Missions of Supergirl - #4: Dangerous Days in Dallas

Author: RW
Time to Read:34min
Views:10 (All Time)
Added Date:11/18/2022

After recovering four missing nuclear-tipped cruise missiles in the mountains east of Taos, New Mexico, Supergirl returned to Metropolis. Her cousin Superman had disappeared almost two weeks ago, with no word from anyone, friend or foe. "At least Luthor or some other bad guy would be bragging about having beaten the Man of Steel," Supergirl decides as she flies over the city, scanning with her super vision, looking for Superman. She's been looking for several hours now, and is due to meet with the FBI's Metropolis Area Agent-in-Charge Mark King. He's been giving her missions for the federal government, in Superman's absence, missions that are "a major threat to national security" according to King. She has resolved each threat, but has also been severely tested in each mission, barely surviving with her life, she believes.

Supergirl lands on the roof of the Federal Building. King is not waiting for her, for once. She believes that he is unduly interested in the aerodynamics of her skirt as she lands. Something about the way her skirt flies up just as she lands, exposing her panties . . . Naaahh. He's too much of a wimp, although she knows that he does get erections whenever she is around him. She tries to avoid exciting him, but, well, men will be pigs . . .

Entering King's office, Supergirl sees him working on his computer. "Be with you in a second, Supergirl," King says, acknowledging her arrival.

"I've been looking at the latest information about the disappearing mercenaries, in Dallas," King says a few minutes later. Supergirl is about to leave, bored and insulted that he's ignoring her. "Sorry, but the latest reports are . . . ah, shall we call them interesting? We found the bodies of two Germans, ex-Legionnaires and former troops of Major Mike Hoare - Mad Mike, in the merc community. These guys were nearly fifty, for God's sake, and still selling their services as mercs. Anyway, both had a single shot in the back of the head. Not the way a merc likes to go out. Must have had a run-in with whoever's hiring all the mercs."

"Any idea why mercenaries are flocking to Dallas?" Supergirl asks, really not interested in this mission. She wants to find her cousin Kal-el.

"Our informants say that someone has put at least 224 mercenaries on retainer in the past three months. This is an unprecedented accumulation, unprecedented! Unless a coup d'etat or war is being planned. One of our snitches here in Metropolis said he had heard that there is a warehouse in Dallas packed with heavy weapons, artillery, even armored cars! But no one has a clue about where this force is to be used. So for the moment, a LOT of money is being spent by someone to keep these guys in town, off the streets, and ready for action. We don't know who's behind this, or what the plan involves."

"So why do you need me? Can't your regular agents and snitches handle this? Sounds like you're still just getting information. I don't see why you need me for that."

"Well, here's why we want you involved. Last week, six C-130 Hercules aircraft - big transport/paratroop planes used by military forces around the world - landed at the airport in Denton, Texas. About 35 miles northwest of Dallas. Three days later, all were gone, headed south. Flight plan had them going south. When they entered the Gulf of Mexico, they disappeared from radar screens. Two days ago, the planes returned to Denton. They're still on the edge of the airport, clustered near one hanger. One hangar which is conspicuous by the armed guards on patrol outside the hangar."

"And you expect the planes to leave again tomorrow morning . . ."

"Exactly. Maybe you could find out something or follow them when they take off . . ."

"Is there anyone down there I can contact for information or help? Preferably NOT another Dr. Irene Buchman, this time," Supergirl asks, remembering her Boston contact, who turned out to be half of the team she battled in Beantown, and who was especially vicious in the way she treated the Maid of Might.

"Yeah," King replies, handing across a sheet of paper, "the Super Heroes Foundation has an office down there. Check in with them when you get there - I've called ahead and Stan Kelso, the local director, is expecting you to stop by this afternoon. He'll acquaint you with the situation. We need to move quickly on this - those six planes can haul a lot of stuff. Even if there was a warehouse full of stuff, and 200+ mercenaries, most could be on their way out of the Dallas area when the planes take off again. We may not find them again until it's too late, if they all leave Dallas when these planes take off!

"By the way, how are you feeling?" King asks. He's aware that there are still bits of pseudo green Kryptonite deeply embedded in the heroine's vaginal tract near her cervix and in her uterus. A gift from the villainess, the MixMaster, who fought with Supergirl in Boston. He's worried that Kryptonite poisoning might affect her performance on his missions. Real human being, this guy.

"I don't think that I'm at 100 percent efficiency," Supergirl replies, thinking back to her recent battle with Swift Bear. "Until I find a way to get that stuff out of me, though, I'll have to go as is. And I'd better get cracking if this Kelso guy needs to talk with me before I can go after the planes."

The Girl of Steel lands atop the Federal Building in Dallas just after 4 p.m. Kelso, a short, thickset man with close-cropped hair, is waiting for her on the roof. As she lands and her skirt flies up, she's surprised to see Kelso turn his head to clearly avoid looking up her skirt. "Modest, a gentleman or is he gay?" Supergirl wonders as she smooths her short red skirt and walks toward the man. They make small talk, introducing themselves to each other, as they walk into the building and down to his office. Unlike King, Kelso doesn't put his hands on her, Supergirl notes, liking the man already.

