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Overmaster Wars:
Trespass In The Terror Tower!
By M. Hadley
She felt like Daniel before the mouth of the lions' den, or the three men staring at Nebuchadnezzer's fiery furnace, preparing for their doom. Although not of the religious sort, the woman known as Patricia "Trish" Sanders could not help but draw parallels between the biblical situations and her own current one. She was staring down an insurmountable task, an exercise in the impossible. Yet, just as in those tales, where Daniel and the trio were rescued by faith, she hoped to overcome the unconquerable through belief in herself.
She stood timidly before the decorative glass doors of the Silva Tower, formerly the headquarters of Don Silva, Delta City's crime emperor. The highlight of the city's impressive skyline, it was the epitome of human architectural achievement; however, it was also a concrete and glass spire of crime, where many henious acts of inhumanity were carried out. Yet, when the human devil was dethroned from his perch in the criminal underworld, the Tower was not transformed into a haven of goodness.
Instead, an even more wicked devil took Silva's place...and the human-built hell on Earth, 90 stories of compartmentalized chaos, took on even more sinister connotations.
The name the citizens of the fair city knew it by now was Overmaster Tower.
Overmaster. Her friend and teammate Halo had whispered the name so many times that it had been burned into Trish's mind. Even now, the blond could picture the angelic heroine, maintaining an everpresent vigil by the hospital bedside of their fellow comatose friend, the Golden Angel. Trish had visited them constantly, and tried to coax Gabriella to take a rest. After all, she herself had been in a similar situation, when the love of her life, Jack Mactaggert, had been placed in a coma by one of her greatest enemies, the Silk Vixen.
Trish had blamed herself, and had stayed by Jac Mac's bedside twenty-four hours straight, practically ignoring her crimefighting duties and nearly all of her life. She was also burning with an all-consuming desire for vengence, wanting to permanantly stop the Vixen. The hatred and obessession was almost on the verge of transforming her, before her best friend White Venus stepped in to intervene.
Now she was fulfilling that role for Gabriella, who seemed to be rendered unresponsive as well. Only Sundancer seemed to want to talk about what had unfolded in the confines of the Yoshiwara strip club. It was a tale so macabre that even now Trish wanted to second guess her bold undertaking.
*Well, why don't you?* a wizened female voice spoke in her head.
Trish cooly adjusted her eyeglasses while slyly glancing down at her pantyhosed legs. They were shimmering brightly. Danger. She was in a danger zone.
*Superhose, we've been through this-* she mentally spoke back.
*We have to put more planning into this, Star!* the voice argued. *The things I'm sensing...even the great Shining Star won't be able to overcome this challenge!*
*Superhose-*
*Okay, I maybe laying it on a little thick. Even I have doubts sometimes, kid...I'll have to tell you about how your Gran Evie and I worked our way through them-*
*That's why I'm Trish and not Star, Superhose. Remember?*
*Yeah, but still...this...this is crazy, kid!*
*Crazy as when Sister Octavia threw us out of the window of the Diamond Exchange?*
*And you flew for the first time?*
*It was because of my faith in you, Superhose. You saved my life many times over. We've overcame many challenges. So what is stopping us here?*
*You're right...* the wondrous garment mentally admitted.
*But if this plan is going to work...you have to be more discrete* Trish stared at the brightly shimmering pantyhose on her well shaped legs.
*I'll try, Trish. But, the danger here...it is immense. Overwhelming!*
"I know..." Trish whispered audibly, watching as the Wonderous Superhose on her legs dimmed its shimmer to "normal" levels. The impressive garment, an heirloom from her grandmother, gave her the abilitiy to transform into the Sleek-Legged Beauty known as Shining Star, the champion of Capitol City, and the possessor of the most powerful legs in the world.
Now, she was acting also in the capacity of leader of the Protectors of Justice...and admittedly, needing to prove herself was possibly the reason she agreed to so risky a plan in the first place.
*Ready?* she mentally asked Superhose, brushing a dull strand of blond from her bespectacled face.
*To the ends of the Earth, Trish.* the Uberhosen replied.
Trish swallowed as her hand slowly drew toward the ornamental glass door handle. Just as her fingers were about to touch it, the door suddenly pushed open, and three figures roughly shoved past the young woman. All three were clad in Delta City police uniforms, with one portly, another wiry, and the remainder muscular.
"The son of a bitch won't tell us what he did with 'em!" the wiry policeman growled.
"Fuck that, Chief...did you see that huge freakin' statue?!" the muscular one marveled with wide eyes. "In fact, how the hell did he get it in there? Hell, how the hell did he get all the rooms to be so enormous?!"
"The guy is one step away from a Fantasic Four comic...how the hell should I know?" the portly Police Chief spat. "All I know is that there is now this huge vacuum in the underworld-"
"Little far from home, aren't you little lady?" the muscular policeman took notice of the young lady standing mere inches from them. His eyes scanned her attractive form, from her tight t-shirt and short skirt, to her slender legs and high heeled sandals. His eyes lingered on her pantyhosed stems for an uncomfortable long time.
"Oh, I'm here for an...interview..." Trish stuttered a reply.
The trio exchanged bizarre looks before exploding into laughter.
"Seriously, you don't want to be around here..." the Chief's face suddenly turned solumn. "This building...something is wrong with it...some of that Mxyplick stuff-"
"Who the hell?" the wiry cop gave him a puzzled look.
"That little elf/Great Gazoo thing from the Superman comics." the Chief told him. "He came from the Fifth Dimension and could do all of this reality bending shit because he had two more dimensions over us."
"And this is reference to?" the wiry cop scratched his head.
"Reference?" the muscular cop cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.
"The two more dimensions on top of three dimensions. How does that work?" the wiry cop asked.
"Get in the car, bozo." the Chief ordered his subordinates before turning his attention to Trish.
"Look, Miss...this is a dangerous place, so I'm warning you not to enter." he said.
"I'm not the type to shrug off authority figures...but like I said before, I have an interview." Trish told him.
"That stripper is still there in his office, honey." the Chief sniffed.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't see any need for anything else. All of those silver fucktoys he builds run everything else. And its a lot, little lady. That Darth-Vader-wannabe has like a whole fucking city in a building. Its insane...I don't even think it is possible to arrest him..."
Trish reached into her pocketbook and withdrew a small business card, handing it to the Chief. He looked over it and responded with a clueless grin.
"Computer Consultant...Instructor..." he read. "Open mouth, insert foot."
"I don't know what...er...silvery things you are referring to." Trish smiled slightly. "But I am simply trying to recruit a client in this building. He told me over the phone of no such...changes to his offices."
"Little lady...you can't-" the Chief started.
"Good day, sir." Trish spat, flinging the glass door open and walking in without a glance behind her.
"Mysgonistic moron..." she growled after a few steps forward. On her legs, the Superhose began to shimmer brightly, the sensing of impending danger inevitable.
Overmaster Wars: Trespass In The Terror Tower!
Last edited by The UG 11 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
Valugi, as usual, thanks for stopping by for anothe boring story:).valugi wrote:this chapter is very interesting but it looks like things will heat up in the next
Also, thanks to talleyho for the correction to the title!
