After my battle with Boss Woman and the female Reavors, I made good use of the information that I won. I located the Reavor crack house with little difficulty. It was right where the Boss Woman said it would be. But I soon discovered that it was much more than a typical crack house.
The building was large, ugly, and run-down. Gang symbols were painted everywhere on its exterior. The Reavors had marked it as their own, and no one, not other gangs, not the residents of the nearby neighborhoods, not even the police, dared to trespass on Reavor territory. Which is not to say
that there wasn’t a lot of traffic in and out of the building— A steady flow of pot heads and stoners moved in and out of the front door. Some chose to get high in one of the three large dope rooms at the front of the building. Others preferred to buy their stash and then go elsewhere to enjoy it. Still others chose to do both.
But other than customers, few individuals were welcome at the house. Dealers, especially, were not allowed. The Reavors preferred to do all the selling themselves, eliminating the middlemen and generating greater profits for themselves. Crack cocaine was the product of choice and they charged a premium price.
I visited the house every night for two weeks. Slipping in unseen and remaining in the shadows, I made mental notes of everything I saw and heard. I discovered that the building served as the headquarters for the Reavors, and as Boss Woman had suggested there were at least fifty of them, not counting the female bangers that occasionally dropped by for a visit. The house was always well guarded, but the real action seemed to happen at night. Like vampires, the Reavors preferred to come out after the sun had gone done.
I liked to slip in by flying high overhead and then descending steeply, almost vertically, until I touched down on the roof. There was usually a pair of guards stationed there, at the front of the building, overlooking the street. But the guards were not very wary—If trouble did come, I suppose, they expected it to be in the form of a helicopter assault or something, not the silent landing of a superheroine spy.
A door on the roof led to a stairwell. The stairwell descended into the building for a short way before coming to another door that opened up into large, dark room containing power generators. The Reavors apparently didn’t trust Public Service. At the far end of this room was a heavy metal door that was kept locked. I tested the door, without breaking it, and determined that I could open it easily, if I needed to.
Gaining entrance to the building other than by the door on the roof proved to be difficult. All the windows were blocked with two-inch thick titanium bars. Even my strength was insufficient to bend
them. But exploring the building at this point was probably a foolish risk, in any case. I didn’t want to be spotted, much less forced into a fight, before I was ready. So I limited my reconnaissance to peering in the windows from the outside—The windows on the top two floors of the three-story building were made of clear glass, though the windows on the lowest floor had been tinted and did not permit me to look through.
The front half of the building, the half closest to the street, was used for selling drugs, providing customers with a place to smoke and shoot up, and for boarding the Reavors. In addition to the two guards on the roof, two more were specifically assigned to guard the front door, and two were specifically assigned to patrol the building’s perimeter. I say they were “specifically” assigned to these tasks because there were always additional Reavors floating about, going about the business of selling crack or just hanging out.
The back half of the building was more interesting, as it was here that the Reavors
“manufactured” their crack. The second and third floors and the interior walls had been ripped out of this part of the building, leaving a single, large room. A set of large, heavy looking vats occupied much of the interior, their weight supported atop a cement floor. There were no outside entrances. Two doors led to the front half of the building, but these were made from titanium, and appeared to be at least two inches thick. The doors didn't open like regular doors—rather than swinging open in one direction or the other, the doors slid open and closed, in and out from the wall.
The only other possible ways in were a pair of large ceiling fans that provided the room with ventilation. The fans were about four feet in diameter, and always spinning at a high rate of rotation. The fan blades represented no danger to me—If I had shoved my arm through, the metal blades would a snapped off without damaging me in the slightest. But like the windows, the fan ports were barred with
titanium. I knew I couldn’t get in that way.
From my observations and the conversations that I overheard, I determined that the crack arrived at the house in large, fifty-five gallon, steel drums of gasoline. By using the large vats at the back of the building and a special filtering process, the Reavors were able to extract the cocaine from the gasoline. They then packaged the drug in various amounts. What I found most interesting was the sheer volume of cocaine that was being handled and that most of the drug was being packaged in large, grain- sack size plastic bags. Five of these bags were stacked on a pallet near the center of the large room.
