The Present Day
A crash of glass heralds my exit from the bank, via a window and not by choice. I won’t be outside for too long, they caught me by surprise with their shotguns, but I reverse my flight-path with a thought and prepare to really kick some ass. You’d think some of these guys would have figured out by now that a superheroine that can fly won’t fall to her death, but they still keep trying. It’s coming to something, though, when you can’t drop into your bank and withdraw a little cash without having to fight off bank robbers. Anyone would think they knew I was going to be there! One of the few days I decide not to patrol, this happens and I have plans for this evening that does not involve fighting thugs.
"My turn now?" I ask, a steely smile on my face as I grab the barrel of the nearest shotgun and squeeze. I feel the metal distort under my fingers. I smile sweetly at the man holding the gun. "Oops! I’m sorry, sometimes I don’t know my own strength."
"Bitch!" he yells, throwing the useless gun aside and trying to punch me.
I feel the blow, faintly, I may be invulnerable, but I still feel some of the impact of blows, though none of the pain. This guy is pretty strong for a mundane, but nowhere as strong as my skin. He holds his fist as his knuckles break and I grab him, tossing him at two of his comrades who are trying to sneak up on me.
"I don’t like being called that, after all, I was only here to withdraw some cash," I say, realising that I have to end this quickly, before any of the innocent customers get hurt. "Now, if you gentlemen would drop your guns?"
It’s strange how they never listen and they always think they can take me. There are six of them, one now unarmed, and they’re glaring at me. I smile coldly; if they want a fight they’ll get one.
The first goes down easily, a simple right to the jaw, a kick in the stomach takes out number two, numbers three and four try to flank me, they learn the hard way that invulnerable does mean they can’t hurt me, but I can hurt them. The biggest problem is remembering not to hit them too hard, they’re normal men and not as impervious to damage as I am. Number five brings up his gun, an Uzi sub-machinegun. I fly towards him before he can fire, grab it and twist the gun into a mass of useless metal, before knocking him unconscious. Then I turn to number six.
Number six has taken a hostage and is holding a knife to her throat. She is an old woman, her face is familiar and she is very scared.
"Don’t make this any worse than it has to be," I say, listening to the moaning villains around me.
"That’s up to you," he says, "I walk out of here and no one gets hurt."
"That isn’t going to happen," I say. "You have only two choices, you let her go and you get to walk out here, into the arms of the police. Or you can hurt her, in which case walking is something you’ll never do again!" I see one of his friends trying to sneak up on me in his mirror shades and wait until he’s right behind, before casually bringing my fist into his face without looking back. "A hint, mirror shades may look cool, but they have drawbacks for this kind of job. Drop the knife, now!"
My voice is cold and emotionless. I have no idea how he’s taking this, but I can see my face in his shades and I can see there is no give in my expression. For several long seconds we watch each other, waiting, then he sags and the knife falls from his grip.
"You win," he says and I relax a little as he lets the old woman go.
I know the police are outside, waiting for my prisoners, I can hear them. I help the robbers to their feet and march them outside.
"Miss Victory?" The old woman stands there, looking at me hard. "Thank you."
"You don’t have to thank me," I say, "I’m glad I was here to help."
"You saved my life," she says, "I remember your mother, she saved me too, in 1942."
I look hard at her and remember where I’ve seen her before. Pearl Harbour, 1942, she wore a uniform herself in those days, a US Navy uniform, and I recall pulling her from the path of a diving Zero.
"Can I take you home, Roberta?" I ask and she looks at me surprised that I know her name.
"How do you know my name?" she asks.
"It wasn’t my mother who saved your life," I say, "it was me."
She looks confused, but I offer to see her home again and she nods.
"Just tell me where to go, Roberta," I say, lifting her into the air.
"I don’t understand how you can be the same woman I met during the war?" she says and I smile.
"One of the side effects of what I am," I say. "When I became Miss Victory, one of the powers I gained was functional immortality. I don’t suffer from the effects of ageing."
"That must be quite exciting," Roberta said, "seeing all you have."
"It’s not quite the blessing people think it is," I say. "I’ve lived a long time, and watched my family, friends and loved one’s die, whilst I stayed young. I sometimes wish I could die, then I wouldn’t be haunted by all the memories."
"Memories are all some of us have left," Roberta says. "Memories of staring death in the face and having a young woman dressed in a silver and gold uniform sweeping me from harm’s way. I’m glad you’re still alive, if you weren’t, that man might have hurt me."
Oddly Roberta is right, if I hadn’t been there it’s possible those men would have hurt some of those people. I fly Roberta home, chatting about this and that, remembering the past and reflecting on all that’s happened to me…
1941
I remember very clearly how it all started, how I became Miss Victory, icon and superheroine. The only other people who might remember the events of that night are dead, I hope, everyone except me. It was over sixty years ago, in 1941, though perhaps I should fill in some of the blanks before going into that.
I was born on January 25 1915. My father was a businessman, one of the few whose business survived the stock market crash of the 1930’s. With careful investments he ended up with a profitable chain of hotels across the country. Nothing too fancy, at the time, but he slowly built them up until the Wayne Regency Group was one of the premiere hotel chains.
I was christened Laura Joanne Wayne, I had an unremarkable early life and, when I was old enough, I was sent away to school, in England, where I was educated at an exclusive boarding school. My father thought a classical education might help me in later life, especially if I met the right man, one with a title. I always knew I’d return to the country of my birth, unmarried and with the kind of education that would make me independent of my family. I excelled in the sciences, especially Chemistry and Biology, I toyed with the idea of going into medicine, but eventually specialised in the field of Biochemistry. I passed my courses with honours, which gave me several options when it came to deciding what to do next with my life. I decided to return to America to follow up my education at New York University. I came top of my year, graduating with honours, and found that I had a lot of possible choices before me. I opted for a placement at a private research establishment in New York, though at the time I joined them I had no idea that it was a Government funded operation.
I was never the daughter my father wanted me to be, or thought I ought to be. I had too much free will, too much stubbornness and not enough desire to be what he wished me to be. Oddly those were the same qualities that gave my father his edge during the depression. Society parties bored me to tears, studying the art of finance and business was actually worse. I hated the men my mother tried to introduce me to. They were either rich kids, who assumed they had a right to whatever they wanted, younger copies of my father, knowing only finance or stocks and shares, or, perhaps the worst of the lot, empty-headed dandies who thought no woman could refuse them. So, I did the only thing I could, I moved out of the family home and got my own apartment in New York City.
In 1938 I was asked to ‘officially’ join ‘Project Caesar’, the government funded research project the company that employed me was working on. The aim was to create a group of paranormal heroes to combat German paranormals in the war that was coming in Europe. The government wanted to stay out of the conflict in Europe, but they also wanted to be prepared for the worst-case scenario. The Nazi Fascists had set their sights on conquest and if they continued their aggressive moves, it was likely that war would be the only answer. The Government also wanted our process to be temporary. The volunteers had to be able to resume their normal lives after the need for them was over. We were having problems with the process, in all areas.
I worked with three other scientists, Alfred Wanacek, the project leader, Jonathon Maxwell, a senior researcher, and Steve Porter, the lab assistant. We were trying to develop a biochemical compound that would do what the Defence Department wanted. We were allegedly working on a new form of vitamin compound, which wasn’t too far from the truth really. What we were aiming to do was create a group of super-vitamins that would stimulate latent abilities in the body and reinforce the body’s structure at the same time. I liked the work, liked the people I worked with and never once suspected that our project would place me in danger.
We’d made progress. We’d refined a serum that would enhance the natural strength, agility and speed of the subject. The problem was it also killed the test animals within days. The combination of drugs we used to stimulate muscle tissue and adrenaline production, also burned out the body at a highly accelerated rate. The animals we tried it on died of old age, their bodies seemingly living their entire lifespan at hundreds of times the normal rate. Nothing we tried could stop the process, we were beginning to wonder if we wouldn’t have to scrap the idea and start from scratch. We’d developed about twenty variations on the basic serum, but none of them seemed to have the effect we wanted.
I was a senior researcher on the project, though Alfred once told me that if anyone on his team was going to find the answer, he expected it to be me. My co-workers saw me as either a token woman or a potential conquest, though I suppose they did the same as men today, judged me on my looks as opposed to my achievements. They were decent men, but they couldn’t understand why I refused to go out with them or respond to their charms. I was rather young and naïve in those days, though I knew enough to realise that it was better not to mix work with a relationship. I didn’t understand why I found their attentions so off putting, though as I said, I was naïve. They concluded I was frigid.
At 27, I knew I was a stunningly attractive woman, I admit that I am justifiably proud of my looks. I was 5’ 10½" tall, with a slender, yet curvaceous frame. I never put on weight, which really annoyed a lot of my women friends, and a few men, because I had, and still have a hearty appetite too. I kept my wavy, shoulder-length, golden-blonde hair fashionably styled. My complexion was good enough not to require cosmetics, though I used a little rouge and lip-gloss to highlight some of my better features. I often admired the simple, yet striking features of my face; sky-blue eyes, a small mouth with sensuous lips and slightly sunken cheekbones. I was beautiful and I was honest enough to admit it to myself, I was a little vain too, I still am.
My body was another distraction for the men around me. I had been blessed, or cursed, with large breasts, that usually attracted even more attention than my face. A 44-24-36 figure was extraordinary in those days, though most people usually assumed that it was the size of my tits and not my academic record that got me my job. They also assumed that I was sleeping with the boss, though I was, in fact, still a virgin, even at twenty-seven. My long, shapely legs and arms, long-fingered hands just seemed to make things worse. I had a perfect figure, a keen intelligence and an imagination that let me see beyond the norm. Most people couldn’t handle that and therefore saw me as a figurehead as opposed to an actual scientist. I worked out regularly, was a skilled gymnast and kept in shape, despite the fact it was considered rather outré for a woman back then. I also trained in Karate, even then New York streets had their dangers.
Alfred was different, he never saw me as a sex object, only as a valued colleague. He saw my accomplishments and the results of my work, not the bulges under my blouse, most of the time. He was human and a man, he looked, but he never let it get in the way of his intelligence. He was happily married with two children and he never strayed. I had dinner with him and his family twice a week, playing with his kids and talking to him and his wife after the children went to bed. I looked forward to those dinners a lot.
Alfred and I talked long into the night sometimes, bouncing ideas back and forward, sometimes giving us new paths of research. Alfred was a medical doctor, his speciality was the human immune system, but he was an excellent administrator as well. He was over forty, not handsome, but his face had a lot of character and I liked him, mostly because he never talked down to me. He also never tried to make a pass at me or treat me in any way other than a colleague.
I remember that last night. We were going over the problems of the serum’s effects and trying to tie down the causes. We’d figured out that the problem might lie with the body’s inability to keep up with the cellular damage caused by the increased efficiency of the muscles and pulmonary system, but we just couldn’t figure out a method of countering the problem. We’d tried everything we could think of and one or two things that we’d worked out during the process, but they’d all failed, so far. Alfred and I were discussing a way of triggering some kind of regenerative ability in a human by distilling a serum from the DNA of lizards that regenerated lost limbs. We’d even gone as far as preparing a serum with the experimental hormone in it, but weren’t ready to test it yet. Neither of us was aware of anyone else around until we heard that ominous click. We looked round, straight down the barrel of a pistol. It’s amazing how large the barrel of a gun looks from the wrong end. That was the beginning of the most horrific night of my life…
"Good evening," the man holding the gun said, his accent thick and definitely German.
"What do you think you’re doing here?" Alfred said, pushing himself to his feet.
"We are here to examine your research, Herr Wanacek," the man said. "If we think it will be of use to us, we will take you with us to Germany, where you will develop your formula for the glory of the Third Reich."
"Never," Alfred said.
"Then I am afraid things will become unpleasant. Gunther, Hans! Restrain him! Dieter, take the girl over there and make sure she doesn’t interfere!" His tone was that of a man used to command and he had the look of someone who didn’t like to be told no.
He was taller than I was, though not by much, with blonde hair, ice-blue eyes and a well trained physique. All of his men shared his Germanic looks, and also shared his pitiless attitude. The man named Dieter grabbed me roughly and pressed a gun to my temple as he marched me to one side. Hans and Gunther tied Alfred to a chair and the man in charge paced around him. Dieter watched me closely, though his eyes strayed to my breasts often and he grinned lewdly at me.
"Now, Herr Doctor, we will discuss your work," the leader said, pacing backwards and forwards.
They questioned him for hours, beating him and doing things that made me sick, yet he never told them a thing. I kept wishing there were something I could do to help him, but I was helpless, the gun never wavering from my head. I could feel every slap, punch and kick, I could see Alfred suffering, but with Dieter covering me, I would only have got myself killed if I’d tried to interfere.
"I think, perhaps, we should try a different tactic, Jah?" the leader said. "Hans, bring the serum!"
Hans went to the safe, opened it with the combination and took out the vials of the serum we had in the lab. The leader picked up a vial of the serum, examining the contents, the other vials he told Hans to pack away into a special case. The blue liquid looked harmless, but at present was as deadly as poison.
"My information tells me that you are close to perfecting your invention, perhaps we should see how close?" He turned his attention to me and walked over. "We are given to understand the serum kills those who take it, that the death is somewhat … unpleasant."
"I assume the Fräulein is important to you," he said, looking at me appreciatively. "A lover, perhaps?"
"Leave her alone," Alfred said, struggling weakly at his bonds.
"I intend her no harm," the leader said with a dramatic pause, "if you tell me what I want to know. If not, then what happens to her will be your responsibility." He grabbed my chin, forcing my mouth open. "Well, Herr Wanacek?"
"I can’t tell you anything," he said, the apology in his eyes obvious to me, though I agreed with him and nodded slightly, accepting my fate.
I felt the liquid slide into my mouth and tried not to swallow, but when he held my nose I had no choice. I could almost sense the chemicals enter my bloodstream. I knew from that moment I was a dead woman, which meant I had nothing to lose and no reason to tell them anything, neither did Alfred.
Obviously, they didn’t know the effects of the serum, how long it took to work or what its ultimate effects were, or at least I hoped so. Alfred maintained his stubborn silence, he knew as well as I did, in thirty minutes, I would be able to stop this scum. All we had to do was wait.
"Well, if that hasn’t convinced you to help me, then perhaps this will!"
He grabbed my lab coat, tore it open! I think I screamed. It’s difficult to remember. I had unstable chemicals running through my body, chemicals that would kill me, my friend and colleague had been brutally tortured in front of me, now it looked like I was going to be raped. I think I can be forgiven for being slightly hysterical.
"We will play a little game, jah?" The leader said, "I will ask you questions, if you answer them correctly, then nothing will happen, if not, then the Fräulein will lose an item of clothing. I hope you decide to co-operate before she runs out of clothing…"
The last shreds of my underwear fell to the ground and I remember trying to cover my body as I cowered in the corner. The Germans looked at me, appreciatively, Alfred was crying, but he still refused to tell them anything, not even if they did their worst. We were both patriots, willing to give our lives for our country, though it looked like I would be asked to endure even worse than death. I knew I was already dead, the serum they’d forced me to drink was killing me, but I knew more horror lay before me. My fate was sealed whether or not Alfred told them what he knew. Things had gone too far.
"Herr Wanacek, be reasonable and I will let the young woman live," the leader says. "I do not wish to hurt this woman, but you are leaving me very little choice."
"Go to hell!" Alfred said, tears on his cheeks for what I was about to endure. We both knew exactly what would happen if he told them what they wanted to know, Alfred and I would be taken to Berlin, to continue our work, for the Nazis. I agreed with his sentiment and his conclusions, I would do the same in his position. I was just sorry my first, and last, time would be like this.
"Very well, Herr Wanacek," the leader said with a resigned tone. "Dieter, she is yours, but do not kill her, yet…!"
Dieter looked at me, grinned and opened his pants…
It was dawn, the leader looked down at me, lying there curled in a foetal position. I was beyond pain and horror, almost catatonic. My mind felt numb, my body was battered, bruised and my insides felt as if they were on fire. Blood stained my thighs and I was only peripherally aware of what was happening around me. My mind remembered every moment of the ordeal, every instant of the vicious rape and Dieter’s enjoyment of my pain.
"Take Herr Wanacek to the car, we will continue this in Berlin" the leader said to Gunther and Hans. Then looked at me! "Dieter and I will deal with the ‘evidence’."
