodded.

"Then why did you run when we boarded your beautiful yacht. Made poor Columbia here chase you," he said, indicating the woman.

"Look, if you want money, I can..."

"Shh..." Stan held up a finger. "Mr. Wallace, you're an American. We don't grovel."

Wallace said nothing, just shifted uncomfortably.

Stand stood and motioned for Columbia to pick Wallace up, which she did. Once he was on his feet, Stan put his hand on the man's back and had him walk with him.

"Do you know what makes this country great besides its people, Mr. Wallace?"

"W...what?"

"Industry, my boy. We're strong because we build things. Your company, for example. You build some of the finest robots in the world, for a number of functions."

"We...we're very proud of our products at Wallace Robotics," Wallace said as they walked to the bow of the ship.

"Oh, I know...I've purchased many of your units to fight certain nosy, big-titted bimbos, and they've always served me well."

"I...yes, I'm aware that sometimes my company's robots are used for..."

"Oh, spare me, Mr. Wallace. My colleagues the Geek and Professor Pervo have you in their phone contacts. You take care of their orders personally. There's no shame in hiding what purpose your machines are used for."

They reached the bow, and several men holding rifles stood around a small group of people who were bound and gagged. Wallace recognized the ship's crew and staff, along with his wife Amy and their adult daughter, Holly. Near the hostages there were several fireworks set up, standing upright, many of them small, but two massive ones in the center, easily larger than most people.

"Wallace, my boy," Stan said, putting his hands on the executive's shoulders. "I want you to take a look at the harbor. At your company's headquarters, specifically."

Wallace turned and looked at the building, a skyscraper with his last name in glowing red letters that faced Delta City Bay.

"A few months back, you shifted operations and manufacturing from your plants here in the U.S. to places overseas, did you not?"

"Y...yes..."

"Many good, hardworking Americans lost their jobs because of that. What did you do with the money you saved?"

Wallace swallowed a lump in his throat.

"You renovated your office, my boy," Stan said, putting his arm around Wallace's shoulder and motioning at the corporate HQ. "And for that, Wallace Robotics must burn."

"Hey, wait a minute!"

"Oh, don't fret," Stan told him. "I won't be doing that until tomorrow," he said, pointing to the rockets. "You won't be around to see it, though. Columbia," he nodded to his henchwoman.

Before Wallace could protest, Columbia walked over with a length of rope and wrapped him up, completely immobilizing him.

"Men like Cyrus Marsh didn't fight for this country so cowards like you could sell out her people, Mr. Wallace," Stan chastised while Columbia hoisted him over her shoulder. Amy and Holly screamed and cried in their gags, and Wallace pleaded for Stan to stop, right up until Columbia threw him overboard and into the bay. He landed with a distant splash and Stan stepped up to the side next to Columbia, watching him thrash as he sank beneath the murky surface.

Mother and daughter cried as Stan stared at the water. "Columbia, call the twins and see if they're sober. "

Columbia nodded, took out her phone and dialed.

***

Back at the Flat Tire, Union Jane stood behind the bar, in a fresh costume, and poured herself a beer from one of the taps. Americana leaned against the other side of the bar with her back to Jane.

"Do you want one?" Jane asked.

Americana looked back. "Oh, no, I only drink wine and champagne."

Jane waited until the Queen of Justice turned around to roll her eyes.

"So who is this woman?" Americana asked, watching Ms. Patel pace around the twins, who were tied to chairs with needles stuck in their necks. She shed her coat, showing an outfit of a button down vest over a white dress shirt, matching pants and leather boots. She was roughly 5 foot 9, lean like a runner, and had a slightly menacing air in the way she walked.

"Ms. Josephine Patel, my right hand," Jane explained. "I don't go anywhere without her. When I was driving here she called to ask what I had planned for dinner. That's when I told her I was going adventuring with you."

"Uh huh..." Americana said, watching as the woman talked to the groggy brothers. "And the needles?"

"Some kind of serum she uses for interrogation. She used to be a senior agent for the RBPE, but that was years ago, before she entered my family's service."

"What's the RBPE?"

