100.jpg)
Please do post or message your feedback. Always so appreciated!
…………………………..
Fuchsia Fox: "Shadow Tiger"
By Centurion
Prologue - Harmon Technologies, Alexandria, Virginia
The night watchman sat in the office with his feet up, holding a copy of "What's Happening in Washington" magazine open in front of him. On the cover was a photo of the Fuchsia Fox, looking stunningly sexy with her luxurious dark brunette hair whispering over her bare shoulders. Her beautiful brown eyes were looking directly at the camera, her lips set in a confident, slightly aristocratic smile. Her arms, sheathed in elbow length gloves, were crossed just below her bust, giving a semi-profile view of that famous fox head chest emblem on the front of her purplish-pink halter top, and better yet from the watchman's point of view, of the sweet hills of her gorgeous pair of knockers.
The watchman was reading the article inside the magazine, which told how Washington's resident superheroine had foiled a major terrorist attack on New York City. "Yeah, right," the man scoffed, wondering how much they were leaving out. The article mentioned casually that the Fox had allowed herself to be captured in order to discover the location of their headquarters, and the watchman was busy trying to imagine her hogtied. "Why don't they show us a picture of that?" he grumbled. He closed the magazine and stared at the cover photo, trying to picture the sexy superheroine in bondage, totally helpless, with that cocky smirk wiped off her face.
Suddenly there was a beep-beep from the security monitor panel. Something had tripped the fence alarm over by Warehouse number 2. The watchman tossed aside the magazine and got up from his chair. It was probably a cat. Harmon Technologies was bankrupt. All of the really valuable equipment had already been sold to pay off debts. The only thing in Warehouse 2 was the hardware from some failed experiments, gathering dust until the new owners decided whether to sell it or junk it. Nevertheless, the watchman left the office and made a perfunctory search of the area just so that he could say he had. As he scanned the darkness ahead of him with his flashlight, shadows seemed to leap all around him.
But as he approached the corner of Warehouse 2, the watchman saw a knotted black rope looped over the top of the fence by a grappling hook and holding the razor wire down. He examined the dangling end of the rope, amazed. Someone had come over the fence? Just then he heard a sharp ding! sound, as if something metal had fallen on concrete. He moved his flashlight to his left hand and drew his automatic pistol with his right, peering into the shadows.
"All right, come out," the watchman said out loud. "Don't give me a hard time." He swept the flashlight back and forth, moving toward the door to the warehouse. As he got there, his light picked up the shape of a small burglar tool lying on the concrete. Around the lock itself were scratch marks as if someone had been trying to jimmy it open.
"I said don't give me any trouble," the watchman said. "I don't want to--". Just then his flashlight illuminated a dark shadow that turned out to be a man dressed in black burglar clothes, a ski mask over his face showing only a slit for his eyes.
Before the watchman could even move, the man in black darted forward, seizing his wrist and twisting it with a disarming move. His gun clattered to the concrete as the watchman grunted in pain, swinging his flashlight toward his attacker like a club. Moving like a cat, the man in black ducked, slipped under the watchman's still entrapped right arm and spun behind him, his other hand grabbing the watchman's neck in a nerve pinch. The watchman dropped.
Silently the burglar searched the watchman's belt for his keys. He found the one for Warehouse 2 and opened the door. Then he dragged the watchman inside and, using the watchman's own flashlight, began to search. It wasn't long before he had located a locker and used his burglar tool to snap off the padlock. Inside were two boxes of files and a gray case.
They were labeled "QUAHOG". The burglar smiled under his ski mask. It might be a stupid name, but his partner was right, it was right where he had said it was. He opened the case to make sure that it contained what it was supposed to, and then he set it aside near the door. The files he wouldn't need. His partner had told him to burn them. He took the small thermite grenade from his pouch, set the timer, and put it with the boxes. Then he closed the locker door.
Should he save the watchman? Nah -- the grenade wasn't that big. Quickly the burglar carried the case outside, attached it to a harness and slung it over his back. He heard the whump sound of the grenade going off inside the building. Then he swarmed up the rope and over the fence, where he vanished into the night.
***
Chapter 1 - Arlington, Virginia, two weeks later
The rosy light of dawn was filtering through the half-open curtains of the bedroom. Jennifer Fletcher was unaware of it, still sleeping peacefully with her head against the pillow, crowned with a halo of brunette tresses. She was lying on her left side, the covers pulled demurely up to her sweet chest, her naked body spooned warmly against the masculine form of her husband behind her.
As Martin Fletcher awoke, his right hand lightly caressed his wife's supple waist and belly. His lips brushed her smooth, bare shoulder, tasting her satin skin as he took in the fragrant feminine scent of her body. Right away, his cock grew hard with arousal. He snuggled closer against her, his hips rubbing gently up and down against the backs of hers, until he felt his shaft slide smoothly in between the soft cheeks of her pert tail. Still she didn't wake up.
He let his hand glide over Jenn's rounded hips and behind her, carefully spreading her butt cheeks so that he could delve deeper. Now her body began to stir softly in her sleep, her leg moving of its own accord in response to his gentle nudges. Martin's fingers explored deeper into her cleft until he found her snatch, warm and slippery with her flowing juices.
"Mmmmmmm," Jenn murmured drowsily, still more than three quarters asleep but her pulses racing as her body reacted to his carnal touches. Martin kissed her shoulder again, his rigid manhood probing softly along the length of her moist coosh. He eased the head of his boner between her pussy lips and into her love hole, rubbing firmly against the bud of her clit.
"Ohh!" Jennifer abruptly woke with a gasp as he sheathed his cock inside her lubricated tunnel. Her brown eyes fluttered open, her skin flushed and her heart throbbing as Martin worked himself ever further into her depths. With a moan, she began to thrust her hips backward against his impaling rod, shivering with pleasure. Martin brushed her hair aside, planting kisses on the back of her neck as his hand reached forward and cupped her firm, pliant breast, all the while keeping up his steady, rhythmic strokes like a piston.
"OH YES!" Jennifer gasped, as her vagina began to constrict around his pole, her entire body quivering with lust as each thrust seemed to rock her to the very core. "YES! MMMM YES!"
"Don't get ahead of me," Martin whispered, feeling his orgasm building like a storm.
"Yessss," his wife moaned, almost face down in her pillow. "Oh God. Almost there... almost... cum with me! YIKES!"
Martin ejaculated, shooting a stream of sperm into her, followed immediately by another. "Unnnnnn!" Jennifer moaned, stars exploding inside her head, her body wriggling underneath him as her own climax came like a flood.