I looked up at him and I knew he meant to kill me. I lay there, pain filling me from every part of my body and my anger grew. I’d been raped, abused and beaten and now this bastard was going to kill me. I tried to move, but I had no strength, just a burning in my blood that left me breathless and dizzy. I felt sick, angry and I wanted to kill this sick bastard and the man who had violated me, but I couldn’t move. My blood was on fire, pain coursed through my blood and now these animals wanted me dead!
"I am sorry, Fräulein," the leader said, "but this is necessary, war brings many casualties. Dieter, burn this place down, ensure Miss Wayne is dead, then join us at the docks."
He turned away and left Dieter to finish the job. I looked up at Hans and he grinned, brandishing a knife. As he got closer I felt something snap inside, some part of me had just had enough and suddenly I was on my feet, holding Dieter by the throat in one hand, his feet off the ground. It was a few seconds before I realised my feet were off the ground too. All of the pain was gone, all of the blood, I was almost whole again, though the memories of what this bastard had done to me filled me with rage. The next thing I remember is the sound of bones breaking, my fingers just tightened and I watched Dieter’s eyes bulge, his neck crushed by my fingers. He stabbed at me, a last reflex, but the knife blade shattered on my skin, much to my surprise. Dieter was beyond surprise, he was dead and I threw his body to one side, my anger and hatred burning brightly.
I looked around for something, anything to wear. All of my clothes had been reduced to rags by those pigs. I scooped up a greatcoat from Alfred’s office, not elegant, but better than nothing at all. Just as I finished pulling it on, I noticed the smell of smoke and turned to find that Hans’ body had hit a bench, spilling some of the chemicals, chemicals that were now a blazing inferno. I looked around and dove for the window, just as a violent explosion destroyed the lab and all the evidence of our work, and my fate.
Despite being five floors up, I didn’t fall, much to my surprise I just hovered in the air. I realised that the serum was giving me incredible powers, powers beyond anything we’d envisioned. I knew that in a short time I would be dead, but I knew that I would put what little time I had to good use. First I had to rescue Alfred, then I could take care off those Nazi animals. I remembered the leader saying they would meet at the docks, so they had to have a boat out there. I would just have to get there first…
Below me, the dark waters of New York harbour slipped past silently as I scanned the docks for the men I sought. They had to be here somewhere, though so far I hadn’t found any sign of them. As I flew over the deserted docks area, I found my anger subsiding into fear, fear that they might have slipped through my fingers and escaped.
Flying was an intriguing, exciting sensation, the feel of the air sliding over my skin, the freedom of movement. Flying allowed me to submerge my memories for a little while, though I knew they’d be back.
Then I spotted them, climbing into a speedboat, Alfred tied up and the others hurrying to untie the boat. It was still early, the sun was just rising, though soon there would be workers arriving to start off-loading the ships. I could try and take care of them here and now, but for what I had in mind, I wanted no witnesses.
I swooped down, grabbed Alfred and flew upwards before they even realised I was there. Alfred started to struggle, until he realised who it was that held him. Then he stared at me, totally amazed.
"Is … is that really you, Laura?" he asked, his voice weak and thready. He was in a bad way, he needed a doctor, behind me I heard the motorboat splutter into life and head out to sea. I dropped onto a rooftop, gently laying Alfred down and cradling his head in my lap.
"I’m sorry Alfred," I said, my voice cracking as I saw the bruises and welts on his face. There was blood in his mouth and I realised that there was nothing I could do in time. He had internal injuries that were killing him and I was powerless to stop it.
"No, it’s … it’s me that should … be … sorry," he said, the breath rattling in his chest. "I … should … have … told … them … what … they … wanted … to … know. What … what they did to you … I’m so sorry, Laaaauuurrraaa…" His breath hissed out and I seemed to sense his spirit leave his body as tears stung my eyes.
"Alfred?" I said. "Please Alfred! Don’t do this to me."
He didn’t reply and I knew he was dead. I looked up at the sky and howled out in rage and grief. Then my gaze rested on the distant dot of the motorboat.
Part of me doesn’t like remembering what happened next, though sometimes I replay the scene in my dreams. I took off, flying at speeds that, at that time, were considered impossible, catching the boat before it even cleared the harbour. I grabbed one of the mooring lines, before they could react, towing them far beyond the harbour. They tried to stop me, bullets bounced off my skin, and one of them tried to cut the rope, though a swift change of direction showed him the error of his ways as the rope sliced through two fingers and left him bleeding in the bottom of the boat. Eventually we were out of sight of land, nothing to be seen in any direction, which is when I let go of the rope and let them drift to a stop.
"You!" the leader said, seeing my face clearly for the first time, "you’re dead!"
"No, Dieter is dead, though I doubt anyone will recognise his body after the explosion, so maybe I am dead."
"What are you?" he asked, staring incredulously as I hovered above the water, no more that ten feet away from the boat.
"I am what you made me, you bastard," I retorted, "as far as you and your lackeys are concerned, I’m the last thing you’ll see in this life."
"The serum? It did this to you!" the leader said, figuring it out and staring in astonishment. I just smiled.
"Yes," I said, the information would do him no real good, now, "though I’ll be dead in a few weeks, because of what it does to the body. That said, I do have one thing you three don’t have…"
He looked at me, confused.
"A few weeks," I said and flew towards the boat. I wanted to kill them with my own hands, rip them apart and pay them back for the pain they’d put me through. Yet something stopped me, I wasn’t a killer and I couldn’t murder men in cold blood, no matter how they deserved it. Instead my fist punched through the bottom of the boat and I flew clear.
"Enjoy your swim," I said and left them, a part of me wishing I could watch them struggling in the water, until the sharks came. It was only much later I remembered the serum and the case they packed it in. By then it was far too late and the bodies were never recovered, as far as I knew. Oddly, the knowledge of their deaths left me feeling empty and sick, not vindicated. I felt dirty, used, humiliated and ashamed. There was a stain on my soul that nothing would ever remove, not even death…
The Present
The window is open, as I expected it to be. The advantages of a penthouse apartment include the patio, giving easy access, no nosy neighbours to spot me coming and going and as much privacy as I want. It also help that I own the building, which means no need to worry about renewing the lease. I fly through the lounge and straight into the bathroom. I need a shower after flying through the smog, I’m filthy, as is my silver and gold costume. The water washes away more than just the dirt, it washes away a lot of my frustration and anger at the world, I never did get to withdraw the money I wanted. When I emerge from the shower, I find warm towels and a thick robe waiting for me, the filthy costume is gone.
"You’re home then?" I call, walking into the bedroom, where clean clothes lay on the bed. A white blouse, pale blue skirt, lace underwear, everything I need is ready for me.
"I saw the news report," Julia says from the kitchen, "when it said the bank robbers were stopped by someone in a silver and gold costume, it didn’t take a genius to figure out who they were talking about. How are you?"
Julia stands in the doorway, watching me with open affection in her eyes. She looks older than I do, though she’s only twenty-six, which makes me a cradle-snatcher I guess, as I’m eighty-seven. She’s pretty, with her hazel eyes, long brown hair and impish face. Her body is quite incredible, especially in her tight jeans and Lycra top. Curvaceous, definitely, not as big in the chest as I am, but definitely larger than average, though she’s shorter than I am, by half a head. She has to work harder to keep her figure, not that she minds, she kind of likes me watching her sweat. Julia and I have been lovers for ten years, since she came home from college to bury her mother, who was my previous lover.
We didn’t intend to end up in bed together, we’ve always been friends, but Julia knew I was with her mother. Wendy was kidnapped, tortured and buried alive, just because some sick bastard wanted to know what it felt like to kill another human being. I lost it big time, wanting to rip the bastard apart with my bare hands. It was Julia that helped me hold it together, though she didn’t stop me when I found her killer, I stopped myself. I ended up talking Julia down, she wanted to kill him badly and I knew from personal experience how empty that kind of vengeance is. What hurt me most was that I wasn’t able to protect her, wasn’t able to save Wendy’s life, for all of my power.
We talked for a long time, crying, ranting, comparing memories and eventually kissing, sharing comfort and a bed. That was the first night of many, though I insisted she complete her education before moving in with me. She provides me with far more than a warm body to cling to. She is my lifeline to my humanity and the one person that I know I can trust completely.
"I’m fine," I say, in reply to her question.
Her arms go around me, I know she is scared every time I have to fight some villain, or go rescue people. I may be invulnerable, but one of these days someone is going to find a way around that and the idea scares her. I feel her against me, smell her delicate perfume, hear her breathing and hug her.
"Why does it always happen to me?" I ask wryly. "All I wanted to do was draw out some cash to buy you a birthday present, so they decided to rob the place!"
"Because you’re always in the right place at the right time, even by accident." Julia looks at me and grins, her eyes twinkling.
"You’re also too sexy, you wear a costume that shows off your perfect figure and you have an incredibly strong desire to help people," Julia says matter-of-factly. "That isn’t saying it’s your fault, you dress to suit you and you should be able to if you want to. That silver and gold costume makes you look really hot. I bet they knew you were going to be there and decided to rob it to get good look at you. Up close."
I’m not sure how to take that! It could be a compliment or a criticism. "You think I look too sexy?" I say, pulling away slightly to look into her eyes.
"You could never look too sexy," Julia says. The twinkle in her eyes tells me she is pulling my leg again. "Face it, Laura, you are a hot chick. If you wore sheet lead, you’d still look hot and sexy. You’ve got a body that screams ‘sex!’ not that I’m complaining. You’re beautiful and you know it. You love making the best of yourself, which may be a little vain, but it’s you and if you stopped, something vital inside you would die. I’d miss that part of you too. I love going out with you, being seen with the most beautiful woman in the city."
"What would I do without you?" I say, kissing her cheek.
"Beats me," Julia says, smiling.
"That smells good," I say, throttling the image of putting her over my knee and doing just that.
"Get dressed, Laura, I’ve got your favourites ready, and I fancy a night in with my lover." Julia leaves and I sigh, feeling better, though the spectre of my past is still there in the back of my mind…
1941
The first days after the lab burned down all I could do was cry. For Alfred, for myself, for the innocence that had been so brutally ripped away from me. I didn’t want to see anyone, couldn’t face being with people. I stayed in my apartment, didn’t answer the door and ignored everything, except my pain. I was lost in despair, my body had been violated, my life stolen and the one person in the world I really cared for had been murdered. I was dead, I knew that and I knew that the pain, the laughter and the feel of that vicious rape would haunt my last days.
I expected to have bruises, cuts and evidence of the attack, but my body healed overnight, leaving no visible sign of my ordeal. Inside I was a mess, my spirit was close to breaking and I wanted very much for the whole ordeal to have been a terrible nightmare, but every morning I awoke screaming and realised it had happened. I burst into tears for no real reason. Each day weighed heavily on me and I was close to suicide, though that was the point I remembered that I was dying anyway, so why bother. I avoided mirrors, I didn’t want to see the signs of my impending death. I showered several times a day, but I couldn’t wash away the feeling of shame. They’d won, even though I’d lived through the ordeal. I think I was more than a little insane at that point, though some people would say I still was.
I read the news in the paper, they’d found Alfred’s body, found the lab burned out, with a body inside, a body they assumed was mine as it was impossible to tell anything from it. The papers assumed it was an accident, though they didn’t know what the lab was truly for. The police had interviewed both Steve and Max, the other researchers on the project, but both claimed to have no idea what happened. I wished I could believe that, but someone had to have given them information and I knew who it had to be!
Alfred’s funeral was a testing time for me, but I had to go, in secret, just to say goodbye. His family was there, but I didn’t know what to say, even if I could have revealed myself. The ceremony was very tasteful, solemn and oddly beautiful, despite its purpose. I found myself sitting alone in the church after the ceremony, drinking in the atmosphere and it did help. I was not normally a religious person, but knowing that I could only have a few days left made me reconsider a lot of the values and ideas I lived by.
"Can I help you?" the priest said and I looked up into his eyes.
He was a tall man, not terribly well-built, and his horn-rimmed glasses gave him a slightly owlish look. His cassock hid a lot of his body, but I guessed he was on the thin side. His face was his most incredible feature. Big, brown eyes that radiated concern and caring, a sensitive mouth and incredibly animated.
"No one can help me, Father," I said, "my future is fixed."
"I find that hard to believe," he replied, sitting down. "I can understand you being sad at the death of a friend, but why should that affect your future?"
I was at a loss as to what to tell him, how could I explain what had been done to me? I still don’t know why to this day, but I started to tell him some of the story and before I realised what I was doing, I’d told him everything that happened that night, every sordid detail. The look of horror in his eyes showed he believed me, though there was something else too, something that touched a part of me and helped me get through the ordeal. I can’t say why I did it, it just felt right, so perhaps it was. It was definitely the turning point for me. I think I just needed to let out the poison that was slowly destroying my soul and he was the first person who showed any honest concern for my well being. I remember crying for a long time whilst he held me.
"You said this serum causes a rapid ageing in its victims?" he asked and I nodded. "Yet, looking at you I see no sign of that, you look like a healthy, twenty-three year old woman."
I’m not sure what I thought at that moment, though there was a change inside me. I hung onto his words like a lifeline.
"All of this happened the night Alfred died, yet that was over three weeks ago."
I’m not sure how long it took for that news to sink in, but when it did, I felt my heart jerk, as if it had just restarted. The priest was talking again and I found myself listening, actually praying that this wasn’t a dream.
"I don’t know why this terrible thing has happened to you, Laura, but I do know that it has happened for a reason. You seem to be a very independent woman and I think at this particular time your strength, your determination and whatever abilities this serum has granted you will be needed. I’d like to think God has had something to do with your transformation, but that’s my job. You are a scientist, perhaps you need to find your own answers, then decide what you intend to do with your abilities. I just wish that the event hadn’t been so horrific for you. I sometimes wonder why things happen as they do, why He allows such things to happen. Yet, usually, these trials strengthen us and leave us with a greater determination to live."
I knew he meant what he said, these weren’t just platitudes to ease my mind and in his eyes I saw real concern.
"Father," I said, "I know I have no right to ask, but will you pray with me?"
His smile actually made me feel warm inside for the first time in two weeks, he believed in God and His power and somehow that gave him a presence. We prayed, talked and during that time I began to emerge from my depression. It would take many more talks with this priest before I truly got over the ordeal, if you can ever truly get over something like that, but this was the key moment for me.
"What’s your name, Father," I said, "I may want come to talk with you again."
"Father O’Malley," he said, "Connor O’Malley"
I smiled and nodded my thanks. As I turned to leave I said I’d be back, but there were things I had to do, things that only I could do, things he might object to, if he knew what they were…
The Present
"Are you sure about this, Julia?" I ask as she fits material around me. "You said my original costume was too revealing, but this one actually hugs me tighter and seems to have less cloth in it."
"There are several advantages with this new material," Julia says around the pins between her lips. "One, it’s a special Lycra that will allow your skin to breathe, so you won’t sweat as much. Two, it’s combined with Kevlar, that will protect it and you from bullets. And don’t tell me you’re already invulnerable; just remember that jerk that drained your powers that time! And just how many times have I had to sew up bullet holes in your other costumes?"
I watch as her hands move skilfully and firmly over my mostly naked body. I have to admit the material feels good on my skin, though it’s going to be tight and form fitting. The impression of my nipples is very visible through the bodice, which is sexy and oddly thrilling. It is the same design as my original costume, cut low at the front, showing off my cleavage and stopping just above my navel. The costume covers my arms and has three silver stars down the side, the main bodice is gold, with a silver V making up the low cut front. The bottom of the bodice is gold and ends in a micro-skirt that only just covers my panties and shows off my long, athletic legs to their best effect. Silver gauntlets and calf-length boots complete the outfit. Julia is right, the silver and gold colouring seriously enhances my looks, though it always did. My old silk costumes never really had the metallic sheen this material has though, in the mirror I see the material shine and reflect some of the light. This costume keeps the simple elegance of the original design, yet adds a hint of today’s styling.
"Well," I ask, "is it ‘cutting edge’ enough?"
Julia steps back and regards her work. "I’d say it’s going to drive all the men and lot of women wild. It makes me want to jump your bones." Julia grins, whilst I study my reflection.
She is right. This outfit does look good on me. There is a look of power, stunning simplicity and elegant style about it. It feels good to wear. It will fit nicely under my civvies, though I will still have to find some way disguise the thigh-length cape. My cape may look like an affectation, but it has proven useful on several occasions, especially as I have had some special pockets sewn into it to carry items I might need.
"It definitely says something, doesn’t it," I say, looking over at her.
"I think we have a winner," Julia says, "say hello to the new Ms V!"