The change was overpowering as Trish continued her trembling stroll down the silent corridor, which was a straight shot into an oblivion of black. The heels of her sandals were thunderous as they clicked against the marble floor, the only sound in the high arched hallway. The overhead lighting was dim, but still adequate enough to make out the paintings that lined the walls on both sides.
As the petite blonde’s eyes settled on one portrait, a small gasp escaped her dull red lips.
The scene was of a beautiful blonde in the red, gold, and blue uniform of Shining Star, with both arms and legs tied together on a bizarre torture-rack like device. However, the device was not of ancient design, but instead of a futuristic science-fiction variety, a clear tube was where the poor woman was tied standing straight up, with glowing pink strings bonding her wrists to the top and ankles together to the bottom. Her breasts pointed forward vigorously while her body contorted violently, her mouth was opened in silent scream. Tears flew from her eyes and seemingly matted her wild golden hair.
“Shimmering Stars…” Trish quietly whispered in astonishment. “That’s…that’s…”
*Evie…* The Superhose finished for her. *That’s your Gran Evie…*
At that, the Superhose began to shimmer brightly, uncontrollably, overcome by a memory that had long remained dormant.
*The Graviton Tube…* it whispered harshly in Trish’s mind. *It used gravity and anti-gravity to pull…to pull your body apart…he…he was trying to get me off of your Gran, Trish…”
*Overmaster?*
*Yes.* Superhose replied ashamedly. *I’m sorry, kid. I guess even I…even I can be foolish at times. I was hoping it was a mistake that someone or something else was behind the incident at Yoshiwara…*
*Superhose…* Trish reached out to gently caress the artistic rendering of her precious grandmother. She wanted to forget the horrifying image, but it was already smoldering in her mind.
*I should have warned you.* Superhose reprimanded itself. *I should have warned all of you. But…I thought he had died, destroyed forever…”
*Did you-?* Trish quickly turned away from the terrible image, blinking back tears.
*No, Trish.* The wondrous garment answered. *Not I or Evie. But…I can’t say that it was not enticing. Although I don’t condone murder in any form…it’s just…*
*Superhose, I trust you.* Trish mentally responded as she continued down the hallway. *Don’t you dare think you have to explain yourself to me.*
*Trish…* Superhose trailed off, not knowing what to say.
As the partners continued down the corridor, another pictorial atrocity caught Trish’s eye. This one displayed a quartet of strikingly beautiful superheroines being drowned in an ocean of green liquid. All were trapped in the various poses of life preservation: clawing furiously for the surface, clutching fruitlessly at their throats with bulging eyes, or floating lifelessly in the emerald murk.
“Oh my God…” Trish covered her lips in shock.
*Trish…turn away…* Superhose said quietly, its own voice breaking. *Keep walking. Don’t look, kid.*
*What was that, Superhose?*
*Keep walking. Please. Don’t ask me what-*
*What was that?!* Trish angrily asked.
*One foot in front of the other.* Superhose replied quietly. *Just keep walking…and I’ll tell you. And no tears, Trish. I will protect you…and you will protect me.*
Trish raised her glasses and wiped the tears from her eyes. With a deep exhale, she continued to slowly make her way down the corridor to the ominous black before her.
*Those four Protectors lost their lives when Overmaster trapped them in a special peril in one of his many lairs around the world.* Superhose told her. *It was a coliseum-sized affair…one of them tripped a switch and slammed the entrance shut, sealing them inside. The whole area was flooded with his unique chloroform, sending them to their graves…*
*I can’t…can’t let that happen to my friends…* Trish’s face hardened, her fists balling at her sides. *I won’t, Superhose.
*That’s why we are here.* Superhose reassured her. *In civilian guise, we can get info on his defenses of his new lair, and at the Citadel, Nightfall and White Venus can gain the schematics of the whole thing through the special earrings you are wearing.*
Trish was about to respond when her eyes fell on another portrait, this one the last before the darkness before them. Unlike the others, which showcased Overmaster’s mayhem decades ago, it displayed a young boy standing before a two story house completely engulfed in flames. The boy’s physical features were absent, silhouetted by the giant flame before him.
*This seems-* Trish started.
*-out of place.* Superhose finished her thought. *Back when Overmaster first appeared, we saw this picture in many of his lairs. Thunderbolt Woman used to think that it was a link to his past…*
*Maybe we can use this…against him.* Trish mused.
*Maybe.* Superhose agreed reluctantly.
Trish turned, staring into the darkness before her. *Superhose. What can you tell me about this monster?*
As the petite blonde’s eyes settled on one portrait, a small gasp escaped her dull red lips.
The scene was of a beautiful blonde in the red, gold, and blue uniform of Shining Star, with both arms and legs tied together on a bizarre torture-rack like device. However, the device was not of ancient design, but instead of a futuristic science-fiction variety, a clear tube was where the poor woman was tied standing straight up, with glowing pink strings bonding her wrists to the top and ankles together to the bottom. Her breasts pointed forward vigorously while her body contorted violently, her mouth was opened in silent scream. Tears flew from her eyes and seemingly matted her wild golden hair.
“Shimmering Stars…” Trish quietly whispered in astonishment. “That’s…that’s…”
*Evie…* The Superhose finished for her. *That’s your Gran Evie…*
At that, the Superhose began to shimmer brightly, uncontrollably, overcome by a memory that had long remained dormant.
*The Graviton Tube…* it whispered harshly in Trish’s mind. *It used gravity and anti-gravity to pull…to pull your body apart…he…he was trying to get me off of your Gran, Trish…”
*Overmaster?*
*Yes.* Superhose replied ashamedly. *I’m sorry, kid. I guess even I…even I can be foolish at times. I was hoping it was a mistake that someone or something else was behind the incident at Yoshiwara…*
*Superhose…* Trish reached out to gently caress the artistic rendering of her precious grandmother. She wanted to forget the horrifying image, but it was already smoldering in her mind.
*I should have warned you.* Superhose reprimanded itself. *I should have warned all of you. But…I thought he had died, destroyed forever…”
*Did you-?* Trish quickly turned away from the terrible image, blinking back tears.
*No, Trish.* The wondrous garment answered. *Not I or Evie. But…I can’t say that it was not enticing. Although I don’t condone murder in any form…it’s just…*
*Superhose, I trust you.* Trish mentally responded as she continued down the hallway. *Don’t you dare think you have to explain yourself to me.*
*Trish…* Superhose trailed off, not knowing what to say.
As the partners continued down the corridor, another pictorial atrocity caught Trish’s eye. This one displayed a quartet of strikingly beautiful superheroines being drowned in an ocean of green liquid. All were trapped in the various poses of life preservation: clawing furiously for the surface, clutching fruitlessly at their throats with bulging eyes, or floating lifelessly in the emerald murk.
“Oh my God…” Trish covered her lips in shock.
*Trish…turn away…* Superhose said quietly, its own voice breaking. *Keep walking. Don’t look, kid.*
*What was that, Superhose?*
*Keep walking. Please. Don’t ask me what-*
*What was that?!* Trish angrily asked.