As Martin pulled out, she rolled over onto her back, breathing hard, her face still hot and flushed as they held each other and cuddled. "What a great way to wake up in the morning," Jenn commented. "Thank you, darling."
"My pleasure," he said, kissing her breasts. After a few moments of this, he excused himself, pushed aside his covers and got out of bed. Jennifer watched dreamily as he went into the bathroom.
"Do you have to work today?" she asked.
"Afraid so," he replied, as the shower turned on. "I've got an inspection tour out at Fort Meade."
Jennifer lay back in the sheets with the lazy, blissful awareness that she had the day off, and she could lie here in bed all morning if she wanted to. Of course, the beautiful brunette knew that she wouldn't be that self-indulgent. There were several errands she had to run. She would probably go for a run later, maybe do some shopping. But for now, she could just lie back and savor the blissful feelings still tingly through her.
Her phone suddenly rang. Jennifer scrambled out of bed, snatching up her off-white satin bathrobe as she ran for the kitchen counter where they had both left their phones the evening before. The caller I.D. said it was Diane Prescott from work. "Hello, Diane?" Jennifer said, answering it while still wriggling into the sleeves of her robe.
"I'm so sorry to be calling so early, Ms. Fletcher," Diane said, "and on your day off. I hope I didn't wake you or... you know... interrupt anything." Jennifer could practically hear the smirk in her voice; Diane knew that she was married.
"Um... no," Jennifer said, blushing, "but if you had called two minutes ago you might have." Leaving the front of her robe hanging loose, she reached across the counter and started the coffeepot. "What's up?"
"You know that archival material that we were scanning into the computer for the website? I'm looking at your computer right now and I can't find the Schoenburger Files."
"I gave those to Gloria," Jennifer said, getting two cups from the drain rack. "Try her computer."
"Okay. Sorry I bothered you again."
"No problem." Jennifer clicked off the phone and put it back on the counter. Now that she was up, she might as well make breakfast. But then her eye fell on her other phone, the one with the fuchsia case. The red light was blinking, indicating that a text message was waiting.
The message read: "Fox; would like your help with a weird murder case, Starr Labs on Q St. Caldwell."
Jennifer frowned as she strolled back to the bedroom. That was very strange. Lieutenant Caldwell of the D.C. Metropolitan Police Department was not in the habit of asking for her help on ordinary murder cases. It must be something really unusual if he thought he needed a superheroine's help.
Just then the shower turned off and Martin emerged, grabbing a towel. He saw Jennifer standing there pensively, her short satin bathrobe merely draped around her spectacular naked body and unfastened in front, giving him a tantalizing and very tempting view of the sweet valley in between her succulent breasts, her toned midriff and a mouthwatering glimpse of her finely trimmed snatch. His cock immediately began to rise up again and thicken.
"Maybe I'll skip breakfast and just have you again," he groaned, reaching around her slender waist and grabbing her pert, round butt.
Jennifer stood on tiptoe to give him a lingering, teasing kiss on the lips. "Sorry, hon, I've got to rush," she said, executing a graceful pirouette which left him holding her empty robe as she dashed into the shower stall. "Could you see to breakfast, please?"
Martin seethed a bit with frustration as he toweled off and got partly dressed in trousers and his undershirt. He was in the kitchen buttering toast and pouring two cups of coffee when Jennifer joined him, wearing her Fuchsia Fox costume. His eyes opened wide as he stared at the purplish pink ankle boots on her feet, following her sleek, sexy legs upward to where they disappeared under a flirty, 14-inch miniskirt, then continued over her bare abs to the halter top with its famous fox head emblem gracing her marvelous B-cups. She was in the process of clasping her bracelets of Ishtar around her wrists over her elbow length gloves.
"Is something up?" he asked, starting on the toast.
"I don't know," Jenn answered, taking a long drink of coffee while she showed him the message from Caldwell.
"That sounds mysterious," Martin agreed. "Wonder what Caldwell considers weird?"
"I'll find out when I find out I guess," she said, eating a piece of toast. A few moments later, the Fox kissed him goodbye and headed for the balcony window.
***
Chapter 2 –
Starr Labs was a complex of six buildings encircled by a high security fence. A van from the Coroner's Office was just pulling away from one of the buildings as the Fuchsia Fox landed gracefully inside the compound, her miniskirt fluttering as she touched down in between two patrol cars from the D.C. Metropolitan Police Department. The young policeman who was guarding the door didn't even question the beautiful superheroine's appearance. With his mouth hanging open, he quickly opened the door for her, touching the brim of his cap.
The Fox favored him with a somewhat haughty look as she swished past, feeling the weight of his stare on her pert caboose. She entered the building, following the hallway to a busy intersection where a forensics team wearing goggles was busy with some gadget scanning the open doorway to a storage room. Two plainclothes detectives were standing unobtrusively out of the way -- one in his late twenties wearing a stylish suit, and the other in his fifties, wearing much more conservative clothes.
"I tell you, Fox," the older man said, "I'm getting too old for cases like this."
"You're not old, Lt. Caldwell," the sexy superheroine said, laying a hand warmly on his shoulder. "You're mature." Even as the words left her lips, Jennifer made a face, realizing that this was not a good thing for an attractive young woman to say to a man. "What I mean is," she added, floundering, "you're seasoned. Experienced! That's a good word, isn't it?"
"I'll be sixty next month," he said, and he sighed. "Maybe it's time to turn things over to younger minds, like Sergeant Erskine here."
"Hi, Fox," the younger detective said with a sly grin while he wrote something in his notebook.
"Hi, Paul," the heroine said, feeling her pulse quicken just a touch. He was sandy-haired and handsome, much closer to the Fox's own age. The two of them had crossed paths a couple of times on minor cases. Meeting him now, so soon after kissing her husband good-bye, there was something about his presence that made her exposed skin tingle.
"You just missed the body," Caldwell said. "Nothing you really need to see. The victim's name was James Hopper. He was strangled, expertly. Bruises on the throat indicate that it was done with bare hands. Here's the difficult part -- it was done inside a locked room." He indicated the room where the forensics team had finished their scan and were packing up their equipment.
"It's a limited access storage room, for electronics gear and supplies," Erskine said. "You need a coded entry card to get in. The computer logged the door opened by Hopper at 3:21 a.m. The cameras in the hallway confirm that he and lab assistant Linda Burns entered at that time, alone. Then the door was opened briefly from inside at 3:43. You don't need a card to open it from inside, so we don't know if it was Hopper or Burns. At any rate, the cameras show nobody leaving. You can see the door open and close again. From then there was no activity until 5:47, when Miss Burns came out of the room and alerted security."