"Ms V?" I look at her.
"Cutting edge costume, cutting edge name," she says. "V can stand for victory, or vengeance!"
I give that some thought, the name isn’t really my style, but the costume is. It is pretty much the same as my original costume, though the new material looks better than the silk and Julia’s imaginative additions add something to it. I give her a hug. "What would I do without you?" I say.
"Live too much in the past and mope all day."
"Probably," I admit, still admiring myself in the mirror. Vanity, my besetting sin, yet I have to admit I look good, very good. "So, how long do you think it’ll take to get this costume made up?"
"A couple of days," Julia says, walking around me and making a few minor adjustments. "I’ll have four by the end of the week, just in case. Your costumes do tend to go through the grinder, try finding a few villains who don’t like ripping your clothes off, or at least who have a few morals."
"If they had morals they wouldn’t be criminals," I say, "though it’s getting harder to tell who the villains are these days."
"The military still giving you hassle?"
"I don’t think they understand that independent is exactly that, they seem to think that because I worked with them during the war, I should be working for them today."
"I thought they cut you loose?" Julia says.
"They did, though they’ve realised their mistake and now they want me back. Are you sure this doesn’t make my ass look too big."
I look over my shoulder into the mirror and examine my rear as Julia collapses into fits of laughter. I do this to her a lot, change the subject on her when I don’t want to talk about something.
"So, does it?" I ask when she stops laughing.
"Of course not, your ass is perfect, just like the rest of you," Julia says. "Now, let me get to work, or you’ll be fighting in your birthday suit."
I smile at her, helping her remove the makeshift costume, then stroke her hair. "I love you," I say.
"I love you too," she replies…
1941
What I’d told Father O’Malley was true, to a degree. There were things I had to do, some of them only I could do, some could be done by others, but I wanted, or rather needed, to do them. I needed to find out for myself if my suspicions were true, did Max or Steve sell out Alfred and me to those monsters.
I also had to find out if my condition was temporary or permanent. Would I die in the near future, or would I live to see my grandchildren? Research is a long, laborious task that requires money and time, not to mention privacy. To that end I went to see my father.
"Hello daddy," I said, standing on the ledge of his office and I have to admit the surprise and relief in his face was gratifying.
"Laura? Oh god, they told us you were dead!" His tone, the way he hugged me, everything told me that he truly was glad to see me, which was very comforting and reinforced my new feeling of self worth. "How did you get up here, this is the third floor?"
"I’m not the little girl you remember," I said, "I’ve changed, one of those changes is that I can fly."
He looked a little sceptical, until he saw me float up to the ceiling, then land again.
"You look awful," he said, "what happened to you?"
I told him some of it, leaving out the rape. He listened, his horror growing as I told him about Alfred and being forced to drink the serum.
"Those bastards!" I’d never heard my father swear before, it was both a shock and a revelation. The look in his eyes told me if he’d been there he’d have killed all of them with his bare hands and, much to my surprise, just how much he loved me. "Why haven’t you been in touch with the FBI?"
"Because they’d just ask questions I don’t want to answer, can’t answer yet." I looked at my father and I wanted to tell him everything, but it wasn’t time or even right. "By all rights I should be dead, the serum should kill its recipient within weeks, but I’m still alive, looking younger and fitter than ever. I need to find out if this is just a temporary reprieve, or am I safe. I could die tomorrow, or I could live my natural span, but until I know for sure, I can’t make any plans. I need to do some research, for which I need money."
"Why not go to the government, it was their project?"
"Because you’d probably never see me again, I’d be their guinea pig, being poked, prodded and never allowed to get out again until they knew why the serum worked on me." I watched him as the truth of that sank in, then I added. "I will go to them, but only when I know exactly what has happened to me and on my terms, not theirs."
"I understand," he said, "how much do you need?"
"Enough to buy a place for a lab, outfit it and pay for its upkeep until I have my answers."
"The place is easy," he said, "use the basement at home. No one will know you’re there and when you need more money, you won’t have to risk being seen. I know a few people who can probably supply most of what you’ll need; some of them stay at one or more of my hotels on occasion. And, before you say it, I know this kind of research is dangerous, but I’m not risking losing you again, Laura. You’re my daughter and I know I’ve never told you this before, but I love you."
"I love you too, daddy," I said, hugging him, carefully. "Now, I have one other matter to clear up, then I’ll fly out and see mom, I think you’d better warn her I’m coming, but don’t tell anyone else for now."
"Are you sure it’s safe?" he asked and I kissed his cheek.
"Not much can hurt me now, dad, at least not physically. I’ll see you later."
I slipped out of the window before he could say anything, best not to tell him too much about my visit to Max. It hadn’t taken much to narrow my list of subjects to Max, of the four of us, only Steve hadn’t known the combination to the safe where we kept the serum. That meant Max was the only one capable of passing on the information to the Germans, especially as Alfred and I hadn’t told them a thing. Finding him had been almost too easy, though I had a feeling that there might be further problems once I got to him.
The house he lived in was sturdy, new and had two FBI Agents on the front door. That didn’t worry me, I used the skylight, and descended from the attic. It wasn’t difficult locating him, my enhanced senses could pick out his voice from a room down the hall. I thought he was alone, though he was on the phone, to his family from the sound of it.
The door was no obstacle, though the noise would obviously alert the agents below. The three agents with Max were too surprised by my entrance to react to it. I had Max in my grip, suspended by his shirt, his feet well off the ground, before they even moved.
"Was it you?" I snarled, "was it you who sold us out? Tell me, or I swear I’ll tear you limb from limb."
Max had gone deathly pale, I don’t think he really recognised me, not that I recognised myself at that moment.
"Put him down Doctor, don’t make us open fire."
Two more agents were in the doorway, their guns levelled at me.
"Go ahead, shoot," I said, "you’ll discover that flight and strength are only two of the gifts I’ve gained. I’m invulnerable to bullets, though they still hurt. Do you hear that Max, it worked, it actually worked! So you want to tell me the truth? Did you give me and Alfred to those animals!"
My fist buried itself into the wall, next to his head, elbow deep. One shard cut his cheek and I watched the blood trickle down it.
"All right, please don’t hurt me," Max was shaking, there was a pungent odour from his trousers, but I held on to him. "They said that if I gave them information, my family would be released."
"So you told them how to find us, how to get into the safe, you let them beat Alfred to death and rape me!" I was shouting by now and I could see the agents were ready to do something, if they could figure out what.
"You weren’t supposed to be there," Max said, "I’m sorry, Laura, I didn’t know what else to do, I’m so sorry."
I dropped him, my anger draining away as he whimpered.
"I wish I could forgive you, Max," I said, "I liked you, despite your attitudes towards me. I trusted you. You’ll never know just how much I want to kill you right now, but that wouldn’t be right." I turned to the agents, all five of them pointing guns at me.
"I’m leaving, I want to use the door, though I can make my own if you prefer." I looked at the five agents, then at their guns.
"We can’t let you do that, Doctor Wayne," one of the agents said. "We knew you weren’t dead, though I admit we thought you’d sold the project out, not Mr Maxwell. In any event we need to debrief you and there are some tests that need to be run."
"I would suggest you don’t try to stop me," I said, standing calmly, listening to Max as he cried. "I may die soon, I do not intend to spend my last days in some lab being treated like some test animal. I’ll come in of my own accord, once I know what’s happened to me. You have my word."
"I’m sorry, doctor, we don’t have a choice and neither do you."
"I’m sorry too," I said, "I hope your superiors understand that you couldn’t stop me." The wall crumbled as I hit it, I looped up and around, giving them no real chance to shoot at me. I felt a little sorry for them, but they had their spy and I had work to do.
There were precautions I had to put in place to make sure my parents would be safe, other things I had to do to protect myself. The government would put a lot of pressure on me, once they discovered where I was, and I wasn’t fool enough to believe they wouldn’t find me. I needed time to research my condition and discover its limits, time to find out what had happened to me.
I felt vindicated and even the fact that the FBI knew I was alive didn’t spoil my mood of euphoria. I’d wanted to kill Max, but I hadn’t, I controlled the rage and actually got an even more subtle revenge. He would die, but not as quickly and he would have to put up with public hatred, not to mention the long, agonising wait for the day of his execution…
The Present
The problem with crime is that there’s always plenty of it to go around. I sometimes wonder if being a professional superheroine is actually worth the effort. Flying over the city you get a good overview of the problem. It’s impossible to be there to stop every crime, so you have to do what you can, where you can. I often wonder if I do any good at all.
Random patrols always turn up some minor crime, though the villains often claim that it’s like sending an army company after them when I get involved. I don’t see it that way, I never have. Muggers, car thieves, burglars, they all violate other people’s lives. Rapists violate a person’s body, leaving them changed and hollow inside, murderer’s steal God’s greatest gift to man. It sounds trite I know, but I believe I was given this power for a reason, so I have to use it for mankind’s benefit.
Soaring over the city gives me a sense of freedom that other people don’t get to feel. Flying is as much a release for me as it is a mode of travel. It allows me to work out some of my problems without wrecking things. It’s a magical, extremely personal thing, though I have shared it with Julia a couple of times.
It took me many years to come to terms with the idea I would probably outlive my family, friends and loved ones. One of the hardest things to come to terms with was that I would never be able to conceive children; my body had been changed on a molecular level. In some ways I was no longer human.
I’m not sure why I choose to follow this particular circuit tonight, just intuition and instinct, feelings I’ve learned to trust over the years. I’ve developed quite a few routes of patrol over the city, I’ve had several years to practice, refine and perfect them. This particular route takes me out over the business district, over the harbour and back by one of the down and out areas. I stop three muggings, help out at a shoot out between the police and some terrorists and capture a group of car thieves. A good night’s work, considering that for all the crimes I’ve stopped, hundreds more still take place. It’s frustrating at times.
As I pass over the final leg of my patrol, I spot a bright light off to my left and angle down towards it. Getting closer, I see that one of the buildings is on fire! I increase my speed, using my enhanced senses to try and pick up signs of life from the burning building. The building is old, possibly dating back to the depression, or even earlier, it looks as if it should have been condemned years ago, though I quickly spot that it is still lived in. Swooping down I spot several people hanging from windows to escape the flames. I move quickly, grabbing them as I fly past, getting them safely to the street.
"Is anyone else in there?" I ask, hoping there isn’t, but knowing that most likely there is.
"I’m not sure," one young woman says, "there are a lot of empty apartments, though there could be a couple of people missing, from the lower floors."
I look across at the burning building and curse to myself. The lower floors are well alight, anyone in there is probably dead, though I’ll have to go in and find out. By now a fire truck has arrived and I rush over, thanking God I remembered to tell Julia to make sure the new costume is fire resistant.
"I need a breathing unit, Chief, there may still be people inside."
He gives me a quick look before motions one of his men to bring the air tank and mask. "Just remember there’s only thirty minutes of air in the tank," he says as the fireman helps me strap on the tank. "Also, try and stay away from any really hot spots, the air’s pressurised, so it’ll go up if it gets too hot."
His advice isn’t necessary, but it is appreciated. I’ve done this before, so I know the drill, but it never hurts to repeat it. I even attended a course for part-time fire fighters, so that I could make sure my efforts were helping, not hindering. Most of the Fire Chiefs know me by sight, so there usually aren’t any problems. In moments I’m plunging into the burning building, something the firemen couldn’t do until they’d put some of the fire out.
I may be invulnerable, but it doesn’t stop me feeling the heat or dying from smoke inhalation. I learned pretty early that gasses still affect me, though I recover from their effects faster. Bullets can’t penetrate my skin, but they still hurt, and I do bruise from the impacts. I may not take any real damage from physical attacks, but I feel the cause of it and suffer for it later. Fire is a good example; I may not suffer from burns, but before I take two steps I’m sweating buckets and feel part cooked. The heat won’t hurt me, but it does cause other side effects, like making me gasp for breath on occasions. Thirty minutes may be how long the air will last, but I don’t intend to be in here any longer than I have to.
I find the first body in the hall, it used to be a man, but now it’s a charred hunk of meat and there’s nothing I can do for him. The stench of roasted meat penetrates the mask and I feel like gagging. The next apartment is gutted, probably the man’s apartment, though there’s no way to tell easily. The fire is incredibly intense here, it’s possible that this is where it started. As I turn back to check the next apartment, I think I see a flicker of movement, though in this inferno it’s easy for the eyes to play tricks.
The next apartment isn’t as bad, though it’s empty, luckily. The third is barely touched, inside the family that lives there cower from me, until I explain who I am and why I’m there. Getting them out isn’t easy, but I manage, with some help from the firemen. As I look back I see a shape in the flames and this time I know it’s not a trick of the flame. I’ve got about ten minutes of air left, so I go back in, not that I want to.
The first floor is clear, the second is also empty, on the third there is a little flame, but a lot more smoke. I move cautiously, watching my step, as some areas of the floor are ready to collapse. The heat is incredible, the smoke so thick I can barely make out my hand in front of my face. I have only a few minutes of air left when I come to the conclusion that I must have been mistaken. I turn, coming face to face with my phantom of the flames, stepping back in surprise.
It is a girl, or it could be a young woman, it’s hard to see with all the smoke billowing around us. She could be a teenager, my apparent age or older. Her face seems so angelic, yet the look in her eyes is hard and unforgiving. She’s a little shorter than I am, quite pretty, with flame-red hair. Her eyes are green, though there is an odd glint in them that leaves me uneasy, almost as if she were hovering on the edge of madness. Her figure is quite good, though she appears to be a little too thin. Long legs, naked and pale, signs of old bruises showing on the skin. She’s wearing a one-piece costume that covers her whole torso, or at first I think it’s a costume, until I notice that it is moving, like fire. A second look confirms it is fire, though it seems to cling to her like cloth. Her hair waves in a breeze, though that breeze seems to encompass her alone, it doesn’t affect the smoke around us.
"Who are you?" she demands and I stare at her, she seems totally unconcerned that the building is on fire and will probably collapse soon.
"A friend," I say, I’m still not sure about Julia’s suggestion of a change in name. "We have to get out of here, this place is going to collapse."
"I know," she says, her fey eyes looking me up and down. "I set fire to it so that this building would be destroyed, I hate this place."
"You did this?" I say, shocked that she can be so calm about it.
"Yes, I love fire, it burns, it destroys, it purifies. It wipes out everything that can remind you of things you’d rather forget." Her voice is oddly resonant and I realise that she isn’t looking at me, or at least not really seeing me. She doesn’t seem to care that she almost killed those families and did kill one man. She seems lost in the flames and the destruction.
"What about the other people that live … lived here, you could have killed them." I can’t believe she could be so callous so young.
"I know," is all she says and I realise she is seriously disturbed.
"Why? Why would you want to hurt them?" I ask. "What did they do to you?"
"They didn’t do anything," the girl says. "They knew what was happening, but they didn’t do anything. They could have done something to stop him, but they didn’t. They deserve to die, all of them."
"What happened?" I ask, getting a terrible feeling in my stomach.
"You know, I can sense it in you," she looks at me for the first time. "You know what they do to girls on their own, you know what they like to do to us. They hurt us, they take what they want and tell us it’s our fault for being so pretty. They steal our innocence, steal our pride and give us shame and humiliation to replace them. But he won’t hurt anyone else, I made sure of that. None of them will, I’ll kill them all, I’ll burn this city to the ground if I have to."
"I … I’m sorry," I say, "but you have to stop this, innocent people will be hurt."
"No one is innocent," she yells, "they all know what happens and they don’t care, they don’t want to know. Well I’m going to make them pay."
Fire leaps from her fingertips, running along the walls, the ceiling and the floor. I leap back as she laughs. The intensity of the flames makes me wince. She doesn’t aim her fire blast at me, just the building and I sense she truly doesn’t intend me any harm.
"Please stop," I call to her, "I want to help you, but you have to stop."
"No one can help me," she laughs and runs back the way I came, laughing loudly.
A creaking noise alerts me to the floor under my feet. I take to the air as it collapses, though that’s also the moment I realise it’s getting hard to breathe, my air-tank is empty, I have to leave. I can come back for the girl, once I have another air supply. I fly out of a handy window, heading for the nearest fire truck.
"I need another tank," I say to one of the firemen, and then spin on my heel as a long groan precedes the collapse of the entire building. Bricks and glass fly everywhere, several firemen run for cover and I watch, hoping the girl will escape. I can only imagine what horrors drove her to what she’s done, though I have some very strong suspicions. As the rubble settles I see no sign of her, yet there is a part of me that knows she got out. She has too much to do to let herself get buried alive.