I was forced to revise my opinion of the Reavors. They were not the small-time gang of street thugs that I had imagined. At the very least, they had some major backing behind them. There was five million dollars of drugs on the pallet. How could they possibly afford that kind of volume?
I knew that I had to get some answers before I could formulate a plan for taking them on. But I had other problems. Ms. Marvelous had made many enemies during her brief stay in Megapolis, not the least of which was Boss Woman. The leader of the female Reavors had ignored my warning to get out of town, instead taking it upon herself to see that I was eliminated forever as a threat to the Reavors. With afterthought, I knew that I should have taken her to the police after I beat her—Her rap sheet was as long as my legs. But I also knew that it probably would have been impossible. By the time I finally beat her in our fight, I was very close to defeat myself. I had simply been too weakened by the battle to follow up on my victory.
Boss Woman herself had gone into hiding, as much to protect herself from Bullets as from me, my informants told me. Apparently, Bullets hadn’t reacted nicely to the news that Boss Woman spilled her guts to me. There was a feud in the making between the leader of the male Reavors and his female counterpart, and Boss Woman knew she didn’t stand a chance in that fight.
Her only chance at redemption was to knock me off, or better yet, capture me and hand me over to Bullets. To this end, she employed a steady stream of bounty hunters to track me down.
Fortunately for me, my secret identity provides me with a certain degree of protection. Because the bad guys don’t know anything about me, I can usually pick and choose the time and place of combat. But as a heroine, I am still inexperienced. Occasionally, I screw up. One of my biggest screw ups was flying to the Reavor crack house every night for two weeks straight, at the same time, using the same route. A smart bad guy might be able to see me flying through the night sky, follow me on my path to and from the crack house with binoculars, and maybe adjust his position in the nights to come to triangulate in on my point of origin.
I have to assume this is exactly what happened, because sure enough someone figured out my true identity as Jody Walker. I came home from work one evening to find an envelope slipped under the door of my apartment. I could tell right off that it wasn’t from my landlord, as her notices are always
delivered in envelopes bearing the distinctive letterhead of the building, “Sunset Studios”. Curious about this plain, unmarked envelope, I opened it right away. Inside was a short, handwritten note—
“Ms. Marvelous comes to the Rock Bottom Athletic Club, alone, at precisely eleven o’clock tonight or her identity is revealed to the world tomorrow.”
My stomach dropped. Someone knew my identity! I knew that I had no choice. It would make it very tough on me if the world at large knew that Ms. Marvelous was Jody Walker. The author of the note was calling the shots. I had little choice but to obey his command.
I did a lot of pacing that evening. Anxious to find out the identity of my pen pal, and whether he was friend or foe, I changed into my red and black costume an hour before I was to leave. I stood before the full-length mirror that hangs from the back of my bedroom door, making sure that everything was in place. A scientist friend back at the Program created my costume. As always, the thin material, which he had referred to as being made from a batch of “unstable molecules”, appeared to be painted on my body. Though it hugged every curve and angle of my athletic, five-foot nine inch, one-hundred and thirty pound frame, it didn’t feel tight on me. It was comfortable, giving me a complete and unhindered range of movement.
My upper arms were covered in red, my shoulders, forearms, and hands in black. The costume fit snuggly around my fingers, not effecting their dexterity in the slightest. Even my sense of touch seemed unimpaired, the feeling from my fingertips only slightly dulled by the thin fabric that covered them.
The black star emblazoned on my thirty-four inch chest reminded me of what I stand for. I am a champion of justice, a knight for good. I fight evil whenever and wherever I find it. I am Ms. Marvelous.
I made a final adjustment, tugging on the costume just below the star, at the point where it flares away towards my hips. The red material of the costume hugged the sides of my slender waist before joining with the black bikini bottom high on my hips. My bare abdominal muscles were tight and strong, ready for action. The smooth, lightly tanned skin of my thighs reflected the soft light of my bedroom back at the mirror, accentuating the athletic, though feminine, musculature of my powerful legs. My heel-less black boots, also made from unstable molecules, tightly hugged my powerful calves before tapering down and over a pair of smallish, almost dainty feet.