"She was there when the killing took place?" the Fox asked incredulously. "What does she say happened?"
"Let's talk to her and see," Caldwell said, leading the way to a nearby break room, where they found a young, attractive girl with short, reddish-brown hair, wearing a light brown skirt and a darker blouse, with a white lab coat over it. The Fox immediately noticed that her blouse had been buttoned unevenly. The girl was just finishing touching up her make-up as they entered.
"All right, Miss Burns, let's have it once more," Caldwell said. "To begin with, what were you doing in the storage room that late?"
"I told you," the girl said. "We work the graveyard shift. We were checking that the calibration on the plasma sensors are up to date, because they were going to be used in the morning. It's one of Jimmy's responsibilities, and I was helping him out."
"It takes two people to do that?" the detective asked.
The Fox caught a momentary flash of the girl's green eyes as she looked sharply at Caldwell, then looked down demurely. "Yes, it does."
"And then what happened?"
"I don't know," the girl said. Her lower lip was trembling, her eyes wide. "We were working... and all of a sudden I started to feel sleepy. I guess... well, they keep tanks of nitrous oxide in there. I supposed that one of them had a leaky seal. That's all I know. I woke up and Jimmy was dead. I don't know anything else. Please, can I go now?"
The Fox took a couple of steps closer, crossing her arms beneath her exquisite bust. "Did you care for James Hopper, Miss Burns?" she asked.
"What?" the girl blurted out as though flustered by the question. "What kind of question is that? Of course I cared for him. We worked together!"
"I mean, did you really CARE for him?"
"Well, he was fun to be around," the girl said hesitantly. "But as far as being in love with him, if that's what you mean, he wasn't really my type."
"But good enough to have a quickie with when no one was looking, right?" the superheroine said, raising one aristocratic eyebrow. "Graveyard shifts can be pretty boring, and there are no security cameras inside the storage room, are there?"
The girl's cheeks flushed pink. She looked about to panic. "He... he said he'd kill me if I told."
"Who did?" asked Caldwell.
"HIM!" The girl licked her lips. "Okay, there was somebody in the room with us. I don't know how. We had... okay we were making out on the table in there, and suddenly Jimmy said Who's There? I said, Baby it's me, or something. But Jimmy scrambled off of me and started... well, it was like he was shadow boxing, you know? Fighting with somebody I couldn't see. I thought he was having a fit or something, so I got my clothes on good and fast."
"Let me get this straight," Caldwell said. "You didn't see who he was fighting with?"
"There was nobody there," the girl insisted. "But he was fighting and tumbling over the tables, and suddenly he started gasping like somebody was strangling him. He dropped to the floor and that's when I ran for the door. But then... somebody grabbed me. It was a man, I'm sure. He pulled me into his arms, and he squeezed my... well you know. I heard him whisper in my ear. He said if I said anything, he'd kill me. Then he pinched me on the shoulder and I must have passed out. That's the truth. I don't know anything more."
The Fox went with Caldwell and Erskine into the hallway and from there back to the storage room. "Was anything missing from the room?" the superheroine asked.
"Not according to the inventory," Caldwell said thoughtfully. "The assailant killed the man, but he let the girl live. That suggests a personal grudge. He was specifically after Hopper."
Erskine made a note in his notebook. "You know what they say," he said. "A Ninja strikes like a shadow in the night. Looked for, he cannot be seen. Listened for, he cannot be heard. Touched, he cannot be felt."
"Is that all you've got, sergeant," said Caldwell sourly, "old Bruce Lee movies?"
The Fox smirked. "I find it hard to picture a Ninja watching two people have sex for twenty minutes before he made his move."
"Maybe he's a kinky one," Erskine said with a wink, staring into the superheroine’s sexy brown eyes. For a second, the young man's eyes then wandered along the gorgeous superlady's graceful, swanlike neck to the pliant globes of her breasts, as though in his imagination he were removing her halter top. Abruptly he caught the irritated look Caldwell was giving him. "All I'm saying, lieutenant," he added hurriedly, "is that when we catch this guy, he might be hard to arrest."
"We'll worry about that when the time comes," the older detective said. "In the meantime, we rely on standard police work -- we investigate the victim, find out if he was in any kind of trouble or if anyone had a reason to kill him."
"Err.. How's that going so far, lieutenant?" the Fox asked, her cheeks feeling hot, being very aware of Erksine’s visually checking her out.
"Everyone says he was a good worker, kind of dull. Of course, we'll also check out his former places of employment." The detective thumbed through his notebook. "He graduated from M.I.T., interned at Harmon Technologies, worked at Bell Labs for a while, then came here."
"Harmon Technologies?" the superheroine said musingly. "Where have I heard that name?"
"They used to be an up-and-coming company, but ran into some setbacks. They very recently went bankrupt as a matter of fact. Maybe that's where you heard it."
"I don't think that was it," the Fox frowned. "Well, keep me in the loop if you find out anything more."
"I could meet with you tonight personally to update you on our progress," Erskine said, holding his notebook ready. "Can I have your phone number?"
The stunning young heroine smiled as she patted the detective on the cheek with her gloved hand. "I don't think that will be necessary, sergeant," she said coolly. "Lieutenant Caldwell knows how to contact me." Then she turned on her heel, her sassy little miniskirt swirling around her pert tushy as she walked away, fully aware that both men were staring at her.
***
Chapter 3 –
It was Jennifer's experience that when something was nagging at the tip of her mind, worrying at it only caused it to dig itself in deeper. Thus, she did what she normally did -- she forgot about it and went ahead with her usual day off plans. She went grocery shopping and handled a few errands, taking care to have both her cell phones with her and making it a point to check the fuchsia one frequently to see if she had any messages.
At four o'clock that afternoon, the beautiful brunette changed into red and white striped shorts, a blue racerback top, and a sun visor, and went for a run around the Tidal Basin on this unusually hot Fall day, the entire circuit of which was over a mile and a half. The sight of her lean, youthful body drew plenty of interested stares from the tourists taking pictures in West Potomac Park.
The girl paused on the steps of the Jefferson Memorial to do some leg stretches, her silken skin glistening with perspiration as she thought about whether to take another lap. While she was thinking, she reached into her jogging fanny pack and checked her messages. The little red light on her fuchsia cell phone was blinking.
"Fox; found Hopper’s old boss at Harmon teaching at GeorgeT. Intrviwing him now. WLYK, Caldwell."