The Super Heroes Foundation is a nation-wide non-profit organization, partially funded by donations and fees, partially by federal money, that "manages" super heroes for the federal government. Some heroes attend special classes at the FBI academy in Quantico, Virginia, while others go to the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center (FLETC) at Glynco, Georgia, and become licensed federal marshals. Most of the others take a short two-week camp operated by the SHF at the FLETC, where they are processed and become a kind of private, super-powered security force. The older heroes, Superman, the Flash, Wonder Woman, or Batman, are only loosely affiliated with the SHF - they were deputized many years ago and operate independently. Some of the younger heroes, as well, like Robin, Batgirl, and Kid Flash also have not joined the SHF, for one reason or another. Members of the Foundation are often rented to a business or government, on a short term basis, when their particular skills are needed. In return, the Foundation provides the heroes with money and other support.

Supergirl doesn't learn much more about the Foundation in her meeting with Kelso. She spots some people wearing different kinds of outfits that could be costumes, but Kelso doesn't introduce her to them. All her time is spent in his office talking about the mission to Denton this evening. Finally, near 6:30 p.m., there's a knock on Kelso's door. An average-build woman in a costume enters and sits beside the Maid of Might.

"Supergirl," Kelso says, "this is NightOwl, one of our more experienced super heroes. NightOwl, Supergirl." The two women greet each other politely and shake hands. "NightOwl will work with you tonight. I called her earlier today, after King called me, and she's ready to go with you now. Although she isn't our most powerful hero, she should be most useful for your mission tonight."

The two women rise and leave Kelso's office. Supergirl regards her new partner as they ride the elevator to the roof. NightOwl is about 5'8" tall and has a medium build. She wears a gray bodysuit that shows every womanly curve on her body. Her costume includes gray mid-calf boots with 3 or 4 inch heels, gray gloves, and a gray hood that completely covers her head and hair. Around her waist she has a belt like Batman's utility belt and has several pouches like his. A pair of dark goggles cover her eyes. The hood has two ears that stick up in the back and remind Supergirl more of a set of Mickey Mouse ears than those on Batgirl's hood (fortunately, she's able to restrain her impulse to laugh at the ears). NightOwl also has a black and grey cape, very long, down below her knees in back. There is an outline of an owl's head on her chest and the back of her cape where Supergirl has her trademark S.

As the two women walkup the short flight of stairs to the roof, Supergirl asks, "Ah, can you tell me a bit about your powers, what you can do? You probably already know what I can do."

"Yes," NightOwl replies, throwing a strange look at the taller heroine. They reach the roof as NightOwl replies, "I can fly - not as fast as you. More like soaring on winds, than faster than a thought, I guess. I also have very good night vision. I have to wear these dark lenses during the day or I'd be unable to see. "

"What's in the belt?" Supergirl asks as they walk across the roof, away from the various antennas and air conditioners.

"I don't have super strength or an indestructible body like you," NightOwl continues, "I picked up some self defense items from our armory when Kelso told me what my mission would be. Ah, Denton isn't too far from here. Let's take off and I'll hold your hand. You can pull me along with you, and I'll give directions."

The two women leap into the air with Supergirl gently pulling NightOwl behind her. They fly low over the city and past its suburbs and head to the northwest. A few minutes later they land on a small butte southwest of Denton - locally famous as the hideout of 19th century criminal Sam Bass. From this high ground, Supergirl's super vision allows her to easily observe the Denton airport. The two women settle down on the ground and the Girl of Steel begins to sweep the airport near the six large planes.

"There's the hangar," she says a few minutes later, "but I can't really see much. A few guys are loading crates into the plane - weapons, mostly small arms. There's a room in the back, but I think it's lead-lined ... no, there are sheets of lead lying against the walls. Hmm."

"Well," NightOwl replies, "should we really rush them if they're not doing anything illegal?"

"No," the Maid of Might replies, leaning back against a tree. "I'll just keep an eye on them for now and let them screw up on their own. Criminals usually do, you know."

Many boring hours later, long after midnight, a convoy of school buses approaches the hanger. NightOwl had removed her goggles at sundown and slept quietly while Supergirl occasionally scanned the hangar for activity. She also scanned the nearby campus of the University of North Texas, looking for football players or other jocks. A girl's gotta have a hobby!

As activity around the hanger increases, Supergirl nudges the arm of NightOwl and scans the convoy with her super vision. Over 100 men, and a few women, in BDUs (military camouflage clothes) climb off the busses and form neat lines inside the hanger. "Let's get closer," Supergirl says. Grabbing one of NightOwl's hands as the woman tries to rub sleep boogers from her eyes, Supergirl leaps into the air and flies toward the airport hangar. NightOwl yelps when she's yanked to her feet and dragged into the air, but recovers and asks Supergirl for an update.

"Some guy is on a box in front of maybe 140 people, all dressed like soldiers," Supergirl says. The two heroines are now about 40 feet over the hangar and the Girl of Tomorrow's super vision and super hearing give her access to events inside the hangar. "He says they are Team Knight ... first echelon ... leave at dawn ... refuel on the Mosquito Coast ... reach Base by midday."

"What's that mean?" NightOwl asks. Over the hangar, Supergirl had released the other woman's hand, and both are doing slow circles over the building. NightOwl is watching the perimeter, ready to warn Supergirl if any guards spot the women. Supergirl shrugs her shoulders in answer to the question and looks again inside the hangar.

"Now he says they should board the planes ... there they go ... there are only five or ten left inside ... now just four ... some are guarding the hangar door and sides ... the others are going into that small room in the back. Let's get closer." Before NightOwl can respond, Supergirl dives and lands lightly behind the hangar. Several lead sheets are leaning against the outside wall of the hangar, preventing her from seeing into the small room inside the hangar. She lifts one sheet and shifts it slightly to one side. Then she assumes her famous super heroine pose, hands on hips, firm breasts thrust forward, and scans the room, listening to the four men inside. Maybe she can get enough information before any guards found her.