"Ah, the Royal Bureau of Paranormal Events," Jane answered. "You have an equivalent here in the States. Sentinel, I think it's called?" (Author's note: Sentinel is a government organization in my Superia stories. They deal in the supernatural, superhuman, and extraterrestrial.)

"I see," Americana answered. "So she doesn't drive you around and put you in bed when you drink too much?"

Jane took a long sip of her beer before looking at the glass. "That is not bad at all. But, to your answer your question, no, she does those things, too."

Americana looked back at her British counterpart. "Can't you wait until we're finished to do that?"

"Who knows when I'll next get the chance to drink in an authentic biker bar? Let me live, love!"

Ms. Patel walked up to the bar and sighed. "These two don't know anything. Apparently Stan didn't say where he would be going, because these two have loose lips when they drink. We may have to do old-fashioned detective work for this one, ladies."

Just then, the three women perked up at the sound of a phone ringing. Ms. Patel followed it to Billy's blue coveralls and went through the pockets until she found a phone, buzzing with a glowing screen. "Who is Columbia?" she asked Americana.

Americana stood up straight. "Give it to them!"

Ms. Patel held up a finger and answered the phone herself. "Hello?"

Americana stepped back in surprise at the voice that responded. It was a perfect duplication of Billy's voice. Ms. Patel kept talking.

"How in the world..."

"Oh, Ms. Patel was a master of disguise when she worked for the Bureau. She leveraged that into a fairly successful career moonlighting as a voice actress, mostly for children's cartoons. She's quite good, as you can hear. Apparently she got her start as a youth, making prank calls to people," the heroine shrugged before finishing her beer and pouring another. 

The conversation continued for several minutes before Ms. Patel hung up. "Right, well that was a bit of good fortune. I know where Stan is. Have you got a boat, by chance, Ms. Americana?"

IV

The small speedboat rocked on the waves under the night sky as it drifted alongside Wallace's yacht. Americana bent low at the knees and then leapt, clearing the impressive height in one leap. Moments later, she peered over the side and signaled.

Union Jane jumped up soon after, carrying Ms. Patel on her back. The night air was silent, and the three could hear a hollow, rhythmic pattern coming from somewhere on the ship.

"Where is that coming from?" Americana asked, keeping her tone to a whisper.

Jane listened closely and then started nodding her head.

"Ooooh, this is Assume Control by DJ Discord. I love this song!" she beamed. "In Queensborough, there's this little nightclub called Refuge. I saw him spin there about a year ago. I was completely off my tits, of course, but..."

"Lady Hill!" Ms. Patel chastised, quieting the girl. "We'll hear your story later, we must find Stan right now."

"Right, sorry," Union Jane said before taking the lead. "It's coming from this way."

Americana looked at Ms. Patel but stayed silent.

"I try to keep her from going to those dreadful clubs. Really. Nothing but shady characters in those places."

Americana just followed her British counterpart.

***

The three of them peered over a window into a large room designed for entertaining. Columbia stood behind a set of DJ's CD players with a mixer connecting them, headphones on as she fiddled with the equipment. A steady, infectious beat poured out of the large speakers spread about the room and Stan's men danced awkwardly to the beat of the music, beers and cocktails in hand. Stan sat at the far end of the room near the bar with a beer in hand and one of the journals.

Ms. Patel watched the scene. "Is that large woman Columbia?"  

"Yes. She's like the twins, but more dangerous."

"She's pretty good," Union Jane said, nodding to the music. "I can't remember the name of this track, but it's by Prism."

Americana rolled her eyes while Ms. Patel scanned to room.

"I count 15 men," she said. "We'll have our hands full."

"Yeah," Americana agreed. "We need to take Columbia down first. She's the biggest threat." She then looked toward the center of the room and saw several women being held at gunpoint, forced to dance in their underwear for some of Stan's armed thugs.

"No way to treat a stripper, is it?" Jane asked.

"Those women aren't strippers," Americana said. "Those two there..." she pointed to two blonde women, one in her 50s and the other in her 20s. "Are the wife and daughter of Declan Wallace."