Georgetown University? That wasn't very far from where Jennifer was right now. "WLYK" was Caldwell's shorthand for "Will let you know". There was really no reason for her to sit in on a simple background interview... except that the idea of seeing Sergeant Erskine again had made her heart skip just a little bit. Don't be silly, Jenn told herself. That's just the endorphin rush from the run doing that...
And yet she found herself jogging along a maintenance path that led under the overpass. Once she was sure that she was obstructed from view, quick as a flash she summoned her costume, and seconds later the Fuchsia Fox was streaking through the sky over the Mall, heading toward the university.
Georgetown was a sprawling campus which the Fox didn't know very well. She did know the Reiss Science Building however, and as the stunning superheroine flew overhead, she caught sight of Sgt. Erskine about to climb the steps. With a somewhat cocky grin, she landed a few yards behind him.
"Why sergeant, whatever are you doing here?" she asked cheerfully.
The man spun around, taken by surprise, his entire face lighting up with pleasure as his eyes fell upon her lovely figure in that clingy, form-fitting costume of hers.
"Fox! It's great to see you again!" he gushed. "I... err... " He fumbled a little bit taking his notebook out of his jacket and flipping pages. "I'm here to see Dr. Marshal Whitcomb, teaching Engineering here. He was the general manager at Harmon Technologies when Hopper interned there. Miss Burns remembered that Hopper once talking about the man he worked under at Harmon who was a real prick. He got furious with Hopper once for allegedly spying on him. The guy was fired shortly after that for ruining a major project. Apparently, he was a kind of loose cannon. Hopefully Whitcomb will remember him."
"It sounds like a promising lead," the Fox admitted. "Do you mind if I tag along?"
"I'd be thrilled," the young detective said, sweeping his arm up the steps toward the entrance and inviting the superheroine to go first.
It was second nature for the Fox to keep one eye on what was going on around her, even when distracted by a good-looking young hunk like Erskine. The campus seemed peaceful. There happened to be only a handful of people lounging about or strolling between the Science Building and the Intercultural Building. A few cars were driving past slowly. An armored car had just pulled up in front of an ATM across the street. Two armed guards got out and opened the rear door. One climbed into the back as the other kept watch outside.
Just then, the guard outside doubled over accompanied by the sound of a muffled thud. As he tried to straighten up, something seemed to knock him down again. He drew his gun, which went flying out of his hand. A second later, he flipped over and landed flat on his back.
Hearing the commotion, the other guard hurried back to the doorway in alarm. "Glen?" he asked. "What's going on? What's the--?"
THUMP! Something seemed to strike the guard behind the knees, causing him to tumble off the back of the armored car and onto the street. As he struggled to get back to his feet, there was another thud and he dropped unconscious.
"That was easy," said a quiet voice seemingly from thin air. Then all was silent.
"Sergeant," the Fox said, narrowing her eyes. "Believe it or not, I think we just found our mystery assailant."
A few moments later, a canvas bag stuffed full of money came drifting out of the interior of the armored car all on its own. For a moment it hovered in the doorway, then it lowered to a height of about three feet off the ground. Slowly it began to move away.
WHOP! A street sign suddenly came spinning through the air just to the left of the canvas bag and hit something very solid and substantial. As the bag dropped to the ground, the man who had been carrying it fell sprawling onto the sidewalk. He was dressed in a magenta full body suit with some kind of dark gray metallic mesh alternating in stripes along his ribcage and both arms and legs. The body underneath seemed quite fit and hunky. There was extra padding across the shoulders and a hood that snugly covered his whole head except for his mouth and his eyes.
"Looks you've hit a little snag there, Mr. Invisible," said the Fox, cocking her shapely hips. "I think the police will want to talk to you about a murder on Q Street this morning."
"I am the Shadow Tiger," the man said, getting slowly to his feet. "I congratulate you on one lucky shot, but one lucky shot does not win a fight." At first, he seemed taken aback by the Fox's arrival as his eyes roamed up and down her alluring curves, and especially that short skirt and her gorgeous gams. "I have been wondering how I would fare against the famous Fuchsia Fox," he said, suddenly grinning. "While you are undoubtedly very beautiful, you don't look like that much of a challenge."
"How about me?" said Erskine, taking up a position to one side with his service automatic pointing at the villain.
"It's your funeral, cop," the villain smirked. "Give it your best shot."
The Fox rushed forward, intending to grab the Tiger by the collar and slam his back against the steel side of the armored car. But with her fingers still a few vital inches away, he suddenly disappeared into thin air so fast that her hand closed on nothing! The saucy superheroine was so astonished at his quickness that she herself stumbled face first into the side of the vehicle. As the same time she felt an impertinent hand slap her on her pert little bottom.
"Look out, Fo--!" shouted Erskine as something hit him hard in the chest. His gun dropped to the sidewalk as a flurry of rapid martial arts blows followed, far faster than he could cope with, ending with an invisible arm snaked around his throat.
"That didn't work, did it?" Shadow Tiger's disembodied voice said. "Want to try it again?"
Erskine dropped to his knees, half strangled. The Fox darted forward warily, listening out for any sound that might betray the villain's location. Suddenly she was struck hard in the stomach by what felt like a boot. The lissome young heroine instinctively rolled with the blow to lessen its impact, her body spinning with a sweeping kick of her own which once again met nothing but air.
Unseen hands flittingly encircled the Fox's alluring waist as her opponent grabbed her from behind. She felt fingers slipping into the rear strap of her halter top. The catch came undone with a snap as a strong male arm locked around her throat. Simultaneously she felt a bold hand slide along the front of her svelte torso and up under her loosely hanging top, cupping her right breast and squeezing the delicious bare flesh of her soft orb!
"This is very nice," his voice said directly in her ear, as her nipple rose up hard between his fingers.
Students were beginning to gather around, drawn by the unusual sight of the stunning superheroine apparently wrestling with nobody. The Fox realized that she must present a strange sight with her head tilted back in a pantomime choke hold while the villain's seemingly nonexistent hand fondled her sweet coconut. Twisting her slim frame, the heroine drove her elbow backwards into her attacker's chest, at the same time spinning and bringing up one elegant, silken leg in a roundhouse kick, but the Tiger had already released her and backed away out of her reach.
"Sorry, superchick," the Shadow Tiger laughed. "However strong you are, you can't hit what you can't see. Tell Whitcomb that he's on my list, just like the nerd I killed this morning."
The Fox looked frantically around for any sign of him, a task made more difficult by the dozen or more students were now milling about gawking at her and getting in the way.
