By Dr. Dominator
Supergirl Captured by the Mob
Part 72 - Taking a Nasty Hit
By Dr. Dominator
Note: The Supergirl character and name as well as Superman, Lex Luthor, Wonder Woman and Diana Prince are the property of DC Comics. Tony Bonano and his crew as well as Sergei Zhukovia, Don Gino Lupenzo and Scarlett O ' Shea are properties of Dr. Dominator and cannot be used without permission. This story is simply meant as entertainment and should be read only by consenting adults of 18 years or older. Violence and rape are never an answer to any situation.
Previously in Supergirl Captured by the Mob...
Meanwhile, Scarlett gets close to the long marble counter and leans into the mirror slightly as she refreshes her lipstick. She carefully edges her lips, takes a paper towel and lightly blots her lips while waiting for the heroine to come out of the bathroom stall. At that time she will make her move and take out the strongest woman on the planet without even needing to use the kryptonite collar circling her pretty little neck. She had her own means, just as effective without all that nasty puking.
And now the story continues:
Out in the restaurant's main room, Don Tomas Baldini is hearing how Lex Luthor stole Superman away from Tony as well as some of the inventions that Luthor had provided to the young don that helped overcome Supergirl. He also hears of a fast-acting aphrodisiac that would improve productivity in whorehouses.
Despite his brashness, the young don's achievements greatly impress the thoughtful mediator. At the moment, he's not inclined to punish young Bonano much at all. A slap on the wrist at best. The Families needed new blood to keep it fresh and vibrant through the coming decades and certainly the Mafia had seen more than it's fair share of notoriety. It could survive. And with young guns like Bonano, it could do more. It could thrive!
Baldini looks at Gino Lupenzo and sees a man younger than him but yet calcified in his thinking. And power hungry to boot. The man is a rude boor and there isn't much besides a killer instinct and a keen shrewdness to recommend him as the head of a mob family.
"Tell me more about this fast-acting aphrodisiac disc that Luthor and you developed, Don Bonano," Don Baldini urges. "It's most intriguing...."
"But Don Baldini," Gino objects, "aren't we getting off point here? There are grievances to be settled."
"Oh, don't be such a wet blanket, Don Lupenzo. We're taking a break from your little agenda. Eat your spumone before it melts," the elder don waves away Gino's complaint.
"My little agenda? But..." With a cold eye from Baldini, Gino goes suddenly silent and digs angrily into his ice cream.
Avidly, Don Baldini turns in his chair more so he can face Tony who's sitting in the chair directly to his right. Tony is blowing on his cappuccino to cool it down. "You say that women get aroused in less than half a minute, Tony?"
Don Bonano shows a small smirk. The old don is getting comfortable enough with him to the point of using his first name. Things have definitely swung back in his direction.
"Yes, Don Baldini. And that was on superheroines. I can only imagine how well it will work with a common whore," Tony suggests gleefully. They discuss the prospects quietly between themselves for a few minutes more, until Gino rises.
"Please excuse me, gentlemen," he says, his dessert finished. "I need to use the restroom."
When he returns a mere couple of minutes later, the planted Glock 27 has been retrieved from where it had been taped to the back of the vanity drawer and is safely ensconced in a hidden inner thigh pocket sewn as a lower attachment to Gino's regular pants pocket. The small gun doesn't show when he walks and when sitting, the bulge will be concealed by the table cloth. It will only take a second or two for Gino to reach it when needed.
* * *
Taking on Sergei's challenge, Randy makes a lunge at the man's right hand, the one currently holding the knife. At the last possible second he veers to his opponent's opposite side, going for a hard kidney punch to Sergei's side. But the savvy Russian mobster manages to twist away from the major force of the blow. A grazing thump does little damage but Sergei's slashing arc easily slices through the sleeve of Randy's jacket and cuts a shallow wound into his right biceps muscle.
"Hssss!" Randy mouth blows out a rush of pain as he quickly spins away. He dashes to the living room, right past the very passive Amazon sitting on the couch. She turns her head nervously as she watches the fight unfold. She hopes that this bearded don will live but doesn't hold much hope in her heart. Sergei is unbeatable. And this poor man's jacket arm already shows a spreading stain of blood around the raw edges of the sliced fabric. Wonder Woman trembles with fear. She just hopes she can mollify Sergei by sucking his cock or presenting her rump to him and letting him take his pick of her holes.
Meanwhile, desperate for an edge, Randy picks up a long, thin table lamp and holds it high over his head as Sergei stalks into the living room in pursuit, grinning at his prey.
"Already I have wounded you, big shot hero man," the Russian gloats as he goes past the couch to stand in place about five feet in front of Randy and a mere three feet away from Wonder Woman. He has his back to her. He's completely unconcerned with her being a threat and much more concentrated on the big mob don standing before him waving the lamp. "I have years of training and countless fights in my past. What have you got? A lamp and a prayer? I tell you, I will not offer you the opportunity again to drink together and fuck that spineless bitch on the couch there." His hand not holding the knife swings backward to indicate the fearfully meek Amazon with her shoulders hunched, her head down and her eyes barely looking out from under her furrowed brow. "Will you join me or not?"
"I'm not going to drink with you, fucker. So let's just do this," Randy declares.
"This is to be your funeral."
"We'll see about that," Randy replies as he starts walking toward Sergei. He swings the lamp on a horizontal plane first wide to the right then wide to the left so there's no easy opening for the Russian and his knife. Randy's face is taut with tension. He is about the same height as Sergei and carries about 35 pounds in extra bulk over the Russian.
He's trying to figure a way to bring that weight difference to his advantage when Sergei suddenly steps forward and kicks at the lamp shade. His left foot goes up high and Randy swings the lamp that way to block it. Not a good move as Sergei once again lashes out with the knife in the opening provided. The blade carves the air a bare inch away from slicing another wound into the young man's other arm. Leaning back just in time has saved Randy from what could have been a devastating injury.
Regaining his balance, Randy swings his left foot up in a path toward the Russian's crotch but misses the mark as the twisting Sergei moves his body to the side just in time. Randy's subsequent swing of the lamp at his opponent's head however does connect with the man's brow. Because it's only the lamp shade and not the heavy base, the blow only causes Sergei to reel away unhurt but shocked at Randy's speed. He goes into an ungainly spin and, unfortunately for the black-haired Russian mobster, he collides with the end of the large couch. This sends him tumbling face-forward onto the shocked Amazon, knocking her on her back from the hunched sitting position from which she'd been hopelessly watching the battle.
"HUUUNFF!" Wonder Woman grunts loudly as the six-foot tall mobster lands hard upon her figure. Sergei pushes himself onto one elbow and smiles down at her. He is about to say something cute about a soft landing when he realizes she is grimacing up at him. Together, Sergei and the Amazon look down to see his knife embedded in her soft belly. The bone handle quivers in place six inches above the cheap Girdle of Power knock off. Bright red blood wells up out from the wound, a growing dark stain on the red fabric of her bustier.
"..w..w..what have you done...?" Diana's face drains to a pale whiteness as she weakly struggles to push the big Russian off her. "..y...y...you...stabbed me...." she whispers in stunned disbelief.
"Oh, this was a mistake. The blade was meant for....whoa!"
Randy hasn't noticed from his perspective what's happened. He's so focused on defeating Sergei that he's bringing the lamp straight down in a mean arc right at the Russian's head. The lamp with it's shade now knocked off is a deadly weapon. Seeing the incoming blunt instrument, Sergei instantly rolls off the couch, bangs his left knee on the coffee table and lands in a painful crouch. The Russian looks up to see Wonder Woman take a glancing blow to her head by the lamp in the large don's grasp. It knocks the jeweled tiara right out of her hair onto the rug beside his foot while driving her face hard into the couch cushion. Instinctive reflexes alone allowed her to move just quickly enough so her brains aren't served up as guacamole, but she is clearly dazed. The look of horror on Randy's face as he stands hunched over the Amazon's twice-wounded body is priceless, and it's all Sergei needs for an opening.
Three consecutive thundering straight jabs into Randy's gut followed by Sergei's other hand grabbing his collar and heaving him upward, has the big bearded mafioso flipping over the back of the couch and landing hard on the wooden floor behind the furniture with a loud grunt as his head and body hit hard on the parquet surface.
Sergei stands up and pulls his knife out from Wonder Woman's body. He begins to circle the couch when the wounded Amazon warrior furiously kicks out her boot and drives her heel past the arm of the couch and into Sergei's already smarting left knee with everything she has left. The shocked Russian collapses to the floor with a shriek of agony.
Her sudden movement floods Diana's head with a wave of dizziness as the wound clenches at her body. Her expression goes from rage to agonized grimace to slack, overwhelmed bewilderment. And then her face rolls onto the edge of the couch cushion. Wonder Woman fall into completely senselessness for the moment.
A stunned Randy now lies on the floor behind the couch trying to breathe from the powerful blows to his stomach and to not lose consciousness from the nasty jolt to the back of his skull. He's barely succeeding. Sergei is curled up on his side on the rug clutching his knee and rocking in pain as he floods the air with sporadic Russian curses. Wonder Woman lays prone on the couch staining the cushion beneath her with her pooled blood steadily dripping down her sides in a semi-conscious daze.
"What the fuck happened here?" Carlo stands several feet away on shaking legs taking in the scene of the two disabled combatants and someone groaning behind the couch. His head still aches something fierce from the choking knockout by that big don and he's holding the taser in his hand.
"Oh, you're shitting me. Is that blood?" The videographer sees a wide dark red circle on Wonder Woman's bustier and spots her tiara lying on the rug in one area and a bone-handled knife on the rug in another, right beside the curled body of a big man with dark black hair. "Wonder Woman got stabbed? Man, Tony's going to...Fuck! I am so fired!"
"...ohhhhhhhh....c....car..lo...help.." Wonder Woman moans weakly. "...i'm...bleeding..."
"No shit you're bleeding, bitch!" Carlo walks closer to the couch and now sees the gut wound and all the blood seeping out of it to form a growing stain on the beige leather couch cushion underneath her. "Like a stuck pig. Oh, this ain't good. This ain't good at all. I gotta fix this. HEY! COULD YOU SHUT UP, ASSHOLE? I'm trying to think here and whatever you're sayin' I don't speak that shit."
"I am saying," Sergei growls through clenched teeth, switching from Russian to English, "that when I am able to get up I am to be killing that Amazon cunt!"
"Oh no you won't, you prick. Wonder Woman here is mine. I say what happens to her."
"...so...dizzy...carlo...help. The blood...need to stop the blood..."
"Right. I'm on it." The stocky thug dashes to the kitchen, grabs a small blue dish towel, then speeds back to the couch. Going around the coffee table away from the now softly cursing Russian, he presses the towel against Wonder Woman's belly.
"Aaaaghhhh! Too hard," yelps the heroine. "...gentler...but firmly...owww...no...give it to me..." Pushing away Carlo's palm pressed against her stomach, Wonder Woman holds the cloth against her abdomen and hisses at the pain as she tries to staunch the flow of blood. Her other hand grabs Carlo's shirt. "...doctor...go call 911..." The towel is already showing bright red as it soaks up her life force. "...I'm bleeding out."