"The man who owns this boat?" Jane asked.

"Yes. The other women must be crewmembers of the ship, along with those men tied up on the floor."

"So, where then is Mr. Wallace?" Ms. Patel asked.

Union Jane stood up and stepped back several feet. "Let's go ask, ladies."

The other two women watched her and then split off to the sides when she ran at the glass, full speed.

Inside, Columbia nodded her head to the track she had playing while cycling through to her next selection. When she glanced at the dance floor, she smirked as the men continued dancing and then blinked in confusion as some waved their arms and pointed.

She took her headphones off and turned around. "Oh shit..." she muttered just before a busty brunette in a Union Jack bikini kicked through window and flew right into her, her boot connecting with Columbia's jaw and sending her tumbling over the equipment. The music was cut short and the room devolved into chaos.

"Son of a...!" Stan growled and got up from his seat. He watched Union Jane begin running through his confused and half-drunk men. Another woman, brown skinned and wearing a vest and slacks, was doing the same. The Queen of Justice herself pushed through the crowd and ran straight toward him.

The men in Stan's crew who carried guns closed ranks around their boss and took aim, but Americana was already on them, separating the goons from their weapons and tossing them aside like mere annoyances. They crashed into walls and furniture left and right, laying on the floor unconscious after the heroine's rampage.

"Damn you, Americow!" Stan growled and turned to run.

Americana started to run after him but looked back. She saw Jane holding her own against Columbia while Ms. Patel, with a collapsible baton in each hand, took care of Stan's men. She then looked over at Amy, Wallace's wife, and Holly, his daughter.

"Are you two okay?" She asked.

Amy nodded. She had stripped down to her lace panties, her body surprisingly fit and taut, and made no move to cover herself. Her face showed an expression of anger more than fear. Holly was similarly disrobed and equally toned as she helped the crew members.

"Where's Declan?" Americana asked.

"That asshole killed him. He had that big bitch tie my husband up and throw him overboard!" Amy said, pointing to Columbia.

Americana's jaw went agape. "Get the crew and get on the lifeboats. Let those two take care of Stan's men. I'll find Stan," she promised before running off.

***

"Agh! Bloody hell!" Union Jane staggered back from a powerful punch to her face and shook her head. She glanced to her side and saw Americana run out after Stan, followed by Amy and Holly leading the crew past the unconscious thugs and away from the fight.

Not far off, Ms. Patel whittled down the number of Stan's thugs to a few. Jane turned back around to Columbia, who was cracking her knuckles and sporting a fresh bruise her under her right eye.

"You ruined my set, you fucking Limey twat."

Jane smirked. "Your transitions were a bit trash, love," She teased. "Not as trash as your right hook, though."

Columbia growled at the insult and charged the heroine. Jane dodged, getting inside her reach and hitting her in the ribs. Columbia took the brunt of the punches and hooked Jane's arm under hers. When Jane tried to pull back, Columbia slammed her head into Jane's hard enough to make her buckle at the knees, and then picked the heroine up and lifted her over her head.

"Oh no! Oh no!" Jane cried out and struggled to get down.

Columbia then grunted and fell to one knee herself when Ms. Patel ran up behind her and struck the back of her leg with one of her batons. She dropped Jane, who fell on her plump ass and immediately rolled out of the way when Ms. Patel hit Columbia again, across the back of her head this time. The blow was strong enough to cause the big woman to fall forward, but at the same time, the metal baton snapped in two.

Ms. Patel stared in astonishment and tossed the broken weapon aside while Jane jumped to her feet. She charged at Columbia and the two of them locked into a mutual hold, trying overpower each other. Jane drove her knee into Columbia's rock hard abs several times and the woman buckled, giving Jane some leverage even though Columbia had a 6-inch height advantage over Jane's 6-foot frame. Jane then mustered her strength and tossed Columbia back, throwing her into a wall hard enough to crack it. The big woman fell to the floor in a heap, but slowly started getting back up.

Jane let out a heavy sigh and put her hands to her knees. "Come on..." She looked at Ms. Patel. "Any ideas?"