I turned and looked back at my image in the mirror, over my shoulder. My golden blonde hair hung straight and unfettered, falling loosely over my shoulders. As in the front, the costume tapered towards the hips, leaving my back bare from the middle of my shoulder blades down to the top of my posterior. The muscles of my back seemed to ripple in the soft light, giving some hint as to their strength and filling me with confidence.
I again turned and faced the mirror. Bringing both hands to my face, I carefully positioned the black mask that protects my identity. It sat above my nose, with my blue eyes easily visible within the large holes on either side. The little bit of it that covered my cheeks and forehead fit perfectly, molding itself to my face. As with the rest of my costume, the mask seemed to be painted on.
It was time to go.
I was out the window and in the air in a flash, quickly gaining altitude and streaking toward the full moon. I leveled out high above the city, the warm summer breezes licking at my bare skin. On any other night I might have slowed to take in the sights of the city, the glimmering lights, the skyscrapers, the rows of cars that lined the streets below, even at this late hour. But not on this night. Not when so much was at stake.
I had no idea who my new pen pal might be or what he wanted of me. I also had no idea how he intended to use the knowledge of my identity against me. Would he blackmail me in the hope that I would do some deed, possibly evil, for him? Or was he simply baiting me into a trap? If he wanted to destroy me, why not just tell my secret to the world? Or sell it to the highest bidder?
If I did fight him, could I hope to achieve true victory? Even if I defeated this unknown person, how could I prevent him from telling the secret? Certainly, jail would not keep him quiet. Money? I don’t have any. Would I have to kill him? I didn’t think I could do that.
The Rock Bottom Athletic Club was just below me, now. I descended, trying to push the unanswered and troubling questions from my mind. I sensed that I would soon enter combat—I needed to stay focused.
The club was in the warehouse district, near the docks. To tell the truth, I was relieved that our meeting location was not in the Dark Water. I figured I wouldn’t find any Reavors this far from their home. The Rock Bottom had once been a prosperous club, catering to the businessmen and women that worked nearby, the wealthy distributors and importers that made the docks go. Business went sour when the economy crashed, though, and the Rock Bottom had lived up to its name. It had been out of business and abandoned for over a year.
I landed outside the front door, which was open. Apparently my pen pal had already arrived.
Figuring it wouldn’t do any good to waste time, I stepped through, into the dark and empty lobby area. A light shone from an open doorway at the end to the lobby, near the entrance to the locker rooms. I walked toward it and looked through. I could see that the gymnasium lay beyond.
I stepped out onto a well lit, though deteriorating, wood paneled basketball court. To my right were several glass enclosed racquetball courts. To my left were the remains of a weight room, out of which nearly all the equipment had been looted. In front of me, at the far end of the basketball court, a large Dojo mat had been carefully laid out to cover the splintered wood surface of the court. In the middle of the mat, sitting on the floor, was an oriental man.
The man sat quietly, unmoving, his eyes closed, apparently involved in some sort of meditation ritual. His shirtless form displayed his great conditioning. Though he was not large, his muscles were well defined and pronounced. He wore black pants and black, soft soled shoes, Around his waist was a red sash, the knotted ends of which hung loosely from his right hip. Tattooed on his chest was the image of a dragon. As I approached closer, I could see that he was about forty years old.
When I reached the edge of the mat, the man suddenly opened his eyes. “Ah, you have come! I knew that you would.”
“Who are you and what do you want?” I responded tersely.
“I am the Soi-Kai, and you should be more respectful of your elders, Jody Walker.” He placed extra emphasis on my name, as if to remind me of his power over me. But then his tone softened. “I have brought you here to give you gift.”
“A gift?” I asked. “What gift?”
The Soi-Kai raised his hand as if to stop me. “No! First you must show me respect. You must bow to me!”
“You have not yet earned my respect, Soi-Kai. Tell me your intentions.”
The Soi-Kai shrugged. “I give you the opportunity to win back that which I have taken. I give you the opportunity to win back your secret identity.”