"You men," a tall, fit, white haired man says to the others, "will lead the three columns of Team Knight after we reach Base C. Teams Rook and Bishop are already in place. You know your objectives and your men have practiced their assaults at The Ranch. Helos will be waiting for you at Base C. Any last minute questions? None? Good, then by this time tomorrow night gentlemen, we should control more than eighty percent of the Cali Cartel of Columbia."

"Pardon, mon Colonel," one of the men asks, tentatively, "I may not need to know this, but while we will physically control their fields and processing plants, isn't all their money in banks someplace else?"

"That's where our backers come in, Major Lattre. Those computer nerds say that when we send signal Bravo indicating that we have secured the major Cartel centers, they will launch sophisticated Internet robots that will transfer Cartel money into their accounts, also offshore. That's why timing is so critical here, mes amis."

Another of the officers laughs. "It's funny, you know," he says. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but those guys make me laugh. Half a dozen guys or so, who head the largest, richest computer businesses in the world, hiring us to take over the cocaine business, because they need more challenges. They can't expand their markets 'cause of competition, or government rules, or because they don't have any bright new ideas. So instead, they send us after MORE money!"

"Well, Major Cathcart, accumulating money is how the rich keep track of who's winning, I guess," the Colonel replies, shaking his head.

Supergirl has heard enough. She doesn't need to crash in on these guys. She can call Agent King, tell him what she's learned, and let him decide how to deal with these guys. She carefully replaces the lead sheet against the hanger wall and turns to take flight.

"NightOwl?" Supergirl says, surprised to see NightOwl standing in front of her. Supergirl starts to ask NightOwl why she landed when she suddenly reveals a gun-like object in one hand and fires it at the Maiden of Muscles. A small greenish stream ploops from the gun, right at the Maid of Might! Supergirl recoils from the gel, remembering her encounter similar stuff in Boston a week ago! She slams backward into the lead sheet and it clatters loudly against the metal side the of the hangar. The stream of green gel hits her stomach and spreads across it, sliding down the front of her skirt. Chemicals in the gel make it stick to her costume, almost bonding to it on a chemical process level.

"Nnn ... nnoOOO!!" Supergirl moans as she sags to her knees, the familiar green Kryptonite weakness making her legs feel like jelly. This is the same synthetic green K that MixMaster used on her last week in Boston! Some of it is still inside her vagina, stuck in deep folds inside her love canal. The fake stuff isn't as powerful as real green K but it's still a powerful shock to her system. As the radiation assaults her super body, her eyes close slightly and she moans deeply from the incredible pain.

On her knees now, Supergirl struggles to rise, using the wall of the hangar for support. She has to fly away from here; she can hear men shouting and running toward her in response to the noise she made. NightOwl walks slowly toward the stricken Maid of Might and pulls another object from a pouch on her belt.

"Wh ... wh ... WHY?" Supergirl sighs, looking up at NightOwl from a kneeling position. The Girl of Steel has to put both hands against her stomach to ease the pain caused by the green K. Much of the gel is now on her hands and sleeves. Tears fill her eyes from the excruciating pain. Where the stuff touches her bare skin, she feels like she's on fire.

"Nothing personal, Supergirl," NightOwl says casually, approaching the stricken heroine. She reaches down and takes one of Supergirl's hands and pulls it away from the woman's belly. A set of metal handcuffs clicks around that hand's wrist. NightOwl then pulls the arm behind Supergirl, pulls her other arm behind her back, and cuffs it to the other wrist. Supergirl falls against NightOwl's thighs, moaning from the green K's effects. Just then, the mercenary Colonel and two of his officers arrive.

"Here she is, Colonel Langlois," NightOwl says, stepping away from the fallen heroine. "When she landed, I thought she might try to stop you, so I blew my cover and took her out." NightOwl takes a towel from one of her pouches and easily removes the green K gel which had gotten on her hands and costume. She tosses the towel to the ground when finished. Although Supergirl is in pain and has difficulty focusing her vision through her teary eyes, she notices that the towel easily removes the killer gel! Must be specially treated . . . "nnnnggghhh!!"

"What shall we do with her, Colonel?" one of the officers asks, looking at the mighty Supergirl, slumped down on her calves, head tottering, eyes half closed.

"Merde! First Superman, now this one," Colonel Langlois says in a disgusted voice. "Who's next, the Wonder Woman? Well, Major Cathcart, we don't have time to take her back into Dallas. NightOwl, you will arrange to get this one to Base D. Lock her up with Superman. MixMaster is at Base D now.

"Now, you DO understand," the Colonel says, steely eyes boring into NightOwl's eyes, finger pointed at her breast, "that you are NOT to kill these two? As long as they do not know our backers, once you and MixMaster leave, there will be no one for these heroes to go after. We will all be beyond their reach, and our only crimes are holding those two hostage."

"Colonel," NightOwl says, staring back at this imposing mercenary officer, "MixMaster said that she WANTS to kill Superman. She'll probably want to kill this one, too. The only way I can stop her is to use these weapons that she gave me! But I don't think anything on my belt could stop her, Colonel."

"Nonetheless, you MUST keep these two alive! We have finished with MixMaster. We don't need her devices and potions any more. Kill HER if you must. Kill these two, and every super hero in the world will come after us. Do you understand, cher?"

"Yes," NightOwl replies, resignedly. "Ah, I don't have enough strength to fly AND carry her back to Base D. Do you have a car I can use?"

