Chapter Three
May 23rd, 9:14 PM
It was a warm night in the city, and a gentle breeze blew through the Blue Lynx's long black locks as she stood high above the crowds, on the roof of fifteen story parking garage, looking down at the Prickly Pear Hotel.
She placed her hands on her hips and scanned the resort's empty rooftop, licking her lips in anticipation. Erin and Margot had determined that it was here, on the tenth level of a barely-financially-viable, Southwestern-themed hotel, that the Rattlesnakes met. It was a blindingly obvious hideout, but then, the Rattlesnakes weren't known for their subtlety. When they struck, it was with brute, dumb force, as Erin had learned the hard way during their previous encounter-- the Blue Lynx's first-- at the Paradise Casino.
"I was being... reckless," Erin thought to herself, using Margot's new favorite word for her nightly superheroine exploits. "But they won't get the drop on me this time."
Tonight, stealth was the plan. Erin would swoop down onto the Prickly Pear, enter through the old rooftop door, and slink around until she discovered the precise location of Tex and his men. She'd lure them out one-by-one, taking them out quietly and efficiently, and then take pictures of the lair for the police.
"You know," Margot had said, "You could always just call the police. And tell them you've found the Rattlesnakes' hideout. Let them do the work."
Erin had laughed. "Where's the fun in that, Margot?"
Fun. That was definitely a big reason for why Erin continued to do this Blue Lynx stuff. Yes, the city needed her. Yes, she was doing her father a big favor, even if he'd never know about it. But it was the thrill of it all that kept bringing Erin back, despite all of the disasters... the near-misses... the punches to the gut... the deathtraps... the taunts... the lascivious looks and touches. She could erase all of those negative memories with just one successful night of crimefighting.
Erin's reverie was interrupted by a BANG. She looked at the Prickly Pear and saw the rooftop door swing open. From the depths of the hotel, a figure had emerged, running; a lithe young man clad in gold, his spandex shimmering in the night.
The Spaniel.
He was holding his arm, maybe in pain, and moving with long strides across the roof. He reached the hotel's edge, a three or four foot high brick wall, and turned around. He watched-- and Erin, too-- as a stream of men flowed from the open door, large men with hats, spurs, vests, and pistols.
The Rattlesnakes.
Erin gasped. The Spaniel must have figured out the Rattlesnakes' hideout just minutes before she had. He'd gone inside the hotel, probably looking to do what Erin had planned to. And now, the Rattlesnakes had forced him back out. They were spreading out from the doorway, surrounding him, pinning him down against the wall edging the roof.
He didn't stand a chance on his own.
Erin stepped up to the lip of the parking garage, pulled out her grappel, and flung the hook across the ten yard expanse separating her level from the hotel. The hook landed, grabbed the edge of the hote roof wall, and Erin jumped, flying into the night, sailing across the cars and people and businesses and traffic lights hundreds of feet below, cutting through the air until she collided with the side of the hotel, dampening some of the landing by hitting it boot first, but still feeling the impact. She scrambled up the line of the grappel, climbing the flat bricks of the hotel and vaulting over the small rooftop wall, where four or five thugs were standing around, waiting for her, grinning mischievously.
"Two fer the price of one!" one of the Rattlesnakes crowed. "That there's a package deal!"
"Blue Lynx!" the Spaniel cried. "Get out of here!"
Erin ducked, heard a shot, felt the bullet whizz over her head. She looked up. There were at least twelve Rattlesnakes within the fifty yard by fifty yard square of rooftop, about half looking at her, about half closing in on the Spaniel. She instinctively pulled a handful of smoke bombs from her utility belt.
"Come and get me, boys," Erin said, coolly, and she flung the bombs across the rooftop. They exploded on impact, and the night was instantly, thoroughly covered in smoke. Erin dashed through the plumes, hearing the familiar sounds of errant gunfire, coughing, and curses. She tripped a Rattlesnake to the ground, and brought her arm across the back of another Rattlesnakes' neck. She was moving toward the Spaniel, could hear his coughing as distinct from the rest-- it was somehow gentler, nicer, more heroic. Two Rattlesnakes gathered near her; she disposed of them with quick punches to their respective guts. She could now see the gold shimmer of the Spaniel's outfit, could see him trying to push through the smoke, as blind and helpless as their foes.