"Fuck me. This ain't happening!" Carlo rushes to a table on the far wall and picks up the house phone there. He is about to dial for an outside line and then 911 when he stops. Bringing the cops into this situation is probably the last thing Tony would want. Nervously he glances over at the couch and the pale face of the stricken woman lying there in what might be the most famous costume in the world. Bringing the cops here would link Wonder Woman directly to Tony Bonano, something that his boss could not tolerate. He puts the phone down slowly, trying to think.
Sergei sees this from where he lies curled on the rug and groans, "What are you doing? Call an ambulance, the whore is dying. And I think she destroyed my knee. We need doctors."
"I can't call 911. It'll bring the cops. I can't do it."
"You're not so dumb as you look," Sergei says as he pulls his body across the rug toward the coffee table.
"....no....no....please....sergei...have mercy...I won't last long," whimpers Wonder Woman. "I...i...already feel faint..."
"Call them!!" From behind the couch, Randy yells out in frustration. "Call a doctor. Any doctor. We all need one. I'm too dizzy to get up. I may have...a...a concussion."
"Fuck you, Don Lugese or whatever the fuck your name is," Carlo snaps back. "I couldn't give a shit about what you have or don't have!"
"For Wonder Woman's sake then, you prick," yells Randy. "Or for Sergei. He's Tony's top man I hear. You both work for him."
"Shut up, Lugese! I'm trying to think," Carlo shouts.
"Clearly a task to which you are ill-suited," grunts Sergei as he pulls himself up by his arms until he sits unsteadily on the glass coffee table. "Call this number. It is doctor. My guy. He can be trusted. No cops! 914-555-0909."
Carlo stands by the phone biting his lip and trying to piece together a strategy, not pushing any buttons on the phone whatsoever.
"Call the fucking number now," commands Sergei with a snarl, "or that taser gets rammed up your ass, you fucking pussy!"
"Who died and made you....Wait, you're Sergei? The Mad Russian Bear? Weren't you a blond guy? We met briefly about a month ago. Just when I came on."
"...please...Sergei...kill that moron," Wonder Woman rasps faintly from the couch. "If I live, you get....hand jobs for life....just please....get me help...."
"Oh, like that's anything special, you cheap whore," Carlo snaps from across the room. "You give out hand jobs like they're penny candies. Champion of All Women. Hah. That's a joke. I've had you plenty, Champ! And a lot more than a measly hand job. I've fucked your twat, your mouth, your ass more times than I can count. And lady, I gotta say, you're not that great! You're pussy's tired and loose. You've got a big ass and your tits are starting to sag. Supergirl is twice the cunt you are. She's young and tight and her blowjobs are...UUNNNGHH!"
During Carlo's rant, Sergei had surreptitiously slid his knife over with his good foot closer to the cocktail table. Then he pretended to bow with his head between his legs as if to gather strength as the pain dispersed. And finally he had straightened up and viciously hurled his favorite knife directly into Carlo's chest. The blade quivers over the shocked man's heart and now his shirt begins to display a bright red flowering stain.
Carlo's breath suddenly wheezes out of him, followed by bubbling spurt of blood that drips down his chin. His eyes roll up under his lids, his legs give way and he collapses to the wooden floor with a loud thump.
"God, was that sound what I hope it was?" The voice behind the couch calls out. "Carlo hitting the floor?"
"Da! The asshole is dead. This inferiority complex of his, I have solved it."
"Good riddance," both Wonder Woman and Randy say together.
And then the Amazon shifts her body too much and cries out in pain. "OWWW!" This is followed by a whimper and a plea " ...owww...ohhhhhhhhh....could somebody....please call someone....now.... I'm... feeling..i'm...feeling..." The raven-haired heroine's irises disappear under her lids with only the whites showing and her entire body goes suddenly slack.
"Don Lugese, we must call a truce. The Amazon does not look good. At all," Sergei says, seeing the blood collected in a small pool on her belly and beneath her on the couch cushion.
"Deal. Help me up back here, I'm still shaky."
"I don't know how much I can help. You are not being a lightweight and Balloon Tits here shattered my knee with her boot heel," Sergei groans. "But I will try," he says as he rises and gimps over around the couch with a strained face that drips sweat.
Together the pair get Randy to his feet and, with a good amount of grunting and groaning, they support each other as they circle the couch. With a loud final moan, Sergei is deposited in the arm chair next to the couch. Randy then turns to look at Wonder Woman and his face goes almost as white as hers.
"Oh, god. She's going to die! She's lost so much blood."
"I have seen worse. But da, maybe."
Randy kneels down and presses the bloody cloth against Wonder Woman's stomach as her hand had slipped off when she succumbed to the fog in her head.
"We have to do something. Immediately!"
"It is too late for doctor I am thinking. And Carlo was right about not having cops here. There is nothing we can do," Sergei shrugs. "A shame. She was a great fuck."
"Some fucking eulogy," the large mobster growls, shaking his head at the comment and at the sight of all the blood. The head shake after the hard knock to it when he landed on the floor doesn't do him any good and he fights down a wave of nausea. That concussion might be real and not just a ploy to get Carlo to call a doctor.
"I have to see just how bad this is," Randy says, concentrating his attention on the pale beauty before him. Removing the blood-soaked towel and dropping it on the couch at her side, Randy then reaches behind Wonder Woman's back and un-clips the cardboard fake belt and removes it from around her waist, dropping the useless thing on the rug beside the lost tiara. He then pulls the bottom of Wonder Woman's bustier out from where its tucked into her blue briefs as gently as possible. A tributary of blood seeps out and finds a new course down her hips to the cushion below. Carefully, he draws the sopping wet red silk upward exposing her belly. He pulls the bustier's soaked fabric into a wrinkled roll just below her breasts. The stab wound, positioned a couple of inches above her navel is nasty and deep. Blood steadily wells up out of the small vertical slit. He quickly presses the dish towel back in place but it's thoroughly soaked and a fresh one is needed.
"It's not stopping," bemoans Randy.
"No. My favorite knife, it does its job and I was coming down hard on her body. Too bad for her. You need new towel. Go, I will hold that one. Top drawer between dishwasher and oven."
Sergei gingerly limps over from the armchair and takes Randy's place sitting beside the unconscious beauty. He holds the towel to her belly with one hand while the other jerks up on the bustier's bottom hem several times until it's clustered in a roll around her shoulders. Wonder Woman's exposed tits jiggle and sway in the open air and Sergei heaves a sigh that mixes appreciation and regret in equal measures.
"You fucking pervert," Randy barks behind Sergei's left shoulder. "She's dying and you go and do that!"
"I'm am simply to be giving her magnificent breasts a farewell viewing. They deserve this, to be remembered.."
"Get out of my way!" Scowling, Randy kneels down beside the couch after Sergei moves down the couch a foot. He switches out the towel, dropping the used bloody one with a splat onto the glass coffee table and then leaning in to press a new yellow one against her abdomen. Holding it there with firm pressure, the disgusted mobster pulls his eyes away from the admittedly impressive naked chest of the weakly moaning heroine. He turns his head and looks at Sergei's profile as the Russian gazes at Wonder Woman's huge boobs with a strange expression. Randy reaches over and thumps Sergei on the side of his head with his palm.
"Hey!" Randy barks, "Look at me." This causes the Russian to turn his head away from the astonishing view of the incredible tits on this famous woman who is now dying before him. He looks at the big don with the cold eyes of a snake but Randy's concern for the heroine puts him beyond caring about what Sergei might do. His anger speaks for him. "You're damn lucky that Wonder Woman doesn't have her powers, you sick prick, or she'd knock the crap out of..." He stops his tirade and both men's eyes widen simultaneously.
"Her belt," they say in unison.
* * *
When Supergirl steps out of the bathroom stall she is immediately confronted by the vision of Scarlett O'Shea's shapely buttocks filling out the silky fabric of her tight red dress to perfection. The twin globes of firm flesh are perfectly defined by stretch lines that show off her ass, not to mention the shadowed valley between the rotund cheeks. Kara stops in her tracks. She doesn't go for women in that way but if she did, this remarkably shapely rear was awfully inviting.
Leaning into the mirror, Scarlett sees the blonde behind her stop short and hides her smirk as she turns her head while tossing away the napkin with the blotted impression of her lips into the trash can to her right. Then she stands up straight and adjusts the neckline slightly of her dress, pulling it flat so it looks perfect. Then she turns from side to side examining her chest in the mirror.
Turning sideways toward Supergirl, thrusting her chest out and pushing her tits up right at the Maid of Steel with both hands, Scarlett asks, "'Ah was thinking of getting my boobs done. Going up a size. What do y'all think?"
Flabbergasted, the blonde teen's face reddens a bit and she blurts, "Why, they're perfect! Gorgeous! Nicely shaped and...uhh...no...." Stammering the blonde realizes she's been gushing and gulps shyly, saying, "I wouldn't touch them."
"Not unless 'ah gave you permission, you wouldn't. Which I might," Scarlett winks slyly. "I love your tits too, blondie. And judging by those protrudin' nipples of yo-ahs, you're not even wearing a bra. Great set of knockers. Really!"
"...i...uhh...thanks...." mumbles the very flustered teen.
Scarlet then begins to primp her hair with fingers at her bangs. In the mirror the women's eyes meet for a second and there's a moment of awkwardness that has Supergirl lowering her eyes quickly before she walks past the redhead with her cape swishing behind her to stand at the second sink.
"Those mob guys are little more than boys playin' at bein' big shots, ah declare," Scarlett sighs. "And that jerk with the haircut who felt us up, what I wouldn't give to kick his balls back to fourth grade!"
"It took every ounce of willpower I had not to fry his 'eggs' like the breakfast special with my heat vision," Supergirl replies, running the hot water tap, waiting for the temperature to heat up. "Nevertheless, they may act like boys but they're all capable of sudden acts of extreme violence. Both of us have to be on our guard. The tension's pretty thick out there."
Scarlett reaches into her small purse, retrieves her hairbrush and begins touching up her hairdo while Supergirl washes her hands.
"That's for sure but as ah' see it, your fella' Tony, he's going to walk out of heah' smelling like roses. Baldini seems to be takin' a cotton to him and he sure doesn't think much of old Gino from what I see." .
"Gino is nothing but vermin. He deserves to die. If I didn't have a code of honor...." Supergirl quivers with disgust as she rinses the soap off her hands.
"You won't get an argument from me. He's 100% asshole but he pays well. But your Tony, he's very dashing. You fucking him?"
Taken aback once more by her boldness, Supergirl blinks twice, speechless before composing herself to answer. "More like he's fucking me. I haven't had a lot of choice in the matter," Supergirl says, indicating the control collar with a little arc of her neck. "You've seen the kinds of tools he uses." She wipes her hands on a paper towel then tosses it in the waste can as Scarlett continues to fuss with her hair. She seems in no hurry to return to the table, especially after that putdown from Don Baldini about how she shouldn't chime in and for her to just look lovely. Supergirl can use the break as well and she waves her cape to the side and hops her shapely rear end onto the long gray and red marble counter. She watches Scarlett continue to tease and arrange her hair, now flipping the brush through the bangs in a way that shows she's not happy with the results.