"Take any of the school buses." Finished, the Colonel and his two officers walk back toward the front of the hangar. MixMaster and NightOwl were paid an incredible sum of money to provide security for this operation - let them earn it before they leave the country to retire on those riches! Colonel Langlois turns toward Major Cathcart as they round the corner of the hangar, saying, "Major. Have someone from the base operations crew go with NightOwl, just in case. Tell him to go loaded for combat, n'cest pas? Bon!"

Supergirl is still on her knees and has sagged further forward. Her forehead lies on the grass and her butt sticks up in the air. She's having difficulty staying conscious - only the occasional spasms of pain keep her eyes open.

"Wait here, Supergirl, I'll be right back," NightOwl says cavalierly, patting Supergirl's upraised ass. As NightOwl walks around the corner of the hangar, Supergirl realizes this is her best chance to escape. Despite what she had overheard, she realizes that MixMaster will not be content to just babysit her and Superman. Not only are they major threats to this operation, MixMaster is a major loon. She would probably kill Supergirl just for what she had apparently done in Boston.

Struggling and panting from the exertion and green K poisoning, Supergirl rises to her knees and crawls toward the cloth that NightOwl discarded. Maybe she can use it to remove the synthetic green K. She slowly and painfully crawls on her knees toward the cloth, twice falling forward onto her face. She worries that her grunts, sobs and moans will bring someone to check on her. With her hands still cuffed behind her back, Supergirl has to lean backward to retrieve the cloth. Just as her fingers wrap around the towel, a spasm of pain wracks her body and she topples onto her side, sobbing. But the towel is in her hand!

After waiting a minute to catch her breath, Supergirl tries to remove the gel from her hands. With some difficulty, she realizes that she can't do this with her hands cuffed. And she also can't remove the cuffs until her strength returns! She can hear a bus getting its gears tortured. NightOwl is returning! Supergirl quickly folds the towel and, as a long yellow Denton County Independent School District school bus roars around the corner of the hangar, the weakened, aching Maid of Might shoves the folded cloth up one sleeve, concealing it.

The bus stops near Supergirl and NightOwl steps out, carrying a one-piece coverall worn by the ground crew. She pauses long enough to climb into the coverall for the trip into Dallas. Except for her hood, her costume is concealed from any prying eyes. She plans to sit in the back of the bus with her hood lowered on the ride to Dallas, so she doesn't attract the attention of any cops. Suddenly, a short Black man in BDUs comes around the corner carrying a H&K assault rifle.

"Hello," he says in a British-African accent, approaching NightOwl, who is struggling to lift Supergirl. "I am Sergeant Tshombe. I was told to help you." He slings his weapon over his shoulder and helps NightOwl lift the Maid of Might, who moans loudly when they straighten her body as they lift her. The stricken heroine HAS to get some of this gel off her!

The two carry the woman onto the bus and leave the airport, heading back toward Dallas down I-35E. NightOwl decides to let the Sergeant drive the bus so she can remain in the back out of sight of any prying eyes. She can also keep an eye on her captive. NightOwl sits on the floor between two seats, across the aisle from where Supergirl lies on the dirty floor. At first, NightOwl just watches the blonde heroine, lying in a fetal position, occasionally moaning or gasping from the incredible pain she feels. After a few minutes of this, NightOwl pulls another of the towels out of her belt pouch and removes much of the synthetic green K from the Maiden of Muscles' stomach and arms. A small patch across her taught abs, and the some bits on her wrists and hands should keep the woman weakened but alive, NightOwl decides. Finally, blessedly, Supergirl falls into blackness from the pain she suffers.

The bus arrives at an industrial park in Garland, on the east side of Dallas, and pulls up to a large, non-descript building's loading dock. NightOwl and the merc drag the still-unconscious heroine into the building and into a cinder-block office in the back of the warehouse. As they walk into the room, another figure rises from a couch along one wall.

Dr. Allie Collins, the MixMaster, in her super soldier body suit, puts on her helmet and approaches the newcomers. MixMaster's costume utilizes the best research products of America's Defense-related research, stolen from scientists and R&D firms before they can deliver their products to the military. Her gray full-body suit, made of special fabrics packed with unique capabilities, hugs every curve on her remarkably fit and athletic-looking body. She wears a large belt with several pouches on it. A back pack and a special helmet, covering her whole face and sporting a shiny reflective face guard, shiny spike-heel boots and gloves like her body suit completed the outfit.

MixMaster deserves her name and reputation given her unique ability to take any group of ideas or tools and combine them into her own unique killer application. She's like a very intelligent MacGuyver gone bad. Her super suit gives her sophisticated sensors, invisibility on the infrared and electromagnetic parts of the spectrum, and a variety of unique weapons. Her regular workouts and frequent use of experimental drugs have enhanced her strength and reflexes far beyond those of other humans. She is a self made woman!

She easily defeated the Girl of Steel in their last encounter. She holds Supergirl personally responsible for the death of her associate, Dr. Irene Buchman, and the destruction of her firm, "Warfighter Designs". MixMaster strides over to the two people holding her enemy and roughly lifts the blonde's head by yanking her hair upward. She slaps Supergirl's cheeks several times until her eyes blinks open.

"Well, Super-Bitch, we meet again!" MixMaster sneers at her beaten foe. "You are SO easy to bring down to our level, I'm reluctant to even use the word super with you and your friend there," she jerks a thumb toward Superman. The amazing Man of Steel, strongest man on the planet, is chained and hangs limply against a wall, a smear of green Kryptonite across his powerful chest.