Ms. Patel raised her one good baton. "You go high, I go low."

Jane nodded, Columbia stood, and the two heroines charged.

Columbia eyed the two as they charged at her, keeping her gaze on Jane, who was in the lead. When the heroine leapt into the air to throw a punch, Columbia lashed out and grabbed her by the throat, stopping her attack short.

Ms. Patel saw the move and tried to correct at the last moment, but Columbia's powerful leg struck the woman hard in the stomach and sent her flying back, tumbling across the floor.

"Now..." Columbia said, choking Jane with both hands. "What did you say about my DJing?"

Jane gagged, kicked at the woman to try and free herself.

"I can't hear you," Columbia taunted as Jane began turning red. Columbia carried Jane to a nearby table that somehow still stood. She then slammed the heroine down its surface, knocking the fight out of her. Jane's voluptuous, beaten body lay splayed on the tabletop and she groaned, her eyes rolled back. Columbia ripped off her top, revealing a flawless pair of 40D tits. Jane's bikini bottoms came off next, leaving the heroine naked and at Columbia's mercy. When Jane moved, Columbia brought a hard fist down on her face and knocked the fight out of her. She then turned around to Ms. Patel, who was slowly getting up.

"Ah!" Ms. Patel screamed in surprise when Columbia grabbed a fistful of her ink-black hair and dragged her over to the long table where Jane was. Columbia slammed her down too, ripping open her vest and blouse, and exposing a tone, fit body marked by a pair of  pierced, perky C cups.  When Columbia tore off Ms. Patel's pants, she found the woman wearing a lace thong that came off in short order.

The two defeated heroines writhed and groaned, unaware of their predicament while Columbia rubbed her hands together. "Now, am I in the mood for British or Indian...? Hmmm..."

***

Americana slid to a stop on the open deck at the bow of the ship to find Stan standing in front of a set of rockets. "It's over, Stan. You have nowhere to run."

"Why do we do this, Americana? Especially on the eve of our nation's birthday? You and I are defenders of the American ideal, my girl!"

"You murdered Declan Wallace!"

"Ah, yes, that. Ever thus the fate of all traitors, Americana."

Americana started walking toward Stan, eyeing the journal in his hand. "Are the rest of the journals on this ship?"

"Safe inside Wallace's office."

"Give them to me, surrender, and we'll make this easy."

Stan looked back over the water and saw several lifeboats sailing away from the yacht toward the city.

Americana smirked. "Declan's family and staff escaped. I'm sure they'll send the police. You're done, Stan."

"Am I?"

At that, there was a hollow boom. The lifeboats all erupted in balls of fire that lit up the water.

"NO!!" Americana screamed in horror when she saw the explosions.

"I rigged them when I took over the ship, set the bombs to go off if they got a certain distance," Stan smiled.

"You monster!" Americana screamed.

Stan stepped back between the rockets. "You would deny a fellow patriot the chance to celebrate this great nation's birthday?"

"Maybe you'll be able to see the fireworks from your cell!" Americana cried out, running at Stan.

When she got close, Stan kicked one of the big rockets over to slow the heroine down, causing her to stop her advance toward him so the rocket wouldn't fall on her. Stan then held out the journal.

"General Marsh was truly a great man, Americana. It would be unfortunate for one of his priceless journals to be lost to the Bay!" He then threw the journal like a disc toward the edge of the ship.

"No!" Americana shouted, watching a piece of Delta City's history fly toward the open water. The heroine turned and ran after it, pumping her muscular legs. Her tits swayed with her running, and she pushed herself to catch it in time. She extended one gloved hand, dove, and got under the book. Her tight stomach slammed into the rail, knocking the air out of her lungs. The book was in her hand, held out of the murky expanse of the bay.

She let out a sigh of relief and turned around. "That little stunt's going to earn you a few bruises, Stan," she promised while turning around and walking toward him.

"Is that so?" Stan asked, standing in front of a rocket placed flat on the deck and holding a lit match.