"With the way that man looks, doll, it could be a lot worse for y'all. Some big fat gumbah with bad breath and the mannahs' of an ape could be the one controlling that collar. Like that guy with that godawful haircut, Ricco, for example!"
Supergirl blanches at the very idea and contemplates what Scarlett is saying. She's probably getting some very good advice here.
"You best think on that and thank your lucky stahs y'all getting boned by that fine looking stud. Hell, even that Carmine ain't too bad lookin' and he's got the mannah's of a true southern gent to boot."
"Not always," frowns Supergirl recalling the early days of her capture. Not Carmine nor Tony nor anyone had shown her any manners back when they first captured her. It was all throat fucking and rapes and drugs and fear. Things were better now, but it had come at a very high price.
Scarlett notices the frown on the troubled teenager's face. She points the hair brush in her left hand at Supergirl and says, "Look sugah, I know y'all have had a tough time of it. I've seen your videos and you been rode hard, sister. Real hard! But 'ah have hung around these guys enough to know that Tony is the cream of the crop from what 'ah can tell. You best appreciate him because ah'm tellin' you, you could do so much worse. So much worse that it just ain't...."
Without warning, a dart rockets out of the hairbrush into Supergirl's famous S emblem. It jolts into the inner curve of the distracted heroine's left breast before she even realizes it's there.
"...funny," Scarlett concludes her rambling. She studies the blonde's face with satisfaction as it switches from bewilderment to doped confusion. With it's kryptonite-tip and it's powerful kryptonite-laced sedative, the dart sticking into the shocked Maid of Steel's right tit has done it's job in the blink of an eye. The heroine had been caught off-guard by the red-head assassin's breezy Southern manner, her embarrassing brash talk and her vain feminine concern about her hair and looks. Supergirl's eyes glaze over and she starts to tilt forward off the counter before Scarlett smoothly steps over and steadies her slumping body with her right hand clutching the collar of the slouching teen's bright blue spandex shirt.
"Easy there, sugah. Y'all are feelin' pretty sickly right now I know. Better let Scarlett take care of you. We don't want you to get hurt."
Scarlett calmly places the hairbrush down and then uses both hands on Supergirl's tits to maneuver the blonde beauty backward on the counter so her back is pressed against the mirror. The famous Maid of Steel's arms hang limp at her sides and her head flops over to rest limply on her left shoulder. Her bright red boots dangle off the granite counter with the toes pointed at the floor.
"I swear, darlin', your weakness for kryptonite is going to get you or your cousin out and out killed one of these days. It's just so inconvenient, I don't know how y'all stand it. However, don't you worry none, Supergirl, my contract doesn't call for me to murder you.....this time. For now, I'm just going to let you rest a bit here on your side while I get a few things from my purse."
Quickly guiding the limp superheroine down to her right side, Scarlett makes sure the helpless blonde won't roll off the counter. With her cheek pressed against the cool marble, Supergirl's eyes wander in opposite directions and she moans again, a bit louder.
"Dear me! Hush now, missy!" Scarlet suddenly takes the end of Supergirl's cape and stuffs it in the blonde's mouth. "You'll draw too much attention. Okay, let me take care of that little issue first then, proper-like." Scarlet takes out several items from the purse and puts them on the counter between the sinks and away from Supergirl's reach. It's extremely unlikely that the Maid of Steel could muster enough energy or mental acuity even to try to fling her arm toward the small collection of tools but Scarlett is a professional and doesn't take such chances.
Scarlet takes a silver-plated Stratton powder compact from the inventory she's set on the counter and opens it up. Taking the thin round applicator pad in hand she puts the case back down and steps closer to the girl lying helplessly on her side. She pulls the crumbled red fabric of the cape out of the dazed teen's mouth and then squeezes firmly on Supergirl's jaw, forcing her mouth wider open. The redheaded hit woman then places the pad on Supergirl's tongue and pulls on a small beige thread at the flat edge of the cloth applicator. With a loud whooshing hiss, Supergirl's mouth is suddenly filled with a fat cloth ball gag lined with a hard inner mylar shell and enough helium to keep her mouth stretched around the uncomfortable orb for hours.
It's so tightly crammed in there, there's no need for buckles to secure the ball from being spit out.
"That takes cay-ah' of that little problem," Scarlet says, patting the heavily-drugged heroine's bulging cheek. "Now let's make sure you're trussed up nice and tight while the serum is still at peak potency, shall we?"
Scarlett bends down and reaches for the hem of her own form-fitting red dress when she hears footsteps approaching the ladies room. Instantly straightening up, she punches Supergirl in the belly. The savage jab forces a squeaking cry out of the blonde champion and bulges her eyes wide as a frog's.
"Is everything all right in there, ladies?" Don Baldini voice is filled with concern through the sacrosanct wooden door of the ladies room. "You've been in there quite a while."
"Yes, of course, Don Baldini," Scarlet replies, the soul of sweetness. "I'm sorry, we just got involved with girl talk. You know how it is." The blonde champion suddenly wheezes heavily through the ball gag and Scarlett improvises without missing a beat. "It's Supergirl's time of the month and she's just a bit emotional. I'm giving her a shoulder to cry on. We won't be much longer. Two shakes of a lambs tail, sugah! I promise. You boys all settled up out there?"
Ignoring the question, Baldini hears the whine of the blonde heroine, shakes his head and scowls, then simply says, "Make it snappy" before heading back to the table.
"You heard the man," whispers Scarlett who's bending down again. She reaches under the hem of her dress and pulls on the end of a thread hanging there. And she keeps pulling until she holds in her hand a loop of 15-foot long ultra-fine 150-pound test fishing line she'd secured there earlier in the day.
Working quickly Scarlett rolls the blonde girl's flaccid body so it faces the mirror. She flings the cape out of her way and binds her wrists behind her back in tight circles of clear nylon line. She then binds the heroine's ankles together, the clear nylon pressing slight dents in the thin boot material. On a good day, the powerful blonde champion could snap all this strong nylon line circling her limbs by barely flexing her muscles, but this was not a good day for Supergirl.
Getting into a crouch, the redhead slides the bound teen off the counter onto her shoulder. Her arms wrap around the thin waist of the blue and red clad beauty and Scarlett carefully lowers the helpless figure onto the dove gray tile of the bathroom floor, positioning her on her side. Once more, the hit-woman has to fling the annoying red cape out of her way to get to the remaining nylon line coiled beside the teen wonder's prone body. She connects the bound ankles to Supergirl's wrists, threading the fine line through the circled nylon bindings and tying them off with a quick series of tiny complex knots, completing the hogtie. Then she turns the gagged and securely-trussed teenager onto her back with her bound arms and calves pinned underneath her. The young heroine's neck is arched and her heavy head tilts back against the bathroom floor. The heavily-lidded eyes show limited awareness in the flat blue irises and a thin line of drool begins to form a tiny puddle. The older beauty then scoots forward until she's kneeling right next to Supergirl.
"Here comes the part 'ah know you'll like, sugah."
Reaching up to the marble counter, Scarlett pulls down the last two items she'd taken from her purse: a black plastic tube of lipstick and a yellow plastic cylinder of lip balm.
"Those morons searched mah' little purse thoroughly, girl, and found just the everyday contents that any woman like me would carry. No metal parts to any of my toys, I'll have you know. High tension plastic springs in the hairbrush, pvc dart, and these little beauties," the redhead boasts, "powerful plastic windup coils, no motors, no wires, no metal. But all fun as you will soon discovah', dear."
Taking the lipstick in hand, Scarlett depresses the bottom of the tube and cranks the base of the smooth ebony cylinder counter-clockwise several times with a ratcheting motion. She repeats the process with the yellow tube of lip balm.
Hiking up Supergirl's silky red skirt until it's bunched around her hips, the hit-woman then takes hold of the waistband of Supergirl's panties and pulls them down so they're positioned snugly around her spread thighs. Drugged and helpless, the Last Daughter of Krypton can only groan miserably as she feels the air circulating around her lower body. She's cognizant enough to understand that her pussy has been exposed.
With no time left for finesse, Scarlet spits on the forefinger of one hand and slides it into Supergirl's slit, briskly rubbing it all around. The hit-woman thoroughly massages the labia, the inner walls of her vagina and her clit. The forefinger on her other hand receives its own measure of spit and is rubbed in hard little circles against Supergirl's asshole. Scarlet's finger work is fast, highly invasive and most effective. With no mental resistance to fall back on, Supergirl gets aroused quite quickly. Her pussy lips gleam with the slick juices of her excitement.
The redheaded pro then starts up the two miniature vibrators with a push on their bases, then inserts each one deftly into the teenage champion's wet twat and slippery anus. After burying both plastic cylinders deeply within the moist cavities, Supergirl's panties are pulled back up to help keep the vibrators from being expelled. Scarlet pulls the short skirt down and gives it a quick smoothing motion against Supergirl's thigh.
"There. All set, sweetheart," she declares.
Once again Supergirl's eyes wander and her lids flutter. Confusion and pleasure begin to take over her mind and body as the mechanical relentlessness of the two thrumming plastic vibrators send signals of delight through her that are far beyond the drugged heroine's ability to cope. The Maid of Steel begins to wriggle and shiver on the cool tile, her fingers twitching and her thighs quivering. Soft muffled moans are all that get through the expansive cloth ball jammed into Supergirl's mouth.
"Those little devils will keep you busy for a good ten minutes before they run down, sugah," Scarlet says as she gives her hands a good quick washup. "I hope you have a spare set of panties because that pair is going to get very, very sticky! Ah'll see you around sometime, darlin'. It's been a pleasure. And it certainly will be for you," she says as she tosses the paper towel she'd dried her hands with into the trash.
She then picks up her purse and takes a special plastic bullet hidden inside a tampon and loads her hairbrush with it, ratching that device's spring back to full tension. That done, the gorgeous redhead then twists and pulls on her nipples until they poke through the thin silk of her dress. "Ready, girls?" She smiles widely as she smooths her dress into shape, knowing she looks incredible now. That done, she opens the bathroom door and lets out a loud laugh that everyone in the restaurant can hear.
"I do declare Supergirl, you are a caution," Scarlet's voice says with a trill of delight in it. "I never thought you'd be such a funny girl."
Scarlet was not wrong about the pleasure in store for the Maid of Steel. During the next seven minutes, while all hell is breaking loose out in the dining room of Anatra, a tightly-trussed and drugged Supergirl will coat the crotch of her red costume panties three separate times with heavy surges of her strongly-scented cum. The devilish vibrators will wreck havoc on her helplessly bound body, sending constant lightning strikes of pleasure to the heart of her pussy and her ass until she is overwhelmed with a crescendo of hip-jerking, muffled shrieks of blinding joy.