"Did Langlois leave?" MixMaster asks NightOwl. Seeing a nod, MixMaster says to Supergirl, "I am going to make your death long, slow, painful, and humiliating. I'm going to videotape every moment. I'll make millions more selling pictures of you being raped, sodomized, and then killed!" She pulls the Maid of Might away from the two henchmen holding her and easily tosss her onto a chair near the Man of Steel. Supergirl moans as she hits the chair and her head snaps backward, blonde hair flying.

"Ah," NightOwl interrupts, "Langlois said to keep these two alive until tomorrow night, then we are to leave the country. I guess we can make a call from the airport and let the police rescue them. Won't that make a great news story - America's mightiest super heroes immobilized by ordinary humans."

MixMaster snaps her head back toward the woman. Though her face is hidden behind the helmet, the voice hisses pure venom: "FUCK that FROG Colonel! I caught these two, MY DEVICES CAUGHT THEM! I will do WITH them WHATever I wish! You got a PROBLEM with that, spunky?"

"Hey," NightOwl says, stepping backward slightly and raising her arms, "I didn't agree to any killings. I just . . ."

"You took a ton of money to guard this operation, both from your pals at the Super Heroes Foundation and from anyone else who stumbled onto us. These two know who we are and what we did. If you and your daughter want to live comfortably after this, you'll shut your mouth and follow my orders! Or I'll do you like I did those two krauts who wanted to bail at the last minute."

Sergeant Tshombe was given specific orders by his Colonel. Do nothing until someone attempts to kill either of the heroes. He stands silently, watching the two costumed women argue, trying to keep track of what they're saying. Otherwise, his expression is blank. Inwardly, he seethes when he hears that this strutting poseur has the audacity to kill mercenaries. This is just not done! He decides to step back toward the door, out of the line of sight of MixMaster. At the door, he slowly and carefully unslings his H&K, holding the muzzle down and keeps the safety still on.

The argument becomes very heated with both women shouting at the other. "You make even ONE muscle twitch and give ME the feeling you're going to TRY to stop me, Missy," MixMaster says, punctuating her argument by punching NightOwl's shoulder with the palm of her hand, "and your DAUGHTER will need a new mommy!" MixMaster pulls something from a belt pouch and turns to face the Maid of Might, watching helplessly from her chair, eyelids droopy and wet and her mouth open.

NightOwl fears that MixMaster might kill Supergirl so she reaches out and grabs MixMaster's arm and tries to spin her around. The surface of MixMaster's suit is too slippery to hold onto though, and the gray woman's glove slips off MixMaster's arm. She turns anyhow and throws something at NightOwl. The object expands and forms a long webbed net that hits NightOwl's chest and wraps around the woman, pinning her arms to her sides. The same restraint web had contained Supergirl in Boston, so MixMaster is confident that it will hold this little high-principled twit. MixMaster leaps into the air, kicks NightOwl on the chin, sending her staggering back into a wall. NightOwl sags down onto her butt, struggling to stay awake.

MixMaster turns to look at the Black merc and smiles when she sees him just standing impassively by the door, at ease. MixMaster considers him for a moment, then tentatively suggests to the merc, "Sergeant, why don't you go get us some coffee? This might take a while."

"Coffee for how many, Ma'am?" he asks politely, raising the muzzle of his weapon to point at the ceiling. He also manages to deftly thumb the switch from safe to rock and roll! (fully automatic mode). If he HAS to fire, he won't take any chances with this costumed lunatic.

"Just you and me, my friend," MixMaster purrs, still walking toward the merc. She heard the selector switch cycle through its settings from safe. "Now that these three won't cause us any problems, we'll have to find some way to keep ourselves amused, don't you think?" She moves to within a foot of Tshombe and slowly raises a gloved hand and strokes his chin. Seeing that his eyes are focused on her helmet, she flips up the visor with her other hand so he can see her eyes, can see her smiling at him. He smiles back and leans his chin into her glove, apparently enjoying her touch. MixMaster's other hand drops away from the helmet, then suddenly stabs at the man's throat. Her fingers, like knives, smash into his neck as her other hand slips behind his neck, cupping it, holding it in place. Tshombe gags and tries to back away, but the woman has moved against his body, pinning his arm and weapon so they point upward. He tries to use the butt to hit the woman, but it bounces off her helmet and has no effect on her.

"Sergeant!" she says with mock pain, "you - you've hit me! What must I do to such a naughty boy?" MixMaster smiles, then viciously smashes the smaller man in his nuts with her knee. She uses her hand behind his head to yank it forward, smashing it into the front of her helmet once, twice. Seeing the man is dazed, she puts one hand on either side of his head and violently twists it, snapping his neck. Tshombe sags down, dead. She picks up his assault rifle and pumps a round into the back of his head, just to make sure.

MixMaster turns back toward the others in the room. The Man of Steel is shackled to the wall, with thick steel restraints around his neck, wrists, and ankles. His head lolls on his chest and his expression is pained but otherwise vacant. He's been exposed to a small dosage of her synthetic green Kryptonite for two weeks now and is too weak to even hold his head up. His skin has a ghastly light greenish pallor, evidence that the poisoning has ravaged his once-powerful frame.

Supergirl languishes in a soft lounge chair near her cousin. She's conscious but still in a lot of pain from the remnants of the synthetic green K gel on her wrists and on her blue top, below the red and yellow S. Her breathing is slow and raspy, but steady. If only MixMaster leaves her alone for a while, she might be able to retrieve the towel from her sleeve . . .

NightOwl sits on the floor against another wall. Her erstwhile partner has encased her arms and torso in a special restraint web that pins her arms to her body. Even if something in her belt pouches would work against the MixMaster, the web limits her movement too much.