Nonetheless I help with the excavation of the building, rescuing several more tenants who were unable to escape. More through luck than judgement no one else dies, but there is no sign of my mysterious girl and I look around, hoping for a sight of her. I see nothing, but I know we’ll meet again, it’s inevitable…
1941
As time passed I spent more and more time at St Michael’s, Father O’Malley helped me come to terms with my pain, the shame and even my new abilities to a degree. I took Holy Communion, becoming a regular member of his congregation and a regular visitor to the church. Religion helped me find a path for myself and get my life back. I’d never really wanted to believe in God, before the attack on the lab, but afterwards I think I needed to know that I wasn’t being punished for my vanity. Father O’Malley helped me deal with a lot of things, though he also became a friend, mostly because he never treated me as a sex object, just a person in need of help. He convinced me that just because I was beautiful, didn’t mean I was fair game for any man who decided to take what he wanted. He also helped me decide what to do about my new found powers, what I should be doing with them and how to make the best use of them.
I began to look into my condition, using the equipment my father bought and the lab he built for me at home. The FBI called round several times and I think they knew I was there, but my father had enough clout to protect me for a time. Oddly we talked about a lot of things during those months, more than we ever did before. I told him about that night and, to my surprise, he cried when he discovered what had been done to me, he held me and cried. I think that one act brought us closer than we’d ever been. After that I felt as if I had two friends, my father and my priest. My father asked me not to tell my mother about the rape, he said it would destroy her if she found out and I agreed with him.
Tests, examinations and long hours of research all revealed that the serum had changed my body chemistry on a cellular level. I was something other than human now, something more than human. My DNA had changed and many of the chemical compounds that made life possible had been altered to accommodate my new gene sequence. I was unique, something new and the effect was irreversible, as far as I could tell at the time. What I couldn’t tell was why it had happened and what had caused the metamorphosis, this had never happened in any of the other subjects.
I tested the limits of my new strength, lifting larger and larger weights, until I couldn’t handle any more. This revealed that I could press over 1000 tons without appreciable effort. I was also invulnerable to physical damage, up to and including a direct hit from an artillery shell, though I wasn’t willing to test it beyond that, yet. I could fly up to speeds of 950 mph and I had no problem with breathing at those speeds. Gasses and ingested drugs still affected me, as long as they got into my system, indeed they seemed to have a slightly enhanced affect. Needles couldn’t pierce my skin, unless they were toughened to a degree that was impractical at that time. Injected drugs weren’t a problem, which also meant I couldn’t absorb poisons and drugs through my skin, either. The integrity of my body structure had changed, becoming far more efficient and resilient. I healed faster too, regenerating most damage over night, which meant I shook off the effects of non-lethal gasses faster. My natural senses were increased and enhanced to an incredible level. My memory had improved, I now had the use of one hundred percent of my brain’s capacity and it was incredible to remember things, like what it was like to live inside my mother, or the trauma of my birth. I’d developed total recall, remembering any fact I was exposed to, whether I wanted to or not. As a side effect, my beauty had actually increased and I was a picture of perfection, which didn’t help my vanity at all. It seemed as if my body had reached the peak of perfection physically.
The big question was what to do with all of this power? Ignoring it wasn’t an option, not with the war and all that was going on. It looked like we would eventually be drawn into the war in Europe, whether we wanted to be or not. Joining the armed forces looked like a reasonable idea, but that would mean a medical and that would reveal far too much about me. I discussed this with both Father O’Malley and my father. Both of them agreed that the power I had gave me responsibilities to use it wisely, though what to do with it was a puzzle.
Father O’Malley introduced me to Superman, the comic. In those days Supergirl was not a part of his adventures, though the ideas presented in the comic did get me thinking. Superman fought evil and helped those who needed it, which was something I could do. I already knew evil existed, I’d experienced it for myself, firsthand. I can’t remember when I first considered the idea of a costume, though I do remember thinking how it would make me more of a freak than I already was. The comics were a revelation there too and it sparked several ideas, though I have to say that the stories were pretty lame in those days. Yet, the ideas in them were intriguing and, if I could adapt some of the ideas, it would mean that I could keep my private life, what little there was of it, private, yet still use my abilities to help others.
To begin with my initial ideas for a costume were rather conservative, I went for something that covered as much of my body as possible. Oddly, it felt wrong, though it took me a while to realise why. I tried out a couple of designs, based around a blouse and trousers, but they looked dowdy. My vanity was offended by the amount of cloth covering my exquisite body, yet the part of me still quivering from the vicious rape refused to let me do something more daring. In the end I went to see a real designer, someone who would have a few ideas and a sense of fashion.
That brought me into contact with Nicola Collins, a seamstress my mother used to make up her dresses for her parties. I showed her what I had in mind, she looked it over, giving me a once over and I could tell she had her own ideas. Her first question was, if I wanted to make an impression, why I was trying to hide my most impressive features.
"Laura, you have been given a body that is spectacular, which means people will look at you, hiding it would be a crime." She studied my face for a moment, before adding. "Besides, think of the distraction value."
Nicola was older than I was, in her mid thirties, but she had a look about her that made her seem much younger. She dressed simply, in elegant clothing that made the best of her figure and her colouring. She had black hair, deep brown eyes and a mildly interesting face. She wasn’t a classic beauty, but she had the kind of face that stood out in a crowd. Her figure was slight, but her clothes made the most of her slight curves and, oddly, she seemed to have a sensuality about her that was unnerving.
I gave her words some thought. She did have a point and it did prick at my vanity. Between us we came up with some ideas, though she was the one who came up with the colour scheme. My initial idea for the costume was based on the American flag, which was very patriotic, but, as she pointed out, red, white and blue were colours that wouldn’t suit my natural colouring. She suggested something a little more radical, different and definitely striking, silver and gold. She also suggested a few changes in the costume, getting rid of the thigh boots for more comfortable calf-length boots and no heels, they’d be cumbersome in hand-to-hand combat. I’d envisioned a full coverage bodice, but she insisted on a low cleavage, suggesting dropping it to the navel, to really make an impression. She suggested raising the hem of the skirt, to make the most of my long legs and enhance the effect of the costume. She suggested using silk for the costume, because it was stronger than most other materials, would be kinder to my skin than cotton or canvas and it would enhance the gold and silver colour scheme of the costume. The cape was my idea, it added a touch of flair and style. Though when she gave me the silver star-shaped earrings, I knew we had a winner. Pretty soon we had the costume I would wear for the next sixty years and would become associated with justice, honesty and power.
At first I was shocked at just how revealing it was, though when I considered some of the gowns my mother wore and bought for me, I saw that, although it was daring, it was also practical. I did ask how I was going to keep it over my breasts, to which Nicola said to use a little gum Arabic on my nipples.
"It’ll hold it in place under most circumstances, but will not be painful to remove." Nicola walked around me and looked me up and down. "Yes, definitely striking and it makes a statement. One of my finest creations, though there is one thing missing." Nicola produced the eye-mask with all the flourish of a magician.
"Superman may rely on the obvious to hide his secret, but you can’t, if you wish to maintain your secrecy. You are too noticeable, too distinctive and even with this mask, people may see through your disguise. Also you have to think of others. If your identity is discovered, the people you intend to fight may use your family and friends against you."
I didn’t know what to say, it was obvious that Nicola had put a lot of thought into my secret identity, more than I had. I hugged her, and then put on the mask. It looked perfect and I knew that this was going to be my costume…
The Present
"I think I’m getting jealous," Julia says, leaning against the doorframe of the room I use as an office, a short nightshirt barely hiding her naked body. "You’re spending more time looking for this young girl than you are with me, I think you must fancy her."
"I’m not into little girls," I say, smiling. "She’s hurting and she’s out there on her own. I just want to find her and help her realise that not everyone has turned their backs on her."
"I know," Julia says, wrapping her arms around my neck as she leans over the chair, "but you need to rest too. You may be strong, invulnerable and able to fly, but you still need sleep. Come to bed, you’ll think clearer after a good night’s sleep."
"I know you’re right," I say, "but I can’t shake the impression that I’m missing something obvious."
"What have you got?" Julia asks as she sits next to me, after pulling up a chair.
"I learned a little from the fire scene, mostly that there was one person missing from the building, a young woman named Kerry Adams. No one seems to know much about her, though one of the children told me that the landlord visited her most afternoons and they heard her crying each night afterwards."
Julia was silent. I could tell she was putting the pieces together for herself.
"That confirms my fears and when I checked, I discovered that the landlord had prior form for sexual abuse, though of it wasn’t proven."
"That’s it really, there’s nothing, a big, black hole where Kerry Adams should be." I lean back in my chair and rub my neck. "There should be records, but I can’t find anything."
"So, what do you know about her?" Julia says and I realise what she’s doing, jump starting my tired brain cells. "How old is she?"
"Between thirteen and twenty, that’s the nearest I can figure, I didn’t get the clearest of looks at her."
"So, she could be a minor, which would explain the lack of records," Julia says thoughtfully. "Have you looked for school records?"
"Nothing, the area that she was living in isn’t one where school would be a high priority." I sigh, "This is frustrating."
"Did she sound uneducated?"
"No," I say, "in fact her voice was slightly odd, not American. So she could be an immigrant, though she’d be too young to travel here on her own if she were a minor, unless she wasn’t on her own to begin with."
Julia grins at me, "Kerry isn’t really an American name, it sounds more English, or Irish."
"If Kerry came into this country with her parents, there’d be a trail, though what happened to her parents?" I start tapping the keys of the computer, using the skills I’ve picked up over the years to trace the trail I hope is there.
A quick query into the computer told me that this track is looking good. I check the missing persons’ files first, and then move over into the homicide section of the police files.
I’ve learned a lot over the years and computer hacking is one of them. Public records are easy to get into, but you have to know what to ask and where to ask it. With practice you can get at other files too, though you have to be careful, Most of them are pretty secure. In my case it helps that there are people who know that I look at certain files and look the other way.
"Liam Adams, 36, found dead in an alley a little over three weeks ago. Arrived in this country two weeks before that, got a job with a construction company and then ran into trouble, from the looks of it." I look up at Julia, "he had a daughter too. Fourteen, but for some reason the Social Services didn’t follow up on it, just marked the file pending. No wonder she’s so messed up! She must think no one cares or gives a damn about her!"
"Okay, you’ve found her, now bed! Before you collapse with exhaustion."
"Yes, mom," I say meekly, though there is mischief in my voice. "At least now I’ve got a starting point, though I’m not going to be happy until I’ve found her."
"You still have to sleep," Julia says tenderly, "you’ll be no use to her if you’re too tired to think straight."
"I know, I’ll be good, I just hate the idea of her being out there on her own, trying to deal with all that fear, shame and guilt alone."
"You know, for someone who’s supposed to be a big, tough vigilante, you’re quite the social worker," Julia smiles lovingly and strokes my hair.
"You can’t help it, if you stop feeling, you stop caring," I say, remembering the early days of my career. "I found that out the hard way, I don’t want Kerry to have to learn the same way I did. There are people who’d love to use her for their own ends and her power is far too volatile to let it fall into the wrong hands. She scared, Julia, lost, friendless and she’s just a kid."
Julia’s nod is all I need. She understands me like very few people can and that is why I love her. We share a tender kiss, before I shut down my computer and we head for bed…
1941
I didn’t get to wear my costume for a while, though by September of 1941 I had a fairly good idea of my abilities and how to use them, in theory. My research into my condition had revealed a lot of facts, though none of them encouraging. I was, to all intents and purposes, a wholly new species of humanity, though it wasn’t just the serum that had done this to me.
My improved memory allowed me to narrow down the formula that had been used on me to one of a special batch we’d created as an experiment. They were special because they were created using elements of DNA from Alfred, Max and myself! Given this information, it allowed me to replicate the formula, though I already knew that there had to be something else that had triggered my metamorphosis.
There were only two other factors from that night that might have interacted with the formula, my elevated adrenaline levels and semen. How I got hold of fresh semen I will never tell anyone, the adrenaline increase was easy to replicate and the results showed me that what I’d undergone was only the beginning of a far more complicated process. Potentially, given the right conditions, my body could undergo further changes, changes that could separate me even more from my humanity. My body was constantly repairing itself, maintaining itself and this included the effects of ageing.
I think that was the hardest thing for me to accept. I knew by then that I’d never conceive a child of my own, due to the damage I received at the hands of those animals. The realisation that I would never die, except through some act of violence, that I would live to see everyone I loved, everyone I cared for die around me, that was extremely hard to come to terms with. It was the one thing I kept from my father, for many years, though he eventually realised what was happening.
For a long time I looked for a cure for my condition, but in the end I realised that death was the only real cure for my curse, and I wasn’t ready to die yet. I could probably find a way to reverse what had happened to me, given time, and I truly wanted that to a degree, but the idea that my family’s future had been stolen in that savage act of brutality, stopped me. I discussed it with my father and he told me to do what I thought was right, which was exactly what Father O’Malley said too, though he added that praying could help with the decision. So began my search for the agent that would rid me of my powers.
My first appearance as a superheroine was rather complicated and I still wince at the mistakes I made that night. Nicola, through some friends of a friend, had heard that there might be a group of saboteurs using a warehouse as a meeting place. She thought I might want to look into it.
McDougall Shipping had several warehouses along the dockside district. This one had a reputation for being used for meeting of an illegal nature. I decided to hang around the warehouse for a few nights, see what I could find out or if I could spot something. After a week I was getting a little discouraged, though I decided to see it through for a few more nights, just in case. Patience is one of the things I found hard to exercise in those days.
I dressed in civvies, with my costume underneath. After the rape, I tended to hide my looks rather than give in to my vanity, though I was beginning to come to terms with the memories. I knew that if I changed my life because of what they’d done, I’d never be free of the memories and that they’d have won. It did seem to be a good idea to try to rebuild my life.
I knew that if I wanted to keep my costumed identity a secret, though, I would have to make sure that my civilian identity couldn’t be linked to my superheroic ID. Make the two people as different as possible, like with Clark Kent and Superman or Bruce Wayne and Batman. Though in my case I decided to make the most of my looks and the social circuit my mother had always wanted me to join. So, I was now a belle of the social set, acting like an airhead, flirting intolerably and making news with my antics.
Oddly, it was very satisfying getting a man interested, only to show him the door when he got too intrusive. My father’s money kept a lot of men hooked though, and I thoroughly enjoyed making fools of them. It was a twisted kind of revenge for what had been done to me and there were several men who thoroughly deserved to be made fools of.
The last night of my vigil my luck was in and I spotted one of my suspects sneaking into the warehouse. On a hunch I changed into my costume, flying up to the roof and located a skylight to watch the action. I’m not sure what I expected to find, though the six people gathered around a packing case, discussing something fitted the bill as suspicious. This was one of the times my enhanced senses came in most handy.
"Is all in readiness?" one of the men asked.
"We are ready," a second said. "Three devices have been planted and are timed to detonate at the right time. Whilst the police and fire department are dealing with the fires and chaos, we can strike."
"Good," the first man said, turning to a third. "How many men do we have?"
"Twelve, all armed with machine pistols and hand grenades," the man replied. "By this time tomorrow, we will have struck a great victory for the Third Reich and the Führer."
"Very well," the first said, "I believe transport is prepared and the support teams are in place?" The other three men nodded. "Then we are ready. Tomorrow, at ten o’clock, we will strike at the heart of this country’s government!"
I’d heard enough by that point and as I had no real evidence, realised it was up to me to put a stop to this. With a crash, the skylight shattered, showering the men with glass and broken wood.
I landed lightly on the crate they were gathered around, standing with hands on my hips and my legs slightly apart, catching them by surprise.
"I’d give up now, if I were you," I said, sounding confident, though part of me hoped I knew what I was doing. The first time I went after someone I was full of rage, anger and didn’t need to think about what I was doing. This was premeditated and I was scared. If I got this wrong, I could be responsible for the deaths of a lot of people.
"Get her!" the leader said, after he got past looking at me in my skimpy costume.
Six pistols barked loudly, the bullets bouncing off my skin and costume, though they did sting quite a bit. I let them get it out of their system, then grabbed the nearest, crushing his gun in my fist. A quick series of movements allowed me to disarm five of them, as well as knocking them out with a tap on the head, and I turned to the last one, the leader.
"Tell me where the bombs are, now!" My voice was hard as flint and I could see he was worried, though not worried enough.
"I suggest you look behind you, Fräulein," he said.