Eye-rolling white-eyed orgasms crash through her like thunder on the mountain. Each climax looms bigger and grander than the previous event until the tightly bound figure can only writhe and whimper on the floor. Her elbows and boot tips bump on the cool tile in spasms and jerks and fits as onrushing tidal waves of absolute ecstacy drown her in complete oblivion. By the end, the crotch of her shiny red panties does become thick and sticky and pungent with the juicy expulsion of her sweet feminine dew. Her heavy panting and final long pleasured sighs are the only noise in the ladies room.
* * *
Sergei stated that since only he knew the combination to the safe in Tony's suite he was the one who had to make the trip downstairs to retrieve Wonder Woman's power girdle. Randy had willingly let him believe this. He had his mission in mind and thought he knew a way to get the Amazon out of the Pleasure Dome building. He knew he was gambling on Wonder Woman being able to hold on until Sergei returned with the belt but it was a risk he felt he had to take.
While the Russian made his painful gimpy excursion, Randy was left to tend to the fast-fading Amazon. Before he took up that responsibility though, he waited until he heard the elevator descend with Sergei and then dashed over to where Carlo's body had fallen and pulled the taser out of the dead man's hand. He put that device in his pants pocket and then used his cell phone to call the number for the doctor that Sergei had shouted out to Carlo. It was easy enough to remember, the local area code, three fives and the repeating sequence 0909.
All Randy told the doctor was that there had been a stabbing and a severe knee injury to Sergei. At the mention of Sergei's name, the doctor agreed to come immediately to the Pleasure Dome's address with no questions asked. He said he'd arrive in about 20 minutes.
With those matters handled, Randy crossed back across the room and attended to Wonder Woman. After setting the tiara on the glass coffee table, he had pulled her bustier down to cover up her breasts but left her abdomen exposed. He wanted to be able to check her wound without unnecessarily disturbing it. Then he easily lifted her out of the bloody puddle and sat down with her at the far end of the large sectional sofa. Her body rested in his lap, her back leaning against his shirt while his arm held her around her waist, his hand firmly pressing the yellow dish towel against the puncture wound. His other hand brushed her hair off her forehead. Wonder Woman regains consciousness as he does this but her voice barely rises over a whisper.
"I am Don Leo Lugese. One of the most important..."
"...cut the crap..." Wonder Woman interrupts him. "I...i...don't have... the time."
"Name's Randy. That's enough for now. I go way back with Tony. He asked me to come East to pull you out of here. He thought things might get messy tonight at the meeting. He didn't want anyone else to get their hands on you. I'm supposed to let you go if things don't go well with him and Carmine."
"...and if they do... go well. What then?"
"He didn't have a Plan B. He didn't expect them to go well."
"...that's odd.....sounds unusually....fatalistic... for Tony..." she sighs and then grunts with a nasty twinge from her perforated belly. "Hera...what's taking Sergei.....so long...?"
"It's only been a few minutes. Don't speak. Don't strain yourself."
"...you're...awfully nice...for mob muscle..."
"Not the first time I've heard that. Supergirl said something similar months and months ago."
Wonder Woman's eyes widen slightly as her warm body presses against Randy's. "You're him. She talked about you...once or twice.....what'd she call you? ...Can't remember."
"...oh...yeah....right...she liked you.... even with all you...did to her..."
"Be quiet. Just rest." Randy's eyes well up but Wonder Woman doesn't see it.
"...'kay..." The Amazon's voice can barely be heard now.
After another three minutes pass, Randy is beside himself with worry. "Where the fuck is that damn Russian. I should have gone and gotten your belt instead. You really did a number on his knee."
"...belt...getting me my belt.?.." Wonder Woman feels a measure of hope for the first time in ages but then grimaces in agony as her stomach spasms and grinds fresh tears out of her eyes. It takes her a minute to get a measure of strength back. "He's doing that...for me..?..." she murmurs.
"He is, but if he doesn't get back with it soon, it may be too late!"
"...tell me something....i...don't know..."
After an interminable wait by a fretful Randy and a barely breathing Wonder Woman, the elevator doors finally slide open. Sergei shuffles out with the Golden Girdle of Power in his hand. By now however, the Amazon warrior's complexion has gone gray and she's lapsed into a deep wheezing stupor. Thin, tiny bubbles of blood pop on her lips that Randy has been wiping away with a handkerchief from his pocket. The once pristine white cloth is now as spotted as a measles patient.
"About fucking time! Get over here with that!"
Hobbling forward with a face shining with the sweat of pain and exertion, Sergei crosses the room, hands the belt to Randy and then retreats to collapse in the armchair with a loud groan.
"I don't know why I am to be good Samaritan this late in life. Is not my style. I don't even like this cow that much."
"Shut up and come here to hold her while I get this belt around her waist, she's at death's door, goddammit!"
"Do this yourself. The cunt ruined my knee for good! I am exhausted."
Glaring at the slouching Russian, Randy is forced to handle the limp, blood-soaked Wonder Woman on his own. It takes some fancy hand coordination and grabbing of fabric to keep her from falling over but he finally does get the belt clasped and secure around the Amazon's waist. Randy anxiously peers down at the famous beauty slouched on his lap, her deep cleavage looking like a canyon from this over-the-shoulder angle. The light wheezy breaths do not slow down and she does not stir, except for the rise and fall of her expanding breasts.
"I don't know. Nothing is changing here," Randy says. "She may be too far gone. I can't tell if she has a pulse here," the worried mobster says, his fingertips feeling her wrist just where her bracelet ends. "I'm getting nothing!"
Frantically, Randy pulls the limp Wonder Woman off his lap and slides her directly onto the couch until she's lying flat against the cushions. He kneels beside the couch and puts his ear to her heart; listening, waiting and hoping against hope. A full half minute goes by and Randy can hear no heartbeat. He lifts his head up and shakes it slowly, crestfallen.
"So! She is dead," Sergei intones coldly, his head tilted back and pressed deeply into the back cushion of the plush armchair. He merely looks up at the ceiling and says without a hint of empathy, "Well, we tried. Can't to be winning them all."
"...your concern......is touching...." mutters Wonder Woman as loudly as a butterfly slamming its wings shut.
"What?" Sergei's head snaps up. "What did the cunt say?"
"She said you're all heart," Randy paraphrases the sarcasm.
"I do what I can," the Russian replies and then sees Wonder Woman begin to tremble and shake on the couch. Her bright blue eyes go dull even as her pupils widen. Her breathing rate doubles and she begins to pant, her breasts rising and falling very rapidly.
"Oh no! What's happening now?" Randy asks, watching the famous beauty's teeth chatter and her muscles spasm before him.
"She is going into shock, I believe,"Sergei answers. "Get her a blanket. Quickly! The bedroom."
In under twenty seconds Randy returns with a brightly-colored comforter, wrapping it around Wonder Woman's shaking form and then rubbing her shoulders briskly. But the heroine has lapsed back into unconsciousness.
Sergei rises out of his chair and limps over to the couch. He looks down at the prone form, the rapid breathing and the ashen face. Leaning in, he places his palm against her cheek which is cool and clammy feeling.
"Yes, this is shock and she is not to be responding."
"What do we do?"
"Pull off that blanket and get out of my way."
"But you just told me to put it on her!"
"Da, and now it comes off. Do it!"
Randy pulls off the blanket and then steps back so Sergei can do what needs to be done. The tall Russian leans over the beautiful Themysciran princess and puts both hands on her tits, squeezing them hard through the bustier. There is no groan from Wonder Woman but there is a growl from Randy who grabs at Sergei's right elbow, ripping the man's hand away from the unconscious beauty's bustier.
"You prick! Even now you're taking advan...GHUUUNH!"
Sergei's elbow jabs into Randy's gut and the big man goes down to one knee beside the couch, gasping for air.
"I am testing her awareness, idiot! It is bad. She needs CPR immediately."
Sergei crosses his left palm on the back of his right hand, straightens his arms then presses his the heel of his right hand onto Wonder Woman's breast bone. He pushes down hard on her chest, beginning the compression routine he hopes will help bring the Amazon back from the brink of death. With the first push, however, her wound spurts a short geyser of blood that knocks the kitchen towel off her stomach.
"Get that," nods Sergei, before he does another compression. Randy quickly circles around by Wonder Woman's head and reaches across to press the blood-soaked cloth back onto her belly. Sergei starts up the CPR once more. His hands ride up and down on the rising and falling chest and he counts his timing and his strokes off softly to himself, keeping a careful eye on her face. After 20 compressions, when she still doesn't revive, Sergei removes his hands and backs off.
"Oh, this bothersome whore! She is to be the death of me! Look, I'm not getting a good angle here. And this is not working on the couch. Get her on the floor. But here is the thing, I can't get down on my knees or I will pass out from the pain. Lugese, you must be taking up the CPR. Quickly!"
"But I've never..."
"You saw my technique. There's no choice. You try or she dies, da?"
"Da! Fucking da," Randy growls as he quickly picks up Wonder Woman with his hands under her back and her knees. He swings her around takes several steps away from the couch and lays her out on the carpet in the middle of the living room. The big man gets down on his knees and begins the compression routine, copying what he saw Sergei do. The Russian has maneuvered himself so his legs stretch out parallel to Wonder Woman's while he props himself on one straightened arm while his other is bent, holding the bloody towel against her stomach. Sergei grimaces from the continuing pain in his knee but nevertheless helps guide Randy through the CPR, counting aloud and advising him when to give Wonder Woman two long breaths by mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and when to restart the compressions.
After three minutes, Wonder Woman begins coughing and her eyes flutter heavily and then they slowly open. She's looking up at Randy's drawn and sweaty face.
"...ohhhh..." she groans aloud then murmurs, "...you get the...number of that truck?"
"You had me worried," Randy says, his eyes shining down on her. "Don't do that again."
"Do what? What happened?"
"You went into shock, stopped breathing. I had to perform CPR."
"Ah, so that's why your hands are on my tits," Wonder Woman says. Caught up in the excitement of her revival, Randy had never removed his hands from her breastbone. As she started coughing he had merely moved them aside, cautiously poised there, waiting on her ample curves if he needed to restart his compressions. His palms remain flexed against the soft silk even now. But at the smirking beauty's comment, he snatches them off her as if yanking them away from a hot stove, his face going scarlet.
"Sorry," he blurts.
"I'm not. You saved my life."
"As did I," Sergei chimes in.
"Is that true?"
Randy nods. "He even started the CPR, knew you'd gone into shock. You wouldn't be here if not for him."
"No, I wouldn't," Wonder Woman says. She grimly eyes the Russian, weighing her emotions. They are very mixed. "In any case, you copping a feel seems like small potatoes."
"Big potatoes if you are to be asking me," Sergei says with a leer at the now steadily rising and falling chest of the Amazon.
"No one asked you," Randy and Diana say together, then grin at each other.
"And I suppose you are not asking in interest about your wound, Princess?" Sergei has lifted the towel to reveal the puncture. It not only has finally clotted but seems to even have shrunk a bit though it's difficult to tell for certain with all the matted blood. The belt, it appears, has finally returned some of Wonder Woman's powers to her beleaguered body.
"Can you stand up?" Randy holds out his hand and Wonder Woman takes it.
