Chapter One
March 2nd, 5:00 PM
Brent Hammerson hadn't heard from Sunny in days.
He sat at his desk in his office, his fingers running through his slicked-back hair.
There was a bill in front of him, a stack of papers about six inches high. He didn't care. He wasn't thinking about his day job at all. These days, he was only thinking about the Blue Lynx.
"Mr. Hammerson?"
He looked up. The intern. She had started here a couple of weeks ago. A young thing, a cute girl. Long dark hair, like the Blue Lynx. Was she the Blue Lynx? That's what Hammerson was trying to figure out.
"She'll be coming for me," he thought. "She'll find a way to get near me. She'll go undercover."
"Mr. Hammerson?" the intern repeated. "Are you alright?"
Long dark hair, crisp lavender blouse, short black skirt, long legs. Standing there, in front of the desk, the two of them alone in his office. She was holding a manilla folder stuffed with papers close to her ample chest. Very cool, very cocky. Oh yes. Definitely the Blue Lynx. What was the girl's name? Rose?
"Oh yes, quite alright," Hammerson said, resting his hands on the desk. "How are you doing... Blue Lynx?"
The girl blinked at him.
"What did you just call me?"
Hammerson swallowed. "Uh, I think you know, what I just called you."
"You called me the Blue Lynx, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did," Hammerson said, running his fingers through his hair. "Because, uh, that's, who..."
The girl stepped back. "You think I'm the Blue Lynx?"
Hammerson shut his eyes. God. What the hell was he doing?
"No, sorry, umm," he said. "I misspoke."
The girl laughed. "That's okay, Mr. Hammerson. Hey, Rob wanted you to go through these papers. I'm just gonna set em right here on your desk."
She laid the folder next to Hammerson's slightly twitching hand.
"I'll see you later," she said.
Hammerson watched as the intern sashayed toward the door.
"You want this shut?" the girl asked, turning her head around.
"Yes, please," Hammerson said.
The girl closed the door, leaving Hammerson alone, staring vacantly at his desk, eying the pile of papers and the folder and his lamp and the back of the name plate that read "Speaker of the House."
He was getting paranoid, and his staffers knew it. They didn't know why, of course, and they never would, if Hammerson could help it. He liked to think he was extra careful about his secrets. Unfortunately, there was at least one young woman who was well-aware of his dark double life. And that young woman was apparently back from a long hiatus.
And now, he needed to hear from his right-hand woman. He needed some reassurance that something was being done... that his "Fearsome Five" was actually being, well, "fearsome."
His cell phone buzzed. His hand dove into his pocket and pulled out the device.
Sunny was calling.
Finally.
"What's up," he said, bringing the phone to his face. "Why haven't I heard from you?"
"It's a long fucking story," Sunny grumbled. "Fucking long, fucking story."
"I've got time," Hammerson said, looking carelessly at the papers on his desk.
And Sunny proceeded to tell it all: Lora's plan. The trap set by the journalist, Julia Wright. How Lora and Steve had captured the Blue Lynx and taken her to Lora's house. How they were inches from unmasking her when that bitch of a partner came out of nowhere and knocked them all out. How, when they woke up, they'd found the basement crumbling all around them. How Steve had been just barely able to get Sunny out, how Julia and Lora were surely killed, how the ninja had dug through dirt and branches and concrete and wood and debris and burst from the ground, Sunny in his arms, like the fucking creature from the black lagoon. How they had gotten to their truck and the truck had been destroyed, probably by the Blue Lynx in some bullshit act of revenge. How they'd walked for miles through the forest until the came to a highway and hitchhiked their way into town. How she hadn't had time, or the ability, to call.
"Jesus Christ," Hammerson said. "That was a long fucking story."
"Well, I fucking told you it would be," Sunny growled.
"So Lora is dead. Julia Wright is dead. That means there's you, Steve, and Todorov."
"And Todorov barely counts," Sunny said. "The man is useless."
Hammerson shook his head. "Well, you're going to have to use him, Sunny. Because the Blue Lynx is back. She's been going out again. And..."
"I know, I know," Sunny said. "Trust me, I want the bitch as much as you do."
"So, what's going to happen? What's the plan this time?"
"Well, Steve and I have had a lot of time to think about it," Sunny said. "And it's pretty obvious what needs to happen. We need to go after the partner. That little cunt swoops in and saves her punk girlfriend's ass every single time."
Hammerson smiled. "Okay," he said, drumming his fingers on the desk. "I like this idea."
"We capture her, and the Blue Lynx will come crawling to us like a kitten."
Hammerson could feel himself getting giddy. "Yes, yes. Brilliant, Sunny."
"We know that she comes along with the Blue Lynx every time. We just need to find her in her little car and take her."
Hammerson was standing up now. He could barely contain himself.
"We'll surprise them," Sunny continued. "We'll wait until they aren't expecting us."
"Right," Hammerson said, his head nodding feverishly. "Yes, yes, yes."
"It shouldn't be hard. After all, the bitch thinks I'm dead."
Sunny laughed. And Hammerson joined her.
"I'm so happy you're alive and well, Sunny my dear," he cackled, galloping around his office, pushing papers off his desk, a new man.
On to Chapter Two
The Fearsome Five: The Gauntlet: Chapter Two
Chapter Two
April 18th, 1:52 PM
Graceful, athletic, alluring Erin Steele, clad in only a skimpy American flag bikini and matching flip flops, laid in the reclining beach chair, feeling the sun beat down on her tanning skin, sipping on a fruity vodka cocktail, a pulpy romance novel in hand.
She felt good. She felt like celebrating. She had reasons to: summer had come early this year, and in more ways than one. For not only was this April in the city unseasonably warm and pleasant, it had also been an incredible month in the life of the Blue Lynx. Night after night, it was nothing but triumphs for Erin, busting common criminals and less common drug lords. After months of recuperating from a broken arm, and after one wild night of being unmasked by a witch and nearly taken alive by a killer plant, it was great to win again. And again, and again.
Erin let out a heavy sigh, and smiled. The Blue Lynx had made her comeback. And now, it was time to kick back with her best friend.
She peered over her sunglasses at Margot, swimming laps in the deep end of the otherwise empty pool of their apartment building. She was dressed in a swimsuit slightly more modest than Erin's: a white bikini with black polka dots. Erin couldn't help but smile at her, wearing her glasses in the water, a nerd to the end.