*One foot in front of the other.* Superhose replied quietly. *Just keep walking…and I’ll tell you. And no tears, Trish. I will protect you…and you will protect me.*
Trish raised her glasses and wiped the tears from her eyes. With a deep exhale, she continued to slowly make her way down the corridor to the ominous black before her.
*Those four Protectors lost their lives when Overmaster trapped them in a special peril in one of his many lairs around the world.* Superhose told her. *It was a coliseum-sized affair…one of them tripped a switch and slammed the entrance shut, sealing them inside. The whole area was flooded with his unique chloroform, sending them to their graves…*
*I can’t…can’t let that happen to my friends…* Trish’s face hardened, her fists balling at her sides. *I won’t, Superhose.
*That’s why we are here.* Superhose reassured her. *In civilian guise, we can get info on his defenses of his new lair, and at the Citadel, Nightfall and White Venus can gain the schematics of the whole thing through the special earrings you are wearing.*
Trish was about to respond when her eyes fell on another portrait, this one the last before the darkness before them. Unlike the others, which showcased Overmaster’s mayhem decades ago, it displayed a young boy standing before a two story house completely engulfed in flames. The boy’s physical features were absent, silhouetted by the giant flame before him.
*This seems-* Trish started.
*-out of place.* Superhose finished her thought. *Back when Overmaster first appeared, we saw this picture in many of his lairs. Thunderbolt Woman used to think that it was a link to his past…*
*Maybe we can use this…against him.* Trish mused.
*Maybe.* Superhose agreed reluctantly.
Trish turned, staring into the darkness before her. *Superhose. What can you tell me about this monster?*
As they approached the edge of the blackness, Trish held her breath, waiting apprehensively for the Superhose to begin its story. But, as soon as the wondrous garment was about to begin, Trish took one shaky step into the dark and froze.
A square illuminated where her foot touched the floor. Suddenly, twin blue spotlights flared up, dazzling the petite blond’s senses. With a cry, she threw a protective hand to shield her eyes, shaking her head vigorously to clear the white floaters from her sight. As her vision cleared, her mouth dropped in astonishment, emotionally overwhelmed by what was unfolded before her.
She was standing in a giant hall of sorts, with a Grecian/Roman architectural theme and a ceiling that seemingly stretched upwards into the clouds. Directly before her was a giant wooden check-in kiosk, similar to those seen in office buildings. Behind it was a skeletal figure, reflective silver in color, with only a well-sculptured womanly bosom to suggest some kind of gender. The burning spotlight eyes of the inhuman were focused on her, scanning her body from head to toe. It lingered on the shimmering pantyhose on her well-defined legs for minutes before glancing down at the desk.
“Identify yourself.” It droned in a feminine, though heavily modulated monotone.
Trish’s lips tried to form words, but it was still agape, her attention seized by the astonishing sight that loomed over the silver skeleton and its desk. It was a mammoth statue, literally exploding from the marble-like wall, of a skeletal hand wrapped around the mouth of a masked superheroine in the process of chloroforming her. The gargantuan woman’s eyes were rolling in the slits of her mask, frozen at the moment when her poor mind was sent over the abyss into unconsciousness.
*Trish!* Superhose hissed in her mind, reeling her into reality. *Trish!!*
“Er…ahem…” Trish coughed nervously, clasping her hands before her stomach apprehensively. “I…I must be in the wrong…building. I was looking for the Silva Tower-”
“This was formerly the Silva Tower.” The skull head looked into her eyes, blinding her with its spotlight ones. “It is now my master’s domain.”
“Master?” Trish babbled innocently.
“Yes.” The skeletal being replied. “Have you come to venerate yourself before him?”
*Say yes, kid.* Superhose coached. *Say yes!*
Trish’s face twitched, her lips at war with her thoughts. “Yes.” She half snarled, half cooed.
“What faction of this city do you represent?” the strange creature asked.
“Faction?” she nervously bit her lips.
“Surely you should know what faction you are representative of.” The metal thing droned. “For example, the Delta City Police are a faction of your city’s society-”
“I represent the…er…people.” Trish replied.
“In what capacity?” the thing asked.
“Capacity?”
“Surely you must provide a function as a ‘people’ representative…”
Trish withdrew a business card from her purse and shakily held it out for the being to inspect. “My name is Tatric-Patricia Sanders…computer consultant and instructor.”
The skeletal being did not reach for the card, but instead scanned it with its spotlight eyes. “There is no need for my master to engage in discussions with ‘computer consultant’. As an expression of his genius, it is a grave insult for you to perceive his epitome of creation as flawed.”
“Excuse me?” Trish’s eyes widened behind her glasses.
*Just say you are a reporter!* Superhose hissed. *You are a reporter for a very popular blog of some sort. One thing about our enemy…he is egotistical!*
“I am…not just a computer consultant…” Trish verbally stumbled. “I…am also a reporter. Online. For a blog. That…keeps up with all of the new happenings in town. For the people.”
The silvery creature seemed to stare at her for a moment, emulating the very human motion of considering. Then, a rumbling sound was suddenly heard from behind it. The wall directly behind the being became liquid as a giant skull face suddenly slid downward from the giant statue. As it gently stopped at the ground floor, it opened lengthwise, revealing a small elevator-like room. Inside was another skeletal creature, although it was slightly greater in size than its counterpart before it. It also lacked legs, being no more than a torso connected to long green tubes to the back of the elevator.
“Come.” It beckoned Trish towards it in the exact same monotone as its fellow abomination.
The disguised superheroine hesitated, a normal reaction considering the extraordinary circumstances. However, the ever faithful Superhose gently coaxed its mistress forward with baby steps. Inching her way into the bizarre elevator, Trish failed to hide the expression of terror on her cute face as the “door” closed lengthwise before her, effectively trapping her within the skull head.
The eye sockets of the skull head lit up as it flowed through the wall upward, carrying its precious cargo to its demonic creator on the upper floors.
A square illuminated where her foot touched the floor. Suddenly, twin blue spotlights flared up, dazzling the petite blond’s senses. With a cry, she threw a protective hand to shield her eyes, shaking her head vigorously to clear the white floaters from her sight. As her vision cleared, her mouth dropped in astonishment, emotionally overwhelmed by what was unfolded before her.
She was standing in a giant hall of sorts, with a Grecian/Roman architectural theme and a ceiling that seemingly stretched upwards into the clouds. Directly before her was a giant wooden check-in kiosk, similar to those seen in office buildings. Behind it was a skeletal figure, reflective silver in color, with only a well-sculptured womanly bosom to suggest some kind of gender. The burning spotlight eyes of the inhuman were focused on her, scanning her body from head to toe. It lingered on the shimmering pantyhose on her well-defined legs for minutes before glancing down at the desk.
“Identify yourself.” It droned in a feminine, though heavily modulated monotone.
Trish’s lips tried to form words, but it was still agape, her attention seized by the astonishing sight that loomed over the silver skeleton and its desk. It was a mammoth statue, literally exploding from the marble-like wall, of a skeletal hand wrapped around the mouth of a masked superheroine in the process of chloroforming her. The gargantuan woman’s eyes were rolling in the slits of her mask, frozen at the moment when her poor mind was sent over the abyss into unconsciousness.