I’m not sure why, but somehow I sensed he wasn’t trying to distract me and spun, just as a huge fist lashed out at me. I got an impression of grey skin, a huge fist and rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth, and then I piled into a stack of crates. I looked up at my attacker and gasped in total horror at what stood before me.
Easily 9 feet tall, it was a monstrous amalgam of a man and a shark, with the blue-grey colour of a shark. A huge fin on its back and those incredibly impressive teeth also indicated that at least a part of this creature was shark. It was strong, too, I felt like I’d been hit with a truck. There was intelligence in the things’ eyes that spoke of its human origins, though that intelligence was tainted by a part of the shark’s vicious killer instincts. The leader smiled and watched as the shark-man approached, whilst I scrambled to my feet.
"Now, Fräulein, perhaps you would like to surrender?"
My eyes never left the shark-man, though part of me was aware of the leader rousing his comrades.
"What makes you think this monstrosity is any match for me?" I asked, thinking quickly.
"Haifisch is far more than a monstrosity, Ms Wayne, he is your own creation, aren’t you, Gunther?"
I looked up in shock! This was one of the men who raped me, the first one. One of the men I left for dead in the Atlantic!
I slammed into another wall as Haifisch hit me. It didn’t do any damage, but it hurt like hell. He was as fast as his namesake and full of the violence the species was known for. I knew Haifisch was German for shark! I also knew that I’d got to finish the fight quickly, or lose my lead to the bombs.
I dodged his next blow and headed for the roof, if he couldn’t reach me, he couldn’t hit me. Wrong again! The crate caught me in mid flight. I felt the impact and I was very glad of my invulnerability, otherwise I’d have been very dead. Haifisch grinned, showing those incredible teeth and I had a feeling they would penetrate even my skin.
The six men left me to Haifisch, confident he would beat me, or delay me long enough for them to escape. I knew I had to get away from this monster, or put it down for a long enough time to get back on the trail. Unfortunately he had other ideas.
The fist I dodged shattered the crate behind me, toppling the rest of the pile on top of me. I rolled into a ball instinctively, feeling my anger grow.
"Giiirrrrlll prrreeetttyy," Haifisch grinned and I could sense the flickers of memory as he remembered what he’d done to me. His eyes fastened on my breasts and I lost it, big time!
The first crate hit his chest, the second his legs and my punch took him off his feet. I didn’t give him a chance to hit the ground, I grabbed his tail and swung him into the nearest wall. The building shuddered as the wall buckled, creaking ominously as the structure lost some of its stability. I swung him the other way, hearing him howl in pain as he crashed through the other wall. I didn’t let him to his feet, just kept pounding on him until he stopped moving. Images of that night, of his face in front of me, his body on mine, drove me to keep hitting him until I notice blood on my hands, his blood.
I looked down at him. His body was a massive bruise and his face was almost pulped. I was shocked I could do something like that, though a part of me knew why I did it. I felt oddly purged, as if some of the fear that night had finally been laid to rest. I hated this thing, hated it with a passion that I never knew I could feel. I bound the thing with steel cables and reported its location to the police. I looked around for my true quarry, hoping that I hadn’t taken too long and lost the trail.
It was not too difficult, apparently one of them stayed behind to ensure that Haifisch finished his job. He saw me finish the beast, then decided to make a run for it. Unfortunately, running wasn’t good enough.
"I have two questions," I said as I suspended him by an ankle, a long way above the city. "Where are the explosives and when are they timed to go off?"
"I … I don’t know, I swear," his voice was very jittery, but hanging from your ankle half-a-mile up in the air will do that for you.
"Then tell me where to find someone who does, my arm is getting very tired." I smiled coldly at him and he looked down, shivered and looked back at me.
"Jason," he whispered softly, "Mark Jason, he’s the one I report to."
"Okay, now I know his name," I said, "where can I find him?"
"Apartment 6, 357 South Street, now please let me down."
"Fine," I said, letting go. I enjoyed his scream as he fell, though I was after him in a shot. I caught him before he hit the ground, though he was unconscious by then. I handed him over to the MP’s and went after Mark Jason. There was no way to tell when those bombs would go off and I had to find them fast.
The apartment was easy to find, though I didn’t bother with the door, not when windows are far more accessible and make an impressive smash when you go through them at speed.
Jason was surprised, to say the least, though he recovered quickly.
"I’ll ask once, where are the bombs?" I wasn’t in the mood to mess around and I recognised this man as the leader of the men in the warehouse. He’d set Haifisch on me, left me to die at that beast’s hands and now had the answer to the one question that was foremost in my mind.
He recovered his wits quickly, I’ll give him that, though he was also worried, I could see it in his eyes.
"What will you do if I refuse to tell you, Fräulein, kill me?" he sipped at his drink and looked at the shattered window. "I do hope you intend to pay for that window!"
I was shocked by this reaction and I was just about to grab him when I realised he was right. I could try to beat the information out of him, but if I killed him before he told me, I would be in the same boat.
"I am prepared to tell you what you want to know, Fräulein , but I want something in return, something special."
"What," I growled, hating him for bartering with the lives of innocent people.
"You!" he said. "I want you, in my bed and I want you to return with me, to Germany, so our scientists can examine you. Agree, and I will tell you where the devices are, refuse, and thousands of people will die."
I was shocked, yet I could see in his eyes that he meant every word.
I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. This stupid jerk really thought I’d surrender my body and my life to him? I knew, as he did, that he had no intention of telling me where the explosives were, even if I did do as he said. My laughter worried him and that was when I struck.
I flew at him, pinning him to the wall, then glared into his face.
"Let’s get a few things straight shall we," I said, my voice a snarl. "I have no intention of letting you touch me, let alone sleep with me, and as for the idea of letting your scientists dissect me to allow them to create more like me? There is nothing that would ever make me betray my country."
"You have little choice, Fräulein," Jason said.
"Oh, I have several choices," I said, sitting him in a chair and tying him down before he could react. "I have the choice your people gave one of my best friends. You see I learned a great deal the night your people made me what I am, including how to get information out of people. I’m a biochemist by training, though I know a fair bit of anatomy, courtesy of a very dear friend, the same one your people killed. Take the foot, for example, did you know every single bone in it can be broken, painfully?"
He was sweating now and I smiled sweetly, as I pulled off his shoe and sock.
"Now, where are the bombs?"
"I will not tell you," he said, obviously thinking I was bluffing.
The sound of his toe bone disintegrating under my incredible strength soon changed his mind. I felt a little queasy, this wasn’t something I was enjoying. He didn’t fear death, he was a fanatic and used to the idea he might have to die for his ideals. Pain was another matter altogether, he hadn’t expected torture from someone like me. I looked up into his eyes and I knew he was afraid, not that I’d kill him, but that I’d carry through on my threat and leave him alive and crippled.
"Your choice, Jason, the sooner you tell me what I want to know, the sooner I’ll stop." My voice was flat, emotionless, though inside I was shaking. What I was doing was as bad as what the Germans had done to Alfred. The only redeeming factor was that I was doing it to save lives, though I still felt sick.
He shook his head and I moved to the next toe. It took six before he begged me to stop.
"Tell me," I said, "or this could get messy."
He told me, not only where the bombs were, but also how to disarm them and where to find the rest of his group. A hammering on the door told me that the New York Police Department had arrived, so I let them in.
"This man is a Nazi spy," I told them, filling them in on the rest of it and then turned to go.
"Hold it!" A sergeant stood in my way, "Who are you and why should we believe any of this?"
"Ask him," I said, "I think you’ll find him co-operative at the moment. As to who I am? I’m just someone who wants to help her country. If you have to have a name, call me Miss Victory!"
"Your real name, miss," he said, "We may need to speak with you again."
"I’ll be around," I said leaping through the shattered window. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on his face as I flew away…
The Present
Julia is out when I get home, so I take the time to shower and change into a more casual outfit. I check the notice board and discover Julia’s gone to the mart to pick up some extra food. I smile, she is so special, I wonder what I’d do without her. At the moment, having seen that look of madness in Kerry’s eyes, I really need her to reassure me that what I’m doing is worth it. I really wanted to help Kerry, but she’s beyond my help and now I’m going to have to stop her.
The doorbell surprises me, we have so few visitors that it’s an odd sound around the apartment. I go to open it, still grinning.
"Forgot your key, or have you just bought the place out again?" I ask as I open the door, to be confronted by two police officers.
"Ms Wayne?" one of them says and I nod, fear rising in my stomach. "I’m afraid we have some bad news, may we come in?"
I nod, realising one of the police officers is a woman. The looks of sympathy on their faces seem to confirm my worst fear. Something has happened to Julia!
"What’s happened?" I say, barely aware of my surroundings.
"You know a Julia Cross?" the man says and I nod dumbly. "I’m afraid she’s been killed in a robbery," he says. "You were the only person we could find to contact. Does she have any family in New York?"
"No," I say, feeling oddly disconnected, "no, her mother died a few years ago and … and…"
I can’t stop myself, I break down, tears streaming down my face and I howl out my grief as I fall to my knees. It’s as if my heart has been cut out and crushed, the pain is so intense. Julia was my rock, my anchor, she was the one who kept me from giving in to the darkness inside me and now she is gone! There’s nothing left except a void in my soul!
"What … what happened?" I ask.
"She was buying groceries when two men came in and tried to hold up the store." The police officer is clearly sympathetic, but seems ill at ease with the situation. "It appears one of the men tried to rob her, but she resisted and … he shot her, with a shotgun."
"Was it simply robbery, or did he try to … to rape her?"
"It was a robbery, the men were junkies, after cash to buy drugs. At least that’s the way it appears. The men got away, but we’ve to a good description of them. We’ll find them."
‘Not if I find them first,’ I think, my mind burning with anger.
"Can I see her," I ask and they nod.
I climb slowly to my feet and walk over to the window, looking out over the city. Somewhere out there, are the men who killed my lover, probably lost in some drug-induced dream. Well, they’re going to pay! She said V could stand for vengeance, she was right. After tonight all I have left is Vengeance…
1942
I don’t recall when I realised I’d fallen in love with Nicola, my seamstress. We just seemed to be spending more and more time together, talking about this and that and sharing intimate details with each other. She designed a full wardrobe for me, which kept us in contact. Then, when that was done, we just found ourselves having lunch together most days. When she mentioned going to see her brother, who was stationed at Pearl harbour, aboard the Cruiser ‘Arizona’, I offered to fly her down, I’m still not sure why.
The night we finally admitted there was something between us was oddly the same night the Japanese attacked on Pearl Harbour, December 7th 1942.
We’d had a wonderful night together, going to a restaurant for dinner, catching a romantic movie and walking back to her rented apartment, laughing and joking about anything that we liked. She was the kind of woman who always tried to see the bright side of any event and she had a truly lovely spirit.
We were sipping coffee on her couch that night and I suddenly wondered why there was no man in her life, so I asked her. She was silent for a long time and I was just wondering if I’d said something wrong when she said.
"There’s something you really should know about me, Laura," she said, "I prefer my partners to be women."
She watched me carefully as she spoke and I admit it was a shock, though not as big a shock as the thought that accompanied it.
"Do you have a partner at the moment?" I said, an odd knot of fear in my stomach.
"I don’t know," she said, "do I?"
I didn’t know what to say to that, I was sure she’d just made a pass at me, but I didn’t know what to do about it. I was still terribly naïve, despite all I’d been through. As it happened I didn’t get the chance to say anything, air raid sirens split the air and we both wondered what the hell was going on.
We dashed to the window as the first bomb exploded in the harbour. We were both stunned, unable to comprehend what was happening and even as we watched more bombs dropped and Japanese planes began to strafe the streets…
"Oh my God," Nicola said, she was as shocked and stunned by the destruction as I was. I dragged my gaze from the scenes of carnage and started unbuttoning my blouse.
"What are you doing," Nicola asked as my blouse hit the floor, revealing my costume underneath.
"What I was born to do," I said, wriggling out of my skirt and kicking of my shoes. "I can help, it’s what I should be doing. You’ll have to find shelter, Nikki." I pulled my boots from the large bag I’d taken to carrying and put them on. "I’ll be back for you, when I’ve finished."
"You can’t go out there, you’ll be killed!" Nicola said.
"I’m probably the only person who’s likely to be safe out there," I said, looking into her eyes. "I’m invulnerable, I can fly and someone has to help. If I didn’t do something to stop this, I’d be betraying everything I believe in. I’ll be back, but you have to promise me you’ll find a safe place to hide until this is over."
Her nod was enough, she was scared and, to be honest, so was I, fighting saboteurs was one thing, but this was a full-scale military attack. I opened the door to her room, wishing I’d had time to check myself in the mirror, I was sure I’d forgotten something.
"Laura!" Nicola called and I turned to look back. "You’ll need this." She handed me my face mask and I think I blushed, it was a stupid thing to have forgotten. I put it on, smiling at her and blew her a kiss.
"We’ll finish that conversation later," I said and flew into the air…
The sky was full of planes, all Japanese. They seemed to be concentrating their attacks on the harbour, so that’s where I went. As I arrived another explosion rocked the air and I watched as one of the cruisers began to slowly capsize. Several planes were beginning to dive in a strafing run on the survivors who were diving into the sea, so I piled on my speed, ripping through the tail-planes.
The planes spiralled to the ground, the sailors were safe, for the moment, but I couldn’t stop moving. Two more planes dropped their lethal cargo on one of the destroyers and I watched in horror as men were thrown from the deck, some still alive, others blown to bits. All around me planes were diving, dropping bombs and torpedoes on the helpless ships and it seemed that there was no way to protect everyone. I spotted a plane diving towards the shore and saw a young woman standing on the dock, fear paralysing her. I swept down, grabbing her as bullets ripped through the space she’d occupied and swept her up into the air. A part of my mind registered her name-tag, Roberta Carter.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
"What’s going on?" she said, looking around in confusion and fear. "Who are you?"
"Miss Victory," I said, "I’m a friend." I dropped her next to a shelter and looked for my next job.
"Miss Victory?" Roberta said, "thank you."
I smiled and took to the air as the young WREN ducked into the shelter.
I remember a lot more about that first day, but when I think about it, it seems as like every time I saved one life, or deflected one attack, a dozen more were calling out for my attention. When the planes finally withdrew I was exhausted, but I refused to give up. There were people who were trapped, people who needed to be got to hospitals, fires burned everywhere and there was always the threat of another attack.
The second wave came out of nowhere, one moment we were working to free survivors, the next the air was full of enemy aircraft. Explosions ripped the air, bullets raked the water and death seemed to stalk the harbour.
I tried to blunt the attack, but I was one person, I couldn’t be everywhere. I wondered where our planes were? It wasn’t until later I learned about the destruction of the air bases by the first wave. I felt I was alone, trying to stop the tide by building a wall of sand. Each time I turned around I seemed to be needed, there was some emergency that I had to attend to, even though by doing that, other people died because I couldn’t protect them.
The attack lasted for a relatively short time, though at the time it seemed like hours. By the time the last plane withdrew, almost every ship was ablaze, several had already sunk, others were sinking and bodies floated on the water, littered that land. I felt sick, angry and I longed to go after those planes, try to destroy the butchers that would cause such carnage, but I couldn’t. I was needed here, there were sailors trapped in doomed ships, wounded and dying scattered everywhere and fires to be fought.
I was tired, I wanted to just lie down and sleep forever, but I was needed and I couldn’t refuse. Many of the men I worked with wondered at my strength, my abilities and more than a few asked who I was. I tin mug of strong coffee was thrust into my hands at times, I worked shoulder to shoulder with walking wounded, yet we rejoiced with every live person we rescued and mourned each dead body.
I remember sleeping at some point, though I was so exhausted that I don’t recall details. It seemed as if we spent days pulling bodies from the wrecked hulls of ships, whilst desperately hoping to find the remaining survivors. In many ways it was lucky the ships had been in harbour, with only skeleton crews aboard. Had they been fully crewed, the death toll would have been immeasurably higher.
When I could barely see what I was doing, I was told to get some rest, so I went back to my room. I felt sick, tired and for some reason I couldn’t feel anything beyond the anger that burned inside me.
"Laura?" Nicola appeared in the doorway to my room and I looked at her, the fear in her face and the worry in her eyes.