"You look like a freak," Erin called.
Margot stopped swimming and looked up at her. "What?" she said, wiping her face.
"Nothing," Erin said.
Margot shook her head and continued her workout. Erin took a long sip of her drink. Margot had saved her life, again and again, in the past half year. She was increasingly ready to help Erin as her superheroine alter ego, the Black Bobcat, a development Erin didn't feel entirely positive about. She admired Margot's enthusiasm, of course, but Margot was just simply not the sort of fighter that Erin was. She didn't have Erin's mental toughness. But seeing her swim, trying so hard to get fitter, so that she could become a better warrior, it was hard to tell her no. She wasn't Margot's mom, after all.
Margot paddled over to the side of the pool and put her arms up on the hot concrete surface. "How's the book?"
"Pretty bad," Erin laughed. "But that's not so bad."
Margot giggled. She pushed herself up onto the ledge, leaving her feet in the water, exposing her slightly sunburned back to Erin.
"You should jump in," Margot said. "The water's great."
"I'm good here, thanks," Erin said, taking another sip from her straw.
Margot shrugged. "Alright. But it won't be long until all this swimming gets me buffer than you. I'd watch out, Blue."
She flexed her small bicep, drawing a laugh from Erin.
"This isn't a day for working out, woman," Erin said. "This is a day for... you know... this." She held her drink in the air.
Margot's phone buzzed in her beach chair, and Margot got up to get it, leaving a trail of pool water behind her. She plopped into the chair and held the phone up, squinting her eyes to see it in the sun.
"It's a news alert," she said. "About Hammerson."
Erin didn't look up from her book. "Oh yeah? And what's Big Bad Brent up to, these days?"
They hadn't seen or heard from him in weeks. It was like he had gone into hiding, forced back into the shadows since the demise of his "Fearsome Five." He still had his drug operations, for sure. But his right-hand woman, Sunny, his most threatening thug, Steve, and that weird witch, Lora, had been buried in a deadly avalanche of house and forest. Which left Hammerson short-handed, to say the least.
"He's made a statement," Margot said. "He says the old paint factory is going to be bulldozed. Says it's a health hazard? I don't know. This is confusing."
Erin looked at Margot. "I think he's saying that we need to meet there tonight."
"You mean, he's sending us a message?"
Erin nodded. "Yeah, I think so. I think Hammerson's ready to play again."
"Huh," Margot said. "It's about time."
"I'm already looking forward to it," Erin said. She smiled, set her book down, and got up from her chair. She walked over to the edge of the pool and plucked her sunglasses off her head. Her red, white, and blue bikini shone beautifully in the hot afternoon sun.
"I guess I'll warm up a little bit," she said. And she dove into the pool.
The Fearsome Five: The Gauntlet: Chapter Three
Chapter Three
April 18th, 9:15 PM
The City Paint Factory. A massive, blocky brick structure, nearly a century old, in utter disrepair. Broken windows, broken doors. A crumbling relic from a forgotten past.
Another night, another abandoned building.
Why was Hammerson so drawn to these places? And why, for that matter, was Erin?
"It's pretty cool, don't you think?" Erin said, as Margot drove into the factory's parking lot.
"I think it's an eyesore," Margot said, pulling into a space and putting the car in park. "I think bulldozing it is the one good idea Hammerson's ever had."
"Wow," Erin said. "I thought you liked old things?"
"I do," Margot said, staring at Erin. "I don't like this one. It's an ugly waste of space."
Erin chuckled. "Suit yourself."
"That reminds me," Margot said, staring up at the building, which must've been at least six stories high. "Do you want me coming in tonight? As Black Bobcat?" She reached into the backseat and patted her backpack. "Because I'm ready."
"I know you are," Erin said. "But tonight I'm going in alone."
"But Erin," Margot protested. "You said it yourself... Hammerson is through. All of his goons are dead. He has nobody now. Well, maybe a couple of thugs. But I can handle a couple of thugs!"
Erin clapped her hand on Margot's shoulder. "I know you can, girl."
"Okay," Margot said. "So why can't I come?"
She was being pretty stubborn. Erin didn't want to hurt her feelings. But she couldn't dance around the issue any longer.
"Because you're not a superheroine, Margot."
Margot blinked. "Well, no, but..."
"Until you can beat me in a fight, you can't come along. That's the deal, right?"
Margot let out a long, disappointed breath. "So you'll take me as a partner when, you know, you're bound to a slab in a creepy basement and about to be fucked by a vine."
Erin shook her head. "Margot, don't do this..."
"And you'll take me as a partner when you're tied in the back of kid's car in your bra and panties. Or when some frat boys have you pinned down in an alley. You'll want me then, right?"
"Margot. Stop."
"Oh, and when a couple of horny hillbillies have got you trussed up in a shack. They're about to unmask you, take off your clothes, about to fuck you silly... That's a good time for help too, right?"
"Margot!" Erin yelled. "Shut up!"
Margot stopped, looked out the windshield, and sighed.
"Listen," Erin said. "You're my back-up. You're my tech support. You have saved my life so many times, and we both know it. But you're more effective when you're out here. If we both go in together, then we can both get in trouble. But if you stay out here..."
"I get it, I get it," Margot said, waving her hand. "Whatever, Erin."
It was a bizarre mood shift from this afternoon. Erin didn't understand it. Was Margot really that upset about not getting to wear a stupid spandex costume?
Erin didn't want to pursue it any further. "I'm counting on you, girl," she said, stepping out of the car.
And with that, the Blue Lynx crept over to the front door of the paint factory, looked around, saw that the coast was clear, and stepped inside.
On to Chapter Four
April 18th, 9:15 PM
The City Paint Factory. A massive, blocky brick structure, nearly a century old, in utter disrepair. Broken windows, broken doors. A crumbling relic from a forgotten past.
Another night, another abandoned building.
Why was Hammerson so drawn to these places? And why, for that matter, was Erin?
"It's pretty cool, don't you think?" Erin said, as Margot drove into the factory's parking lot.
"I think it's an eyesore," Margot said, pulling into a space and putting the car in park. "I think bulldozing it is the one good idea Hammerson's ever had."
"Wow," Erin said. "I thought you liked old things?"
"I do," Margot said, staring at Erin. "I don't like this one. It's an ugly waste of space."
Erin chuckled. "Suit yourself."