*Trish!* Superhose hissed in her mind, reeling her into reality. *Trish!!*
“Er…ahem…” Trish coughed nervously, clasping her hands before her stomach apprehensively. “I…I must be in the wrong…building. I was looking for the Silva Tower-”
“This was formerly the Silva Tower.” The skull head looked into her eyes, blinding her with its spotlight ones. “It is now my master’s domain.”
“Master?” Trish babbled innocently.
“Yes.” The skeletal being replied. “Have you come to venerate yourself before him?”
*Say yes, kid.* Superhose coached. *Say yes!*
Trish’s face twitched, her lips at war with her thoughts. “Yes.” She half snarled, half cooed.
“What faction of this city do you represent?” the strange creature asked.
“Faction?” she nervously bit her lips.
“Surely you should know what faction you are representative of.” The metal thing droned. “For example, the Delta City Police are a faction of your city’s society-”
“I represent the…er…people.” Trish replied.
“In what capacity?” the thing asked.
“Capacity?”
“Surely you must provide a function as a ‘people’ representative…”
Trish withdrew a business card from her purse and shakily held it out for the being to inspect. “My name is Tatric-Patricia Sanders…computer consultant and instructor.”
The skeletal being did not reach for the card, but instead scanned it with its spotlight eyes. “There is no need for my master to engage in discussions with ‘computer consultant’. As an expression of his genius, it is a grave insult for you to perceive his epitome of creation as flawed.”
“Excuse me?” Trish’s eyes widened behind her glasses.
*Just say you are a reporter!* Superhose hissed. *You are a reporter for a very popular blog of some sort. One thing about our enemy…he is egotistical!*
“I am…not just a computer consultant…” Trish verbally stumbled. “I…am also a reporter. Online. For a blog. That…keeps up with all of the new happenings in town. For the people.”
The silvery creature seemed to stare at her for a moment, emulating the very human motion of considering. Then, a rumbling sound was suddenly heard from behind it. The wall directly behind the being became liquid as a giant skull face suddenly slid downward from the giant statue. As it gently stopped at the ground floor, it opened lengthwise, revealing a small elevator-like room. Inside was another skeletal creature, although it was slightly greater in size than its counterpart before it. It also lacked legs, being no more than a torso connected to long green tubes to the back of the elevator.
“Come.” It beckoned Trish towards it in the exact same monotone as its fellow abomination.
The disguised superheroine hesitated, a normal reaction considering the extraordinary circumstances. However, the ever faithful Superhose gently coaxed its mistress forward with baby steps. Inching her way into the bizarre elevator, Trish failed to hide the expression of terror on her cute face as the “door” closed lengthwise before her, effectively trapping her within the skull head.
The eye sockets of the skull head lit up as it flowed through the wall upward, carrying its precious cargo to its demonic creator on the upper floors.
“Star? Do you read me? Star?!”
It was taking all of the will of the Amazon Princess, known to the World of Man as White Venus, to contain her overwhelming trepidation. Within the highly advanced Protectors’ War Room, located deep within the heavily fortified bowels of the tower-like Citadel of Heroines, she was fortunate to be surrounded by friends. The dark avenger known as Nightfall, the Solarin Siren Sundancer, and Venus's personal assistant Julian were crowded around the massive meeting table, watching the holographic display intensely at its center.
The display was a red gridlike diagram of Overmaster Tower, determined by the information picked up from Trish’s earrings. The true nature of the jewelry was that they were miniature stationary probes, utilizing a combination of sonar and laser to construct the interior of their enemy’s new lair from the inside. Although one of the pinnacles of the Venus Foundation’s Tech Division, its superheroic CEO was finding it very hard to summon up any pride in its capabilities. In fact, she prayed for a failure; an apprehensive glance to the empty seats of Halo and the Golden Angel only reinforced her desire.
She could not bear it if her very best friend was captured by this unknown menace.
“Julian?” she glanced over to the handsome bespectacled man in a dapper business suit, who was her right hand in all things Foundation.
“I…don’t know what to say, Ms. Lane…” the eloquent personal assistant inspected the screen of a PDA-styled device in his palm. “The Earspies are working just fine here. It’s like she just disappeared-”
“Impossible!” Nightfall stood up, slamming both black leather gloved palms on the table. Her bountiful breasts bounced vigorously within the confines of her skimpy black and red-trimmed reflective bikini top, which matched the skimpy bikini shorts on the lower part of her curvy anatomy. Black gladiator-styled sandals adorned her feet, and tied up her shapely calves.
Julian walked over to the redhead and forcefully held the PDA device to her face. The one thing he hated more than anything was to be second guessed.
“You’re right.” The Nocturnal Maiden admitted reluctantly, tilting her head bashfully.
“We’re all worried, my friend.” Sundancer floated over and wrapped a comforting arm around Nightfall’s shoulders. “But now…we have to leave it in the hands of the Goddess Solaria and see what befalls us…”
The ebony-haired White Venus sighed in frustration, with hands on her shapely hips. Her own breasts were rising and falling rapidly in the confines of her form-fitting white leotard, adorned with a shimmering golden “V” below her cleavage. Sleek white pantyhose accentuated well-defined legs that ended in white platform sandals. These were the Sandals of Venus, the source of her extraordinary abilities. Golden bracelets symbolized her Amazonian status, while a white chocker glistened around her neck.
“We have to go in.” she said, more to herself than the others. “We have to rescue her.”
“She knew the risks, Ms. Lane.” Julian said briskly, maintaining professional calm. “But when Ms. Sanders sets her mind to something, she will move heaven and earth to obtain her goal.”
“But she’s doing it for the wrong reasons!” White Venus bit her lower lip. “She has this insane notion that we do not accept her as leader, when the general consensus is contrary. With or without Pam Wilson’s blessing, Shining Star is the perfect leader of the Protectors. The name is simply not just the title of a proud superheroine legacy…but a role that Trish embodies. She is the brightest of us all…”
“A role that you, as the Avatar of Venus, could fit as well.” Sundancer smiled at the Amazon Princess. “You were trained by the Amazons of the Island of Myth and are the agent of the Earth goddess Venus in ‘Man’s World’. You are the better warrior and leader.”
“My duties as CEO of the Venus Foundation are overwhelming enough.” White Venus shook her head with a mild smile. “The magnitude of warriors changes from situation to situation, Astrul. I would say leadership as well. Just because my skills are good in one condition doesn’t mean they are good in all conditions.”
“If I may be so bold to speak, Ms. Lane.” Julian cleared his throat. “Leadership isn’t just about the physical or the mental. It’s not about organization and focusing your subordinates. It’s about the spiritual as well, inspiring hope, ‘rallying’ those troops so to speak.”
“In that case…I should be leader!” Nightfall spoke up.
All eyes in the room fell on the Dark Avengeress for a few seconds, as if considering the possibilities. Then, they all resumed conversation as if nothing was uttered.