Then her brown eyes picked up movement. The canvas bag full of money was bobbing steadily along the sidewalk, vanishing down the narrow path behind the science building. Whatever Shadow Tiger's costume did to make him invisible apparently didn't extend to objects he was carrying!
The gallant girl immediately gave chase, sprinting down the sidewalk and through the gate of a construction site where the university was breaking ground for an addition to the science library. There she slowed to a halt. The exposed earth here was a muddy swamp, a perfect surface for revealing footprints. Just a few yards ahead of her, the giveaway canvas bag had been abandoned.
"End of the line, sparky," the Fox said haughtily.
"You may be right," the villain's voice said, coming from directly behind her!
The young superheroine nimbly spun around, only to be met by a swinging piece of rebar, which she parried with a forearm protected by her invisible force shield. The thin piece of iron swung again and again, by itself a difficult object to evade. The Fox caught the bar with one gloved hand, reaching toward the wrist which she knew must be holding it by the end. The bar suddenly came loose in her grasp, sending the sexy superlady stumbling awkwardly. Just then a pair of feet caught the Fox squarely in her gorgeous buttocks, lifting her delectable body off the ground and propelling her forward, where she landed with a watery SPLAT! face down in a particularly gooey puddle of mud.
Jennifer picked her face up out of the muck and got up on her elbows, her head spinning with a dazed, "what-just-happened?" feeling. The Fox could feel the thick, sticky gunk clinging to her body all over, oozing between her legs and up under her loosely hanging top. Slowly she tried to sit up, getting a brief glimpse of the shapely impression her nubile form had made in the earth before the mud seeped back and filled it in.
The Fox was suddenly aware of Sgt. Erskine, in the lead of a crowd of students and construction workers who had gathered around, staring and snapping pictures of her. She felt thoroughly grimy from head to toe. The canvas bag was gone. Trying to find Shadow Tiger amid all these people would be hopeless.
"Here, let me help," Erskine said, reaching out gingerly to take the superheroine's hand without stepping into the mud himself any more than he could help. She got up awkwardly, struggling to walk in high heels that kept bogging down.
Two of the construction workers rigged up an industrial hose, playing the stream over the Fox's delightful curves while the students watched. Jennifer savored the cool, clean feeling of the cascade as it washed the mud off of her and out of her hair, streaming in and around all of her lovely crevasses as she allowed it to trickle underneath her halter top and inside her briefs, cleaning them out as well. She was aware that she must look like a wet t-shirt contestant, with her costume hugging her curves more tightly even than usual, her nipples rising up with pleasure underneath the front of her halter top, but it wasn't as if she had a lot of choice at the moment, her sopping wet body on display.
***
Chapter 4 –
Rather than sit in on the interview with Dr. Whitcomb, the Fuchsia Fox opted to return to her apartment for a more thorough shower. Halfway through, it suddenly clicked in Jennifer's head just where she had heard of the name Harmon Technologies. The sight of Shadow Tiger's costume had triggered the memory that she had seen that suit somewhere before.
The lovely brunette frantically dashed out of the shower and snatched up a towel. In the bedroom, she sat on the bed and quickly dialed her husband at the Pentagon. "Come on, Martin, pick up..."
"Hey, Angel!" he said. "I was just on my way out. Did you want me to pick up something?"
"Martin, this is important," Jenn said urgently. "Do you remember a Department of Defense project several years ago, an experimental invisibility suit made by Harmon Technologies? It had a funny name, like... like a clam?"
"A clam?" Martin said. "That doesn't sound-- Oh wait, right, Project QUAHOG. Quantum-linked Holographic Obscuration Garment. I was involved with that project. What about it?"
"Can you tell me what happened to the suit?"
"I don't know. The head scientist accidentally fused some cybernetic circuits in the prototype so that only his brain pattern could operate it. Well, I say accidentally, but someone claimed he did it on purpose. Whichever it was, it made the suit worthless to the Army or anyone else. He was fired when they couldn't break his entry codes, and the project was cancelled. The suit's probably in some junk bin by now."
Jennifer could feel that she was close to a solution. Sitting perched on the edge of the bed with her lissome legs curled under her, a warm flush spread over her smooth, naked skin, making her nipples rise up. "Do you know where he is now?", she asked.
"After he was fired, he was so furious he tried to steal the suit and got sent to prison."
"Can you find out for me if he's still there?"
Martin let out a resigned sigh. "Alright, I'll go back to the office and check. Give me a few minutes."
"You're a sweetheart," Jenn said. "I'll be sure and reward you adequately tonight.", she added, seductively. Jenn’s mind busy with the implications, she began to get dressed while she waited for Martin to get back to her. Could this scientist guy have learned martial arts while in prison? More to the point, could he be out on parole now?
***
Dusk was starting to fall, as Sgt. Erskine got out of his car and looked up at the cheap residential hotel in one of the grungier neighborhoods of northeast Washington. As he walked toward the entrance, a D.C. Metropolitan Police Department van pulled up around the corner, where it couldn't be seen from the front of the building. The young detective felt tense as he watched the four-man Strategic Response Unit climbed out and started getting their gear together.
Suddenly... "What's going on, sergeant?" said a sassy female voice, making Erskine jump as the Fuchsia Fox landed on the sidewalk beside him with a tantalizingly sexy flutter of her miniskirt.
"You've got to stop doing that, Fox," Erskine said, while smiling at the delicious sight of her sleek, supple curves.
"Sorry," the heroine said. "It’s a bad habit."
"Dr. Whitcomb remembered the guy that Hopper was complaining about," Erskine told her. "He had been working on an experimental invisibility suit, sound familiar? But he tried an unauthorized procedure, which Hopper reported. Whitcomb fired him as a result, so the guy had reason to hate both of them. He's been in Essex prison until three weeks ago, when he got out on parole. He lives here, in room 524. His name is--"
"Mortimer Brody," the Fox said.
Erskine gaped in astonishment. "How did you know that?"
"I have sources other than the MPD," the superheroine said, smugly.
The Strategic Response Unit approached them, dressed in body armor and visual enhancement goggles, carrying short-barreled submachineguns. "All set?" Erskine said. "Dr. Whitcomb says that the goggles should make him visible. Try to take him alive if you can, but remember, he can kill with his bare hands, so don't take any unnecessary chances."
"We'll handle it, sergeant," the officer in command said. He made rapid, silent gestures to the other three men, and they swarmed up the steps of the building, covering one another.
"What do you think, Fox?" Erskine said, drawing his own sidearm. "Do you think we men can take care of this Shadow Tiger without your help?"