I said nothing, pulled her into the room and slammed the door behind her. I kissed her, hard, I don’t know what I was doing, I just needed something and she was there. I tore open her clothes, shrugging out of my costume at the same time, and then I was kissing her all over, hardly aware of her returning my kisses and caressing me with the same desperation I was kissing her. I recall very little of that first time, except that it was an act of extreme violence on both our parts. It was pure, animal lust and we both needed it. We collapsed afterwards, sleeping deeply locked in each others arms…
Waking up the next morning was strange. For the first time I wasn’t alone, I felt oddly sated and complete. I looked at Nicola’s sleeping face, the peaceful look, the content smile and I knew this was right. I thought for a few moments about waking her up, but I didn’t want to, I want t lie there, watching her sleep forever. As I did, I realised that, for the first time since it happened, I hadn’t dreamt of the night of my rebirth. It was as if she’d driven the dreams away with her presence.
Nicola sighed in her sleep, licked her lips and opened her eyes, slowly.
"Hi!" I said, a little unsure of myself.
Morning," she replied, leaning forward to kiss me.
The kiss made me shudder, the touch of her lips left me breathless and I found myself drawing her closer. Her body excited me in ways I never thought I could be excited. The kiss deepened, so much emotion coming from such a simple action and we gasped for breath when it finally ended.
"I guess that answers my question then," Nicola says, her eyes twinkling with awakened passion.
"Oh God, Nikki, I … I’m so scared," I wanted to admit what I felt, but I didn’t know what it was.
"I know, Laura, I was terrified after my first time, but it gets easier, and you have to admit it was better than what those animals did to you." Nicola stroked my face, my hair and smiled. "To be honest, I’ve never felt anything like the animal passion we shared last night, It scared me too, but I was with you, doing something I’ve wanted to do since the moment we met. I have no regrets."
"Really?" I say, still so unsure of what I was hearing, after all, I forced her into bed, almost ripped her clothes from her body.
"Really," she says, her hand reaching my breast.
I shuddered as her touch sent a thrill through me, my nipple hardened and I longed to return the caress.
"Never apologise for what happened, love, you needed it and I’ve been longing for it." Her mouth nibbled at my neck, her hand teased my nipple, whilst her other hand caressed my buttocks. "Now, let me show you true paradise."
She was gentle, slowly building me up to a peak, then letting me rest a little before starting again. She knew what to do, how to excite me and after a while I was gasping at the least touch. Then it happened and I exploded into a violent orgasm. My body shuddered, I held her close and I heard someone screaming, it took a few moments for me to realise it was me. As I caught my breath, she lay down beside me and I stared at her in wonder.
"I never knew it could be like that!" I was breathing heavily, as if I’d been running for miles, yet I felt incredible.
"It gets better with practice," Nicola said, grinning.
"Show me," I said. "Show me how to do that to you."
Her smile filled me with wonder and for what seemed like an age I worked on her body as she’d worked on mine, carefully arousing her, teasing her breasts, kissing her most sensitive areas and slowly working her up to her climax.
We lay together afterwards, silent, wrapped in each others arms, contemplating what we’d done.
"People won’t understand," I said to her, " wouldn’t have before this."
"So, we make sure they never find out," Nikki said, "I’ve been keeping my affairs secret for some time. Also, it’ll help you get used to hiding your secret better."
"I’ve got to go," I say, sitting up, "there’s so much that needs doing. I really should have left before this."
"Is it really bad?" she said as I pulled n my costume.
I nodded, a little of my contentment fading. "It was worse than anything I could imagine. There were planes everywhere and I couldn’t stop them all, I did what I could and still it wasn’t enough. I can’t even guess at how many casualties there are, there must be thousands."
"I’m going to try and find Brian today," Nicola said, "I’ll start at his ship."
"Oh God," I whisper, suddenly remembering that Brian was supposed to be on the ‘Arizona’. "Nikki, I’m sorry, I forgot. The Arizona was hit badly, she’s been sunk."
The look on her face was terrible and I hugged her as she tried to deny the obvious.
"We’ll find him, Nikki, I promise." I wished I could do something for her, ease the worry, but I knew that until she knew for sure, she wouldn’t be able to rest. "Get dressed, Nikki, then we’ll get started…"
It took a good part of the day to find him, but we did. He was wounded, but alive. He’d been taken to one of the hospitals, after being dug out of a collapsed building. He was in a serious condition, but he was stable and that took care of most of Nikki’s worry.
I left her at the hospital and headed for the harbour, to continue with the clean up. When I got there I looked around for the ranking officer.
"Major, what can I do to help?" I asked.
He turned to me and looked me up and down.
"You can keep away from a military zone to begin with," he said. "Civilians aren’t allowed in here without permission."
"I’m here to help, Major, there are things I can do your men can’t." I didn’t like this man, he had obviously inherited command and liked exercising his power. "I was here yesterday, all I want to do is help."
"Miss, you are in a military area, an area where I am the commanding officer, you are trespassing. Either leave or I will have you arrested as a potential spy." I wanted to argue, to make this idiot understand, but I could see in his face he meant what he said.
"I’ll be back," I said, taking to the air.
I was seething by the time I reached the hospital and Nikki was waiting for me.
"How’s Brian," I asked and she shrugged.
"He’s hurt, pretty badly, but he’s going to be all right. They say he’ll be out of it for a while, possibly a few weeks, depending on how he responds to treatment. I wanted to sit with him, but they said there’s no room at present. It’s awful in there, Laura, so much pain, blood and death."
I held her, I needed her touch to help me calm down.
"I’ve just been ordered out of the military areas," I told her, "I guess we’re both in the way here at the moment."
"Can we go home, for a while, Laura," she said, "I need to get away from this for a while."
"Sure, Nikki," I said, "I think I could use some time away from here, there’s someone I need to get in touch with, anyway."
I took her in my arms and flew us back to our hotel. We packed and before the sun set we were on our way back to New York, away from the carnage of Pearl Harbour…
The Present
Julia looks like a doll as I look down at her. She’s dead, I know that. Yet, looking at her as she lies there, it looks like she’s sleeping. Three weeks have passed since the shooting, three weeks and now we’re here to bury her. She’s so young, only twenty-six, and I feel it’s a crime that someone so vital and so full of life should be erased so suddenly.
I’ve suffered pain in my life, I’ve lost loved ones, each time it’s worse than the last. I know it’s going to happen, there’s no choice as I will probably outlive everyone, but it doesn’t stop me hurting and losing a small part of myself each time. Well this time will be the last, from now on I’ll live alone, I won’t give my love to anyone, not to lose it like this. From now on I’ll follow my head, do what I have to and let normal people live their lives.
At the rear of the church, several Military Police are waiting, waiting for me. I knew someone would show up, they always do when something like this happens. They never let me forget my time in Military Intelligence, never let me forget that they want me back.
There are only four MP’s, a Two-Star General and I at the funeral. Father Duncan presides over the ceremony, he’s agreed to have Julia’s body interred with her mother and for that, I’m grateful. I’ve sat through four of these services, my parent’s when they were killed in a car crash, Nicola’s, when she died of old age, Wendy’s and now her daughter, Julia’s. I’m not sure I can face another one.
The service is beautiful, even though its purpose is distressing. I sit through it silently, submerged in my grief and the dark thoughts that run through my mind. I try to listen to Father Duncan, but the words seem so hollow at the moment, so devoid of the meaning they once had. I felt similar to this when Wendy died, but her killer had been caught and punished, Julia’s are still free and are likely to stay that way. As Father Duncan finishes, I pray for guidance, for some sign, but there is nothing, so I stand up and turn away from the altar, crossing myself out of habit more than reverence.
As I leave the church the General stands and walks over.
"Ms Wayne?" he says, but I’m not in the mood.
"Don’t bother, General," I say, "Ms Victory is dead, as of today she no longer exists. I can’t do this anymore, can’t live half my life trying to stop crime, only to lose those I love to the same cancer. If you want to do something useful, get that army of yours to scour every city clean of the scum that can kill a beautiful, wonderful person like Julia."
"I’m so sorry," he says, I can see he means it. "I wish I could do what you ask, but it’s not in my power. I’m not going to say I agree with your decision, but I understand it. What will you do now?"
"You don’t want to know, General, believe me," I say, not meeting his gaze. "I have power, I could destroy this city, scour it from the face of the Earth, but that would do as much harm to the innocent as the guilty. So I’m going to do what I should have done years ago, take time out, think about what I want to do and if there’s any point to going on. The only thing I know for definite is that I’m going to be true to myself."
He says nothing, what is there to say. I walk away, climb into my car and drive away, I won’t watch them put my lover into the ground; I want to remember her as she was, as she lived her life.
I want badly to hunt down the bastards that did this, but Julia won’t let me, her memory is too precious to soil like that. I know she understands - she’s the one who’s pulled me back from the edge so often. Even now she manages to hold me back, helps me see through the pain and hold the rage in check God, I miss her…
1942
Nicola spent Christmas with us, I insisted, especially after what we’d seen at Pearl Harbour. Everything had changed between us, there was no going back to being just friends, neither of us wanted to. We were careful, never letting it show in public, lesbian affairs were almost criminal in those days.
My father figured out our relationship quickly and, oddly, he approved. I expected him to object, shout or at least give us separate rooms, but he smiled, greeted Nicola warmly and she got on well with him. Mother was a little reserved, when she first figured it out, though she warmed up after she realised I was happy with Nicola. I got a strong impression that she disapproved, but given everything, was prepared to let me see the error of my ways for myself. Father told me, that first night, that anything that made me happy, he wasn’t going to interfere with.
"I knew there was someone and I’m not going to say I wouldn’t be more comfortable with it being a man, but I can see she makes you happy. You’re always looking at her, you touch when you think no one’s looking and you both light up like the Christmas tree when one of you steps into the room. You’re more relaxed around her than with anyone else, your mother and I included, so she’s obviously right for you."
"I don’t know what to say," I said, very surprised by his words.
"Say nothing," he said, "enjoy the life you have with her and don’t ever let anyone spoil it. I love your mother, I always will and I cherish that love, making sure she knows it, just as she does with me. Do the same with Nicola if you love her, tell her often and make sure you never hurt her."
He was thoughtful for a time, as if there was something he wanted to say that was difficult for him.
"When you were born, I was a little disappointed, I wanted a son," he said, confirming my own thoughts. "When you went into science rather than business, turning your back on the family business, I wanted to hate you, but I found I was proud of you. I never told you that, until now, and that was a mistake."
He looked at me, smiling. "I love you, Laura, you’re everything I wanted my child to be, and more. I’d give all my wealth, everything I have to have been able to save you from what you’ve had to endure, but I can’t change the past, no matter what I do. I’ll be here, whenever you need me, no matter what the problem. You’re my daughter, I’m … I’m very proud of you."
"I love you too, daddy," I said, tears in my eyes.
We hugged and talked for a long time, not just about what he’d said, but about everything. When we sat down to dinner I discovered he had another surprise for me, a full half-share in the business, with voting rights and managerial powers.
"You’ll need the income if you’re going to be a full-time heroine," he said and I can’t remember what I said, I know it sounded lame at the time.
We attended one of my mother’s society parties that night, after dinner. Nicola and I were dressed to kill, as my father put it, and we both knew how stunning we looked. We enjoyed ourselves thoroughly, letting the men play up to us, dancing with them and actually competing for the most attention. To us it was a game, we knew we’d be leaving with each other, but those fancily dressed playboys didn’t. I think we bruised a lot of egos that night, but my father said it was hilarious watching the shallow, egotistical gigolos getting just what they deserved.
After the party we went home, opened the presents and sat talking until dawn. It was a perfect Christmas, despite the threat of a Japanese invasion. When we went to bed that night, Nicola gave me another present and we were very late getting up the following morning…
I flew Nicola out to see her brother just before the New Year and he actually guessed we were more than friends before we even said hello. He knew Nicola’s preferences, but he’d never met one of her partner’s before. He was a handsome man, though the scar on his cheek marred his good looks. Tall, well built and definitely hunk material, but I just wasn’t interested. We flirted for Nicola, which had her in fits of laughter.
The destruction at Pearl Harbour was still very evident, though this time I had a little surprise for the Major who threw me off the base. Whilst at home I’d contacted Military Intelligence, they’d been after me to sign up with them for some time, this attack made my mind up. Though I did have a condition or two. Number one was no experiments or tests, I wanted to be a useful agent, not a lab rat. The second was enough rank, albeit an honorary rank, to tell this popinjay where to get off.
He tried to throw me off again, until I flashed my ID and he saw I was a Colonel, which made him suddenly very helpful. I couldn’t give him orders, but I could stay, and he couldn’t stop me. His face was a picture, I noticed several soldiers and sailors grinning at his discomfiture. Oddly, I got on quite well with him afterwards, once he realised just how useful I could be.
I spent a lot of my time helping clear debris, whilst Nicola spent time with her brother. It was during that clean up that I met my first real challenge and nearly lost my first battle as Miss Victory…
The Present
The apartment is empty without her and Julia’s ghost haunts me. Not literally, but every time I close my eyes she’s there, every time I turn around I think I’ll see her, but she isn’t there and it hurts, all of the time. I have all of this power, yet, when it mattered, I couldn’t even save her. I wish I’d never met her, never seen her face and never invited her into my life, she might still be alive today.
I have to face the fact that Julia is gone, that the people who took her from me are still free and still enjoying their lives. I desperately want to do something about it, hunt down the bastards who took her from me and make them pay for what they did. I’m not sure what I’d do when I do found them and that is my problem. I may not be able to stop myself. I could just kill them!
My life has lost all of its glitter and promise. All I have left is a grey twilight. When you’ve lost so much, seen death and horror on the scale that I have, your life does tend to be grim, but Julia kept all of that from dominating my life. I still can’t find any reason for Julia’s death, even though I pray every day for some sign, some insight into the reason that she was taken from me so cruelly. I guess I want to know that it isn’t a punishment. My faith used to help me deal with the bad times, now I’m not sure what to believe in. Why would God give me a love like Julia, only to take her away? Is it a punishment for my preferences, many in the Catholic Church do not accept lesbian relationships can be as intense as heterosexual ones. The church no longer persecutes those who pursue such relationships, but they don’t give their blessings either.
I know I’m stifling my feelings, stifling the life God granted me, but I can’t help myself, can’t allow myself to hope that it’ll get better. Nicola, Wendy, Julia, I’ve loved three incredible women, women who saw what my life was like and accepted it, despite the fact it was something they could be part of only peripherally. I don’t dare let anyone else get that close, another loss like that would drive me over the edge.
I wish none of this had ever happened, that I’d never gained these powers, never been forced to live the way I do. I wish I’d never met any of them. If I hadn’t been given these powers, I wouldn’t have had to live so long and endure so much pain. It wasn’t my idea, wasn’t something I asked for, yet here I am. I have power, I can do things few other people can and yet my personal life is a shambles.
If I go back to my old life, if I take up my responsibilities again, what then? Too many times I’ve skirted close to the edge, almost become as bad as those I fight, but there’s always been someone to pull me back. Who is there now?
My mind drifts to Kerry Adams, the young girl I wanted to try and help. What is she doing, I wonder? Will she continued her crusade to destroy those who ignored her plight or has she found someone to help her? I wanted to be that person, but with Julia gone, I have nothing left to give anyone, all I have is this aching void inside me.
My grief has frozen my soul, filled my life with a dull, aching pain. I’ve tried to submerge it and surround it with a sheath of ice to keep the pain safely at bay, but there are too many memories and too many reminders of her life around me.
When my parents died, I had Nicola there to help me. We’d been friends and lovers for so long that I couldn’t remember life without her. Then she died, and for the first time I was alone, with no one to turn to. I lost myself in my grief for a long time, but I got over it. Wendy’s death was sudden, but Julia was there and, for some reason, we drew closer together with her death. I think we always fancied each other, just never acknowledged it. I never did work out exactly what we had; it was always intense and sudden. I loved her, but it was different from any other relationship, far more spontaneous. Now she is gone and there is nothing for me to cling to, nothing that seems worth the effort of caring about.
I remember times I’d come back from a patrol, or wake up in the morning, to find she’d arranged something for us without telling me. When I told her I had responsibilities, she’d just say, ‘all work and no play’. She drove me mad at times, yet she kept me sane too. I think that’s what I miss, those moments of spontaneous madness and sudden inspiration. I never knew what to expect from her.
For a long time I lose myself in my memories, Julia at her happiest, Julia thoughtful, Julia at her most seductive. I scour the photograph albums, wallowing in what we’d had, what we’d done and how she’d lived. It’s only when the sun strikes my eyes as it sinks to the horizon that I realise the day has passed and all I’ve done is huddle in my chair, lost in my memories of Julia. Oddly I feel better, her memory is still strong, but it’s not so destructive. I see her laughing, singing and all of the things she used to do to keep me cheerful.