"That reminds me," Margot said, staring up at the building, which must've been at least six stories high. "Do you want me coming in tonight? As Black Bobcat?" She reached into the backseat and patted her backpack. "Because I'm ready."
"I know you are," Erin said. "But tonight I'm going in alone."
"But Erin," Margot protested. "You said it yourself... Hammerson is through. All of his goons are dead. He has nobody now. Well, maybe a couple of thugs. But I can handle a couple of thugs!"
Erin clapped her hand on Margot's shoulder. "I know you can, girl."
"Okay," Margot said. "So why can't I come?"
She was being pretty stubborn. Erin didn't want to hurt her feelings. But she couldn't dance around the issue any longer.
"Because you're not a superheroine, Margot."
Margot blinked. "Well, no, but..."
"Until you can beat me in a fight, you can't come along. That's the deal, right?"
Margot let out a long, disappointed breath. "So you'll take me as a partner when, you know, you're bound to a slab in a creepy basement and about to be fucked by a vine."
Erin shook her head. "Margot, don't do this..."
"And you'll take me as a partner when you're tied in the back of kid's car in your bra and panties. Or when some frat boys have you pinned down in an alley. You'll want me then, right?"
"Margot. Stop."
"Oh, and when a couple of horny hillbillies have got you trussed up in a shack. They're about to unmask you, take off your clothes, about to fuck you silly... That's a good time for help too, right?"
"Margot!" Erin yelled. "Shut up!"
Margot stopped, looked out the windshield, and sighed.
"Listen," Erin said. "You're my back-up. You're my tech support. You have saved my life so many times, and we both know it. But you're more effective when you're out here. If we both go in together, then we can both get in trouble. But if you stay out here..."
"I get it, I get it," Margot said, waving her hand. "Whatever, Erin."
It was a bizarre mood shift from this afternoon. Erin didn't understand it. Was Margot really that upset about not getting to wear a stupid spandex costume?
Erin didn't want to pursue it any further. "I'm counting on you, girl," she said, stepping out of the car.
And with that, the Blue Lynx crept over to the front door of the paint factory, looked around, saw that the coast was clear, and stepped inside.
On to Chapter Four
The Fearsome Five: The Gauntlet: Chapter Four
Chapter Four
April 18th, 9:23 PM
"Fuck her," Margot thought, clenching her fists.
"I do my best. I work hard and train every day. But it's never good enough. Whenever it's time to leap into battle, it's 'not yet, Margot.' But I've fought before! I've saved her life, like, twenty times! Ungrateful bitch."
She stopped herself. She didn't want to think these things. She was mad, yes, but she still had a responsibility to Erin. She needed to keep a clear head. Needed to watch the tracker, make sure things were okay, sit in the car like a good little girl...
"Ugh," she said. "Fuck this."
She reached into the backseat and grabbed her backpack.
"I'm at least getting in costume," she thought, unzipping the bag and pulling out her black and purple spandex. "Hopefully Erin's okay with that."
Car costume changes were awkward. It was tough to shimmy out of her shorts sitting down, and even tougher to step into her skintight costume. She banged her elbows against the car door, kicked at the brake and gas pedals, almost hit her glasses off her face in frustration.
"So maybe I'm not ready to be a superheroine," Margot thought, stuffing her bra into her spandex v-neck. "Not until I can do this in less than an hour."
Margot was so occupied with her transformation that she didn't see a white van pull up nearby. She was clipping on her utility belt when three figures leaped out of the car, and adjusting her mask as they crept over to her side of the parking lot, silent and silhouetted in the dark. She was putting the finishing touches on the Black Bobcat, tracing her lips with bright red lipstick, for sheerly artistic reasons, when she heard a knock on her window.
Shocked by the sudden intrusion, she flicked her head up. And just inches from her face, separated only by a couple millimeters of car window, she saw the wide, threatening grin of Brent Hammerson.
"Come on out, girly," he said, beckoning with his hand. "There's no use in fighting."
Shit! What was he doing out here? And talking to her? He was supposed to be inside dealing with Erin!
Margot's mind raced. They had ambushed her. This was a trap. She should call Erin, right now.
"No," she told herself. "You can do this on your own. To prove yourself to Erin."
Hammerson kept rapping on the window. "Alright kid," he said. "Open up right now or I'm coming in."
Margot took a deep breath, unlocked the car door, and put everything she had into a kick against the side panel. The door flung out and banged into Hammerson, knocking him off of his feet and onto the pavement.
"What's the matter, Brent?" she said, keeping her eye on his writhing, grounded figure, and stepping out of the car. "I thought you wanted me to open the door."
Suddenly, she felt herself being taken off the ground, lifted up by some sort of black cloud. She kicked her legs around, tensed her arms, tried flinging her head about, but found that she was securely in someone arms. Thick, black-clad arms with an ultra-tight grip.
"Oh shit!" Margot thought. "It's that... Ninja! But he's dead!"
Realizing who held her made Margot fight even harder, but all of her efforts were immediately thwarted by the ninja's immense, overpowering strength. She watched from his arms as Hammerson clambered to his feet, straightening his hair.
"Goddamn you," Hammerson said, dusting off his suit. "You're just as bad as your partner."
Margot needed to come up with a retort. Something devastatingly clever, something to make her current predicament a little more palatable. But all she could think of was, "Oh, I'm... worse."
There was sudden laughter from another direction. Margot looked up and saw Sunny, all bleached blonde hair and black leather, more fit and vigorous than you'd expect given that a whole house had fallen on top of her.
"You are worse than the Blue Lynx," Sunny laughed, stepping up to Margot, placing her hand on Margot's chin. "You're just the stupid sidekick. And tonight, you're bait."
"Bait?" Margot said, her eyes widening.
Sunny nodded. "Which means you won't be needing this." She reached around Margot's back and unfastened the Black Bobcat's utility belt. Sunny let it drop into her fingers and then slung it over her shoulder.
"My belt!" Margot cried. "Give it back!"
"Ah ah ah," Sunny said, patting Margot's cheek. "What would the Blue Lynx say if she saw you begging?"
Margot gulped. Shoot! Why had she been so careless? How could she allowed them to get the drop on her? She squirmed in the ninja's grip.
"Now quit moving so I can tie you up," Sunny said, pulling ropes from her pocket.