"I hope so, sergeant," the stunning young superheroine said, planting her hands on her gorgeous hips. Flirtatiously, she added, "That means I can go home and take a nice long, hot bath."
Erskine followed the SRU commander into the hotel lobby, and from there, up the stairwell. As he climbed the stairs, his nerves were on edge, expecting to hear the sound of gunfire at any moment. The palms of his hands were sweating on the grip of his automatic pistol. He knew that it was stupid to be anxious; there was no way a single man all by himself could get past a fully armed assault team. But on the other hand, this Shadow Tiger was a Ninja. Even the Fox hadn't been able to lay a glove on him in her earlier confrontation with him. Erskine looked back at the beautiful superheroine, tagging along right behind him, and she flashed him a winsome grin.
Up on the fifth-floor landing, the lead man reached out and jerked open the door while another covered him. Suddenly something sprang out upon them. The lead man saw an indistinct red shape in his goggles, but his attacker grabbed his gun and wrenched it upwards just as he pulled the trigger, as at the same time two rapid kicks caught him in the stomach. Even with body armor, the impacts flung him backward into the man behind him.
The next man in line got caught by the arm and slammed against the corner of the landing, dropping his gun and struggling to grapple with his barely visible opponent who seemed to move like a jungle cat. His attacker managed to maneuver behind him, a strong-arm snaking around his neck, fingers pinching a nerve in his neck, and the next thing he knew, he was tumbling helplessly down the stair and into a confusion of bodies.
Gunfire suddenly erupted, one of the SRU's own guns hovering in midair and firing down the stairwell, bullets ricocheting off of the men's body armor. In the rear of the line, the Fox grabbed Sgt. Erskine by his broad shoulders and threw him to the floor, shielding him with her own luscious body as the other men of the team returned fire. The gun that was firing abruptly dropped. The railing around the fifth-floor landing quivered for a moment as if someone invisible had put his weight on it to leap it. The Fox heard the sound of someone alighting on the fourth-floor landing below her. That door flew open and then closed again.
The spunky superheroine gave chase, her coltish legs taking long strides. As she ran, Jennifer could hear running footsteps just ahead of her, twisting and turning from one hallway to another. She didn't dare to slow her pace. Eventually her quarry must run out of corridor and would have to stop -- and at the rate they were both going, she'd probably run right into him.
His next turn was into a hallway that dead-ended with a window. Instead of stopping, he only ran faster. The window glass exploded outward as the invisible villain leaped through it head first to the outside. The Fox followed without breaking stride, gliding swiftly through the portal and into the alley between buildings.
There was a fire escape right outside the window. For a moment, the Fox could hear the hollow sounds of his footsteps on the metal framework, then a metallic creaking sound as the emergency ladder at the bottom extended. The Fox dove to the ground and landed, poised and ready to take him on, but as the ladder retracted automatically, suddenly all was quiet. It was dark out here in the alley, nothing on the pavement to give away his footprints. The superheroine waited nervously, ears straining for the slightest sound, but the only things she could hear were the pounding of her own heart and the hoarse rasp of heavy breathing.
"You're persistent, girl," the Shadow Tiger's disembodied voice said, suddenly. "I'll give you that. Why do you bother?"
"Because you killed someone," the Fox said, struggling to zero in on which direction the voice was coming from. "And you're going to pay for it."
"Ha-ha-ha!" the villain laughed hollowly. "But no one beats the Shadow Tiger. I could be anywhere. Maybe I'm behind you right now, about to grab your sweet little tits again."
The young heroine felt the short hairs on the back of her neck tingle, her heart hammering in between her supple breasts. It was a creepy feeling, knowing that he was perfectly right. He could be anywhere, and she'd never know it. Maybe he was behind her, getting ready to pounce, or maybe he was only trying to psyche her out, trying to get her to turn around so that he could attack from her front.
"So what are you waiting for?" she said. "Let's get it over with."
"Maybe I won't right now," the Tiger said pleasantly. "Maybe I'll wait. Maybe I'll just follow you home. Slip through the door of your apartment some night when you're not looking. Watch you in the shower. I'll catch you when you least suspect it. You'll never see me coming. You'll never know until it's too late."
"Come and take me on right now!" the Fox dared him. "Come on, you coward!" But the only answer was silence, like the wind whispering in the night.
***
Chapter 5 –
"FOX!" Sgt. Erskine suddenly called from the broken window above. He was wearing a pair of vision enhancement goggles. "It's no use. He's gone. You'd better come up here."
The young heroine waited a couple of minutes to make sure Shadow Tiger was really gone, and for her pulse to return to normal. Then she flew back to the fourth-floor window, and together they walked upstairs. The men of the Strategic Response Unit had suffered a few cracked ribs and other minor injuries, but no one had been killed. The commander was waiting at the door to room 524 holding the canvas bag full of money from the armored car robbery that afternoon. "There's a slight problem," he said, jerking his head through the doorway. Erksine and the Fox stepped inside the run-down apartment.
A red-haired man of about 40 was just walking over from the kitchen area hobbling awkwardly on a crutch. He flopped himself into a moth-eaten chair and looked up at his visitors, holding his right leg out stiffly. "I'm Mortimer Brody," he said sourly. "Forgive me for not getting up to greet you, but my first year in prison, I got on the wrong side of a Neo-Nazi. He stabbed me in the leg with a homemade knife. Nerve damage. That leg hasn't worked right since."
Ten minutes later, they had Brody downtown in an interrogation room.
"All right, who's wearing the suit?" Erskine demanded. Brody just shrugged and looked away.
"Listen up, wise guy," Lt. Caldwell said, holding up an evidence bag with the loot from the armored car hold-up. "This makes you an accessory to anything he's done, so it would be in your best interest to come clean."
"I didn't tell him to steal that," Brody said calmly. "I wasn't even there. He was supposed to talk to Whitcomb. He says he saw the armored car with its doors open and he couldn't resist. It was like taking candy from a baby."
"Give me a name!" Erskine demanded.
"Not a chance," Brody said. "I'm not saying anything until I get immunity from prosecution."
The Fox stepped forward, her long elegant legs whispering seductively in the sudden silence. "You told him where to find the suit," she said accusingly. "And you fixed the cybernetic circuits so that it would respond to his brain pattern."
The scientist's eyes roamed up and down the superheroine's lean, lovely figure. He seemed taken aback that she knew so much about it, but he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I did that."
"Don't you care how dangerous that makes him?"
"Why should I?" Brody shrugged. "What's the world ever done for me?"