MixMaster moves to a closet and returns immediately with a video-camera and a tripod. She sets them up in one corner, facing the room. She walks back toward her captives carrying a small remote control device in her hand. "Well, well, well," MixMaster says as she walks to the center of the room, the camera lens following her, catching each move of her taut butt muscles.

"Who do I kill first? Decisions, decisions, decisions!" She turns back to the camera, saying, "Welcome to an exclusive filming of The Destruction of . . . If you paid the full $59.95, you're here for The Destruction of Superman. For $39.95 you've bought The Destruction of Supergirl. You cheap bastards who only paid $19.95 get The Destruction of NightOwl. But EVERYbody gets a special treat!" She turns back toward the other three people.

"Tell you what, NightOwl," MixMaster says, moving toward the other woman. "I'll let you go if you give me the number of your offshore account - the one with the money you've been paid for this operation. Whaddaya say?"

"Unnh, I ... I don't trust you," NightOwl says, expressionlessly. She shifts her position, trying to move her legs under her butt, but stops abruptly when MixMaster raises the muzzle of the assault rifle and aims it at her.

"Not only will I let YOU free, honey," MixMaster purrs, "but I'll promise not to go to your cheap little apartment in Farmer's Branch and kill your teenaged daughter!" MixMaster smiles at the fear evident on NightOwl's face, even though she's still wearing her mask and goggles. Walking over to the webbed woman, MixMaster puts one foot on the woman's knee and begins to press downward, with increasing force. NightOwl squirms initially, moans, then screams when her knee pops and is dislocated. As she sits there panting, crying, MixMaster squats beside the woman in gray. "What's with this Owl shit, anyway? Is that supposed to INTIMIDATE someone? What do you do, HOOT at evil doers until they surrender? Or maybe you SHOW your hooters at them, stun them, then handcuff them?" MixMaster rises, laughing loudly. She suddenly points the assault rifle at her fallen partner and sprays a short three-round burst, hitting NightOwl's thighs, breaking her left leg. Now NightOwl falls over onto her side, screaming and shaking. "OOOhh! Looks like I got the femoral artery! That's GOTTA hurt, NightOwl!" MixMaster faces the camera and says, "you folks in the cheap seats won't get to see much. Think of it as a TASTE of what's available when you buy the $39.95 or $59.95 tapes!"

MixMaster moves over to Supergirl and takes a few moments to inspect the heroine's handcuffs. Normally, the Girl of Steel can snap metal cuffs like these in a heartbeat, but with the synthetic green Kryptonite on her costume, draining her strength, she's too weak to snap the links.

MixMaster's long index finger taps the remote in her left hand and the camera follows her movements, then zooms in on Supergirl's face, showing the strain in her eyes. MixMaster smiles into the lens and places a gloved hand under the Maid of Might's chin, lifting her face up by her chin so MixMaster can look into her foe's eyes. Satisfied at the sight of the difficulty the Girl of Steel has in focusing her vision, MixMaster lets the girl's head drop back onto her chest and turns to face the Man of Steel.

"My, my, my," she says, walking seductively over to Superman, camera tracking her. She puts the remote into a pouch on her belt after looking at the camera and deciding that it will photograph everything. One of her hands gently runs across his massively-muscled chest, then down across his powerful abdomen, then past his belt buckle onto his bright red shorts. Superman stares with blurry eyes at the MixMaster, saying nothing as she runs her hand down to his crotch and begins to gently massage the bulge on the front of his shorts. He grits his teeth but his body betrays his feelings. MixMaster can feel an erection starting to form, then marvels as his powerful tool starts to tent his shorts. Pausing briefly, she uses both hands to unbuckle, then pull down his shorts and blue tights, pulling both down to his knees. His massive 14" tool, suddenly snapping free from the restraining fabric, shoots out perpendicular to his body, causing MixMaster to back up slightly, with an exaggerated theatrical flourish, avoiding the huge dong.

"Nasty boy! What HAVE you been HIDING!?" she asks, taunting her captive. She removes one of her gloves and drags her nails along the underside of his dick. When she reaches the end, she is rewarded with a shudder and a light moan from the hero, plus a big dollop of pre-cum leaking from the end of his penis. Warming to her task, she pushes his blue shirt upward, above his pecs and almost to his neck. Moving closer, she removes her other glove and while one hand envelopes most of his shaft and slowly, lightly slides along the length of his dick, her nails scraping his skin, she tongues one of his nipples and drags the nails of her other hand across his pectoral muscles, across his nipple, across his abdomen, and down to the bushy hair in his crotch. Superman moans more loudly this time and sucks in air when her hand reaches his crotch.

MixMaster steps away from the Man of Steel, pulling his penis as she backs up. When his hips are as far from the wall as his manacles allow, MixMaster smiles and releases him, letting him slam back against the wall. "Man of Steel, indeed!" she says, watching his obvious discomfort at being filmed like this, his penis bobbing. "I'll bet some of our women viewers wonder what this magnificent dick would feel like inside them. Well, I am certainly NOT going to find out. Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex, et cetera, et cetera, blah!" She looks at NightOwl, the camera panning toward the fallen woman. Then she looks at Supergirl and again the phone follows her movements. "Let's see how THESE ladies like his schlong! Well, let's skip NightOwl. The blood would make too much of a mess."