"Yes, I think so." Slowly the pair rises while Sergei stays on the carpet, sitting up with his legs fully extended. Wonder Woman is not completely steady on her feet yet and Randy helps her over to one of the two armchairs. She settles down and takes deep breaths and just tries to compose herself and think what to do next. She'd been through hell and was still somewhat disoriented.
Standing next to the chair, Randy asks her, "How do you feel? You want something to drink?"
"Just a glass of water," Wonder Woman replies. "And if you could get me a clean wet towel I'd like to clean this wound up and see where I stand."
"You can be helping me stand up at anytime, Lugese," Sergei suggests from down on the rug.
"I can but I won't. Not just yet anyway. The lady comes first."
"The lady cums all the time from what I hear," Sergei shoots back. "And from what I am to be remembering."
Wonder Woman turns her head to see a wolfish smile on the assassin's face as he stares at her with contempt. With everything almost back to normal, both parties realize they are back to being at odds with each other. Yet with their injuries, it's a tricky balance of power at the moment. The staring contest extends for quite a bit, the Russian and the Amazon weighing strategies as Randy runs the water in the sink and soaks a clean green floral print kitchen towel in hot water. They're still both avidly focused on each other when Randy starts back through the living room.
Sergei wishes he had his knife in hand but, foolishly, he had left it sticking out of Carlo's slumped body across the room. A mistake he usually doesn't make. Wonder Woman suddenly bows her body forward, snatches her tiara off the glass coffee table and hurls the headpiece in an elegantly smooth effort that belies her wounded condition and speaks to years of heroic muscle memory. Her simultaneous battle cry fills the apartment with violent fury ringing in the ears of her foe even as her weapon spins like a Frisbee on steroids, aimed right at Sergei's neck.
The Amazon threw her tiara with the full intention of mortal injury, decapitation if possible. It doesn't happen. The Mad Russian Bear had expected some sort of attack from her and his body flops onto his back as the deadly silvery jeweled blur whizzes over his head by an inch at most. The chime of ringing metal is unmistakable when the tiara sinks into the steel railing separating the living room from the kitchen. It had only missed Randy's legs by a foot of airspace as he froze in the middle of the room when Wonder Woman let out her war cry.
Lying flat on his back a mere two feet from his shoes, Sergei looks up at Randy with surprise. The Russian hadn't thought the man was that close. Randy drops the warm wet towel on Sergei's face; another shock in a series of them for the unlucky hit man. In fact, when Randy whips the taser out of his pants pocket and pulls the trigger, the two leads sink into the man's chest and the device pours nothing but shocks into the jerking Russian's body. The 20,000 volts do their merciless work and the twitching villain is reduced to helpless spasms that lock his body into a rigor of pain that rocks his world. His jerking spasms flex and wrench his knee at incredibly wrong angles and Sergei faints dead away with the agony that explodes in his head.
Randy leans down, pulls the damp towel off the unconscious man's face, removes the taser leads and puts the device in his side jacket pocket. With the damp towel in hand, he then continues on toward Wonder Woman. He gives her the cloth and she begins wiping her stomach, cringing at the sensitivity near the wound. It has closed up somewhat but it's still painful.
Gingerly she pulls down the bustier until her abdomen is covered and she looks somewhat presentable. The wide red damp circle of blood is noticeable but there's nothing to be done about that. Angling her head back, the beautiful heroine looks up at Randy with a weariness that fills her to her soul. Meeting the kind eyes looking down on her, Wonder Woman says, "Can we get out of here now?"
"By all means, m'lady," he bows and reaches out his hand to help her up. And the two of them head for the elevator before a still somewhat disoriented Wonder Woman remembers her tiara. She goes back and, with a huge effort barely manages to yank it out of the metal railing. She grimaces as her stomach complains about the exertion. But she wasn't about to leave the headpiece here. She affixes it back into her hair then heads back toward the elevator. She suddenly stops just as she passes the unconscious Russian mobster prone on his back, his legs spread. It was just too inviting! She turns toward the body, looking down at Sergei's face. It was cruel-looking even in repose like this.
He is a brutal and cruel man. If he saved my life, it was because he felt somehow it was in his own self-interest. He deserves this payback for all he did to me and he's going to get it!
Wonder Woman lifts her boot high and stomps her heel down on Sergei's manhood with a heavy thump. Even unconscious, the body jerks in reaction, the pelvis rocking a bit until the toe of the grinding boot swings to the side and stops the motion.
"We're still not even," the Amazon says with a glare down at her oblivious foe as she pulls her foot away. And then the elevator softly chimes. Randy immediately pulls the taser out of his pocket and stands to the side waiting for the doors to open. Wonder Woman stands where she is, right over Sergei, her body poised to react. Anybody could be in the cab. Their escape isn't completed yet. When the metal doors open, a man with salt and pepper hair, round rim glasses and a gray goatee steps out and turns to look at Randy. He notices the taser in his hands but simply asks, "Sergei?"
"You his doctor?"
"Dr. Kreshnekov." There are no handshakes. Randy simply nods at the body lying on the floor and the man with the black bag rushes over to it, clucking his tongue. "What have you gotten yourself into this time, you fool?"
"Tasered," Wonder Woman says, "plus a knee that suffered a nasty kick. Oh, and he might have taken a shot in the nuts."
"Not all, but I helped." Wonder Woman gives the prone figure one last good look and turns to go, her shoulders straightening with pride, her chest thrust forward.
Looking back over his shoulder at the retreating shapely rear as it shakes it way toward the elevator, the doctor says softly to himself, "I wouldn't be surprised knowing Sergei. Especially seeing that!"
The doctor looks around and notices a dead male slumped against the wall with a knife sticking out of his chest. He's about to take smelling salts out of his bag but thinks better of it for the moment. He'd rather examine Sergei's body in a calm quiet manner, something that's virtually impossible when the edgy Russian is conscious. He proceeds with his examination.
In the elevator, Randy presses the button for the floor one below the penthouse. "We just have to make a stop down in Tony's bedroom to get your lasso from his safe."
"Thank Hera! You DO know the combination! You let Sergei believe you didn't."
"One has to play one's cards carefully if one wants to win the game." Randy extends his arm to guide the way once the elevator doors open in Tony's suite.
"I can see why Kara spoke highly of you. But you certainly don't seem like you belong mixed up with murderers and thugs."
"I'm beginning to think you're right, the large man nods, "but getting out of this business isn't as easy as waving thank you at a retirement dinner where you get a gold watch."
When they get to Tony's bedroom, Randy pushes a small set of dice on a miniature replica of a craps table on a shelf beside Tony's bed and the still life floral oil painting hanging over the television opposite the bed swings opens revealing the safe.
"I know a lot of good people who would be willing to help you make the transition, even via the Witness Protection Program if necessary," Wonder Woman offers.
"I may take you up on that after we get through all this tonight," says Randy thoughtfully. He quickly spins the safe's shiny steel dial back and forth until it clicks and he pulls the door open, looks into the safe and reaches inside it.
When his hand comes back out holding the golden lasso, Wonder Woman snatches it out of his fist in giddy girlish glee. "It's happening! I'm really getting out of here! Oh, thank you. Thank you!" She leans forward and kisses him on the cheek even as she attaches the lasso to the loop on her belt. She feels even better now, her costume finally completely intact after so many months. "But we have to go now. Kara could need help at the meeting. We've got to get there as soon as possible," she declares turning around to head back through the suite to the elevator.
"What? Wait, that wasn't the plan," Randy is adamant, grabbing Wonder Woman's elbow and turning her to face him. "Tony said get you to someplace safe that even he wouldn't know about. And lady, that restaurant is about as unsafe a place as anyone can be tonight."
"Please take your hand off me, Randy," the Champion of All Women asks the big man politely. The tone is non-negotiable and he does let her go. Immediately. "Will you be joining me at Anatra! because I'm leaving now? Supergirl probably needs my help." Striding over to Tony's closet, she rummages through it, swiping hangars to the side until she gets to a long trench coat which she puts on to hide her costume.
"Anatra! Is that the name of the place? How do know where the meet is?" Randy stands in place, a bit bewildered now.
"Supergirl whispered the name of the restaurant to me along with the address before she left. Just before you arrived. Are you coming or not?"
Without even waiting for an answer, Wonder Woman heads for the elevator so that Randy is forced to rush alongside just to talk to her. She pushes the call button and the doors slide open immediately since no one had called this private elevator since they'd gotten off it. They both get in and Wonder Woman pushes the button for the lobby, then thinks better of it and pushes the one below it for the garage. The ride down will take less than a minute but both of them cross their fingers that nobody gets on the elevator with them.
"Seems crazy to go to the trouble of escaping just so you can dash over to this place and possibly get recaptured. I'm just saying."
"Be that as it may, it's what I'm doing. I can't let Supergirl face this on her own. It's a heroine code thing. Oh, I will need you to hot-wire one of Tony's cars when we get down to the garage," Wonder Woman says, tying the trench coat's belt loosely around her. It's clearly oversized for her even though she's the same height as Tony.
"I don't know how to hot-wire cars! And by the way, that's mobster profiling and I find it offensive." He grins at her.
"Oh, you're a keeper. You're going to make some moll very happy one day," Wonder Woman answers playfully. "It'll be very sweet. You'll come home after a big heist and she'll have the burnt meat loaf all ready and waiting."
"You're a riot, Alice," Randy replies, doing his best Jackie Gleason impression. The Honeymooners show was a favorite of his dad's. "Pow! Zoom," he adds. "Anyway, I didn't think Tony was going to tell her where the meet was. He was concerned about security. She wasn't supposed to know until they got there."
"Well, she has this little thing she does. It's called super hearing."
"Handy," Randy says.
"You ARE coming to the restaurant, aren't you?" Despite their shared jocularity, Wonder Woman is worried about the odds against her when they get there. She hasn't nearly recovered from the stabbing to be taking on a roomful of mafia guys with guns blazing. Having Supergirl should help if she's not knocked out of the fight by that kryptonite collar. Anything and everything could be going wrong. She pushes the down button on an elevator already descending and Randy sees her looking up and nervously trying to will the floor indicator lights over the door to change faster.
He takes her hand in his saying, "It'll be okay. I've got a good feeling."
"Don't do that," she barks, yanking her hand out of his. "I have to be ready to fight if someone gets on at the first floor. Get your taser ready."
"Yes, boss," he smirks. "If the maid gets on, you want I should kill her."
"If it's Large Marge, that's a pleasure I'll reserve for myself."
"Never mind, it's just somebody heinous from what I desperately hope is now a former life."
The doors slide open at the first floor and both Randy and Wonder Woman tuck themselves into the front corner of the cab. They both hold their breath while Randy gently taps the "Close Door" button and waits. Finally, the doors slide together and the pair begins to breathe again. But Diana says, "This is a private elevator but the garage is serviced by the full bank of them, this one and three other elevators. So, we could meet some resistance down here, especially if Sergei woke up and alerted his security people. Be on your guard." She realizes she needs to untie the belt if she has to quickly shrug off the coat and resort to deflecting bullets. Her confidence in her ability is not very high. Randy fingers the taser in his side pocket.