“Shining Star is the most down-to-earth of all of us.” White Venus said with a grin. “She has the most ‘human’ heart and experience. In this ragtag bunch of nocturnal crusaders, Solarin beauties, angels, and Amazonian warriors, she can be that guiding light that we all need in the infinite fight against injustice.”
Sundancer nodded in agreement. “So what is the battle plan, Amazon?”
White Venus’s expression darkened as her eyes returned to the red-grid holographic diagram on the tabletop. Her toes curled within the Sandals of Venus, her whole being wanting nothing more than to rip out of the Citadel in a battle frenzy and tear downtown to that Tower to rescue her closest companion.
She slowly walked towards the door of the room, with the others waiting on her answer with bated breath.
When she reached the door, she said over her shoulder, “I’m flying to the hospital to check on Gabby and Golden Angel. Somebody needs to talk sense into that angel to rest, and I guess I’m that girl. Hail me on the communicators …if…if something comes up.”
With that, the Avatar of Venus continued to her destination, her hands tied, her wits at an end. There was no way to move forward without more information at the current time, and all of the waiting was driving her stir crazy anyway. Right now, it was up to their collected assortment of deities to provide them with a light at the end of a tunnel.
It was taking all of the will of the Amazon Princess, known to the World of Man as White Venus, to contain her overwhelming trepidation. Within the highly advanced Protectors’ War Room, located deep within the heavily fortified bowels of the tower-like Citadel of Heroines, she was fortunate to be surrounded by friends. The dark avenger known as Nightfall, the Solarin Siren Sundancer, and Venus's personal assistant Julian were crowded around the massive meeting table, watching the holographic display intensely at its center.
The display was a red gridlike diagram of Overmaster Tower, determined by the information picked up from Trish’s earrings. The true nature of the jewelry was that they were miniature stationary probes, utilizing a combination of sonar and laser to construct the interior of their enemy’s new lair from the inside. Although one of the pinnacles of the Venus Foundation’s Tech Division, its superheroic CEO was finding it very hard to summon up any pride in its capabilities. In fact, she prayed for a failure; an apprehensive glance to the empty seats of Halo and the Golden Angel only reinforced her desire.
She could not bear it if her very best friend was captured by this unknown menace.
“Julian?” she glanced over to the handsome bespectacled man in a dapper business suit, who was her right hand in all things Foundation.
“I…don’t know what to say, Ms. Lane…” the eloquent personal assistant inspected the screen of a PDA-styled device in his palm. “The Earspies are working just fine here. It’s like she just disappeared-”
“Impossible!” Nightfall stood up, slamming both black leather gloved palms on the table. Her bountiful breasts bounced vigorously within the confines of her skimpy black and red-trimmed reflective bikini top, which matched the skimpy bikini shorts on the lower part of her curvy anatomy. Black gladiator-styled sandals adorned her feet, and tied up her shapely calves.
Julian walked over to the redhead and forcefully held the PDA device to her face. The one thing he hated more than anything was to be second guessed.
“You’re right.” The Nocturnal Maiden admitted reluctantly, tilting her head bashfully.
“We’re all worried, my friend.” Sundancer floated over and wrapped a comforting arm around Nightfall’s shoulders. “But now…we have to leave it in the hands of the Goddess Solaria and see what befalls us…”
The ebony-haired White Venus sighed in frustration, with hands on her shapely hips. Her own breasts were rising and falling rapidly in the confines of her form-fitting white leotard, adorned with a shimmering golden “V” below her cleavage. Sleek white pantyhose accentuated well-defined legs that ended in white platform sandals. These were the Sandals of Venus, the source of her extraordinary abilities. Golden bracelets symbolized her Amazonian status, while a white chocker glistened around her neck.
“We have to go in.” she said, more to herself than the others. “We have to rescue her.”
“She knew the risks, Ms. Lane.” Julian said briskly, maintaining professional calm. “But when Ms. Sanders sets her mind to something, she will move heaven and earth to obtain her goal.”
“But she’s doing it for the wrong reasons!” White Venus bit her lower lip. “She has this insane notion that we do not accept her as leader, when the general consensus is contrary. With or without Pam Wilson’s blessing, Shining Star is the perfect leader of the Protectors. The name is simply not just the title of a proud superheroine legacy…but a role that Trish embodies. She is the brightest of us all…”
“A role that you, as the Avatar of Venus, could fit as well.” Sundancer smiled at the Amazon Princess. “You were trained by the Amazons of the Island of Myth and are the agent of the Earth goddess Venus in ‘Man’s World’. You are the better warrior and leader.”
“My duties as CEO of the Venus Foundation are overwhelming enough.” White Venus shook her head with a mild smile. “The magnitude of warriors changes from situation to situation, Astrul. I would say leadership as well. Just because my skills are good in one condition doesn’t mean they are good in all conditions.”
“If I may be so bold to speak, Ms. Lane.” Julian cleared his throat. “Leadership isn’t just about the physical or the mental. It’s not about organization and focusing your subordinates. It’s about the spiritual as well, inspiring hope, ‘rallying’ those troops so to speak.”
“In that case…I should be leader!” Nightfall spoke up.
All eyes in the room fell on the Dark Avengeress for a few seconds, as if considering the possibilities. Then, they all resumed conversation as if nothing was uttered.
“Shining Star is the most down-to-earth of all of us.” White Venus said with a grin. “She has the most ‘human’ heart and experience. In this ragtag bunch of nocturnal crusaders, Solarin beauties, angels, and Amazonian warriors, she can be that guiding light that we all need in the infinite fight against injustice.”
Sundancer nodded in agreement. “So what is the battle plan, Amazon?”
White Venus’s expression darkened as her eyes returned to the red-grid holographic diagram on the tabletop. Her toes curled within the Sandals of Venus, her whole being wanting nothing more than to rip out of the Citadel in a battle frenzy and tear downtown to that Tower to rescue her closest companion.
She slowly walked towards the door of the room, with the others waiting on her answer with bated breath.
When she reached the door, she said over her shoulder, “I’m flying to the hospital to check on Gabby and Golden Angel. Somebody needs to talk sense into that angel to rest, and I guess I’m that girl. Hail me on the communicators …if…if something comes up.”
With that, the Avatar of Venus continued to her destination, her hands tied, her wits at an end. There was no way to move forward without more information at the current time, and all of the waiting was driving her stir crazy anyway. Right now, it was up to their collected assortment of deities to provide them with a light at the end of a tunnel.
In the cold, antiseptic room that resembled an elevator, Trish held her ground in one corner facing forward, not daring to move. Her trembling left hand held her right arm as she stared straight at the featureless wall, her whole body trembling uncontrollably. And while Superhose whispered reassurances to her thoughts, the wondrous garment itself was steadily increasing in luminosity, as the sheer danger it sensed in proximity was omnipresent.
There were no buttons to push for motion. Instead, it seemed the silvery monstrosity of bones and tubes behind her was the controller of the bizarre vessel, transporting her to God knows where.
A sound interrupted her mental panic, but not for the better. From unseen speakers, a song suddenly reached Trish’s ears, serving only to unhinge her even more.
It was the rock group’s Queen worldwide hit, “Another One Bites The Dust”.