For the next few minutes, MixMaster works on Superman, letting the camera follow her every move. She drags a 10 foot long folded conference table into the room and puts it near him. Then she releases his left ankle from its restraint, pulls his leg over and hand-cuffs it to the ankle on his other leg. She repeats same process with his arms, working from left to right. When she releases the neck collar, Superman spins around to face the wall. MixMaster removes first his leg manacle, then the last one on his wrist, and as his body sags away from the wall, she steers the falling hero onto the table, landing him on his back. His heavy body thuds against the table, his head bouncing once off the metal surface. MixMaster continues moving chains from the wall and soon has him sprawled across the table, legs and arms hanging over the sides, shackled together under the table.

Next, she moves to Supergirl and, although the Maid of Might struggles weakly to resist the villainess, a few powerful slaps by her manages to daze the Girl of Steel. MixMaster soon has the blonde girl upright on wobbly legs and begins to walk her toward the table. "Nnn ... nnOOO!!" Supergirl moans, suddenly realizing what MixMaster has planned. "You ... you can't ... nnhh ... he's my cousin!"

"Well, DUH!," MixMaster replies. "THAT'S what makes this SO MUCH FUN!! And a BONUS for anyone who buys my videos!" Supergirl struggles with all her remaining strength and MixMaster is unable to move the heroine closer to, much less onto Superman. Disgusted, MixMaster pauses long enough to put on her specially-designed gloves, then turns Supergirl so the two women face each other, their sides facing the camera.

"You're making this harder on yourself than you have to, sweetie," MixMaster hisses at the Girl of Steel. "All you have to do is go along with the program and follow my lead, but nnooOOOooo! You have to get CUTE! Fine, we'll do it the hard way, then!" Supergirl just continues to struggle to free her arms from MixMaster's grip, more powerful than an ordinary woman's due to the special wiring in her super soldier suit and a mix of drugs she's taken to enhance her own DNA. But all this augmentation is still less than a Kryptonite-weakened super heroine's muscles.

For the next twenty minutes, MixMaster uses kicks, punches, choke holds, and any other tricks she can think of to rain punishing blows on Supergirl's body. The handcuffed heroine is unable to resist the assault and begs MixMaster to stop. "Puh-please ... s-stop," she cries, "y-you're hurting me! Why?"

"Because I HATE you, you murdering COW! I hate your perfect genes, your alabaster skin, your perfect figure, and the incredible powers in your body." MixMaster first grabs the top of Supergirl's costume, bunching the fabric around the S emblem, then smashes her face or stomach, or knees the Girl of Steel's crotch. Next she puts one hand behind the girl's head and rains a series of crushing blows on the heroine's lovely face. The super soldier suit spreads the impact of the blows across the surface of the villainess' supersuit so the blows don't hurt MixMaster's hands or knees. Her chemically-enchanced strength and Supergirl's weakness means that the battering has made the heroine nearly unconscious, moaning and unable to stand. Letting the pitiful heroine sag to her knees, MixMaster returns to Superman and expertly strokes and caresses his erogenous zones, raising his long fat dick like an obscene flagpole.

She quickly returns to the dazed Supergirl and manhandles the woman onto the table, finally placing the heroine on her knees over her cousin's dong. Supergirl recovers enough of her wits to try to wriggle away but at that instant, MixMaster places her hands on Supergirl's hips and shoves her downward, the tip of the huge dick slicing through her nether lips and partially into her dry vagina. Supergirl screams and throws her head backward when her gates are breached. Superman swears with a weak voice at MixMaster, between moans of pleasure.

Roaring gleefully, MixMaster leaps onto the table behind Supergirl and grabs on the woman's blue-clad shoulders. Using all her strength, she begins alternately driving the heroine downward and pulling her upward.

Both Superman and Supergirl, weakened and restrained, beg for MixMaster to stop this profane torture, but the villainess just laughs theatrically for the camera and doubles her efforts.

"COME ON, YOU TWO!" MixMaster roars, "let's see some passion for the folks at home!" She pauses, clenches her hands into a fist, and smashes it downward onto the top of Supergirl's head, then laughes maniacally at the cry of pain from the Girl of Steel. "FASTER, PUSSYCAT, FUCK, FUCK!!" MixMaster yells, again smashing the top of Supergirl's head with clenched fists. Despite her strenuous efforts, Supergirl merely sags down onto her cousin's body, her breasts against his and her chin on his shoulder.

"AAARRRGGGGHHH!!" MixMaster screams, feeling control of the situation slipping away from her hands. Again she grabs Supergirl's shoulders and pulls the woman into an upright position and again she raises and lowers the heroine onto her cousin's penis, trying harder and harder to get the super dick into the heroine.

The SuperDong inexorably pushes its way into the girl, causing her to increase her screams, gasps and moans of pain/pleasure. The more her cunt lubricates itself, the easier it is for the Dick of Steel to shove into her deeper and deeper. As it pushes into the woman, wider sections enter the Girl of Steel and her screams increase as she feels her vagina being spread to unnatural widths to accomodate her cousin's immense tool. This reaction makes MixMaster increase her efforts, shouting and screaming gleefully in response to the cries and moans of her victims.

MixMaster senses that the two are still only partially coupled, yet her strenuous efforts can't drive Superman's tool any deeper in his cousin. Leaping off the table, a quick inspection shows that only eleven inches or so has penetrated the girl's slit. Several more inches, maybe four inches wide near the base, are just below the blonde heroine's bush. MixMaster climbs back onto the table and for the next few minutes, proceeds to lift Supergirl by putting hands under her chin or in her armpits, then rams her back downward onto Superman's penis by putting her hands on Supergirl's shoulders . As MixMaster repeats this rape, she senses that Supergirl is becoming more lubricated and is finally taking more of her cousin's tool. Panting from the exertion, MixMaster increases her efforts to have Supergirl fucked by Superman. All three are screaming now, either from pleasure or pain, and the conference table is rocking like the deck of small ship in high seas.