Margot kept moving, but it didn't matter. Minutes later, Sunny had bound her wrists behind her and her ankles together. The ninja placed her on the pavement, and Margot wiggled around, desperately looking for a sharp surface to cut the ropes. Hammerson and Sunny laughed as they watched her, apparently unconvinced she was going anywhere.
"You fiends," Margot said. "You won't get away with this. The Blue Lynx is right inside. She knows where I am. She'll find you all and destroy you. You can't stop her."
"I've heard enough from the best friend," Hammerson said. He snapped his fingers and Sunny bent down. She stuffed a piece of cloth into Margot's mouth and locked it in with a long strip of duct tape.
"MMPH!" Margot said. "MMPH!"
"From now on, you talk when we say," Sunny said. "Be a good little girl."
"I think you were right, Sunny," Hammerson said. "She really is the perfect bait. The Blue Lynx would never give up on her sidekick."
He nodded at the ninja, and the massive black-clad man picked Margot up with one elegant scoop, tossing her over his shoulder like a particularly light sack of potatoes.
"Now let's go capture a real superheroine," Hammerson laughed.
Margot strained against the ninja's shoulder, trying to roll off, but he had her locked in, had her thighs in his arms and was not giving an inch. So she simply watched, with sad, angry, worried eyes, as they carried her away from her car, across the parking lot, and toward their white van.
On to Chapter Five
April 18th, 9:23 PM
"Fuck her," Margot thought, clenching her fists.
"I do my best. I work hard and train every day. But it's never good enough. Whenever it's time to leap into battle, it's 'not yet, Margot.' But I've fought before! I've saved her life, like, twenty times! Ungrateful bitch."
She stopped herself. She didn't want to think these things. She was mad, yes, but she still had a responsibility to Erin. She needed to keep a clear head. Needed to watch the tracker, make sure things were okay, sit in the car like a good little girl...
"Ugh," she said. "Fuck this."
She reached into the backseat and grabbed her backpack.
"I'm at least getting in costume," she thought, unzipping the bag and pulling out her black and purple spandex. "Hopefully Erin's okay with that."
Car costume changes were awkward. It was tough to shimmy out of her shorts sitting down, and even tougher to step into her skintight costume. She banged her elbows against the car door, kicked at the brake and gas pedals, almost hit her glasses off her face in frustration.
"So maybe I'm not ready to be a superheroine," Margot thought, stuffing her bra into her spandex v-neck. "Not until I can do this in less than an hour."
Margot was so occupied with her transformation that she didn't see a white van pull up nearby. She was clipping on her utility belt when three figures leaped out of the car, and adjusting her mask as they crept over to her side of the parking lot, silent and silhouetted in the dark. She was putting the finishing touches on the Black Bobcat, tracing her lips with bright red lipstick, for sheerly artistic reasons, when she heard a knock on her window.
Shocked by the sudden intrusion, she flicked her head up. And just inches from her face, separated only by a couple millimeters of car window, she saw the wide, threatening grin of Brent Hammerson.
"Come on out, girly," he said, beckoning with his hand. "There's no use in fighting."
Shit! What was he doing out here? And talking to her? He was supposed to be inside dealing with Erin!
Margot's mind raced. They had ambushed her. This was a trap. She should call Erin, right now.
"No," she told herself. "You can do this on your own. To prove yourself to Erin."
Hammerson kept rapping on the window. "Alright kid," he said. "Open up right now or I'm coming in."
Margot took a deep breath, unlocked the car door, and put everything she had into a kick against the side panel. The door flung out and banged into Hammerson, knocking him off of his feet and onto the pavement.
"What's the matter, Brent?" she said, keeping her eye on his writhing, grounded figure, and stepping out of the car. "I thought you wanted me to open the door."
Suddenly, she felt herself being taken off the ground, lifted up by some sort of black cloud. She kicked her legs around, tensed her arms, tried flinging her head about, but found that she was securely in someone arms. Thick, black-clad arms with an ultra-tight grip.
"Oh shit!" Margot thought. "It's that... Ninja! But he's dead!"
Realizing who held her made Margot fight even harder, but all of her efforts were immediately thwarted by the ninja's immense, overpowering strength. She watched from his arms as Hammerson clambered to his feet, straightening his hair.
"Goddamn you," Hammerson said, dusting off his suit. "You're just as bad as your partner."
Margot needed to come up with a retort. Something devastatingly clever, something to make her current predicament a little more palatable. But all she could think of was, "Oh, I'm... worse."
There was sudden laughter from another direction. Margot looked up and saw Sunny, all bleached blonde hair and black leather, more fit and vigorous than you'd expect given that a whole house had fallen on top of her.
"You are worse than the Blue Lynx," Sunny laughed, stepping up to Margot, placing her hand on Margot's chin. "You're just the stupid sidekick. And tonight, you're bait."
"Bait?" Margot said, her eyes widening.
Sunny nodded. "Which means you won't be needing this." She reached around Margot's back and unfastened the Black Bobcat's utility belt. Sunny let it drop into her fingers and then slung it over her shoulder.
"My belt!" Margot cried. "Give it back!"
"Ah ah ah," Sunny said, patting Margot's cheek. "What would the Blue Lynx say if she saw you begging?"
Margot gulped. Shoot! Why had she been so careless? How could she allowed them to get the drop on her? She squirmed in the ninja's grip.
"Now quit moving so I can tie you up," Sunny said, pulling ropes from her pocket.
Margot kept moving, but it didn't matter. Minutes later, Sunny had bound her wrists behind her and her ankles together. The ninja placed her on the pavement, and Margot wiggled around, desperately looking for a sharp surface to cut the ropes. Hammerson and Sunny laughed as they watched her, apparently unconvinced she was going anywhere.
"You fiends," Margot said. "You won't get away with this. The Blue Lynx is right inside. She knows where I am. She'll find you all and destroy you. You can't stop her."
"I've heard enough from the best friend," Hammerson said. He snapped his fingers and Sunny bent down. She stuffed a piece of cloth into Margot's mouth and locked it in with a long strip of duct tape.
"MMPH!" Margot said. "MMPH!"
"From now on, you talk when we say," Sunny said. "Be a good little girl."
"I think you were right, Sunny," Hammerson said. "She really is the perfect bait. The Blue Lynx would never give up on her sidekick."
He nodded at the ninja, and the massive black-clad man picked Margot up with one elegant scoop, tossing her over his shoulder like a particularly light sack of potatoes.