When the doors pull aside, everything is quiet as a morgue and the twosome cautiously exit the cab. There luck is running good. There are no people around whatsoever. Two Lincoln Navigators are parked in the small lot, one black and one white. A red Ferrari Testarossa is neatly angled in its own prime spot and Randy looks at it with fondness. He nods at it and says, "I've fucked at least four different women in that baby. Tony let me use it about once a month back when I first proved myself reliable. Not real roomy inside but nothing gets a woman's panties off faster than that car, let me tell you."
Wonder Woman is staring at Randy in head shaking amazement at this pronouncement. He glances over at her, sees the incredulity plastered on her face and then goes scarlet remembering with whom he's sharing his idyllic stroll down memory lane.
"I...uh...I mean..that is...there was some...heavy necking...nothing serious..."
"Oooh, did you cum, baby? Oooh, didja? Was it good for you too?" Wonder Woman's husky-throated mimicry of his reminiscence is so spot on accurate that the two of them can't help but burst into howling laughter in the vacant garage. They fall together and slap at each other's arms in riotous relief from the tension of the elevator ride.
"Let's go find a cab," Randy says, still chuckling as they head toward the ramp that leads out of the garage. Just as they get to the street level at the top of the ramp and face the rolling steel garage door it seems to magically open for them. They both back up against the front wall as a black Chrysler 300 drives down the ramp. Blessing the gods, Wonder Woman and Randy make their escape through the open door, unnoticed and unscathed for now. The head toward the corner where there are likely to be a good number of cabs cruising for fares on the main street that goes by the Pleasure Dome.
Randy looks at his watch. It's 6:49. Tony and Gino's meeting has been going on for nearly two hours if it got started on time. The big mafioso wonders just what's happening at the restaurant now.
* * *
Shaking her head and letting out a loud chortle of amusement, Scarlett O'Shea walks seductively towards the large round table, drawing the eyes of everyone seated there to her stunning figure draped in form-hugging red silk. Her breasts and aroused nipples push against the fabric in ways that inspire daydreams of total carnal abandonment. The sway of her hips and crossing action of her legs as she moves forward induce an equal lust. Her right hand holds her hairbrush down behind her right thigh as she steps up near the table. Her left hand is extended outward, holding her small red sequined purse, her finger pointing at Tony. This directs everyone's attention up to her hand. Tony half turns from his interrupted conversation with Carmine and looks up at Scarlett with a touch of annoyance.
"Your girl in there, she's a riot, Tony! I thought superheroines were all stuck up bitches, but not her. She's got a quite a sense of...."
Out of nowhere, a hairbrush produced at Tony's chest level gives off a loud twang and there is a cloud of red mist as Tony's mouth drops open with a grunt. His hands move to clutch his chest and he topples out of his chair to the floor in an ungainly sprawl. He doesn't move. From under his body, a puddle of red begins to spread. There is a silence in the air as the moment freezes, a tableau of absolute shock on everyone's face and in their posture. The only sound is Scarlett's hairbrush dropping and rolling under the table. And then everybody begins to move at once.
Gino, shocked at Scarlett's violent move against Tony, scrambles from his chair and ducks down behind the table's edge for cover. He hadn't ordered the crazy redheaded bitch to kill Tony. He can only wonder if she had her own vendetta against the young don as he hastily retrieves the Glock from the hidden pouch in his pants and watches the deadly blonde assassin survey the room for anybody moving against her.
When Edward, Don Baldini's big black enforcer, starts to pull his .45 caliber Beretta from beneath his jacket, Scarlett steps forward, tosses her purse under the table and snatches a steak knife from Tony's place setting. She heaves it across the ten-foot gap at the mob guy's crotch. He turns just enough for it to miss the mark but the blade sinks into the meat of his thigh and Edward goes down to one knee in severe pain, his head bowed.
Just to her right, Carmine has retrieved his ceramic blade from the hidden compartment in his belt and swipes at Scarlett's throwing arm. He misses as she moves it out of the way. Her other hand grabs a wine bottle from the table and swings it Carmine's head. He jerks his face back just in time but his chair tips backward from the momentum and the heavy man and chair both collapse on the floor in loud crash.
"Freeze, bitch," yells Ricco, the man with the bad haircut. His arms point straight out, his own Beretta, a match to Edward's, is clutched tightly. His eyes bore in on her luscious figure, one whose tits he'd felt up not so long ago. He didn't want to put a bullet into this babe but she doesn't freeze despite his command. She drops to one knee and then, her reflexes saving her life, dives under the large round dining table out of his sight. A bullet smashes into the far wall of the dining room, passing through the space she'd occupied one second before.
In the middle of this sudden outburst of violence, Don Tomas Baldini has remained calm. He'd simply risen from his chair and moved over by the long bar with his back to it, watching the proceedings with grim anger. This wasn't the way he wanted things to go at all, least of all having Tony Bonano blown away as the opening salvo. When Ricco sees his boss standing across the room, he leaves his position against the wall beside the groaning Edward and runs over to help protect the mediator from any possible assault on him. He covers the room with his eyes, his gun sweeping left and right.
In all the confusion and attention drawn to Scarlett, Tony has managed to crawl his way under the table and when Scarlett joins him there, it's a surprise to them both. She looks at him and he gives her a thumbs up, then presses another steak knife into her hands that he'd palmed from Don Baldini's place setting, whispering "Get Gino's man, Basso." He nods at the brown pair of pants kneeling on the floor to Tony's left. As she crawls forward toward that goal, Tony waits for her shapely rear end to move past him, sighs in admiration, then quickly edges forward to the squatting blue pants to the right of Basso's. His own ceramic knife is now clutched in his left hand, his right hand flat on the floor helping to propel him toward Gino.
Tony's life-long adversary had been cautiously watching Carmine extract himself from the broken chair. Gino's old friend from the neighborhood hadn't made a move toward him yet, but that didn't mean he wouldn't. Gino thought that Carmine probably assumed that he'd ordered Scarlett to take out Tony and would be seeking revenge for his murdered boss. He doesn't want to kill Carmine but he keeps his Glock pointed at him as he warily watches the older don get to hands and knees. He's wavering there with labored breathing. His face is ashen and his eyes bulge slightly. This wasn't something that his fall out of the chair had caused. Had Carmine been wounded somehow in the confusion?
Basso sees this too, and the left-handed mobster raises his .32 caliber Colt to put Carmine down for good, something he figures Gino would want. Just as he's pulling the trigger, Carmine groans loudly and collapses down from all fours, spreading out onto the floor with his arms splayed forward. The bullet meant for him passes over his body and buries itself in the wooden floor.
Basso frowns at the miss and draws a second bead on Tony's sprawled old don when he feels a jolt to his stomach that takes all his breath away. He looks down to see a hand reaching out from under the table. It's a woman's hand and it's holding a steak knife, one that has been shoved into his gut. The stunned Basso is even more shocked when the hand yanks the knife out and plunges it a second time into him, creating a new opening. The sudden twisting motion finishes the job and Basso collapses forward, falling out of his chair into a heap on the floor, his gun clattering off to the left. The bloody puddle under Basso spreads quickly across the floor.
Gino, who'd been looking over at Carmine's collapse, is surprised to see his right hand man, Basso, suddenly lying on the floor beside him.
"Basso, what the fuck," Gino says, noticing first that Basso's Colt had dropped to the floor beside his right foot. He then sees the pool of blood beneath his bodyguard. Immediately, the nervous elder don bends down and picks up the gun. He's going to need all the firepower he can get if Basso's out of action. Glancing forward, a horrified Gino sees Tony Bonano's sparkling eyes under the table as the younger don rises up toward him. Even as he registers the danger, it's already too late. The ceramic blade jabs forward into Gino's neck and sinks into up to the hilt.
"UUURRLLGKK!" The gurgling don reflexively fires his Glock into Tony's gut and the younger don is knocked backward, his head knocking into the table, his body suddenly collapsing to the floor. But Tony's razor-sharp knife has done its job. The spray of blood from Gino's neck creates a fan effect across the white tablecloth. The large red arc of droplets is arrayed across the expanse of pure white cloth, the plates of uncleared food and the gleaming bright silverware.
The wide-eyed old mafioso drops both guns and pulls out the blade with shaking desperate hands. The spray becomes a pulsing spurting fountain that jerks blood out of the body even as it crumples to the floor. Death looms in Gino's shocked eyes when they look ahead under the table to see Scarlett kneeling there. She shrugs at him as he dies, his stare becoming completely vacant in just seconds.
Scarlett gathers in Basso's Colt but can't find Gino's Glock. It must have gone spinning off or he'd kicked it somehow in his death throes. With the Colt in hand, a hunched-over Scarlet peeks out from under the table and sees Edward pull the knife out of his thigh with a grimace and drop it on the floor. He limps two feet to an empty table and sits down heavily on one of chairs surrounding the pre-set table for the dinner crowd. He quickly snatches up a large cloth napkin and ties it as a tourniquet around his thigh, trying to stem the heavy flow of blood.
Seeing he's out of the fight for the moment, Scarlet lays the gun down beside her knee, and bends over to check Tony's condition. He's wheezing heavily and his face is pale and drawn. Gino hadn't gone down without a fight and the redheaded assassin is worried for the semi-conscious don's welfare. Had the Kevlar vest been strong enough to withstand the impact at such close range? With Tony doubled over, she can't tell.
"Come out from under the table now Miss O'Shea. Slowly with your hands up," Don Baldini demands in the sudden silence. The only sounds heard are the wheezing gasps from Tony and the slow murmuring moans of Carmine. Edward has laid his Beretta on the table and is sitting five feet from the restaurant's front door, wincing as he tightens the napkin on his wounded leg a bit more. Ricco stands by his boss, his gun still ready, pointed at the dining table that covers Tony and Scarlett.
"Yo'ah man Ricco is going to kill me if 'ah come out," says Scarlett, her loud voice quavering a little for effect as she removes the cell phone from her purse and dials a pre-arranged number.
"Ricco will not kill you. Ricco likes you," Baldini says quite calmly. When Scarlett's call connects, she whispers "Come now," ends the call and replaces the phone in her purse. Seeing the hairbrush under a nearby chair, she puts that back in her purse as well. "In fact, I'm sure he wants you badly, don't you, Ricco."
"Y'all have him put down his gun. 'Ah don't trust him. Or you," Scarlet says, her voice pitched high, waiting to see how the mediator plays this. With both Gino and Basso now dead and Tony and Carmine seemingly out of commission, the tension in the place has been lowered. In fact, only Scarlet remains a threat right now and she knows it. She's not sure what happened to Carmine. He'd played the role they'd planned for him perfectly with his swipe at her and falling off his chair so he had a lower profile, but after that she'd been a little busy with Basso to follow what had happened.
"I'm sorry Miss O'Shea but I don't trust you either," Don Baldini declares, "especially after your callous attempt on Don Bonano's life. By the way, is he alive under there? Is Carmine? And even if they're alive, I hardly think they'd be your allies after what you've done."
Scarlett casts a fearful glance at Tony. He's not moving at all now and the wheezing has stopped. She picks up Basso's Colt. She doesn't have to check the clip since she knows he hadn't fired a shot yet and wouldn't have come into this meeting without a fresh clip. There's at least a 9 shots left in it based on her knowledge of this model, more than enough to take care of Baldini and his two men should it come to that.