I fix myself dinner, mostly unaware of what I’m doing. I’m far too lost in my despair to really care what I’m eating. I realise it’s one of Julia’s favourites and it’s too much. I cry for long time, long after darkness has fallen. After which I turn to a bottle of scotch I keep close by. Luckily, alcohol is one of the things that still affects me…
Demonic faces haunt my dreams, faces from my past, all of them intent on pulling apart my slender sanity. I see the man who ripped away my virginity, only it isn’t me he’s raping this time. Nicola, Wendy and Julia are the victims, each one begging me to help them, whilst I turn my backs on them. I can hear every obscene grunt and sound, but I can’t move, can’t turn away either and I feel myself wanting to help them, but not knowing how.
"Ms Victory is dead!" My words haunt me, my power is gone and I can’t stop this monster from hurting those I love.
I sit up in bed, awake and sweating with fear. For a long time I can’t sleep, the fear of the dream returning keeps me awake. I see the sun creeping up over the horizon. I prepare myself for another day of loneliness, and sorrow, the empty bottle mocks me and I decide to fetch another one today…
1942
The destruction at Pearl Harbour was totally unimaginable, even after several weeks. No matter where I looked there was need of my power, so I helped where I could. The devastation was depressing, but the survivors worked to repair the damage and restore the harbour. The wrecks of once mighty ships still burned in the harbour, some still held the bodies of the men who’d died in them. I worked alongside the men trying to reach those bodies, trying hard not to let my anger at what had happened overwhelm me.
The air raid siren screamed its warning and the men kept working, despite the danger. I flew high into the air, looking for the miserable cowards that would attack again after inflicting such devastation. There seems to be no sign of the enemy, no planes, but there must have been some reason for the alarm.
A figure dived out of that sun and struck me in the middle of the back. The power of the dive staggered me a moment, but I recovered and spun to face this new opponent. He was short, dressed in a red and yellow costume that covered his whole body, including most of his face. On his back was a sheathed samurai sword, on his chest the image of the rising sun. He flew with an effortless grace that showed practice and expertise.
"So, the Americans resort to sending a woman to fight for them," he said, his accent definitely Japanese. "Truly they lack honour." His sword hissed from its sheath and he grinned. "I will make your death quick and painless."
He swung the sword and I intercepted the blade with my hand. Fire ran along my arm and I jerked it away, staring at the cut across my palm. I was supposedly invulnerable, yet this sword had just cut through my skin with no effort at all. Blood ran from the wound and I stared at it uselessly, shocked by the evidence of vulnerability and the pain. A glimpse of his shadow made me dodge his next attack and I flew higher, circling to stay out of his range.
"Come girl, you only delay the inevitable," he said, deadly serious and I knew that I had to disarm him, quickly.
"Why don’t you surrender, then I won’t have to beat you senseless." I wasn’t as sure of myself as I sounded, but I wasn’t going to back down either.
He lunged and I dodged. I swung a punch at him, my fist passing over his head. He was fast, far faster than I expected and I missed several times as we probed each other’s defences. We circled, looking for an opening and eyeing each other warily.
"You are good, girl," he said, "perhaps one day you might actually make a warrior."
"Stuff it!" I said, knowing he was goading me, yet the sight of those once proud ships, the bodies of the men who’d sailed in them, all made me angry. "I’m going to ram that overgrown turkey-knife down your throat, then I’m going to take your so called empire apart, piece by piece."
I flew at him, hoping to take him by surprise, but he dodged again and swung his sword. I felt it slice through my costume and pain seared down my back. I could feel blood trickling from the wound, the pain was incredible, but I turned and glared at the Japanese man.
"Woman, you are no match for me, Flying Samurai, First Son of the Empire. Accept your fate and I will grant you a merciful death!"
I rushed him, hoping to overwhelm him, but he dodged again, striking my arm with the side of his hand and I felt the bone break. I stared at the arm incredulously, the pain overwhelming me, the shock of discovering that someone could still really hurt me made me pause. His follow up kick sent me spinning away and it hurt, though not as much as my useless right arm.
I looked down and saw a chance to rescue this fight. I dove towards the harbour, knowing he’d follow me, he wouldn’t break off now. I flew an intricate course, using the wreckage to keep him away from me, whilst looking for what I needed.
Fire leapt along my arm as he proved he was faster than I was once again and I knew I had to end this quickly. I flew down, taking a deep breath and plunged below the water. He said something from above, which I couldn't hear and then headed for one of the ships that hadn’t been sunk. I looked around, felt my anger rise, then darted through the water to the wreck of a destroyer.
Samurai was so intent on carving up the ship he didn’t realise I was behind him.
"Hey, nip, you want to play with swords?" He turned and the look on his face was exquisite.
The pain and anger had made me forget my biggest advantage. Trying to fight him on his terms was a huge mistake. I’d forgotten my strength when I tried to outfight him. He was too fast to take one on one, so I had to find a way to hit him that he couldn’t dodge. The bow of the ‘USS Rapier’ hit him hard and he flew towards the horizon, with all the power of my enhanced musculature and the momentum a 500ton destroyer can impart. I was about to go after him when I felt dizzy and weak. I remember hearing cheering, but I wasn’t quite able to appreciate it as I plunged into the harbour, bleeding from my wounds and barely conscious…
The Present
"Morning," the strange woman lying next to me says, smiling.
"Morning," I reply, confused and very worried. Who the hell is this woman?
Her copper-red hair falls around her face, to her shoulders. The curly ringlets catch the sunlight and give her hair an oddly fetching sheen. Her skin is slightly pale, her eyes are emerald-green, her nose is slightly large, but attractive, her lips are sensuous. As she stretches languorously, the sheet slides down, revealing her body. Large rounded breasts tipped with flesh-coloured nipples, a slim waist and a thick bush of copper-coloured pubic hair surrounding her sex. She has a scar on her thigh, probably from some surgery in her younger days. I’d guess she’s thirty, possibly a little older, she’s quite attractive and there’s a stirring of memory in my head.
"I guess you don’t remember much about last night?" she says, seeing my confusion. "You stopped by the bar around eight, ordered a few drinks, sat there nursing your last one? I came over when we were about to close up, asked if you were okay, at which point you burst into tears. You didn’t drink that much, but it obviously hit you hard, you were almost comatose when I got you into my car."
Some of it sounds familiar, though only through a thick haze. I can recall doing a lot of drinking last night, though was that after I’d invited this woman home, or before? What did I tell her and what have we done?
"I guess you don’t invite a strange woman back to your place too often," she says, "though I have to admit that parts of last night are hazy for me too. Still four bottles of wine will do that to you, especially as you were on straight scotch last night, before we started on the wine."
"Did we … make love." I ask.
"We did, several times and that I do remember. You’re damned good between the sheets, by the way. I usually prefer men, but I’ve had a few women in my time as well, and you’re one of the best. I don’t usually sleep with people I don’t know, but I was so out of it, when you made a pass at me I thought, what the hell. I wasn’t expecting anything like what happened, but I’m not complaining either. You are a real hot babe, talking of which."
I feel her hands on my breasts and they respond to her soft caresses, making me gasp as ripples of pleasure sweep through me. When she kisses me, I kiss her back, my arms going around her and my hips thrusting at her sex. I don’t know what’s got into me and I don’t care, I need this, need her, need the pure simplicity of sex. Part of me knows it’s a reaction to my grief, to the loss I’ve suffered, yet it’s also cathartic, a release of some of my frustration.
"Easy, babe, it’s my day off, we’ve got all day."
I kiss her breasts, concentrating in her nipples and giving her a reason to squirm. I explore her body with both my hands and mouth, driving her to a climax that leaves her gasping. I look into her eyes and then shuffle up the length of her body. Her nipples graze my sex and I shudder, but do not stop. Her eyes glitter as I poise over her lips, then lower myself onto her mouth. Her tongue delves deeply inside me and I throw my head back, the intense pleasure rippling through me in waves.
"Oh God, yes," I gasp as she slowly returns the favour and feel my own climax grip me. I scream at the power of the pleasure washing through me, overwhelmed by the moment and the incredible desire I feel for this woman.
I force myself onto her body again, feeling my sex meld with hers and then move against her, my hands on her breasts as her hands find my nipples and tease them. We orgasm together, juices flowing and mixing. I lie on top of her, kissing her lips, relishing the feel of her skin on mine and panting at my exertions.
"What’s your name?" I ask, not sure why or what I want from this woman.
"My friends call me Angel, short for Angelique," she says.
"Angel, I like that." I lie beside her for several moments, wondering why I decided to pick up someone in a bar, it was obviously a spur of the moment thing. Still, perhaps my body knows what I need better than I do. Still, from what she said I didn’t rally pick her up, she helped me home and things moved on from there.
I’m not going to turn away from this, either. It’s sex, pure and simple and, at the moment, it’s what I need. My powers are linked to sex and sexual energy seems to enhance them, especially when I haven’t used them in a while. It’s been several months and I feel as if some muscle I haven’t used in all that time is being flexed. I don’t know what this woman knows about me, but she is about to discover just how much stamina I have, I hope she can keep up.
My hands are caressing her again and I know where this is headed. I kiss her, letting my hands explore her sexy body, then begin to turn her on all over again. This time I pay more attention to her body, kissing her large breasts, her flesh coloured nipples with the wide aureole, her thick bush of pubic hair and incredibly sweet tasting sex. I lose myself in her for a long time, wondering why this is so intense and why my body craves this so much…
It’s late afternoon when I awake next, I pull on a robe and go out onto the patio. There’s a thick blanket of snow on the ground, but I don’t care.
"Aren’t you a little cold out there," Angel calls.
"Not really," I say, "I don’t feel it that much."
"Lucky you," she says, pulling on clothes and a coat before she joins me.
I smile at her. It feels good to have someone here, even if it’s just for a little while. We just enjoy the simplicity of being together, chatting aimlessly, the feel of the winter sun and uncomplicated conversation.
"So, why are you trying to drink yourself to death?" Angel asks.
"A … friend of mine, a very close friend died," I say. "It was a violent death."
"Your friend, was she your lover?" Angel is very perceptive, she deserves an answer and I actually want, or rather need to talk.
"Yes, Julia was my partner for a long time, she was killed in a robbery and I guess I’m still trying to come to terms with it." I tell Angel about Julia, about her life and her death, though I’m not sure why. Angel is still a stranger, despite our sexual olympics. I guess I just need to talk to someone and she’s here, now and ready to listen. Before I’m halfway through there are more tears on my face and she doesn’t interrupt, just listens as I pour out the whole story. Telling the story, telling someone about that day acts like a catharsis and the pain isn’t as bad afterwards. Angel holds me for a while, as I cry out the pain and loneliness in my heart, all my hate and anger floods out.
"I’m afraid Angel, afraid I’ll do something I’ll regret," I say. "I seriously want to kill the men who stole my lover from me, but I can’t let myself sink to their level."
"Sounds like you’ve had a rough time," she says. "What do you intend to do now?"
"Stay here, try and forget," I say.
"Waste your life, you mean." Angel looks at me. "You’re young, attractive and you have a lot to offer the world. You’re obviously intelligent, you could make yourself a career in any area you chose. If you just give up you’re wasting your life and you’re trampling on the memory of your friend."
"What do you know about it?" I ask, feeling rather angry at her outburst. I pull away from her sharply, glaring at her.
"I know what you’ve told me, Laura," Angel says, "and I realise you’ve been through a lot, but that doesn’t mean you have to give up. I know there’s stuff you haven’t told me, stuff that’s private, and that’s fine, but what you have told me shows you have a lot to offer. Sit here and vegetate, then you’re wasting your potential."
"If I go back to my old life, I’ll hunt down the animals that killed Julia," I say.
"If that’s what it takes to get yourself back on track, do it," she says and I look at her.
"And if I kill them?"
"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth isn’t that what the Bible says," Angel scoops up a handful of snow, forms a snowball. "If they were junkies, they’re probably dead already, they just don’t know it yet. They snuffed out a life, a precious life, just to feed their weakness, I’d say they deserve whatever they get." Angel throws her snowball at the wall with considerable force.
I stare at the mark the snowball leaves on the wall beside the window and wonder, is this my answer?
"I’m not telling you to turn into some kind of vigilante, but perhaps you need a little revenge, to equalise the scales a little." She looks at me, obliquely. "I had a rough marriage, my husband hit me, often and hard, until I bought a gun and shot the son of a bitch. I didn’t kill him, but I hear that life as a eunuch doesn’t really suit him. I know it sure made me feel good, though I did serve two years for that, but it was worth it."
She’s giving me a lot to think about and I sink into deep thought about her words. I could find them, could bring them to justice, it might help me lay some of my ghosts to rest. Victory or vengeance, it’s hard to know which path would be right? I’ve had to struggle with the darker side of myself quite a few times, the side that knows my powers could give anything I want. I’m rich, my father saw to that, so I don’t need my powers to get material things, if I wanted lovers, I could have as many as I wanted, male or female, some people will do anything for money. What scares me is that I’ll start using my powers to hurt people, become judge, jury and executioner. I have always tried to do what’s right, but that line can be very fine at times.
I don’t notice Angel moving behind me at first, though when I do I turn, just in time to get a snowball in the face. Angel’s grin is infectious and I feel the odd urge to get my own back. I grab a handful of snow and return the favour, dodging her return strike. For quite some time we act like kids, exchanging snowballs and getting covered in snow. Angel is fast, she dodges behind chairs, potted plants and other ornaments that little the patio, though my aim is far better than hers! That doesn’t stop her getting her hits in, though and by the time we’re finished, we’re laughing helplessly, our clothes are soaked, but we don’t mind. It’s childish, but it’s fun too.
We go into the lounge, shed our clothes, shivering slightly, then we hug, which leads to a kiss, and from there, to a hot sex session in front of the imitation log fire. It’s getting dark when we wake, limbs and bodies entwined.
I sigh contentedly. "I wish I knew what this means," I say, "I don’t normally sleep with someone if I don’t feel something for them."
"Then you’re in for a shock, because I do," Angel says. "As far as I’m concerned this is sex, pure and simple. I’m a waitress at a low rent bar, I’ll probably be a waitress the rest of my life. I really can’t see you living the life of a recluse for the rest of your life and I’m not cut out to be a kept women. You don’t really expect me to say, ‘sod it, I’m off men, let’s have a passionate, torrid lesbo affair,’ or how about, ‘lets get married.’ Laura, you’re a good person, fun to be with and, I’ll admit, a great lover, but do you really see a future in this, honestly?"
She is right, I like her, but this fire is temporary, not lasting. I don’t really feel anything for her, beyond the moment, not like I did for Julia. We can be friends, very good friends, but I don’t think it will become more than that.
"I like my fun, and I like something between my legs other than a tongue, even if that tongue is really skilful," Angel says, her grin lascivious. "I like men too much, though I have to admit that the occasional woman could be fun, or maybe both at the same time, who knows."
Angel strokes my cheek and kisses me tenderly.
"Laura, I know a great deal about you," Angel sighs, "far more than you might think. I’ve learned to read people, learned to figure out the good ones from the bad ones. I know that, at some time in your past, you’ve been raped, that you still have nightmares about it and that you can’t get past it. You’ve relied on others to give you focus, but you’re stronger than you know. You’ve survived, now you have to start living again. So, who was the bastard who hurt you?"
"A man," I say, "he claimed to be a soldier, he did it on the orders of his leader, to punish a friend of mine for not telling them something that would threaten national security." I pause, the images and feelings that go with the memory still fresh, still full of power after all of these years. "He made me do things, things that were … I couldn’t stop him, couldn’t help myself or my friend…" I stop, unable to say anymore for a few moments. "Yet, worse than all of that they made me a freak!"
"No!" Angel says, grabbing my shoulders. "You are not a freak, they may have hurt you, but they can’t take away what you are."
"Really," I say, looking at her. "How many people do you know that can do this."
I grab her waist and, before she can struggle or object, I take off and carry her high up into the air.
"Oh shiiiiit!" she cries as we ascend.
"Well?" I ask, "do you still say I’m not a freak?"
Angel looks around, scared at first, but then her look changes to one of wonder.
"Oh my God, this is incredible, Laura, this is really…" as her voice trails off she looks at me. "Want to tell me the whole story now? There’s obviously a lot you haven’t said, yet."
I do, all of it, every single detail, though it takes time and I have to take us back to the fire before she freezes to death. We lay by the fire, her listening, me talking and when it’s done I add.