“What exactly do you mean? What do you want of me?”
“Combat! If you defeat me, I will give you back that which you have lost. But if you fail, I will take you!”
“Take me? Then you plan to rape me?”
He looked surprised. “No! I mean that I will take you to Boss Woman. It is she that hired the Soi-Kai. She hired me to capture you, or maybe kill—“
“And if I win?” I interrupted him. “What do you mean, you will ‘give back’ what you took from
me?”
The Soi-Kai laughed deviously, for the first time openly displaying his evil nature. “If you defeat
me, young warrior, I will give you back your secret identity. I will leave this city, never to return again. I will never again mention your name. It will be as if you never existed to me.”
It was obvious that he didn’t think I could beat him. I didn’t know if he had any super powers, but I was confident that I could defeat him, or any man, in single combat. “And what guarantee do you give me? How can I be sure, short of killing you?”
He laughed loudly. “Do as you will, young warrior. But know that if you are victorious, my own shame will prevent me from ever speaking of you. Now, do you accept my gift? Will you fight me?”
I didn’t hesitate. In answer to his challenge I simply bowed, then took a fighting stance on the edge of the Dojo mat.
The Soi-Kai nodded in approval, but again raised his hand. “Young warrior, I congratulate you on your bravery. But you must fight the student before you may fight the master!”
He motioned at something behind me. I turned to find a huge, young Japanese warrior standing only inches from me. Like his master, the student wore black pants and shoes, but he had no red sash.
He, too, was shirtless, his massive arms crossing a huge chest. He stood at least six feet five inches tall and was powerfully built. I was amazed that someone so big had been able to sneak up on me.
I leapt back from him in surprise and alarm, sure that he was about to attack. The student just sneered. Then he bowed, albeit slightly, in my direction. I returned the gesture before widening my stance in preparation for battle.
The student lowered his hands and circled me slowly. He seemed to look upon my diminutive frame with contempt. I decided I would wipe the smug look off his face.
I leapt at him, more flying than running, then veered off to my left at the last moment. My right knee shot out and nailed the student in his side, the force of the blow doubling the big man over. I came back with a straight left intended to end the fight, but he recovered more quickly than I expected and blocked the punch to the side, spinning me away from him. He was behind me now, and quick, and he grabbed me around the neck with his right forearm, putting me in chokehold. The fingers of his left hand locked with those of his right, at the base of my throat, securing the hold. Lifting me up, so that my feet dangled inches off the ground, the student tightened the hold.
“Urrgk! Good… grip,” I said, meaning it. Had I been a normal person, I probably would have been finished.
“My master has instructed me not to kill you, little one,” he responded coldly. “It is an insult that I am made to fight one such as you, but I will respect his wishes and let you live. Surrender now!”
I responded by driving an elbow to his ribs. The crack of the blow resounded throughout the gymnasium. I have the strength of ten men, and when I want to break a rib, I can break a rib.
The student released his hold on me and went to his knees, doubled up in pain. I gave him a moment to recover—I wanted this arrogant dork to realize what he was up against. Maybe he already did, I don’t know. But he recovered a lost faster than I expected, and moved a lot quicker than a man with a broken rib should be able to. He leapt up at me, putting both of his meaty hands around my
throat. He hoisted me up over his head, trying to either break my neck or choke me to death, or probably both.
His grip was strong, and being up in the air like I was, I didn’t have much leverage. We struggled for moment, then I broke the hold by bringing my legs up and slipping them around his head. I squeezed and twisted a little—Not too much, as I didn’t want to seriously hurt him. His hands left my throat and went to my legs, pulling them and trying to relieve the pressure I was putting on his head and neck. This allowed me to fall backward, and getting some extra momentum from my flying power, I flipped him forward and over me, sending him crashing to the floor.
The big student hit hard and slid across the wood floor. I bounced up, in a crouch, ready for another quick recovery. He didn’t disappoint me. With a growl of anger he rushed me. I used his anger and momentum against him, spinning and tripping him up with my right foot. He crashed forward onto the court.