"S ... ss ... sstt ... ssttooppp!!" Superman moans, his body betraying his feelings about raping his cousin. Having her tight cunt wrapped around and stroking his tool is arousing his body, if not his mind or soul. His dick expands still further, pushing out to 16 inches and a base thickness of nearly five as his blood rushes into the penis' capillaries. "NNNNNOOOO!!" he screams, struggling weakly against the chains.

"nnnnnnNNNNNNOOOOO!!!!" Supergirl also screams, crying weakly. The pain she feels from his expanded dick seems to rip apart her vaginal walls, as if her skin is tearing apart from his massive dick. The tip of his penis feels like it's battering her against her cervix, trying to punch through it to open a wider hole into her uterus. She is almost unconscious from the incredible pain punishing her crotch.

MixMaster pauses again for breath after driving Supergirl downward for the umpteenth time. An idea springs into her fevered mind and she reaches down the front of Supergirl's top, into the waistband of her skirt, and grabs the ends of Supergirl's top. MixMaster pulls and rolls the fabric upward until it is a thick blue band across Supergirl's upper chest, her belly and breasts now fully exposed for the camera. MixMaster then grabs an engorged nipple in each hand and tries to RRIIPPP them off the Maid of Might. Supergirl's screams would have deafened a normal person, maybe DID deafen NightOwl (who is now unconscious). MixMaster worries briefly about damaging the camera, then decides, "What the fuck, you don't get a chance like this every day!" and smashes both fists against the girl's nipples, driving them and her breasts inward with crushing force. Supergirl's head rocks sideways, her blond hair flying wildly, and she begs MixMaster to stop the rape.

This punishment continues for another twenty minutes. Supergirl is still conscious, but is just a weak toy in MixMaster's hands. The villainess is now trying to get Superman to explode his cum into his cousin, and is using the girl's body to stroke the super dick. When Superman's moans and twists indicate that he is getting closer to an orgasm, Supergirl suddenly cries in a high, keening voice. MixMaster realizes that the Maid of Might had had her first orgasm on her cousin. MixMaster, panting and almost exhausted herself, continues the rape.

Supergirl has at least two more orgasms when suddenly Superman screams a gutteral "NNNOOOOO!!!" and his hips buck upward. Supergirl is BLASTED off his dick, slamming into and then through both the roof of the small office and the warehouse, rising several hundred feet into the air before her trajectory throws her onto the roof of another building down the block. Her unconscious and nearly naked body crashes through the roof, into a large office filled with people who have just arrived at work. At the same time, MixMaster was thrown off the table top and crashes against a wall, sliding to the floor. Meanwhile, like Old Faithful, Superman hoses a stream of cum into the air, several hundred feet upward, finally sagging back onto the table, spent and unconscious.

MixMaster struggles to her feet and surveys the scene. She quickly realizes that Supergirl has not only passed through the roof of this office, but also through the warehouse roof and . . . who knows WHERE she's gone? Is she still even alive . . .?

"Momma didn't raise any stupid daughters," the villainess mutters, "and I don't want to be here when Supergirl returns. I'm out of my synthetic green Kryptonite!" MixMaster gathers her belongings and the videocamera and turns toward the door.

"Better to quit now, than have to battle past local cops. One last thing, before I go," she decides. Stepping back to the comatose Man of Steel, she scoops up a handful of his Super cum and puts it into a Ziplock baggie she pulls from a pouch on her utility belt. She had planned to get his cum and maybe even one of Supergirl's eggs, if possible. At least she had HIS DNA! MixMaster gives the big blue-clad bruiser a kiss on his lips, then smashes his scrotum with all her strength before turning to flee the building.

The tabloids had a field day. "Supergirl Does Dallas!" and "Blonde Bimbo Blows Bro!" (accuracy is NEVER a concern for some papers). Garland's finest had tried to hush up their rescue of Superman and Supergirl, but too many people saw too much. Each super hero spent a day in a local hospital, under heavy guard in adjacent rooms, clad only in hospital gowns, until they regained consciousness. Supergirl recovered first, and as she opens her eyes, she sees Agent King standing beside her bed. She looks at him through blurry eyes, still too weak to even ask for news of her cousin.

"Well," King says, scowling. "This is an unmitigated disaster! Do you have any idea what happened!"

"I ... we ... alm ... almost died," she replies, licking her lips for moisture. She tries to rise to a seated position but can't summon the strength.

"Massive combat in Columbia. Hundreds dead. International repercussions, U.S. blamed for invasion. NightOwl dead. And you two apparently in some sort of kinky sex salon. No! Don't protest! We saw . . . in the front pages of several tabloids, pictures of the chains and whips, and a camera tripod . . . My GOD, girl, what ever possessed you to . . .?"

"N ... no," she says, weakly. "We ... were prisoners of ... MixMaster," she gasps, pausing for breath. "She ... USED us! Kal was . . . near death . . . from the green K . . ."

"He's not much better now," King interrupts. "He's unconscious and his vitals are almost non-existent."

"MixMaster?" Supergirl gasps.

"Supergirl, no one saw anyone else around the warehouse, just you, then later, Superman and NightOwl. No one has EVER seen or heard of this MixMaster person you seem to use as an excuse for your own failures. If there is such a person, she's gone to ground somewhere," King says, turning toward the door. "The agency will pay for this stay for you two. When you're released . . . we need to talk," he says, with anger or bitterness in his voice. He walks out of the room, leaving the Maid of Might staring after him. Slowly, she slips back asleep.