"Sixty years, Angel, sixty years and they still haunt my dreams, still keeps me locked in this prison of shame and guilt. I have total recall. I can remember every touch, every caress and every moment in vivid detail. I wish I had the courage to kill myself."
The slap is not what I expected and I look up in surprise.
"You ever say that again and I’ll give you a fucking reason to feel sorry for yourself." Angel’s anger isn’t really aimed at me, though I sense my self-pity has fuelled her anger. "Laura, you’ve got power no one else has, you can use it, have used it to do a lot of good. You throw that away and those bastards really have won. Christ, I’d kill to have the ability to fly like that, it was incredible, and to be able to help others, save lives, Jesus, I’d sell my soul to have your chances."
Angel looks at me. "You have to get your life back, have to use your powers for what they were intended. I’ll be there for you, not as your lover, but as a friend. I may let you sleep with me now and then, but be warned, I’m not your sole property and I intend to find a good man with lots of stamina." Her grin is wide and I find myself smiling back.
Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Sometimes a new perspective opens new avenues of exploration that you wouldn’t consider normally. Still, I have a lot to think about, before I go looking for two very unlucky bastards…
1942
I hurt! I hadn’t hurt since the night I became Miss Victory. I tried to move, but my back protested and I lay still. Around me I could hear the sounds of the hospital, several doctors and nurses working on a patient nearby. My mask was still in place, which was good, though the rest of my costume was gone. I was covered in bandages and my arm was splinted. I felt incredibly hungry, as if I hadn’t eaten for days. Nicola was close by, I could smell her scent, hear her breathing as she slept. I remembered the fight, that Japanese paranormal was tough, especially that sword. Nothing had penetrated my skin since I’d become Miss Victory. I clenched my fist and fire leapt up my arm, similar to the fire that ran across my back.
"Don’t move," Nicola said, stirring, "you’ll tear open your wounds."
"I should have healed by now," I said, opening my eyes.
"You are healing," Nicola said, "I don’t think you realise how badly you were hurt. Those cuts had gone to the bone, according to the doctors you’re damned lucky he didn’t paralyse you with that back cut, he’d done serious damage to your spine. Your right arm was broken, and I don’t suppose hefting that destroyer did any of your wounds a lot of good either, though apparently you hit him hard enough to make him think twice about coming back. Your arm is mending, but it’s going to be at least three of four days before you can use it again."
"How long have I been here," I asked.
"Three days," Nicola replied, "though if you’re good, you’ll probably be out of here tomorrow."
"I don’t suppose you could get me some food, I’m starved." I tried to hide the shock, I healed quickly, usually over night, for it to take this long I must have been almost dead!
"All right, but if you try to move, I’ll get them to knock you out again."
"How?" I asked, "needles can’t get through my skin."
"There are enough holes in you at the moment that that wouldn’t be a problem."
She had a point, so I accepted my fate with good grace. I looked around and saw that the ward was full of other victims of the Pearl Harbour raids, some far worse that I was. Sailors, soldiers, airmen and civilians, all of them wounded or dying. War had come to America, not from Europe, but from the East.
From the outset, it was going to be a vicious war, with victory coming hard, despite the overwhelming numbers. There would be no question of not joining England in their War against Germany, if we ignored them, they would fall and we would be the Nazi’s next target. They couldn’t ignore us, just as we couldn’t ignore the threat they represented. We would be fighting two fronts, fighting for survival, because if they won, we’d never see a Democratic Government in this country again.
"Here we go," Nicola said, putting a very generous portion of whatever it was in front of me. Hospital food hasn’t improved much over the years, in fact it’s got worse in some cases.
I ate with the speed of someone who hasn’t eaten in a while, almost choking myself, but it felt good to have something in my stomach.
"Have there been more raids?" I asked, between mouthfuls.
Nicola shook her head. "No, their flying warrior must as hurt as you are, no one’s seen him since your fight. There’s been no more major damage and we’ve heard that the ships out on manoeuvres are returning to port. The aircraft carriers and their support ships."
"How’s your brother?"
"Better than you are at the moment." Nicola looked at me, an odd expression on her face. "Is it always going to be like this, Laura, watching and waiting, hoping you’ll come back in one piece?"
"I don’t know, Nikki, I wish I did. I didn’t ask for this power, I didn’t ask for any of it, but I can’t sit by and do nothing." There is a look on her face, as if she’s reached some kind of decision. I can’t see where this is going and that worries me.
"I know, it’s just … when they brought you in I thought…" The look in her eyes tells me how scared she was and I take her hand. "I thought you were going to die, Laura, I thought you were going to leave me alone."
"Are you asking me to stop using my powers?" I asked.
"No, but I’m not sure I can stay around and watch you get hurt again." Nikki looks around the ward and then back at me. "Brian I can understand, it’s his job, and I understand why you have to do it, but I’m not sure I’m selfless enough to let you die."
I heard the goodbye in her voice, heard the pain and I knew nothing I could say would change her mind, only she could do that. I watched her stand up and walk to the door. She turned, seemed to want to say something more, but thought better of it.
"I’m sorry Laura," she whispered, she knew I’d hear her.
"So am I," I said after she vanished, "so am I…"
The Present
The apartment still contains memories of Julia everywhere and I’m glad. I can see beyond my grief now and the months spent hiding in a bottle are over. I look around and see a photograph, Julia grinning at some antic or other, her smile so bright, so natural. I move past ornaments Julia bought for me. A crystal Unicorn, a small fairy made of pewter, precious items that fill me with her presence.
Angel called around for a couple of days after that day we spent together, coming around after work and we talked. Oddly, that’s all we did, talk. I discovered that, once the initial desire was gone, sex with her wasn’t something I really wanted. She was attractive, fun to be with and I’d never turn her down, if she asked me to go to bed, but she’s more valuable to me as a friend. She’s helped me put some perspective on my life and on what I should be doing. I’m not really sure what to do about Julia’s killers, though I have to find them, for my own peace of mind. That is the one piece of unfinished business I have to take care of, before I can get back to doing what I should be doing.
The Police Department have beefed up their database’ security in the last couple of months, so it takes me a while to get in. Julia’s death is still an unsolved case, despite the fact they have video footage of the robbery, which clearly shows the killers. Finding out their names is relatively easy, as it’s in the case file. Thomas Daltry and Eugene Grey, both of them have records for drug related crime, both of them appear to have been after money for more drugs and both seem to have dropped out of sight. A crosscheck with the coroner’s office tells me that they haven’t appeared as corpses, so they are probably still alive. The question is; where have they been hiding?
Putting on my costume again after so long feels odd, especially when I look at myself in the mirror. I can almost sense Julia behind me, her soft voice in my ear.
"Looking good, Laura!"
"Thanks to you, love," I whisper, knowing that I’m talking to myself, yet a part of me, the part that believes, hopes she can hear me.
The costume still fits as tightly as when Julia made it for me, the material feeling like a second skin. The gold and silver glints in the light from the window, she never would tell me where she got the material. The metallic look of the cloth is unusual. The elastic properties of the Lycra hug my form like a lover’s caress. It reminds me of Julia and reminds me of what I have to do, for her.
I soar out of my window, defying gravity by sheer force of will, heading upwards to get an aerial view of the city. It hasn’t changed that much, though I have and I know what I have to do. The rush of the air over my skin, the smell of the city air, everything around me seems to welcome me home, though it also seems to know that I am not who I was…
Times Square, once one of the most fashionable parts of the city, now it’s a den of vice and crime and my first port of call. Boy, do I cause a stir when I drop to the sidewalk out of nowhere. The silver and gold of my costume reflects the garish neon lights, proclaiming the virtues of the dancers, the quality of the goods or the simple truth of the entertainment contained within each place. A part of me would like to just start at one end and work my way through to the other, destroying each sex shop, strip club and bar in the place, but they’d be back before the week was out. Besides, that’s called criminal damage and if I get sent to jail, I won’t be able to find the men I’m after.
‘Jimmy’s’ is a dive, a regular haunt of pushers, dealers and junkies. The police know about it, raid it on occasion, but never seem to find a real reason to close it down. The guy who owns it knows what goes on, but, as he says in court, he just serves drinks.
Inside it is a typical bar for this area, dark booths, low lighting to hide the deals being made and a buzz of conversation too low to hear, for anyone else. All talk stops when I walk into the bar, all eyes go to me in my colourful costume and I know there are those who are wondering why I’m here, along with others who hope I’m here for other reasons. There is a lot of nervous shuffling and hiding of suspicious packages, though I see all of it and smile. I walk up to the bar and look across it at Jimmy, the owner.
He is a short, unshaven man of middle age with dirty, blonde hair and a t-shirt that might once have been white. He looks worried, though not as worried as he’s going to be in a few moments.
"Thomas Daltry, Eugene Grey, when did you see them last?" There is no give in my voice, no room for misunderstanding, just a simple demand for information. I’d never usually act this directly, but this is personal and I intend to find them, no matter what I have to do. Seeing myself in the mirror, I have to agree that I look intimidating, despite the sexy outfit.
"Never heard of them," Jimmy says and turns away. A splintering sound brings his attention back to me.
My hands have clenched, crushing part of the bar rail and I dust them off, to get rid of wood splinters.
"Sorry, I sometimes forget my strength, especially when people piss me off!" I stare at him, letting him know that this isn’t a game.
"They haven’t been around," he says, a little more worried now.
"I see, " I say, leaning on the bar and it creaks ominously. "When did you see them last?"
Jimmy eyes the bar, looks at me and says, "A few months ago, maybe, I can’t remember."
I stand up and look around the bar, there are a couple of people eyeing me warily, and one or two of them are actively leering. "So, has anybody else seen Thomas Daltry or Eugene Grey? I know one or more of you drug pushing scum have contact with them. If you tell me where to find them, I walk out of here and you can get back to ruining people’s lives, if not … then I may have to question you all, one at a time. Of course I’ll be very pissed off at having to do that and I may not be too careful about how I ask those questions."
Jimmy has pulled a crowbar from behind the bar, he thinks I haven’t noticed, I really thought he was smarter than that. As he swings it at me, I spin, grab it, and him, pulling him over the bar, then use the crowbar to form a crude pair of manacles by bending the crowbar around his wrists, then hang him from one of the wall mounted light fittings.
"Jimmy, violence solves very few things," I say, as if tutoring a slow child, "but in this case, I think it might actually prove useful."
"Hey!" one of the patron’s says, coming at me with a pool cue.
I let him break it over my head, then tap him slightly on the jaw. He drops like a sack of potatoes, but it’s too late and the bar erupts into chaos. Half a dozen men try to grab me, most just try to run or grab what they can. There are several knives and guns in sight, but I just relax and let the instincts of half a century of combat and experience take over. The knives break on my skin, annoying and surprising their owners. The one shot that hits me, bounces off my skin, hitting another man in the arm. For my part I drop, spin and disable two attackers with a circle kick, lash out with a fist at the shooter, breaking his jaw, then proceed to take out the other attackers one by one. I love invulnerability!
A hand touches my thigh and slides upwards. I look down to see a creep looking up my skirt, grinning widely. I kick him in the groin with a large proportion of my strength. His high pitched scream seems to take the fight out of the remaining attackers, though it could also have something to do with the look of disgust and anger on my face, or the blood on the hands of the pervert as he cradles his destroyed manhood.
I grab the bar and rip it from the wall, which clears the room, except for those who can’t move … and Jimmy.
"One last time, Jimmy, Thomas Daltry, Eugene Grey, where are they?"
"Ask Felix the Weasel, he knows them," Jimmy says, sweating and scared.
"And where do I find Felix?"
"At the Century Bar, on West 25th Street." Jimmy looks around the ruins of his bar and I smile.
"I like the new look, it’s very … open plan." I walk out, leaving Jimmy where he is, it’ll be interesting to see how he explains this to the police. Of course he could tell them the truth, but I think he’d rather not annoy me at the moment…
I fly over to the Century Bar, reviewing my performance and realise that I’m a little rusty. Obviously I’m going to have to spend some time at the gym and find a new sparring partner. Perhaps it’s time to expand my repertoire into a more disciplined art of Martial Combat. Still, I’m only going up against normal men, albeit criminals and drug pushers, this shouldn’t be a problem.
The Century Bar is a little more up market than Jimmy’s, but that just means the scum wears better clothes and has better lawyers. I’m not in the mood for subtlety, so I walk in, look around and then walk over to the man who I think is Felix the Weasel.
He isn’t hard to spot, the features of his face tell me why he was called the Weasel, though I suspect it may also have a lot to do with his personality too. He is short, a little over-weight and dresses a little too well for my liking. I dislike him on sight and I suspect that further contact will not change that opinion.
"Are you the Weasel," I ask and see the look of annoyance as he looks up at me, then he runs his eyes up and down my body and smiles.
"For you, babe, I’ll be whoever you want." His voice is full of innuendo and his hand reaches out, as if to stroke my thigh.
I grab his jacket front, jerk him from his seat and lift him high in the air. "Understand this, I am not here for your facetious comments on my looks, I want information and you’re going to give it to me or I’m going to rearrange your skeleton. Thomas Daltry, Eugene Grey, where are they?"
"Hey, easy on the suit, it’s Armané," he says.
"Good, then the material won’t tear when I take you for a flight," I say, "of course only one of us might come back…" I leave the threat hanging there, watching the other patrons and waiting for some complaint to my treatment of Felix.
"Look, babe, I just supply those guys with what they ask for, I don’t ask questions." Felix is beginning to worry, which is good, because if he calls me babe again he’s going to be in a world of pain.
"Where?" I say, slamming him against the ceiling.
"They’ve got a crib on the outskirts of Harlem," Felix says, "Tom has a squeeze there."
"Thank you," I say, letting go and watching him fall onto his table, smiling to myself as he groans.
Then I fly from the bar, heading for Harlem…
Finding the place isn’t difficult, though I wish it had been a bit more of a challenge in some ways. The apartment is in a rundown building, a firetrap if ever I saw one. Daltry and Grey share the top apartment with a woman. I consider walking up to the door and knocking, but I can’t be bothered with subtlety. I look through one of the windows, finding Daltry in bed with his girlfriend, whilst Grey is busy making up a line of cocaine. I’m about to enter, loudly when I notice a locket on the table, the one I gave to Julia. I feel a growl in my chest and the window shatters as I fly straight at Grey.
Grey tries to turn, but he is pinned to the wall before he can so much as blink.
"You miserable, pathetic bastard," I say, snarling as I open the locket and look inside. My picture and Julia’s are still there, along with the locks of hair we put inside it. "Give me one good reason I don’t snap your fucking neck right here and now."
"I’ll give you one," Daltry says, pointing a sawn-off shotgun at my back.
"Don’t you stupid bastards ever learn?" I say. "I’m invulnerable you mindless shit! You fire that thing and you’ll only kill your friend here, which I couldn’t give a damn about at the moment. You killed her, so I’m here to make sure you never hurt anyone else, ever again. Now put that thing down and I’ll make it quick!"
He can see I mean every word, that I intend to finish this, one way or another.
"You can’t," Grey says, "your type doesn’t do that kind of thing, kill in cold blood."
"We do when scum like you kill the people we care about." I nod at the open locket. "She went down to buy some food, for our dinner, and you killed her for the change in her purse. I loved her, we were together for ten years and you took her away from me without a second thought. So, you tell me why I can’t do the same thing to you?"
"Oh Jesus," Grey says, realising nothing he says or does will stop me.
Daltry looks at me, the gun shaking, he knows it won’t stop me, but it’s all he has.
"We’ll give ourselves up," Grey says, "tell the cops everything. Just don’t kill us, please!"
I look at him, look at the pathetic man and shake my head. The crack of his neck echoes around the apartment, as does the boom of the shotgun. The shot peppers my back, the wall and the dead body of Eugene Grey. I turn, looking into Dalty’s eyes. He sees his death in my face and tries to run, but there’s nowhere to go. I catch him in the bedroom and glare at him. There should be something more to say, something profound, but I can’t think of anything. He glances over at the bed, at the woman staring at me in horror, before I snap his neck too. I drop the body on the floor, look across at the woman on the bed, cowering from me.
"I’m sorry," I say, "but I think you’ll be better off now." I fly out the smashed window, the locket in my hand and a feeling of sick satisfaction in my stomach. I crossed the line tonight, made a step towards the darkness, and what scares me most is that I don’t care…
To be continued…
Part Two: Echoes of the Past – coming soon.