"Now let's go capture a real superheroine," Hammerson laughed.
Margot strained against the ninja's shoulder, trying to roll off, but he had her locked in, had her thighs in his arms and was not giving an inch. So she simply watched, with sad, angry, worried eyes, as they carried her away from her car, across the parking lot, and toward their white van.
On to Chapter Five
The Fearsome Five: The Gauntlet: Chapter Five
Chapter Five
April 18th, 9:25 PM
Inside the paint factory, it smelled like paint. It was a big, open space, much of its equipment looted thanks to years of abandonment, but the omnipresent acrid odor meant you couldn't mistake the building for any other. Simply walking around its broken conveyor belts, dusty consoles, and turned over tables made Erin lightheaded. Well, the paint smell, and thinking about Margot.
"What has gotten into her?" Erin thought, creeping through the open aisles, her eyes darting up and down. "Why does she want to be a superheroine so much?"
Erin knew her own answer to that question, of course: being a superheroine was a blast. But it was only fun if you were good at it. And while Margot had steadily improved her fighting skills in the past half year, she still had yet to possess a quarter of Erin's ability. Which meant, in short, that she wasn't superheroine material. Not yet, anyway.
She had been walking around for nearly five minutes when it hit Erin that she had yet to see or hear a single person.
"Probably in some back office, somewhere," Erin thought. She was practically certain that Hammerson had been sending a message with that press release. It was unmistakable: she wanted her here, tonight. And Erin was looking forward to meeting him. But where the hell was he?
The phone she kept in her utility belt pocket buzzed.
"That's odd," Erin thought, ducking behind an ancient computer and fishing the device out. "I guess Margot wants to rant at me some more."
She pressed a button, put the phone to her ear, and whispered, "Hey."
"Blue Lynx!"
It wasn't Margot. It was a male voice. A loud, cocky, familiar voice.
Oh God.
"Hammerson!" Erin said.
"Oh yeah," Hammerson replied. "It's me, alright. My phone died. Your partner was kind enough to lend me hers."
Erin could feel her heart thumping. None of this made sense. What was Hammerson doing? How did he get Margot's phone? What was happening? She felt dizzy. She couldn't speak.
"Here, I'll let her talk," Hammerson continued. Erin heard a scuffle on the other end, a loud ripping sound, and then, in the loud, unmistakable voice of her friend:
"Blue Lynx! I'm sorry!"
"Black Bobcat!" Erin yelled. She didn't want to use Margot's name. Though if they had captured her, they could almost certainly find that information out on their own. The thought made Erin shudder: did this mean they knew her name, too? Margot designed both phones to be used only by their owners: they both were currently in "Blue Lynx Mode." But would that be enough to protect Erin's secret?
"That's right. The Black Bobcat." Hammerson's voice again. "Cute name. I had forgotten it."
"Hammerson," Erin growled. "If you hurt her..."
"Oh, don't worry, Blue Lynx," Hammerson said. "Your sidekick will be just fine. Providing you play along, of course."
It had been a trap. All of this. The "message" to the Blue Lynx. The paint factory. They had wanted Margot alone, so they could nab her. And now that they had her, Erin was at their mercy.
"You bastard," Erin sneered. She was pacing around, now, clutching the phone, swinging her other arm angrily. "I swear, you will pay for this."
"Listen to me, superheroine," Hammerson said. "I know you're in the factory now. I know this because of your partner's tracker."
The comment froze Erin. Of course he knew. But knowing that he knew-- that he had access to all of Margot's technology-- was a terrifying thought.
"I hope you can reverse engineer that thing," Hammerson continued. "Because if you don't come to the next stage in twenty-five minutes, we'll make a pelt out of your Bobcat friend."
"Twenty-five minutes? Next stage?" Erin yelled. "What are you talking about?"
"You'd better figure it out quick, Blue Lynx," Hammerson laughed. "The clock starts now."
Erin began to run to the front of the factory. "Hammerson! Stop!"
"Now, let's have a look at all of the Black Bobcat's wonderful little toys."
The phone erupted in laughter, and Hammerson hung up.
Erin, still sprinting, punched the touchpad of her phone. She scrolled through the menus and found the "Bobcat Tracker" that Margot had installed for situations like these. A red dot popped up on her screen. It was just a couple hundred yards away.
"They're still here!" Erin thought. "They're in the parking lot!"
Just as Erin accelerated, the red dot took off, forcing the tracker to zoom out. In seconds, it was a quarter mile away. And then a half mile. A mile.
"Dammit!" Erin yelled. "Dammit!"
She had come to the large open area where she first walked in. But where before it had been empty, there were now four men, gangly, muscular young guys in jeans and tank tops, standing awkwardly between Erin and the door.
"Get out of the way!" Erin yelled, still running at top speed, pocketing her phone.
"There she is!" one of the guys shouted.
"Get her!" another yelled.
Erin didn't stop.
"I guess this is Hammerson's first stage," she thought. "Fine by me."
The men had formed into a line, like they were playing Red Rover, like this was all a game. They held their fists out in front of them, some more confidently than others. They looked athletic, vigorous, solid.
Erin wasn't concerned one bit.
She stuck her hand in the pocket and quickly removed it, flinging a handful of Lynx Darts. They flew through the air and then stopped, some digging into arm and legs, others hitting the back wall. The men screamed in pain and Erin pounced, clotheslining her closest opponent, then ducking, sliding, and tripping the next nearest. She sprang to her feet and then jumped in the air, bringing her knee against the underside of the third man's chin, and then dropping to the floor, crouching down, and driving her elbow into the fourth man's stomach. She watched the two men fall, and turned to the door to leave.
"Nice try, boys," she said, waving her hand behind her.
But a hand clamped on her shoulder. She felt her body spin around, and then felt a fist sink into her abdomen. She wheezed, bringing her hands to her lower body. She looked up and saw the second man seize her throat with ten fingers. He smiled as he pushed her forward, forcing her back against a wall.
"Who said you could leave?" the man cackled, staring Erin in the eyes.
She coughed. Her hands gripped at her attacker's, but she couldn't peel his fingers off.
"Mr. Hammerson said if we caught you, we could do anything we wanted to you," the man said. His eyes had dropped to Erin's chest. She could feel them burning into her bare flesh, running over the contours of her costume, savoring the sight of her struggling lower body.
The other men had been picking themselves up, one at a time, wincing as they pulled out Lynx Darts.