The sexy superheroine didn't say another word. She reached down, one glove-sheathed hand gripping the front of his shirt, and casually lifted him out of his chair and above her head, holding him at the end of her slender arm. Her brown eyes were scowling. Although the two policemen were enraptured by her breathtaking feminine beauty, at that moment she looked quite dangerous and quite frankly, a little bit scary.
"You expect this to intimidate me, little girl?" Brody said, nervously. "With two policemen in the room? Of course, if you was to offer me some nookie, we might have something to talk about."
The Fox still didn't speak. She raised her other hand in a fist. A little blue bead had appeared on the gold bracelets she wore, spinning around and around. Brody seemed mesmerized by it. He had no idea what it meant, but somehow this didn't seem like a laughing matter, any more.
"Okay, okay, his name is Rudov," the scientist gushed in panic. "Ken Rudov. He was my cell mate at Essex, doing time for armed robbery. He was constantly practicing that martial arts stuff, Ninjitsu he called it."
"Where is he now?" the Fox asked.
"I don't know!" Brody whined. The blue bead spun faster and faster. "Wait! He was... he was always bitching about the court-appointed public defender he had at his trial, saying she didn't do enough to get him off. She was really pretty, too. He was always talking about what he'd like to do to her when he got out. I think... I'm pretty sure he's gone to settle scores with her."
"What is her name?"
"Let me think! I hear that she's switched sides these days, she's a prosecutor... uh... Porteous, yeah that's it! Isadora Porteous!"
***
In a fashionable apartment building in Capitol Heights, a key turned in a lock. Isadora Porteous bustled through the door and immediately closed and locked it behind her. She dropped her high heels on the floor and her satchel on the coffee table along with her keys. "Michelle, I'm home!" the alluring young blonde called, shrugging off her jacket. "I managed to get away early for once, so we can go to that club you wanted after we eat. Is dinner almost ready?"
Barefoot, Dora went to the kitchen. There were ingredients gathered on the counter along with a frozen fish slowly thawing in a pan, as though her roommate had started to cook dinner, then for some reason changed her mind. Frowning, Dora opened the fridge and poured herself a small glass of pomegranate juice. "Michelle?" she called again. "Are you okay?" Her roommate must have stepped out for a moment. Even if she were upset with Dora for some reason, she would have come out and said something by now.
Dora headed into her bedroom, unbuttoning her off-white silk blouse and tossing it on her bed. Her charcoal skirt followed it a few seconds later. In just her demibra and panties, the attractive girl stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. While she waited for it to get hot and steamy, she unsnapped her bra and dropped it on the floor with a sigh of relief. Slipping her thumbs into the waist of her panties, she slid the flimsy nylon easily down her long, silken legs and stepped out of them.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Dora unpinned her blonde hair from the chignon she had worn to work and shook her tresses loose. She took off her gold necklace and a pair of silver and pearl bracelets which were the only jewelry she was wearing. Naked, she studied her reflection critically in the mirror. The blonde beauty smiled at what she saw, her hands cupping her plump, shapely breasts, which to her were the perfect size. She let her fingers wander downward along her smooth, sylph-like torso, slipping gently in between her thighs and rubbing along her shaved pussy lips.
No -- there'd be time for that later. Dora turned and opened the shower stall door, allowing sultry clouds of steam to billow around her body and into the bathroom. For a second, the myriad tiny fog droplets seemed to briefly outline the sinister shape of a male figure standing directly behind her, but Dora was too busy adjusting the shower knobs to notice. She stepped into the shower and closed the door, completely unaware of the invisible intruder who had been secretly watching her every move from the moment she had arrived in the apartment.
Shadow Tiger moved close to the translucent door of the shower stall, voyeuristically enjoying the sight of Dora's vulnerable, naked body, watching her hands touching herself, moving up and down along her lush female curves as the hot water caressed her all over. The villain felt his cock getting thick. This was what he had dreamed about. This was going to be so good.
Abruptly there was a dull crash from elsewhere in the apartment. Dora turned off the shower, and Shadow Tiger quickly stepped back out of the way as the stall door opened and the blonde stuck her head out, dripping wet. She waited, listening.
THUMP! There it was again, not quite as loud this time. Dora stepped out of the stall, grabbing her flowered silk bathrobe and slipping it on over her wet body. Slowly she walked out of the bathroom and into the hall, following the sound of those thuds. They were coming from Michelle's room. Dora felt curious but not alarmed. Knowing her roommate, it was probably just some sexual thing she was doing.
Quietly Dora eased open the door to Michelle's room, not wanting to intrude if it turned out to be a false alarm. The redheaded girl was lying on the floor beside her bed as if she had just rolled off of it, wearing a clingy purple Batgirl leotard and tights, but without the boots, the gloves, the cape, or the mask. She was trussed up and gagged quite expertly, and was urgently kicking her feet against her closet door, which was what was making the thumping noise.
Dora grinned, standing in the doorway wearing nothing but her open bathrobe over her shapely curves. "Aha, Batgirl," she smirked. "Having a bit of trouble?" This was one of Michelle's favorite games, pretending to be Batgirl accidently tangled up by her own bat rope. But then Dora frowned as she realized that this wasn't a game. There was no way Michelle could have tied herself up this completely.
Suddenly a pair of strong male arms grabbed Dora from behind, a hand clasping over her mouth. "Not nearly as much trouble as you're about to have, counsellor," a hoarse male voice said into her ear.
***
Chapter 6 –
"Wh-who are you?" Dora stammered, as the hand was removed from her mouth.
"There's no reason you would remember me," the man said, as both of his hands roamed along her moist, silken body, naked except for her bathrobe draped sketchily over her curves. "I'm just another con that you couldn't get off, back in the days when you were a public defender. I did my time in prison. No hard feelings, I'm sure. I'm called the Shadow Tiger now."
Dora's lithe young body quivered with fear as his hands caressed her sensitive C-cups, squeezing her supple globes while his lips kissed her neck. It came as such a powerful shock to be caught like this inside her own locked and secure apartment, so vulnerable and so completely defenseless, that she couldn't even think. "Please," she whimpered, licking her trembling lips. "W-we can talk about this--"
"No we can't," the man countered, suddenly picking the nubile girl up and carrying her into the living room. With a sudden jerk he stripped her robe off her smooth shoulders, using the garment to loosely tie her wrists together. It wasn't a secure knot by any stretch of the imagination, but Dora was so frightened, it was plenty. Then he turned her around to face him.
Dora gasped in shock, seeing him for the first time in that magenta and gray full body suit.