It took him a bit longer to get up, this time. He looked sheepishly at his master, whose
expression didn’t change. The Soi-Kai seemed content, even though his student was getting trashed. Then I saw that his eyes were focused not on the student, but firmly on me. I knew that he was sizing me up, studying my moves, noting my strengths, looking for my weaknesses. I didn’t want to give him any more free study time.
“If you want to learn my style, Soi-Kai, you’ll have to do it first hand!” I yelled at him.
But the student rose to his full height and struck a fighting pose, his left side toward me, his arms raised. I responded by flying through the air, straight at him this time, and crushing him with a mule kick to the chest. He flew backward, twenty feet through the air, and smashed through the glass wall of a
racquetball court. He didn’t get up.
“I congratulate you, young warrior. You have done well. But my student is young and
inexperienced. You will find that I am not.” The Soi-Kai got to his feet and bowed in my direction. “If I might ask one thing of you before we begin-- Please, remove your mask that I might look upon my opponent.”
I paused, not sure if I wanted to comply. But, of course, it didn’t matter. My identity was already compromised. I carefully lifted the mask and dropped it to the ground.
“Ah, yes,” he said with a sinister smile. “You are very beautiful. Perhaps I will take you—and in the way that you suggested!”
I fought the anger building inside me, knowing that this evil master would use it against me. I had made short work of the student. I figured the master would be tougher, but I would make short work of him, too.
The Soi-Kai invited me onto the DoJo mat and we warily circled each other. He used his hands to great effect, feinting this way and that, not allowing me to guess the true target of his attack. Impatient for the fight to begin I lunged at him, again using my power of flight to speed my attack. I went for a clothesline with my right arm but he easily ducked under it and countered by striking with a lightning quick chop to my right thigh as I passed by. A surge of pain shot the length of my leg.
“You see, young one, the force of a blow matters little.”
I fired a left hook at his head, but he blocked the blow and responded with another quick strike, this time to my left shoulder. I groaned loudly as pain ran through my elbow and down into my fingers.
“It is the accuracy of the blow that is significant.”
Following up on his advantage, the Soi-Kai dug a finger into my exposed left side, just below my ribcage. I screamed and fell to the mat, my entire body convulsing.
“By applying pressure to your nerve bundles, I can quickly subdue an amateur such as yourself.”
He turned and walked away from my prone body, pleased with himself. But I’m tough-- Tougher than he imagined. I leapt at the back of his legs, ripping them out from under him as I went by. I continued forward and upward, using my flying power so that I was about ten feet off the ground, hovering above and in front of him.
“So,” he said as he pulled himself back to his feet. “You have some fight left in you. Good!”
I flew around him, in a circle, looking for an opening but not seeing one. So I approached quickly, straight at him, and feinted with another clothesline. This time, though, I pulled up and over him, doing quick inverted roll that left me behind and above him. I lashed out with my right foot and scored solidly against the back of his head. He went down to the mat hard but got up just as quickly.
I followed up at close quarters, missing first with a straight right, then again with a reverse spin kick. Frustrated, I swung wildly with my left, missing by a mile. He made me pay for it, going to one knee and driving an elbow strike into the top of my left thigh. The blow would have broken a normal person’s leg, but it just dropped me to the ground. He was on me quickly, locking my right arm in an arm bar hold.
He twisted with all of his considerable might, trying to break my arm at the elbow, but the Soi-Kai was wrong—Sometimes strength does matter. I flexed the arm forward and sent him somersaulting across the mat.
He was on his feet in a flash, his hands up and at the ready. The look on his face told me that he finally understood just how strong his opponent really was. In his eyes I could read that I was now considered a worthy opponent. This made him all the more dangerous to me.
Again we circled one another, on the balls of our feet, each of us looking for a chance to score. I jabbed with my left, then turned and fired a kick at his chest with my right leg. He blocked the punch and ducked under the kick. A perfectly executed leg sweep put me on my ass, in a sitting position. He fired a straight left at my head and scored, then followed it up with a right handed chop to my throat. I rolled with the blow, coming up into a crouch with my hands up, which was fortunate as it allowed my to block his next punch.