"So what do you think we should do, guys?" the man said, looking back at his friends.
The third man was holding his chin. "Right now, I just want to punch that bitch in the face."
The fourth man shook his head. "No, no, no," he said. "Not before I sock her in the stomach real hard."
"Well I say we take off her mask," the first man said. "See why she's so damn secretive."
This comment elicited chuckles from all of the men. Erin gritted her teeth.
"We can do all of that," the second man said, his fingers still locked around Erin's neck. "And a whole lot more." His eyes had dropped to Erin's crotch, and Erin could practically hear him licking his lips.
"Well, you know what I say?," Erin said, her voice racked with small coughs.
"What's that, Blue Lynx?" the second man said. The other three had gathered around them now, were all gawking at Erin, all grinning with anticipation.
"I say," Erin muttered. "I don't have time for this shit."
She pressed her back against the wall and kicked her boots up, catching the second man in the groin. He shrieked, immediately bringing his hands down, and Erin pushed forward, barreling into the four guys. She spun into a series of roundhouse kicks, catching each of the men up high, sending them all to the floor, two of the men unfortunate enough to land back on Lynx Darts.
They moaned and groaned and screamed as Erin fixed her hair.
"You almost had me, boys," she said, pulling her phone from her utility belt. "But this date is over. And I'm not joking this time."
She gave the men one final smile, and then dashed out the front door.
On to Chapter Six
April 18th, 9:25 PM
Inside the paint factory, it smelled like paint. It was a big, open space, much of its equipment looted thanks to years of abandonment, but the omnipresent acrid odor meant you couldn't mistake the building for any other. Simply walking around its broken conveyor belts, dusty consoles, and turned over tables made Erin lightheaded. Well, the paint smell, and thinking about Margot.
"What has gotten into her?" Erin thought, creeping through the open aisles, her eyes darting up and down. "Why does she want to be a superheroine so much?"
Erin knew her own answer to that question, of course: being a superheroine was a blast. But it was only fun if you were good at it. And while Margot had steadily improved her fighting skills in the past half year, she still had yet to possess a quarter of Erin's ability. Which meant, in short, that she wasn't superheroine material. Not yet, anyway.
She had been walking around for nearly five minutes when it hit Erin that she had yet to see or hear a single person.
"Probably in some back office, somewhere," Erin thought. She was practically certain that Hammerson had been sending a message with that press release. It was unmistakable: she wanted her here, tonight. And Erin was looking forward to meeting him. But where the hell was he?
The phone she kept in her utility belt pocket buzzed.
"That's odd," Erin thought, ducking behind an ancient computer and fishing the device out. "I guess Margot wants to rant at me some more."
She pressed a button, put the phone to her ear, and whispered, "Hey."
"Blue Lynx!"
It wasn't Margot. It was a male voice. A loud, cocky, familiar voice.
Oh God.
"Hammerson!" Erin said.
"Oh yeah," Hammerson replied. "It's me, alright. My phone died. Your partner was kind enough to lend me hers."
Erin could feel her heart thumping. None of this made sense. What was Hammerson doing? How did he get Margot's phone? What was happening? She felt dizzy. She couldn't speak.
"Here, I'll let her talk," Hammerson continued. Erin heard a scuffle on the other end, a loud ripping sound, and then, in the loud, unmistakable voice of her friend:
"Blue Lynx! I'm sorry!"
"Black Bobcat!" Erin yelled. She didn't want to use Margot's name. Though if they had captured her, they could almost certainly find that information out on their own. The thought made Erin shudder: did this mean they knew her name, too? Margot designed both phones to be used only by their owners: they both were currently in "Blue Lynx Mode." But would that be enough to protect Erin's secret?
"That's right. The Black Bobcat." Hammerson's voice again. "Cute name. I had forgotten it."
"Hammerson," Erin growled. "If you hurt her..."
"Oh, don't worry, Blue Lynx," Hammerson said. "Your sidekick will be just fine. Providing you play along, of course."
It had been a trap. All of this. The "message" to the Blue Lynx. The paint factory. They had wanted Margot alone, so they could nab her. And now that they had her, Erin was at their mercy.
"You bastard," Erin sneered. She was pacing around, now, clutching the phone, swinging her other arm angrily. "I swear, you will pay for this."
"Listen to me, superheroine," Hammerson said. "I know you're in the factory now. I know this because of your partner's tracker."
The comment froze Erin. Of course he knew. But knowing that he knew-- that he had access to all of Margot's technology-- was a terrifying thought.
"I hope you can reverse engineer that thing," Hammerson continued. "Because if you don't come to the next stage in twenty-five minutes, we'll make a pelt out of your Bobcat friend."
"Twenty-five minutes? Next stage?" Erin yelled. "What are you talking about?"
"You'd better figure it out quick, Blue Lynx," Hammerson laughed. "The clock starts now."
Erin began to run to the front of the factory. "Hammerson! Stop!"
"Now, let's have a look at all of the Black Bobcat's wonderful little toys."
The phone erupted in laughter, and Hammerson hung up.
Erin, still sprinting, punched the touchpad of her phone. She scrolled through the menus and found the "Bobcat Tracker" that Margot had installed for situations like these. A red dot popped up on her screen. It was just a couple hundred yards away.
"They're still here!" Erin thought. "They're in the parking lot!"
Just as Erin accelerated, the red dot took off, forcing the tracker to zoom out. In seconds, it was a quarter mile away. And then a half mile. A mile.
"Dammit!" Erin yelled. "Dammit!"
She had come to the large open area where she first walked in. But where before it had been empty, there were now four men, gangly, muscular young guys in jeans and tank tops, standing awkwardly between Erin and the door.
"Get out of the way!" Erin yelled, still running at top speed, pocketing her phone.
"There she is!" one of the guys shouted.
"Get her!" another yelled.
Erin didn't stop.
"I guess this is Hammerson's first stage," she thought. "Fine by me."
The men had formed into a line, like they were playing Red Rover, like this was all a game. They held their fists out in front of them, some more confidently than others. They looked athletic, vigorous, solid.
Erin wasn't concerned one bit.