Ms. Americana went wide eyed as Stan lit the fuse and sent the rocket flying at her. It hit her head on in the abs, slamming her into the railing. She dropped the book on the impact and her back bent back against the rail before her body whipped forward and into the deck. The rocket burst into a brilliant display of green with a loud crack.

Stan walked toward Americana, whistling the music from Battle Hymn of the Republic while the heroine gasped for air and clutched her aching midsection.

"That's...that's a Civil War song, Stan..." she gasped.

"Indeed it is," he said, kneeling next to her. "Still, it is an American classic all the same," he said while plucking her power belt from around her waist. He then stood up and kicked her so she rolled over. "Now, you've been beaten, my dear and you know what that means," he said while stripping the heroine of her costume.

America could barely muster a protest. The belt protected her from the worst of what the rocket could do, but the hit still hurt and was going to take some time for her to recover from.

She could only stare helplessly as Stan played with her tits, his long fingers covering every fleshy inch.

"Marvelous. Only America can produce such fine daughters as you and Columbia. Why, my dear, have you thrown in your lot with that oppressor, Union Jane? Our day tomorrow is all about not having to deal with her kind!"  He molded the flesh of her tits, taking his time to caress and pinch the skin. Despite herself, Americana's nipples hardened as Stan played with them. She moaned at his touch, her blue eyes glued to the man as he slowly pulled back and lowered his red and white striped pants.

Stan's already erect cock stood at attention between his skinny, pale legs, and the villain mounted the helpless heroine, grabbing her thighs and lifting her legs up to guide himself in.

It was a slow, drawn out penetration that made the heroine moan, her body quiver. Stan then began thrusting himself in and out in a steady motion, savoring every stroke, groaning himself at the tightness. He cupped the meat of the heroine's ass with one hand, his other on her hip for leverage. As he continued pushing his swollen cock into the conquered heroine, Stan leaned in, kissing her on the tits, upper chest, and neck. Her skin was soft, her taste sweet. He took his time, lapping up the sensation without ever breaking his pace.

Americana tried to fight him, tried to muster the will to push him away, but with every passing second, all she could think of was the sensation of pleasure building up inside her.

Stan's balls slapped against her tender flesh, his tongue drew across her skin before he would playfully bite her, drawing short yelps from the heroines. Her legs twitched as he stretched her womanhood, plunging deeper with each passing second.

She was pinned under his bodyweight, the warmth of his lean, wiry form smothering her. His scent, some sort of surprisingly pleasant deodorant, mixed with the sea air to flood the heroine's nostrils as she tried to focus on something, anything other than the fact that Stan was on the verge of taming her and there was nothing she could do about it.

Stan's hand moved from her hip, up her body, and found her tit again. He traced it along the soft, warm, plump flesh, drawing out the motion and causing a tickling sensation that Americana couldn't ignore. The pleasure was getting to be too much. She couldn't do anything but lay there and take it as her body became Stan's plaything. She craned her neck back and looked at the bright lights of the city on the edge of the bay. She felt her pussy twitch, along with her legs, and then she felt herself begin to leak all over Stan's cock.

The villain grunted, sat up, and pulled himself back. He wrapped his long fingers around his own shaft and began stroking the full length of his member. He shuddered. Moments later a long, warm stream of his cum caked Americana's chest, face, and tits as Stan emptied himself all over her. She lapped some of it up her thumb, a sheen of sweat beading on her naked chest while her own juices poured out from between her legs.

"I won't be impregnating you this day, my dear. I have other plans for you," he said, staring at the rockets and laughing. He then grabbed the heroine by her hair and forced her up.

***

Back in the party room, Stan shoved Americana and she fell to her knees, her mind a rattled mess. She stayed quiet and simply tried to catch her breath.

Just ahead, Columbia stood naked, her impressively muscled body covered in sweat with her hands on her hips. She looked back at Stan as he approached, and when he walked up to her side he looked down and whistled.

Ms. Patel lay on her back, her feet in the air and muscular, brown thighs spread. Jane's face was buried in her snatch, and Ms. Patel cried out as her friend and student ate her out with abandon. Jane's perky ass was in the air, a shiny, chrome butt plug lodged deep.