The Soi-Kai took a step back, knowing that his brief advantage was over and prepared to wait for another. I stood, ready to try again.
Again initiating the combat, I closed and fired a left at his chest, figuring he would have a harder time avoiding such a blow. But he was quick—In a single motion he blocked the punch and countered with one of his own, a backhanded left that landed hard against my cheek and hurt me. Before I could recover he savagely kicked at the outside of my right knee, dropping me to the floor in a kneeling position. The fingers of his left hand intertwined with my hair and he stood behind me, holding my head up, his clenched right hand at my throat, ready to deliver a killing chop.
“Now, it ends, young warrior,” he snarled at me. “Will you surrender, or shall I kill you?”
Not liking the choices he gave me, I made one of my own. Grabbing his right hand with my own, I pulled forward and flipped him onto the mat, in front of me. I chopped downwards with a powerful strike, but he rolled from under it and was quickly back on his feet. My fist impacted hard with the floor and the sound of the blow echoed throughout the gymnasium.
I rose to my feet and again squared off with my opponent. I knew things were not going as well as I might have hoped. I was stronger the Soi-Kai, but he was an excellent fighter, better than me. It seemed that he was controlling the pace of the combat, as if we were performing an elaborate dance to which only he knew the steps. I felt as if he were leading me, not just anticipating my moves, but actually causing them to happen. All the moves seemed choreographed, and they were moves that he had performed thousands of times before. I knew that I had to do something to change things up.
Figuring that the only solid blow I had landed had come from the air, I again took flight. I buzzed him several times, landing a couple good shots. I came in again, this time foregoing any feints and took him down with a solid tackle. Before he could launch a counterstrike I was again in the air, out of his reach.
He rose more slowly this time and wiped some blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. I could see the frustration in his expression. He wanted to get his hands on me, but as long as I remained
airborne I was effectively out of reach. This was a style of fighting to which he was not accustomed. How could he be? It’s not often you come across an opponent that can fly.
I dove in again, not wanting to give him a rest and now confident that the fight would soon be over. I went for another tackle, but he dodged to his left, under me. I figured no problem, I’ll just swing around and get him with the next one. But the Soi-Kai was cagey. From a pocket in his pants he pulled a bolo and expertly threw it at my passing legs. The bolo hit its mark, wrapping is three multi-strand wire cables tightly around my ankles and calves. Worse, the bolo was specially built—as I flew through the air the bolo left behind a tether that the Soi-Kai firmly gripped.
When I reached the end of the tether, he pulled back with all his strength. Surprised by this unexpected attack, I crashed to the mat, impacting hard. I was on my stomach, the wind knocked out of me and my legs grappled. Before I could recover he was on me. First, he pulled my right arm out from my body. Expertly, he then turned me on my right side so that I was lying on my shoulder, with my right arm extended behind me. He came down on my arm with his right knee, not only effectively pinning it, but also cutting off the circulation from it. Almost immediately, I felt the fingers of my hand going numb.
The Soi-Kai pulled my left arm over my body and behind my back into a hammerlock. Holding it with his right hand, he leaned in on it with his right thigh, effectively locking it in place. The force of the hammerlock pulled my shoulders back and pushed my chest out, arching my back and leaving my breasts vulnerable.
He brought his left leg over my thighs and planted his foot in front of my knees, leaving my bound legs extended straight out behind me. He was kneeling over my prone body, now in total control of me and the situation.
“Did you not think that I would anticipate and plan for your flying ability, Ms. Marvelous? I know everything about you!”
As if to prove his point, the Soi-Kai used his left hand to fold back the taper of my costume, exposing my left breast. I wasn’t surprised, really. He had been hired by the Boss Woman—I expected that she would have told him of my weakness, which she had discovered in our last battle. He used his fingers masterfully, first drawing light circles around the outside of my small cup, then moving them inwards until they stroked the knob of the nipple itself. He alternated between stroking the knob and pinching it between his forefinger and thumb. Then he began slowly caressing the base of my breast, stimulating the sensitive skin there.