"Spaniel!" Erin called. "Are you hurt?"
"Well, I can't see shit!" the superhero replied. He was facing her now, still waving his arms.
"I'm sorry," Erin said, moving closer. "But they were all around, and..."
"I don't need your help, Blue Lynx!" he yelled. "I was doing just fine before you got here."
Erin shook her head. "No, you weren't. You were surrounded. They could've killed you."
"You have no idea what you're talking about," the Spaniel replied. "Now get out of here. This isn't your scene, Blue Lynx."
Erin paused. What had happened to him? He had seemed so kind when he'd awakened her on the floor of the Casino. But the man in front of her was acting like a whiny, ungrateful brat.
"I'm not leaving," Erin said. "I'm going after the Rattlesnakes too, you know."
"You had your chance," the Spaniel replied. "Now get out of my way!"
He lumbered toward her, reaching out his arms, trying to push her aside. Erin smacked his hands away, and the Spaniel responded with a sudden swing, barely grazing Erin's stomach before she jumped backward.
"You bastard!" Erin cried. "I'm trying to help you!"
The Spaniel didn't respond with words, instead launching another punch in Erin's direction. Erin deflected it easily and countered with a punch of her own. Hers connected with the Spaniel's chin, and he stumbled back, eventually falling to the ground with a groan of pain.
"I guess you're as pathetic as every other man," Erin said, walking toward the Spaniel's toppled body. "I guess I was--"
Before she could finish, a sharp, sudden pain hit Erin in the lower back. She winced and turned around to meet a fist, which slammed into her cheek, forcing her off balance. She looked through dazed eyes at a tall man wearing a gas mask, his dark outline popping against the smoke. He wiggled a raised index finger at her, and Erin could see his eyes glimmering behind their layer of protective plastic.
"We've done read the book on you, Blue Lynx," the man said. "You and yer smoke bombs. Why I made sure to pack my mask. And them, too."
He pointed to Erin's side, and she turned instinctively. There were four other dark outlines in the midst of the dense smoke, each one topped with a mask of its own.
They had prepared for her.
"And that ain't all," the first man continued. "Brought some special tools for the wranglin' of animals."
And Erin saw each of the outlines grow a new appendage... A long, narrow, stick-like arm, with some kind of electric hand on top. No... Not arms...
They were cattle prods.
Erin's hand raced to her belt, desperate for some Lynx Darts. But just as she grasped a handful, she felt it. A searing pain in her left arm that rapidly spread through her whole body. She convulsed, cried out, dropped the Darts to the ground, felt her knees buckle. Then, a second attack, this one to her lower body. She cried again, dropped to the ground, felt nauseous, felt her hands fall out in front of her. She was on her hands and knees, desperately trying to crawl away, when the third prod struck her in the back, making her whinny. Her stomach slumped to the ground. Her body periodically shook with electricity as she laid there, barely holding onto consciousness.
"I seen 'em work on cows," the first man chuckled. "Do pretty good with cats, too, I reckon."
"We good here?" another voice said.
"Nah," the first man replied. "Make sure she and the boy are out, and we'll truss em up. Boss'll be mighty pleased to see 'em."
Erin breathed in and out, trying to grip something, anything. She had to move, but she couldn't. The Rattlesnakes were smarter, faster, better than she thought. She had to get out of here...
But there was more pain. One, two, three more shocks to her upper back, lower back, her butt. Then shocks to the backs of her thighs, her calves. They were prodding her, again and again, their laughter growing more and more maniacal with each spasm of her healthy but helpless figure. It didn't take long for her to lapse into unconsciousness-- just a few minutes-- but as she jolted up and down, pain coursing through every extremity, her blurry eyes watching as more men jabbed the Spaniel with prods of their own, her thoughts seizing on Margot's word-- "reckless"-- it felt like a horrible, humiliating eternity.
On to Chapter Four
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