"It was the wife's, or the daughter's, I'm not sure," Columbia said. "I found it in one of the bedrooms earlier," she grinned. "I broke them both. I wouldn't be surprised if they don't even know where they are right now."

Stan chuckled and looked at his men, many of whom were still unconscious. "I shouldn't reward these fools for failing me so utterly, but tomorrow is the greatest of holidays and I am in a good mood." He walked back to Americana and grabbed her hair, dragging her behind him. "I'll be retiring to my quarters for the night. Tell the men to humiliate these foreign oppressors in whatever way they want for the next 24 hours."  

Columbia simply smiled as Stan dragged Americana away.

V

The next night, fireworks burst over the city as Stan stood on the deck and watched while humming the Star Spangled Banner to himself.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" he said, staring at the cityscape and the Wallace building in particular. "General Marsh would be proud if he could see it."

Behind him, his men stood at attention, wearing neatly pressed red, white, and blue outfits. Columbia stood with them, wearing a stars and stripes tanktop with exposed midriff and plunging neckline and some white shorts that barely covered her ass. Her blonde hair was tied into a single thick braid.

Stan smiled and put a hand on her shoulder before walking past her to the line of rockets. A cum-covered Ms. Americana was strapped to one of the big ones, her naked body bruised and her wrists and ankles bound tight. Stan stood next to her.

"And with this, my dear, we know who Delta City's true champion of American ideals is. Fear not, for you will be given a true patriot's end. You will ride this rocket into the traitor Declan Wallace's building and bring it collapsing down in the fiery wreck it so deserves.

Americana went pale as a look of panic covered her face. "No! Stan, you can't!"

"I can and will, for it is my right and duty as a true patriot," he said before taking out a match and striking it.

"STAN! DON'T!" Americana's voice trembled with terror. Stan knelt down and lit the fuse. Americana screamed, pleaded, and begged all the way to ignition, and the rocket took off in an arc, sailing across the bay and toward the city. Stan and his followers watched it nail its target at the Wallace building. The top floor erupted with an explosion, followed by the next few before the fire began spreading throughout the rest of the building.

Stan's men cheered and high fived and Columbia had a massive grin on her face.

Union Jane and Ms. Patel stood back to naked back, ropes around their chests and stomachs as they watched the horrific scene unfold. Their bodies bore bruises of the past 24 hours' worth of abuse, dried cum in their hair and on their skin. A tear rolled down Jane's still masked face while Ms. Patel remained calm, though her lip quivered.

"We mustn't despair, Lady Hill..." She said, watching the bright orange fire consume the Wallace building while fireworks erupted over the skyline. "Our fight is over, but others will carry on in our stead."

Jane lowered her head, sobbing loudly.

Stan walked up to his two prisoners. "Perhaps what happens here will discourage any more of you oppressors from coming to my city," Stan said, kicking the bucket the two heroines stood in. Around their feet was concrete that had long set.

"We're all here today because my forebears dumped tea belonging to yours in a harbor. Fitting that you two should meet your end in a similar manner."

"You fucking prick, just do it!" Jane screamed, tears falling from her face.

Ms. Patel looked back at Jane and then at Stan. "You may have won, but you will not get away with this."

"Hmm, that must be a favorite line among you superheroines. Ah well. Columbia," Stan summoned his henchwoman.

She walked over and wrapped her arms around their naked waists and hoisted them over her shoulder before she put them on the very edge of the deck, just above the murky depths of the bay.

"Lady Hill, it was my honor and privilege to be in your service these many years," Ms. Patel said.

Union Jane choked. "Thank you for being my friend and mentor, Jo..."

Without a word, Columbia pushed the two, and they plunged into the freezing water without a sound. The weight around their ankles dragged them under the surface, out of sight, immediately.

Stan stood next to Columbia and they stared at the water for several seconds before looking up. The Wallace building was completely engulfed and fireworks continued to burst. Stan snapped at his men, and they began lighting the smaller fireworks to burst in the sky over the yacht.

"God bless America," Uncle Stan said, looking out at the city.

The End