"I don't need allies, Don Baldini. I took out Supergirl," she calls out very loudly, boasting triumphantly and hoping her yelling covers the sound of her ratcheting the hairbrush and loading it with a one more special dart. "I don't think your lackeys will pose much of a challenge compared to that!"
Ricco and Edward share a fearful look across the room. It's true, the blonde heroine had never returned from the bathroom! Nevertheless, the term "lackeys" doesn't sit well with either of them. Ricco's trigger finger twitches with nervous energy. Edward shifts his shooting stance to give himself better balance. The knife wound is still dripping down his pained leg.
But Don Baldini is the epitome of calm. He even puts his hand on Ricco's arm, squeezing it slightly, his eyes meeting with the hired muscle's own, nodding in assurance. "You do not hold the winning hand here," Baldini asserts steadily. "Now come on out, young lady, and face the music. But before you do, toss out both of those guns you have under there. My two men are excellent shots. I'm sure you don't want to go down in a hail of bullets, do you? You're a professional, my dear. You know when the odds are too long against you. You're too good to go out this way. We both know that." Baldini takes his hand off Ricco's arm, just in case his persuasiveness doesn't carry the day.
"What's going to happen to me, if you're not going to kill me? I won't be Ricco's plaything. That's non-negotiable!"
"You should be so lucky, cunt!"
"Ricco, please," utters the slightly bemused don. "As much as he burns for you, I will not allow him to have you, Miss O'Shea. Nor Edward or myself. I guarantee it."
"I would be free to go? No strings?" Scarlett thinks this is too good to be true but listens for the answer hopefully. There was no guarantee she'd come out alive from a shootout with Ricco and Edward, no matter what she'd just boasted.
"The only string would be your lost reputation, my dear. I'm assuming the recently deceased Gino paid you for your services and you turned on him, or at least his man Basso as near as I can tell. That sort of turncoat behavior does not go down well among people who would pay for your services in the future. I would never hire you or recommend you, I promise you that. However, there will be no repercussions from me or my men now or in the future. Unless you cross our path in the course of your work. Isn't that right, Edward? She did, after all, cause that injury of yours."
"She has my word, Don Baldini," grumbles the big enforcer reluctantly, then adds "I won't stab her in the back with this same knife as she goes by me out the door. Really I won't." His smile is not pleasant.
"Is that sufficient, Miss O'Shea? Will you come out. I need to clean this place up of incriminating evidence before the police arrive. I can't imagine it will be long before we hear sirens."
"Check on Carmine first. He doesn't look well."
"No. Guns out first. You're trying my patience, Scarlett," Baldini says gruffly.
"Fine, I'm tossing out one gun, a Colt," Scarlet says. "I don't have the other one. I don't know where it went."
"I don't believe you, bitch," Ricco shouts.
"Edward, can you see it from there?"
"No, Don Baldini."
"I'm afraid nobody here believes you, Miss O'Shea," Baldini declares.
"I don't give a shit what you gumbahs believe! I don't have any other gun beside this Colt of Basso's and I'm sliding it out now."
She's putting her life in the hands of Don Baldini. Her trust of him isn't absolute but coming out from under a table with guns blazing is not a winning play. She gives Basso's Colt a good push and it slides along the hardwood floor until it comes to a stop against Don Baldini's brown Bruno Magli loafer. He bends down and picks up casually, then says, "And now the other gun, Ms. O'Shea."
"'Ah don't have it, old man. Are you deaf? And if y'all three with your own guns can't even stand up to one little pretty gal with nothing but good looks and fluff between the ears, then y'all ain't nothin' but dickless mob goons who deserve to die!"
"Oh, let me waste her, Don Tomas! Please," whines Ricco.
"No, no! The lady makes a good point, Ricco. It's three against one," Baldini nods. "So come on out now, miss. You have our word we won't shoot if you come out with your hands up and no tricks. I see something quirky and that remarkable body of yours goes from heavenly to hamburger in five seconds. Do we understand each other?"
"We do. But please, have one of your men check on Carmine first. 'Ah think he may have had a heart attack."
"His bad luck then," snaps Baldini, impatient once more with Scarlett's delays. "Now come out immediately or Ricco puts a bullet in him and ends his troubles once and for all."
"Okay, ah'm coming, ah'm comin', don't shoot."
Slowly, Scarlett takes up her purse and makes her way over to just under the outer edge of the round table, the cloth hanging down before her face. She takes a deep breath, steadies her nerves and goes into a low crouch then waddles out step by step from under the table until she's crouched down five feet before Ricco and Baldini with her hands up.
She carefully rises out of her crouch until she stands straight up, looking the old don in the eyes. Her beautiful figure is all the more enticing as her dress has ridden up and bunched around her hips in all the commotion and crawling. With her dress hiked up all the way to her left hip and it clinging alluringly to her right thigh, Scarlett's red thong panties are showing. From across the room Edward gets the eye-full of a lifetime. Her wide soft cheeks are separated by a thin strip of red nylon that just about covers her essentials, with the shape of her pussy outlined through the semi-transparent cloth. When the lithe redhead asks to be able to lower her hands and adjust her skirt, Edward groans audibly even as the old don crushes his man's spirit by giving her his permission.
"Okay, Ricco, I'll chaperone the young lady," Baldini says, taking Scarlet's elbow in a firm grip and keeping her in front of him, her back facing his front. He motions with his other hand toward the heavy body lying beside the turned over chair. "You go check on Don Vega there And then check under the table to see if Don Bonano is still among the living."
Ricco cautiously walks over to Carmine's body, still lying inertly face down on the floor. He points his gun at the man's head as he goes down beside him on one knee and roughly pushes on the body's arm to turn the big man on his side. The face is stiff with eyes bulging, one hand is a claw pressed against his chest, the other covers the missing Glock. He may have meant to get off a shot during the firefight but his heart attack had been too sudden, too agonizing, to final for him to succeed. Ricco lets the body roll onto its back and picks up the gun, waving it's muzzle back and forth in the air.
"I found Gino's Glock. And how the hell did he get this past the metal detector?"
"It was a plant," Don Baldini scowls. "Somehow someone got notice to Gino that the meet was going to be here at Anatra before we arrived to set things up. I wonder who that could have been?"
He gives Ricco a piercing stare and then moves on to Edward but both are so surprised at his suspicion that he judges them both innocent. That left only one other person who knew the meet's location: his nephew Frankie. The 50-year old was currently back at the small "Heart of Queens" social hall that was Baldini's headquarters. The greedy son of a bitch had tipped off Gino. Tomas sighs. He will need to have an earnest discussion with Frankie about loyalty and family later tonight. Then he will need to send flowers for Frankie's funeral in the middle of the week.
Ricco gets down on all fours and crawls under the table. Once again, with his Beretta aimed at Tony's head, Ricco turns the second body on its side. There is a huge blood stain in the middle of Tony's chest that runs all the way down to a hole in his shirt. His eyes like Carmine's are wide open and they stare at nothing.
"Bonano's dead too," Ricco says, letting the body roll back onto its front.
Scarlett is shocked to hear it. But she suppresses her reaction. Tony's plan hadn't worked after all. The gut shot from Gino must have been at too close a range for the vest to prevent his death.
"Can I go now?"
"By all means, my dear. In just a moment," Don Baldini says, pressing Basso's Colt firmly against her spine as his free hand casually roams from the curve of her hip up to the curve of her breast. He slides his palm over her left breast, slowly caressing its smooth rounded shape while Scarlett can do nothing but let him have his moment. His hand moves on, passing under the v-neck collar until it surrounds her right tit. He savors the feel of her, fondling the bare flesh beneath the cool red silk. "You'll find I am a man of my word, Miss O'Shea. You are free to go."
"Not quite. Y'all have to let go of my boob first, sugar."
"And being a man of my word," he continues, ignoring her protest, "I would caution you to remember what I said." His fingers slide around her nipple now, clutching it between thumb and forefinger while the knuckles stretch out the dress' clean line with vulgar intent. "But if you take a job against me or any of my close associates, your tit will be caught in a wringer next time that it can't escape."
Don Baldini pinches Scarlett's nipple as hard as he possibly can and she gives a squeal of pain, her sensuous figure writhing against the old don's as her eyes flow with salty tears of pain. "Understand me?"
"..y...y...yes..." she whimpers with a nod of her head. And the hand immediately withdraws from her dress and the muzzle of the gun no longer presses into her back. She takes one step forward when the hand reappears behind her, giving the red-headed beauty a short smart smack on her ass.
"Off you go then....sugar!" Don Baldini smiles wickedly as Scarlett walks toward Ricco who now stands between the table and Carmine's body. He doesn't move and she gives him a scowl and starts to move past him, close by the edge of the table. When his hand goes toward her waist, she stops and turns in place, looking down at the offending appendage, inches from her body.
"If you want to lose that hand, I can arrange it," she says, coldly with pure venom dripping from her words. Thinking better of his impulse, Ricco pulls his hand back and Scarlett turns around, heading once again for the front door.
"And just where the hell do you think you're going," Supergirl says from the back hallway near the restroom, her fists on her hips, her eyes blazing dots of blue neon.
"Fuck me, 'ah should've been out of here 'bah now," mumbles Scarlett to herself, a mere four steps from the front door she's facing
"Yes, you should have left earlier. And now it's too late," Supergirl calls out in reply, her super hearing working just fine.
"Maybe not," the red-headed vixen utters, her smile unseen by the blonde taunting her. The female assassin reaches into her purse and takes out the hairbrush then suddenly rushes toward the front door when she slams into Supergirl standing right in front of her. It's like running into a brick wall and Scarlett falls back three steps shaking her head, woozy from the collision.
"Maybe so," the blonde says. "Superspeed. It's handy."
"So's this," Scarlett says, triggering the hairbrush straight at the Maid of Steel. The dart flies directly at the heroine who catches it easily in mid-air.
"See, I was ready for you this time, bitch!" Supergirl gives the despairing Scarlett a patronizing smile.
"But not for me, my dear," Baldini says from across the room as he savagely twists the dial on the remote control to Supergirl's collar.
"AAUUGGHHH!!!" With the dial rotated halfway around, the blonde champion helplessly collapses to the floor on her knees in agony. The collar sends spikes of radiation into her nearby head and chest and clenches her gut with waves of nausea. "....n...not....again...." she whines, tears of frustration draining out of her tightly closed eyes. She wavers there before a very thankful Scarlett who reaches out with both hands and easily pries the dart from the devastated teenager's hand. The redhead calmly replaces the dart in her purse and then walks once more toward the door, waving to Baldini with a backward flip of her hand.
"Thanks, sugar!" Scarlett opens the door only to have Wonder Woman blocking her exit.
"Nobody leaves this place unless I say so," commands the Amazon, who grabs the assassin's forearm and tows her back into the dining room. Her timing after leaving the cab with Randy is providential.
"Motherfucker!" Scarlet is beside herself. She just can't make a clean getaway tonight.