"There's nothing for us to talk about," he said, his evil eyes boring into hers. "Anyway, I've got something else in mind right now. I admit this probably isn't going to be much fun for you, but it's a thing I've had ever since I saw The Hollow Man when I was a kid. Remember that movie? Kevin Bacon and Elizabeth Shue?" Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, he disappeared!
Dora's blue eyes darted wildly around in all directions. Was he gone? Was he really gone?
Was that a footstep off to the left? The blonde turned in that direction, and an invisible hand slapped her bare butt, sending a shiver of fear up her spine! Dora sensed his nearness all around her now, maybe by the minute displacement of air by his passage, maybe by the sound of his breath as he stalked her, watching. Unable to stand the tension, the girl broke and ran, making for the kitchen, but unseen hands caught her, pushing her back to the living room. She tried to run for her bedroom, but he cut her off again, silent and invisible like a cat playing with a mouse.
Dora stumbled to her knees, almost sobbing. "Please! Please don't hurt me!"
"Where could I be?" the malicious voice whispered. But suddenly he was on top of her, pushing her to the floor on her back. The helpless girl felt his hard body press on top of her, the rough texture of his body suit making her soft, yielding flesh quiver with unwanted arousal as his invisible hands glided along her slender torso to cup and fondle both of her succulent melons.
"No! Stop it!" Dora pleaded, squirming underneath him as she felt a gloved finger insinuate itself between her creamy thighs, rubbing the moist flesh of her unprotected cleft.
Suddenly the door to the apartment crashed open. The Fuchsia Fox appeared in the doorway.
"Get off of her right now, Rudov!" the superheroine demanded. Without waiting for an answer, she charged, swooping upon Dora's unseen attacker... and passing through empty air.
"You again?" Shadow Tiger's voice sneered. "Do you want me to humiliate you again? Didn't you learn your lesson this afternoon?"
"Just call me a slow learner, sparky," the Fox said, taking up a defensive position over the blonde lawyer. "Dora, see if you can make your way to the bathroom, and lock yourself in."
The girl nodded, terrified. "O-okay, Fox..." Keeping low on her hands and knees, she started to crawl toward the hall.
Footsteps were advancing softly on the Fox's right. The saucy young heroine moved to intercept, but her opponent faked her out, spinning around and hitting her left side with half a dozen karate blows that she couldn't begin to block. As Jennifer fell back stumbling, her alluring legs suddenly got swept out from under her, dropping the lissome lady on her butt. In virtually the same motion, she sprang nimbly back to her feet, her sassy little miniskirt swishing around her trim waist as she pivoted swiftly and thrust out one exquisite leg with a roundhouse kick.
"Oooh, you almost tagged me that time," the villain said smugly. "Maybe we need to step up our lessons a tad."
Suddenly he attacked all out. The Fox had nothing but instinct to guide her defense, and for all her enhanced reflexes, she wasn't nearly as good at martial arts as he was. For every blow or kick the spunky supergirl managed to block or duck, two more struck home on her face or chest. Softened by her force shield, the blows didn't hurt much, but they were wearing her down, tiring her. And she had yet to hit him, even once.
The Fox retreated across the living room with a backwards somersault, leaping over the coffee table. Shadow Tiger made his first mistake, bumping the table with his shin as he followed. The heroine reached out and managed to grab hold of a handful of fabric on what felt like his shoulder. In a flash, her opponent had turned even that to his advantage, seizing her wrist in a judo hold and flipping the gorgeous girl over him. She rolled to her feet just as he picked up and threw the coffee table, the impact making her stumble backwards toward the kitchen.
As the Fox straightened, a strong arm snaked around her graceful throat like an anaconda. Fingers jabbed hard into a nerve cluster at the base of her neck, sending a shard of agony racing along the stunning superheroine's nerves and down her spine. Practically paralyzed, Jennifer felt her legs give way as she fell against the kitchen counter, barely catching herself with her arms.
"It's all over now," the villain gloated. "The Ninjitsu nerve pinch. It only paralyzes for a few seconds, but a few seconds will be all I need." Over by the knife rack, a heavy meat cleaver rose into the air and floated towards her.
The Fox's delectable body felt like one big cramp. She couldn't stand; she could barely move her arms, let alone mount any kind of defense. The young heroine watched the gleaming blade move closer. Desperately her arm reached behind her along the counter top in a frantic search for some kind of weapon, a knife, a rolling pin, anything. Her probing fingers encountered a pan with a fish in it, a spice rack, a bottle of olive oil. Her hand grasped at a small paper bag, and something clicked in her head. With an effort, she arced her slender arm around and hurled the sack a little to the right of the floating meat cleaver.
Naturally Shadow Tiger swatted the flimsy missile out of the air with a single slash of the cleaver. The paper bag ruptured, showering the villain with a white puffy cloud of the finest stone-ground flour! "What the hell is this?" he coughed, as fine white dust settled over his invisible body from the waist up.
The Fox lurched to her feet, swinging her fist at the ghostly white figure and popping him right in the stomach. With a groan, Shadow Tiger dropped the cleaver and staggered backwards into the living room. The sexy superheroine struggled to follow, her slim legs not yet fully recovered from the nerve pinch. As a result, her heavenly body toppled helplessly forward onto her knees.
"Just wait until I get this stuff off of me!" the villain threatened, slapping violently at his upper body to pat the flour off.
The Fox lifted her right arm, concentrating her willpower. A concussion beam darted out of her bracelet, smacking the Tiger squarely in the chest and sending him flying across the room and into Dora's plasma screen television. Sparks flew from the shorted out suit as the villain pitched forward onto the floor, trailing smoke.
The heroine got to her feet and went to check on him. The Tiger having lost consciousness and the invisibility suit had deactivated. It looked as if its circuits had been fried by the electrical jolt. Jennifer found the fasteners to remove the hood portion, just in case. "Dora? Are you alright?" she called.
The bathroom door opened. "Is it safe to come out?" the lawyer asked, cautiously sticking her head out.
"Yes, it's safe," the Fox said, with a self-satisfied smile. "Sergeant Erskine and the police should be along any minute to pick up this loser, don't worry."
"Sergeant Erskine?" Dora said, pulling on a pair of pajamas. "Isn't he that good-looking one?"
"I hadn't noticed," the sexy superheroine lied, loftily. "Until they get here, do you have something I can tie him up with?"
"Oh, I do and it would be my pleasure to have the honors." the blonde said. "Is it all right if I kick him in the balls a couple of times before they get here?"
"Knock yourself out," the Fox said, cocking her head slightly. "Where's that thumping sound coming from?"
"Omigosh! Michelle! I forgot all about her!"
>>>>the end
By Centurion