*Don’t give in to the fear, Trish!* Superhose chanted, rallying courage in its owner. *That’s what he wants you to do, to succumb!!*
*How did Gran Evie handle him, Superhose?* Trish asked desperately.
*With faith, kid. Faith.* Superhose assured her.
Just as the pigtailed blonde was about to ask her partner another question, a tiny part of the wall before her suddenly turned transparent. Forming a minuscule circle of clearness, it began to spread slowly, growing bigger by the second. In under a minute, the elevator had become something of a glass box, revealing an expansive fantastic world that was more horrifying to the disguised Protector than astonishing.
While they were within something resembling a typical elevator shaft, speedily ascending to the sky, the levels displayed before them were in measurements impossible by human standards. It was as if each level of the building was simply a peek into a city or countrywide landscape, unfeasible to fit on a typical building floor. However, while each floor had a unique focus, all shared the same frightening theme: the subjection of women.
One floor consisted of a gargantuan ivory maze, with half-naked frightened women racing for their lives from silvery skeletal androids with harsh spotlight eyes. Another had screaming and thrashing women staring into giant eyeball-like machines, which forcefully hypnotized them and forced them to either fight or make out with each other. Yet another floor had women, these in various superheroine costumes, having their naked breasts being strapped into bizarre devices.
*Trish…my goodness…* Superhose marveled. *The Milk Machines.*
*Those poor ladies…* Trish sighed in agony.
The peculiar elevator’s surface suddenly became solid again as it came to a gentle halt. The door opened lengthwise with a woman’s scream, sending chills racing down Trish’s spine. She was a mass of goosebumps when she exited the elevator, not looking back for a second at her inhuman host. Her sandaled foot hit linoleum, or what resembled linoleum.
“Look up, girl.” She whispered to herself, and obeyed her self-command.
Gone was the usual plush, typically CEO-styled office of the Don of Delta City. In its place was a monstrous mutation, a manifestation of mad science gone wild. Like everything else in the Tower, its space was impossible to determine from the outside. Although normal compared to the floors she had witnessed before it, Trish determined that it was at least half a football field, a deduction confirmed by the Superhose measuring it. Gigantic computer screens and multi-colored mainframe panels covered the bulk of the wall space, along with a couple of towering bookcases filled to the brim with literary works. A huge golden desk set directly in the center of the gargantuan room, empty. Behind it was a stripper pole on a raised circular platform, overlooking an extraordinary view of the world famous Delta City skyline. Sitting by the stripper pole was a woman in an Ultra Woman costume and stripper heels, chained to said pole with a golden dog collar and chain.
Immediately before Trish was six clear tubes that she recognized from Superhose’s reminiscence as “Graviton Tubes”. Each one held the statuesque form of a masked heroine beauty, bound by the wrists and ankles by pink energy ropes and pulled violently by the clash of gravitational forces.
“Shimmering Stars!” she exclaimed, slowly walking up to one of the tubes. The poor heroine being held inside made painful eye contact. A scream escaped her bleeding lips.
“You gotta help us!” she sobbed, flexing wildly in her fantastical bonds. “Please!”
Just as Trish’s hand was about to touch the glass surface of the tube, a silvery skeleton landed before her with an earthshattering thud.
“The master will be meeting with you in a few minutes.” It droned with a curtsey. “Please, take a seat.”
Trish’s eyes lingered on her poor fellow crimefighter in dire straits, while Superhose had to nudge her onward. The six Graviton Tubes seemed to form a pathway of sorts, leading to two small chairs directly before the great golden desk. Reluctantly, Trish took a seat, crossing her legs nervously. The silvery skeleton stood behind her, become a still, silent sentinel as it awaited its creator.
There were no buttons to push for motion. Instead, it seemed the silvery monstrosity of bones and tubes behind her was the controller of the bizarre vessel, transporting her to God knows where.
A sound interrupted her mental panic, but not for the better. From unseen speakers, a song suddenly reached Trish’s ears, serving only to unhinge her even more.
It was the rock group’s Queen worldwide hit, “Another One Bites The Dust”.
*Don’t give in to the fear, Trish!* Superhose chanted, rallying courage in its owner. *That’s what he wants you to do, to succumb!!*
*How did Gran Evie handle him, Superhose?* Trish asked desperately.
*With faith, kid. Faith.* Superhose assured her.
Just as the pigtailed blonde was about to ask her partner another question, a tiny part of the wall before her suddenly turned transparent. Forming a minuscule circle of clearness, it began to spread slowly, growing bigger by the second. In under a minute, the elevator had become something of a glass box, revealing an expansive fantastic world that was more horrifying to the disguised Protector than astonishing.
While they were within something resembling a typical elevator shaft, speedily ascending to the sky, the levels displayed before them were in measurements impossible by human standards. It was as if each level of the building was simply a peek into a city or countrywide landscape, unfeasible to fit on a typical building floor. However, while each floor had a unique focus, all shared the same frightening theme: the subjection of women.
One floor consisted of a gargantuan ivory maze, with half-naked frightened women racing for their lives from silvery skeletal androids with harsh spotlight eyes. Another had screaming and thrashing women staring into giant eyeball-like machines, which forcefully hypnotized them and forced them to either fight or make out with each other. Yet another floor had women, these in various superheroine costumes, having their naked breasts being strapped into bizarre devices.
*Trish…my goodness…* Superhose marveled. *The Milk Machines.*
*Those poor ladies…* Trish sighed in agony.
The peculiar elevator’s surface suddenly became solid again as it came to a gentle halt. The door opened lengthwise with a woman’s scream, sending chills racing down Trish’s spine. She was a mass of goosebumps when she exited the elevator, not looking back for a second at her inhuman host. Her sandaled foot hit linoleum, or what resembled linoleum.
“Look up, girl.” She whispered to herself, and obeyed her self-command.
Gone was the usual plush, typically CEO-styled office of the Don of Delta City. In its place was a monstrous mutation, a manifestation of mad science gone wild. Like everything else in the Tower, its space was impossible to determine from the outside. Although normal compared to the floors she had witnessed before it, Trish determined that it was at least half a football field, a deduction confirmed by the Superhose measuring it. Gigantic computer screens and multi-colored mainframe panels covered the bulk of the wall space, along with a couple of towering bookcases filled to the brim with literary works. A huge golden desk set directly in the center of the gargantuan room, empty. Behind it was a stripper pole on a raised circular platform, overlooking an extraordinary view of the world famous Delta City skyline. Sitting by the stripper pole was a woman in an Ultra Woman costume and stripper heels, chained to said pole with a golden dog collar and chain.
Immediately before Trish was six clear tubes that she recognized from Superhose’s reminiscence as “Graviton Tubes”. Each one held the statuesque form of a masked heroine beauty, bound by the wrists and ankles by pink energy ropes and pulled violently by the clash of gravitational forces.
“Shimmering Stars!” she exclaimed, slowly walking up to one of the tubes. The poor heroine being held inside made painful eye contact. A scream escaped her bleeding lips.
“You gotta help us!” she sobbed, flexing wildly in her fantastical bonds. “Please!”