She stuck her hand in the pocket and quickly removed it, flinging a handful of Lynx Darts. They flew through the air and then stopped, some digging into arm and legs, others hitting the back wall. The men screamed in pain and Erin pounced, clotheslining her closest opponent, then ducking, sliding, and tripping the next nearest. She sprang to her feet and then jumped in the air, bringing her knee against the underside of the third man's chin, and then dropping to the floor, crouching down, and driving her elbow into the fourth man's stomach. She watched the two men fall, and turned to the door to leave.
"Nice try, boys," she said, waving her hand behind her.
But a hand clamped on her shoulder. She felt her body spin around, and then felt a fist sink into her abdomen. She wheezed, bringing her hands to her lower body. She looked up and saw the second man seize her throat with ten fingers. He smiled as he pushed her forward, forcing her back against a wall.
"Who said you could leave?" the man cackled, staring Erin in the eyes.
She coughed. Her hands gripped at her attacker's, but she couldn't peel his fingers off.
"Mr. Hammerson said if we caught you, we could do anything we wanted to you," the man said. His eyes had dropped to Erin's chest. She could feel them burning into her bare flesh, running over the contours of her costume, savoring the sight of her struggling lower body.
The other men had been picking themselves up, one at a time, wincing as they pulled out Lynx Darts.
"So what do you think we should do, guys?" the man said, looking back at his friends.
The third man was holding his chin. "Right now, I just want to punch that bitch in the face."
The fourth man shook his head. "No, no, no," he said. "Not before I sock her in the stomach real hard."
"Well I say we take off her mask," the first man said. "See why she's so damn secretive."
This comment elicited chuckles from all of the men. Erin gritted her teeth.
"We can do all of that," the second man said, his fingers still locked around Erin's neck. "And a whole lot more." His eyes had dropped to Erin's crotch, and Erin could practically hear him licking his lips.
"Well, you know what I say?," Erin said, her voice racked with small coughs.
"What's that, Blue Lynx?" the second man said. The other three had gathered around them now, were all gawking at Erin, all grinning with anticipation.
"I say," Erin muttered. "I don't have time for this shit."
She pressed her back against the wall and kicked her boots up, catching the second man in the groin. He shrieked, immediately bringing his hands down, and Erin pushed forward, barreling into the four guys. She spun into a series of roundhouse kicks, catching each of the men up high, sending them all to the floor, two of the men unfortunate enough to land back on Lynx Darts.
They moaned and groaned and screamed as Erin fixed her hair.
"You almost had me, boys," she said, pulling her phone from her utility belt. "But this date is over. And I'm not joking this time."
She gave the men one final smile, and then dashed out the front door.
On to Chapter Six
The Fearsome Five: The Gauntlet: Chapter Six
Chapter Six
April 18th, 9:34 PM
Erin had twenty minutes to get to the next stage.
But what the hell was the "next stage"?
She ran into the parking lot and sprinted toward Margot's car.
"That lousy bastard," she thought. "What kind of game is this? And why now?"
Hammerson had been strangely quiet the last several weeks. She hadn't seen or heard from him since, well, before her arm had been broken. But this scheme, this attempt to use Margot as bait, it was clearly something he'd been planning for a while. Those henchmen didn't just come out of nowhere: they were paid associates of "the boss."
Margot's car was unlocked. Erin jumped into the driver's seat, furiously searching for the keys. She riffled through Margot's backpack. Nothing. She looked in the cup holder, on the ground. Still nothing. Did Margot take them with her?
Erin gulped. "I don't think I can get there... Not fast enough... Not without a car."
She had begun to panic when she spotted a pile of clothing on the floor near the passenger's seat. A red spaghetti-strap top, jean shorts, and sandals. Margot's clothes.
"She must have gotten into her costume," Erin thought. "Which explains why they were calling her the Black Bobcat."
Erin reached over, picked up Margot's shorts, and shook them. There was a small jingle.
"Yes!" Erin said. She removed the key from the jean pockets and jammed it into the ignition.
"Alright," she thought. "Here we go."
She hadn't driven a car in years. It hadn't been required: she was able to walk or run to most of the places she wanted to go, and Margot was more than happy to chauffeur her around when needed. Driving in the city always kind of freaked her out, actually. But she couldn't be afraid now.
She put the car in drive and zoomed away from the paint factory, one hand on the wheel, the other on her phone. She glanced back and forth, from the road to tracker. The red dot representing Margot didn't appear to be too far away: just five miles down the street, in one of the poorest, most run-down neighborhoods of the city.
"She's not moving," Erin thought. "I guess they're in the next stage."
The weekday night traffic was light, and the path to the red dot was straight. Erin drove well over the speed limit, and within five minutes she was just a couple hundred yards from her friend. She was definitely in the ghetto, now: the streets were lined with abandoned houses, unkempt lawns, and boarded-up windows. This was hardly uncommon territory for the Blue Lynx-- the majority of Hammerson's drug houses were surrounded by squalor-- but tonight, alone in Margot's car, driving to an uncertain fate, Erin could feel her nerves acting up.
She parked on the street in front of a wide two-story building, a gray-bricked windowless square that seemed both newer and more ancient than the residences surrounding it. It had a curious depth to it-- from where Erin sat, it looked like it extended back to the horizon. It didn't look like a house. It looked almost like an arena. And the tracker made it clear that Margot was somewhere inside.
Erin checked the time. About twenty minutes had elapsed since Hammerson's phone call.
"I have to get in there, now," Erin thought. She turned off the car and sprang out the door, running down the plain concrete pathway to the building's front door. She checked the handle-- it was unlocked-- and pushed inside.
She found herself in a plain white room, a perfect square, about fifty feet on each side, harshly lit by bright fluorescent ceiling lights.
The room was silent. She was alone. There were no signs of life, period: the room had no furniture, no pictures, no dust. The whole thing seemed untouched, pure. The only piece of it interrupting its plain whiteness was a single black door on the wall opposite its entrance.
"Hammerson!" Erin yelled. "Come out! Face me! I'm here!"
Erin put her hands on her hips and tapped her toe.
"Alright, so much for stage two," she thought.
She stomped across the room toward the black door. Suddenly, she heard a voice.
"Blue Lynx."
It was Hammerson. Via speaker.
"Welcome. You've made it! And with barely a minute to spare. Did you have a little trouble with my boys?"
"Hammerson," Erin said, pivoting around, ignoring the question. "Where's Black Bobcat?"
Hammerson laughed. "I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, Blue Lynx. But don't worry. If you can get through the next couple stages, you'll find out, soon enough."