"Supergirl!" Randy shouts her name in alarm, seeing her suddenly collapse forward onto all fours right in front of him. She is moaning and dry heaving. He quickly bypasses Wonder Woman and Scarlet, rushing over to the blonde champion to kneel at her side. He puts his hand on her back and rubs it, hoping it does some good. He knows this collar. He's seen it in action and looking across the room, he sees Baldini with the remote control.
"Turn it off!" He screams at the elderly don.
"I don't think so," Don Baldini calmly declines. "Who are you?"
"I work with Tony and.......Carmine!" Randy suddenly spots the large body of the dead don sprawled out on his back, his eyes staring at the ceiling.
"Oh my god, who killed him," Randy demands to know.
"No one. He had a heart attack," Edward replies. His gun is in his hand again even as he remains seated at the table three paces away from the moaning heroine who collapses flat onto the floor, retching loudly. "Now step away from the blonde, that way" he commands, waving the barrel of the gun at Randy, indicating he should move to the center of the room.
"No! Randy, stay behind me," Wonder Woman says, letting go of Scarlett and striding forward to block the big man from the angle of Edward's gun. "Everybody remain calm. We need to solve this peacefully. I can see there already too many dead here tonight."
"So what's one or two more, cunt?" Rico fires his Baretta directly at Supergirl, hoping to make a name for himself as the man who killed the famous Maid of Steel. He fires three times at the prone teenage heroine but Wonder Woman is right there, her bracelets flashing as she blocks all three shots. The bullets ricochet in all directions, one goes whizzing past Edward who ducks out of the way and then fires his own gun at Wonder Woman. She blocks this shot too. And then she feels a jab in her side and is suddenly swamped by a wave of dizziness. Looking down she sees a syringe sticking out of her lower back and then looks up to see a grinning Scarlett O'Shea waving her fingers at her.
"Night night, champ. Wonder Woman go boom."
The mighty Amazon tries to clear her head with a shake but she can't fight a sedative strong enough to take out Supergirl. The kryptonite additive is incidental in this case, it's the heavy tranquilizing dosage that does the damage. It's more than enough to even overcome the strength her belt now provides. Wonder Woman wavers badly in place, her knees wobbling as she tries to remain standing, but it's futile. She buckles at last and takes an ungainly sideways sprawl and rolls over onto her front, drugged into woozy incoherence, her hands sprawled to the sides, drooling as her eyes flutter on the edge of consciousness.
And with that, the redheaded assassin finally makes it out the door and melts away into the night, which isn't easy considering the dress she's wearing makes her standout in a crowd. Even as she turns the corner at the cross-street, she draws the attention of the ambulance driver who's headed right for an emergency call at Anatra!
With the threat of the Amazon negated, Edward grimaces and puts his gun back on the table and once more tightens the tourniquet on his thigh.
"Where was I? Oh yeah, I was going to kill Supergirl,"Ricco says, taking aim once more. The writhing blonde hears her name and turns her head to see a gun pointed right at her.
"NO!" Randy screams as he stands up.
"No!" Don Baldini orders, starting to place his hand on Ricco's shooting arm.
Ricco pulls the trigger and the bullet hits Randy in the stomach. Supergirl sees the big guy take a sudden pausing halt and then his body jerks. But the big man doesn't stop rushing forward. Suddenly, a horrible new wave of pain twists Supergirl's head to the side and she groans loudly, nearly fainting away. She doesn't see how Randy continues his mission to save her.
A second bullet goes wild as Baldini's hand ruins Ricco's aim. He yanks his arm away from the old don, caught up in the fear and frenzy as this huge foe bears down on him. The third bullet pierces Randy's chest, puncturing his lung and causing another jerk of his body, but by that time, he's on top of Ricco, crashing forward with arms outstretched. His hands circle Ricco's neck and the fall backward onto the hard wood does the rest. Ricco's neck snaps loudly and his head falls to side at an impossible angle.
But Randy's not finished. He rolls over against Don Baldini's legs, his weight easily knocking the much slighter elderly don sideways. With his bulk trapping the fragile man's feet, and the old don's body twisting awkwardly, something has to give and when he hits the floor, it's Baldini's hip. It shatters like an old china cup and the squealing don drops the remote and lies on his side broken and groaning and crying in agony.
"Get him off!!!" Baldini screams. "Someone get him off." But Randy pulls himself off the old don and crawls the four feet across the floor to where the remote had come to a spinning rest. Happily he twists the dial to the off position and then smashes the device against the brass footrail at the bottom of the bar. The big mafioso then rolls onto his back and takes a very loud wheezing breath. He's actually surprised the pain isn't worse. He doesn't feel all that bad considering everything he'd gone through this night. He wonders if he does have a concussion because his head's getting foggy again.
Across the room Supergirl stops groaning and writhing and just lies there for a moment, trying to recuperate. Wonder Woman lies face down in her drugged state, mumbling nonsense.
Edward hears police sirens and ambulances and through the windows sees flashing lights coming up the street. He stands up and as fast as he can, limps toward the back. He passes through the kitchen where the owner and cooks and waiters watch him stagger by before pushing out the back door into the alley and hustling off into the night. There was just too much heat to take on this one, even for Don Baldini to save himself of him. Edward considers retiring to Florida and helping his brother with his deep-sea fishing charter business.
When she's strong enough, Supergirl stands up and walks over to Wonder Woman. She kneels down and tries to help the Amazon sit up but it's like attempting to stack a bowl of ziti. She doesn't seem to have a bone in her body, so Supergirl snatches a nearby napkin, folds it and puts it under the face of the drugged champion.
Then she surveys the room. The dead and wounded are everywhere. She notes that both Scarlett and Edward are no longer accounted for and she doesn't see Tony at first but there's Carmine lying face-up. She doesn't see any wounds on him and using her x-ray vision sees his heart muscle is badly compromised. A noisy Baldini is whimpering like a baby not far from the bar. Ricco and his broken neck are nearby. She sees Basso crumpled near the table in a pool of blood and his boss Gino in yet a bigger pool of blood nearly on top of his bodyguard. She wasn't sad to see either of them dead, she had to admit. But where was Tony and who was that big guy smiling on the floor over there looking at her with glassy eyes and moonstruck expression. He looked very familiar.
Sweeping the room with her eyes once more, she suddenly sees a leg sticking out from under a table, it's Tony Bonano's body. He's staring up at the bottom of the table but that look of death is familiar. She's seen it before. She doesn't know how she feels about that. She doesn't have any emotional reserves left at all in fact. She feels numb to everything..
The loud noise of men pouring into the restaurant turns her head to the front door. Policemen, EMT workers, ambulance drivers all flood through the front door and they
stop, all them stunned by the carnage before them. This was the equivalent of the St. Valentine's Day Massacre before them. And standing in the middle of it was Supergirl looking dazed and bewildered.
"What happened here, Miss?" One cop steps forward, asking her in a quiet tone.
"Huh? Oh, it was just a meeting. A mob dinner. I guess the problems solved themselves," she says, arms lifted indicating the bloody result. She shakes her head and then says "That old man over there has a broken hip. And this man over here needs attention." Her x-ray vision of the big mob enforcer's body shows his wounds are fatal. "But you won't really be able to do much for him I'm afraid." She goes over to comfort him in his final moments. She squats down cross-legged beside him and takes his hand as two EMT technicians check him over.
"Do I know you?" Supergirl asks, looking at the smiling man's eyes. There was definitely something familiar there.
"Yes," he wheezes softly. "We shared a moment a long time ago. You tried to tell me I was a better man than I thought. Even though I treated you so cruelly. So cruelly.
"I'm sorry...I don't..." Something in his tone and his manner rings a bell and she suddenly gasps. Randy?"
"The one and only. Marshmallow Man. That's me." And his cough brings up a splatter of blood onto the front of his shirt. "Oops," he grins.
"Miss," one of the technicians speaks up, "we need to get this man to a hospital now if there's any chance..."
"Hey, Dufus," Randy says to the EMT, "we're talkin' here. Besides, I'm a dead man walking or sitting. I know it, all of us here know it. So, go work on some other stiff. This one still has important things to say."
"What...what are you doing here?" Supergirl asks.
"I came to save you. Tony brought me to save her," he says, pointing to Wonder Woman who is being given smelling salts by two additional EMT workers and is now sitting up with help. "but I came to save you. Cause you tried to save me."
"You...you took a bullet for me," she says this flatly, unbelieving the content of her own words.
"Two bullets," he corrects her with a gentle smile.
She bows her head suddenly, her eyes filling up with tears. "Two bullets," she repeats, gripping his hand harder. She tries to talk but can't. Then she feels him squeeze her hand back and gets the courage to look up at him and ask, "Why?"
"'Why' she asks," Randy smiles at her. "Because you're Supergirl. You're the strong one. You need to keep going. You're the inspiration the world needs. I wanted to help you do that."
"I'm not an inspiration to anyone any more. I'm damaged goods."
"Nah, you're just having a down year. Things will pick up. They always.....do..." Another cough brings up blood that's deep red with oxygen. "Chin up, sport. You're young. You're allowed to make some mistakes. Just keep trying...."
"I know. After all, your super....girl...." And then Randy's gone.
"Yeah, that's me."
Wonder Woman's shadow moves across the pair as Supergirl puts her palm on Randy's face and closes his eyes. The weary Amazon looks down at the pair and chokes up on Kara's behalf. "He was a good man. Not like any mobster I ever met."
"He wasn't a saint," Supergirl says, extending her hand so Wonder Woman can help her up. Neither of them is all that steady and they hold each other up by wrapping their arms around each other's waist. "But he seemed to be heading in the right direction at last," Kara muses softly. "And I think he gave me courage to try to do the same, despite the reputation I have and you have."
"Well, that may be so. Hera knows there's a lot of rebuilding ahead for both of us," Wonder Woman says glumly. "But right now the best direction I think is back toward Paradise Island for both of us. We both need the Healing Ray and we both have some very, very bad habits we need to kick."
"Are you referring to drugs or wanton cravings for sex?" Kara's eyebrow goes up.
"Yes," The Champion of All Women replies.
"No way, this one's going to make it to the hospital alive," one EMT technician says as he passes the two heroines. He's holding one end of the stretcher with Tony Bonano's body on it.
"You mean he's not dead," Wonder Woman asks, increduously.
"Not officially, but like I said, he won't live through the trip there. Vitals are for shit."
"Hey, Bruce, have a little respect," the technician on the other end of the stretcher says as they maneuver Tony through the front door.
"For him? Why? He's just another mob guy who caught a bad end. Big surprise, huh?"
"Actually, I'm surprised," says Supergirl.
"You know, I am too," Wonder Woman agrees. "But we should be glad. Our nightmare is finally over." The two women hug each other closer and then Kara puts her head on Diana's shoulder as they walk out of Anatra! and into their future.
End of Chapter 72
This is not quite the end of this series. There will be an epilogue of a chapter or two that will involve an attack on Fortress Luthor by Supergirl and Wonder Woman in an attempt to rescue Kal-El, Supergirl's cousin, the beleaguered Superman.
If you like this series or have feedback that you'd like to share, please do contact the author at email@example.com