A soft and involuntary moan escaped my lips. Blood was rushing into my breast, swelling it and making it even more sensitive. He switched back to my nipple, lightly teasing it with his fingers. Under his gentle touch, my left nipple was becoming a hard marble. I could feel the sensual shock of the Sartak coming over me. Soon, it would be all that I felt.
My right arm was hopelessly pinned under his weight. My hand was already numb from lack of circulation. The Sartak would only compound the situation. My left arm, too, was seemingly locked in place, behind my back and under the weight of his thigh. My legs were bound, extended and without leverage--trapped. My only salvation was that he had access to only a single nipple. The Sartak wouldn’t come on me immediately, but I knew I had to do something quickly or it would be too late.
Another moan escaped my lips. “Ah!” he said. “What I have been told is true. You are vulnerable to this type of attack!” Encouraged by his success, the doubled his efforts, rubbing and
stroking my breast more quickly. I had been locked in his hold for over two minutes by now. Waves of erotic sensations were erupting from my engorged breast.
“No… Please don’t… stop.”
I would have been embarrassed by my pleading, but now all I could feel was the Sartak. All I could feel was my nipple, swelling until it felt as if it might burst. Pangs of pleasure coursed through my body. Though itself free from direct stimulation, my right nipple was beginning to swell and grow hard on its own. My pussy was becoming wetter with each passing moment. Were the Soi-Kai to shift his attack to either, I knew, I might be finished.
“No…”
“Your pleas are beneath you, young warrior. You have fought a valiant battle, but it is nearly over. Give in to your demise.”
I wanted to give in. With each new stroke applied to my aching nipple the fire within me grew stronger. From the depths, a massive orgasm began to build. My arms seemed to be gone, separate from my body. My legs were distant, unfeeling. I knew I couldn’t take much more. I would be his, soon.
From inside his pants, perched on my left hip, I could feel the Soi-Kai’s member growing larger. Our battle, and my predicament, was obviously exciting him. And his swelling member, the heat of which I could feel even through the fabric of his pants, was only serving to further stimulate me. I tried desperately not to think of it, of his hot, rock hard, cock dipping into my aching pussy, of it penetrating me over and over again. But the thought of it filled my mind—Even now, on the verge of defeat, I couldn’t help but imagine, and even desire, a more thorough and complete conquest.
“Please… No…”
Forcing my mind to focus, I desperately searched for an escape to his hold. My right arm was useless, now. The loss of circulation and the Sartak had rendered it so. My left arm still had strength, but not enough to break his hammerlock. My legs were bound and out of the fight—
Or were they? With no leverage, I couldn’t do anything spectacular with them, it was true. But maybe I could use them just enough to gain some wiggle room? And then we would see. But if I was going to try something it would have to be fast. I was almost gone. Ignoring the Sartak and focusing my mind purely on the idea of escape, I gathered my remaining strength for a final, last gasp, effort. “Now!” I thought. “Do it now!”
“Ooohhhh!” My effort fizzled as the Soi-Kai sensed my attempt and pinched hard on my nipple.
Once again, I was swallowed up by the Sartak. I now felt nothing but my nipple, being pinched and caressed. My wet pussy was aching for something to penetrate it. My clitoris, swollen and hot, hungered for a finger to rub it. The orgasm building inside me felt like it could explode at any moment.
The Soi-Kai, his body on top of my own, could feel me tremble.
“Your body stiffens, Ms. Marvelous,” he whispered in my ear. “Your orgasm is near. Give in to it!
Give in to me. Give yourself up to me!”
His voice was evil and mocking. It created within me a spark of anger that momentarily burned bright, allowing me to feel something other than the Sartak. “I am Ms. Marvelous,” a voice somewhere inside said. “I am a champion of justice! I am not your whore!”
“No!” I screamed at the top of my voice. “I will never give in to you!”
I brought my knees up hard, toward my chest. They impacted with the Soi-Kai’s left foot and drove it forward, at an awkward angle. Surprised by my sudden move, he momentarily lost his balance above me. It was all the leeway I needed. Grunting with the effort, I lifted my left arm up and over my side. He still had a hold on it, but the leverage he had used to secure it was gone. With a quick stroke I rammed my elbow into his chest, causing him to fly backward off of me.