Just as Trish’s hand was about to touch the glass surface of the tube, a silvery skeleton landed before her with an earthshattering thud.
“The master will be meeting with you in a few minutes.” It droned with a curtsey. “Please, take a seat.”
Trish’s eyes lingered on her poor fellow crimefighter in dire straits, while Superhose had to nudge her onward. The six Graviton Tubes seemed to form a pathway of sorts, leading to two small chairs directly before the great golden desk. Reluctantly, Trish took a seat, crossing her legs nervously. The silvery skeleton stood behind her, become a still, silent sentinel as it awaited its creator.
Last edited by The UG 11 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
The measurement of time became lost to the undercover Golden-Haired Crimebuster as she sat paralyzed in the very throneroom of Hell on Earth. The exasperated screams of the trapped occupants of the Graviton Tubes, combined with the disturbing imagery she had witnessed so far was taking its toll on the poor soul, nearly succeeding in breaking her resolve.
But it was not enough. Trish pressed her lips together, causing a stoic expression to overtake her charming features. She was the champion of Capitol City, and leader of the Protectors of Justice. She wore the legendary Superhose, or Uberhosen, passed down from her grandmother before her, a shining star of her own generation if there ever was one. This creep, this “Overmaster” was simply another madman, like the dozens she had faced in her adventures back home. Lady Chlorofoot, Constricta, her own Don De Cienzo…they had all fallen before her sleek pantyhosed feet.
That train of thought also brought out her one true failure, the Silk Vixen. Detective Sgt. Jack MacTaggert was still months away from a full recovery from her horrendous attack, and while the Sleek-Legged Beauty brought the French miscreant to justice, the damage was still there. From there, her thoughts lingered on Halo, who seemed to mirror her own single-minded vigil at Jac Mac’s bedside all those weeks ago. It seemed down right hypocritical to talk the Angelic Avenger away from her self-induced post by the comatose Golden Angel’s side, but it had to be done.
For Trish had a first hand experience of the darkness of revenge consuming one’s soul.
*Trish!* Superhose ripped her from her mental reverie. *Look at that!*
The pigtailed blonde obeyed her partner’s cerebral nudge, glancing down at her feet, and gasped audibly. The floor was an amber color and transparent. Below her very feet was a giant pool of sorts, with no visible bottom. Swimming inside that pool, an inch beneath the floor’s clear surface was a giant silvery leviathan, resembling a fat snakelike creature. Its gargantuan head was a silvery skull, just like the silvery skeletal creatures, with laser-red spotlight eyes. Swimming frantically before it was a long-haired beauty with a stunning upper female form and a sleek fishlike body with jewel-like green scales.
It was an actual mermaid of legend.
*That is a Surfacer Synturion.* Superhose reported in a frightened tone. *They can seem to swim through concrete as well as water because of their burrowing capabilities. They can capture a superheroine by swallowing her whole and then squeezing her either into unconsciousness or death.*
*Oh my goodness…* Trish marveled. *Like that “Tremors” movie?*
*Oh, Trish, my dear…please, please forgive me. There was a pact between your Gran Evie and I to forget the war we fought in all those years ago. And I guess it had succeeded. It should have fallen into place when the Dirty Pair was attacked in Yoshiwara…but here…everything is coming back…*
*So what are those skeleton things?*
*Trish…they are the thing of nightmares. Chloroformed-powered gynoids, the horrifying personification of perversion and mad science. Built to be mockeries of superheroines, our mirror duplicates, though horrifically caricatured…Synturions. The Heroine-Hunters. Tireless. Deadly. And like myself…indestructible…*
*Nothing evil is indestructible, Superhose.*
*And yet, your conviction is lacking, kid.*
As the mental exchange was unfolding, the mermaid had led the Surfacer Synturion on a frenzied chase in the murky water, and had even disappeared from view for a moment. But suddenly, as Trish watched helplessly, the blonde creature of myth had returned, her tail fin a blur as she soared up from the depths to where the heroine was sitting. She pounded on the surface beneath Trish’s feet, her frantic small fists making no noise for the petite blonde to hear.
“I’m sorry!” Trish choked back a sob, shaking her head frenetically. She glanced away from a moment, trying not to make eye contact with the mermaid directly below her.
But curiosity returned her gaze to the floor, where the mermaid was in tears, her hands covering her eyes. Directly below her, huge red twin spotlights lanced out of the gloom, heralding the head-on charge of the mammoth Surfacer threat.
“Below you!” Trish fell to her knees, slapping the floor madly, trying to gain the attention of the mermaid. Sadly, however, the watery maiden was engrossed in her sobbing, oblivious to the menace that loomed seconds away.
*We can’t save her, Trish.* Superhose said sadly. *At least…not right now…*
“We can’t give up!” Trish shouted audibly, smacking the floor frantically. The mermaid still did not budge from her position. It seemed that she had relinquished herself to her fate.
The silvery skull face of the abomination opened wide, revealing a hole darker than the water surrounding it. Just as it was about to consume the water nymph whole-
“My apologies for my tardiness.” A deep, eloquent masculine voice, mechanically filtered, startled Trish. Welcoming the interruption, the young woman’s bespectacled eyes fell upon the newest visitor to the room. A black caped armored figure appeared, emerging from a skull’s mouth that had spontaneously formed from the wall itself. It, or he was followed by two Synturions, pushing along the limp, lethargic form of an attractive young woman. A third Synturion emerged thereafter, reading a clipboard in one skeletal hand and holding a cup of steaming tea in the other. When it had fully stepped into the room, the mouth of the skull closed. The giant cranium, displaying a horrifying grin, melted into the wall, reverting it to its original solid form.
Sighing, the armored man removed his flowing cape and hung it on a metal coat rack that had risen out of the floor behind his desk. The two Synturions holding the sluggish beauty threw her harshly on the desk and stepped back, taking positions on both sides of their master’s massive red chair. Her mind initially in a haze, Trish paid no attention to the woman lying drowsy before her. Then the familiarity began to overtake her senses, rendering her speechless.
The beauty had a richly tanned skin, with her luscious raven hair twisted in unique braids, accentuated by red beads at the tips. A thin golden tiara with a single ruby gem at the center adorned her forehead, coordinating with the ruby diamond that hung from a golden necklace around her slender throat. Her gorgeous, athletic form was clad in leopard skin, consisting of a mere one strap bra and bikini briefs. Her strong, shapely legs and pretty feet were covered with sleek shimmering pantyhose, adorned with straps that started at her ankles and tied at her knees.
Besides White Venus, this unfortunate champion of justice was also Shining Star’s best friend and ally.
She was known as Malkia Msaka…The Hunter Queen.
Trish’s fists clenched, taking every fiber in her being, as well as Superhose’s coaxing, to maintain her composure.
The armored being sat in his great chair slowly, visually taking great joy in inspecting the dazed crimefighter on his desk before him. He opened her legs wide, painstakingly sliding his metal talons her muscled, pantyhosed limbs.
“You don’t mind if I answer your questions while working, do you?” His flaring red eyes locked on the quivering woman in his midst.
Trish shook her head meekly, fighting every urge to leap over the desk and kick the monster’s head off of his shoulders.