Struggling just to return to my feet, I faced off with him. He was unhurt by my elbow strike, but furious that I had escaped his hold. My right arm hung limp and useless at my side, but my left was up and ready. My legs were still bound by the bolo, which was a problem. I knew I needed time to remove it. Again mustering my strength, I flew towards him feet first. He was slow to react and I nailed him on the right shoulder with a flying drop kick. He landed in the middle of the mat but did a roll and popped easily back to his feet. Not exactly the result I wanted, but I figured it would have to do.
Improvising, I did a flying back flip and landed at the edge of the mat, just off of it. I reached down and grabbed onto the edge with my left hand and flew toward my opponent, taking the mat with me. Flying up and over the surprised Soi-Kai, I effectively wrapped him within it. Still holding on to the mat, I flew several circles around him, further enmeshing him within it while disorienting him at the same time.
Releasing the mat, I charged the form captured underneath and delivered a solid left. My effort was rewarded with a grunt of pain and the figure collapsed to the floor in a pile. Two more solid blows followed, and again each was rewarded by a grunt. The mat was absorbing some of the impact from my blows, but I’m pretty strong and I knew I was hurting him.
My fourth blow again landed well, but no more grunts were forthcoming. The feeling was returning quickly to my right arm. I ripped the bolo easily from my legs and cast it aside. I readjusted my costume so that my breast was covered. My nipples still protruded noticeably from under the thin fabric, more so than usual, I mean, but the Sartak had faded.
I unwrapped the unconscious form of the Soi-Kai from the crumpled Dojo mat. I thought about using the remains of the bolo to tie his arms behind his back, but I figured why bother? I was the master, now, and if the Soi-Kai wanted some more then I was more than prepared to give it to him. He shortly
regained consciousness and like I thought, he didn’t want to fight anymore. “You have done well, young warrior. I will abide by our agreement.” “You will call me by my name and bow to me,” I responded.
The Soi-Kai hesitated for a moment, but then did as I asked. “Yes, Ms. Marvelous. You have done very well. With your permission, I will take my student and go, never to return to this city or speak of you again.”
“In a moment. First, I demand knowledge.”
“What is it that you desire to know?” he said in resignation.
“I wish to know of the people that hired you. The Reavors—How is it that a common street gang can afford to run such a large operation?”
The look on his face turned to one of amusement and perhaps a little surprise. Until this moment he had viewed me as the prey, not a hunter. “Yes, it is true that they run the operation. But they are not in control of the operation.” He paused as if to let me grasp the full meaning of his
statement. “The Reavors are supplied by a South American source. I do not know a name. He sends them cocaine in barrels of gasoline, so that it can get into the country without being discovered by the authorities. The Reavors then extract the drugs by using a filtering process that—“
“Yes, I know. Tell me about their financing. How can they afford to purchase such large amounts of drugs from this South American source?”
“Oh, but they cannot, you see? The source deals with the Reavors indirectly, through an agent.
The agent fronts the cocaine to the Reavors.” “Fronts?” I asked.
“Yes. The agent allows the Reavors to sell the product. Only after the drugs have been sold does the agent collect the proceeds from the Reavors, minus their cut, of course. They are operating on credit, you might say.”
“And if something happened to the cocaine and the agent never got his money?” The Soi-Kai smiled. “Then I imagine he would be quite upset.”
“And his anger might be directed at the Reavors?” I suggested. “It is quite likely, yes.”
“Who is the agent?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know. My dealings have always been with the Reavors themselves. And,” he added, “until now they have always been successful. May I leave now, Ms. Marvelous?”
I nodded, motioning towards the door and hoping for my sake that the beaten warrior was a man of his word.
After the master and his limping student had left, I walked across the gymnasium floor, leaned over, and picked up my black mask. It felt good to return it to my face. It was as if I really had recaptured something that had been taken from me. But it had not been a gift. I had earned it.