“Good.” His gaze returned to the Hunter Queen’s legs, specifically her pantyhose. “The famous ‘Wonder Hose’…created by James Haversham…thought to have been lost in the wilds of Africa…”
A moan escaped from the lethargic Jungle Queen’s lips, muddled words that sent both Trish and her Superhose cringing in horror.
“Perfume…” she whispered, her head thrashing about on the cusp of unconsciousness. “I smell…Star’s perfume…”
But it was not enough. Trish pressed her lips together, causing a stoic expression to overtake her charming features. She was the champion of Capitol City, and leader of the Protectors of Justice. She wore the legendary Superhose, or Uberhosen, passed down from her grandmother before her, a shining star of her own generation if there ever was one. This creep, this “Overmaster” was simply another madman, like the dozens she had faced in her adventures back home. Lady Chlorofoot, Constricta, her own Don De Cienzo…they had all fallen before her sleek pantyhosed feet.
That train of thought also brought out her one true failure, the Silk Vixen. Detective Sgt. Jack MacTaggert was still months away from a full recovery from her horrendous attack, and while the Sleek-Legged Beauty brought the French miscreant to justice, the damage was still there. From there, her thoughts lingered on Halo, who seemed to mirror her own single-minded vigil at Jac Mac’s bedside all those weeks ago. It seemed down right hypocritical to talk the Angelic Avenger away from her self-induced post by the comatose Golden Angel’s side, but it had to be done.
For Trish had a first hand experience of the darkness of revenge consuming one’s soul.
*Trish!* Superhose ripped her from her mental reverie. *Look at that!*
The pigtailed blonde obeyed her partner’s cerebral nudge, glancing down at her feet, and gasped audibly. The floor was an amber color and transparent. Below her very feet was a giant pool of sorts, with no visible bottom. Swimming inside that pool, an inch beneath the floor’s clear surface was a giant silvery leviathan, resembling a fat snakelike creature. Its gargantuan head was a silvery skull, just like the silvery skeletal creatures, with laser-red spotlight eyes. Swimming frantically before it was a long-haired beauty with a stunning upper female form and a sleek fishlike body with jewel-like green scales.
It was an actual mermaid of legend.
*That is a Surfacer Synturion.* Superhose reported in a frightened tone. *They can seem to swim through concrete as well as water because of their burrowing capabilities. They can capture a superheroine by swallowing her whole and then squeezing her either into unconsciousness or death.*
*Oh my goodness…* Trish marveled. *Like that “Tremors” movie?*
*Oh, Trish, my dear…please, please forgive me. There was a pact between your Gran Evie and I to forget the war we fought in all those years ago. And I guess it had succeeded. It should have fallen into place when the Dirty Pair was attacked in Yoshiwara…but here…everything is coming back…*
*So what are those skeleton things?*
*Trish…they are the thing of nightmares. Chloroformed-powered gynoids, the horrifying personification of perversion and mad science. Built to be mockeries of superheroines, our mirror duplicates, though horrifically caricatured…Synturions. The Heroine-Hunters. Tireless. Deadly. And like myself…indestructible…*
*Nothing evil is indestructible, Superhose.*
*And yet, your conviction is lacking, kid.*
As the mental exchange was unfolding, the mermaid had led the Surfacer Synturion on a frenzied chase in the murky water, and had even disappeared from view for a moment. But suddenly, as Trish watched helplessly, the blonde creature of myth had returned, her tail fin a blur as she soared up from the depths to where the heroine was sitting. She pounded on the surface beneath Trish’s feet, her frantic small fists making no noise for the petite blonde to hear.
“I’m sorry!” Trish choked back a sob, shaking her head frenetically. She glanced away from a moment, trying not to make eye contact with the mermaid directly below her.
But curiosity returned her gaze to the floor, where the mermaid was in tears, her hands covering her eyes. Directly below her, huge red twin spotlights lanced out of the gloom, heralding the head-on charge of the mammoth Surfacer threat.
“Below you!” Trish fell to her knees, slapping the floor madly, trying to gain the attention of the mermaid. Sadly, however, the watery maiden was engrossed in her sobbing, oblivious to the menace that loomed seconds away.
*We can’t save her, Trish.* Superhose said sadly. *At least…not right now…*
“We can’t give up!” Trish shouted audibly, smacking the floor frantically. The mermaid still did not budge from her position. It seemed that she had relinquished herself to her fate.
The silvery skull face of the abomination opened wide, revealing a hole darker than the water surrounding it. Just as it was about to consume the water nymph whole-
“My apologies for my tardiness.” A deep, eloquent masculine voice, mechanically filtered, startled Trish. Welcoming the interruption, the young woman’s bespectacled eyes fell upon the newest visitor to the room. A black caped armored figure appeared, emerging from a skull’s mouth that had spontaneously formed from the wall itself. It, or he was followed by two Synturions, pushing along the limp, lethargic form of an attractive young woman. A third Synturion emerged thereafter, reading a clipboard in one skeletal hand and holding a cup of steaming tea in the other. When it had fully stepped into the room, the mouth of the skull closed. The giant cranium, displaying a horrifying grin, melted into the wall, reverting it to its original solid form.
Sighing, the armored man removed his flowing cape and hung it on a metal coat rack that had risen out of the floor behind his desk. The two Synturions holding the sluggish beauty threw her harshly on the desk and stepped back, taking positions on both sides of their master’s massive red chair. Her mind initially in a haze, Trish paid no attention to the woman lying drowsy before her. Then the familiarity began to overtake her senses, rendering her speechless.
The beauty had a richly tanned skin, with her luscious raven hair twisted in unique braids, accentuated by red beads at the tips. A thin golden tiara with a single ruby gem at the center adorned her forehead, coordinating with the ruby diamond that hung from a golden necklace around her slender throat. Her gorgeous, athletic form was clad in leopard skin, consisting of a mere one strap bra and bikini briefs. Her strong, shapely legs and pretty feet were covered with sleek shimmering pantyhose, adorned with straps that started at her ankles and tied at her knees.
Besides White Venus, this unfortunate champion of justice was also Shining Star’s best friend and ally.
She was known as Malkia Msaka…The Hunter Queen.
Trish’s fists clenched, taking every fiber in her being, as well as Superhose’s coaxing, to maintain her composure.
The armored being sat in his great chair slowly, visually taking great joy in inspecting the dazed crimefighter on his desk before him. He opened her legs wide, painstakingly sliding his metal talons her muscled, pantyhosed limbs.
“You don’t mind if I answer your questions while working, do you?” His flaring red eyes locked on the quivering woman in his midst.
Trish shook her head meekly, fighting every urge to leap over the desk and kick the monster’s head off of his shoulders.
“Good.” His gaze returned to the Hunter Queen’s legs, specifically her pantyhose. “The famous ‘Wonder Hose’…created by James Haversham…thought to have been lost in the wilds of Africa…”
A moan escaped from the lethargic Jungle Queen’s lips, muddled words that sent both Trish and her Superhose cringing in horror.
“Perfume…” she whispered, her head thrashing about on the cusp of unconsciousness. “I smell…Star’s perfume…”