Erin scanned the walls of the room, looking for a speaker. She searched up and around until she saw, high in a corner of the ceiling, a small black security camera mounted with a small megaphone.
"I can see you," Hammerson giggled.
"What is this place? Your home?" Erin asked. "Did you failing drug operation force you to sell all your stuff?"
"No Blue Lynx," Hammerson replied, no longer laughing. "This isn't my house. It's yours."
Erin stared up into the camera. "Really? You bought it for me? You shouldn't have."
"Oh, I didn't just buy it, my dear. I built it. A very special stadium, custom-made for our city's slipperiest, sexiest superheroine."
Erin heard the door lock behind her. She didn't flinch. She'd been expecting it to happen.
"Seems like a lot of work," Erin said. "I must really be a thorn in your side."
"Oh yeah," Hammerson said. "You've been quite the fucking nuisance. But tonight, it ends."
"Hmm," Erin said. "We'll see about that."
"You're not leaving this house alive, Blue Lynx. This is your last stand. It's you versus my Fearsome Five, one final time."
"I'm going to win, Hammerson," Erin said. "I'm going to save the Black Bobcat. And then, it will be you who's finished."
Hammerson laughed. "Famous last words, superheroine. But enough talk. I don't want to delay this any longer. From this point on, I'll be watching your progress."
Erin extended a middle finger to the security camera.
"Blue Lynx!" Hammerson yelled. "Welcome to THE GAUNTLET!"
The ceiling lights exploded into color. Erin was suddenly covered in red, blue, and green. She heard a small hissing sound, and the room slowly filled with smoke. It collected around her ankles and thighs. Erin waved it away, taking a small whiff to determine its toxicity. The gas was odorless, and she assumed it was simply for "atmosphere." Just another part of Hammerson's game, this "gauntlet" he'd created.
The black door creaked open, and into the smoky, multicolored room sauntered a small, frail man with round glasses and a tiny mustache. It was Hammerson's doctor, and the Blue Lynx's poisoner: Grigory Todorov.
"Why hello there!" he said, kicking at the smoke plumes, shutting the door behind with a clumsy turn. "Welcome, Blue Lynx. Welcome and hello."
Erin smiled. "Todorov. Are you my first challenger?"
"Indeed I am," he replied, sticking his hands in the pockets on his lab coat. "Aren't you happy?"
"Oh yeah," Erin said, bringing her fists in front of her face. "This shouldn't be too difficult."
"No, no," Todorov said. "It's an easy start, for you." He grinned at Erin. "There's just one problem."
"What's that?" Erin said, shuffling toward the doctor.
Todorov chuckled.
"I cheat."
He pulled a pistol from his coat pocket, leveled it at Erin, and fired.
On to Chapter Seven
April 18th, 9:34 PM
Erin had twenty minutes to get to the next stage.
But what the hell was the "next stage"?
She ran into the parking lot and sprinted toward Margot's car.
"That lousy bastard," she thought. "What kind of game is this? And why now?"
Hammerson had been strangely quiet the last several weeks. She hadn't seen or heard from him since, well, before her arm had been broken. But this scheme, this attempt to use Margot as bait, it was clearly something he'd been planning for a while. Those henchmen didn't just come out of nowhere: they were paid associates of "the boss."
Margot's car was unlocked. Erin jumped into the driver's seat, furiously searching for the keys. She riffled through Margot's backpack. Nothing. She looked in the cup holder, on the ground. Still nothing. Did Margot take them with her?
Erin gulped. "I don't think I can get there... Not fast enough... Not without a car."
She had begun to panic when she spotted a pile of clothing on the floor near the passenger's seat. A red spaghetti-strap top, jean shorts, and sandals. Margot's clothes.
"She must have gotten into her costume," Erin thought. "Which explains why they were calling her the Black Bobcat."
Erin reached over, picked up Margot's shorts, and shook them. There was a small jingle.
"Yes!" Erin said. She removed the key from the jean pockets and jammed it into the ignition.
"Alright," she thought. "Here we go."
She hadn't driven a car in years. It hadn't been required: she was able to walk or run to most of the places she wanted to go, and Margot was more than happy to chauffeur her around when needed. Driving in the city always kind of freaked her out, actually. But she couldn't be afraid now.
She put the car in drive and zoomed away from the paint factory, one hand on the wheel, the other on her phone. She glanced back and forth, from the road to tracker. The red dot representing Margot didn't appear to be too far away: just five miles down the street, in one of the poorest, most run-down neighborhoods of the city.
"She's not moving," Erin thought. "I guess they're in the next stage."
The weekday night traffic was light, and the path to the red dot was straight. Erin drove well over the speed limit, and within five minutes she was just a couple hundred yards from her friend. She was definitely in the ghetto, now: the streets were lined with abandoned houses, unkempt lawns, and boarded-up windows. This was hardly uncommon territory for the Blue Lynx-- the majority of Hammerson's drug houses were surrounded by squalor-- but tonight, alone in Margot's car, driving to an uncertain fate, Erin could feel her nerves acting up.
She parked on the street in front of a wide two-story building, a gray-bricked windowless square that seemed both newer and more ancient than the residences surrounding it. It had a curious depth to it-- from where Erin sat, it looked like it extended back to the horizon. It didn't look like a house. It looked almost like an arena. And the tracker made it clear that Margot was somewhere inside.
Erin checked the time. About twenty minutes had elapsed since Hammerson's phone call.
"I have to get in there, now," Erin thought. She turned off the car and sprang out the door, running down the plain concrete pathway to the building's front door. She checked the handle-- it was unlocked-- and pushed inside.
She found herself in a plain white room, a perfect square, about fifty feet on each side, harshly lit by bright fluorescent ceiling lights.
The room was silent. She was alone. There were no signs of life, period: the room had no furniture, no pictures, no dust. The whole thing seemed untouched, pure. The only piece of it interrupting its plain whiteness was a single black door on the wall opposite its entrance.
"Hammerson!" Erin yelled. "Come out! Face me! I'm here!"
Erin put her hands on her hips and tapped her toe.
"Alright, so much for stage two," she thought.
She stomped across the room toward the black door. Suddenly, she heard a voice.
"Blue Lynx."
It was Hammerson. Via speaker.
"Welcome. You've made it! And with barely a minute to spare. Did you have a little trouble with my boys?"
"Hammerson," Erin said, pivoting around, ignoring the question. "Where's Black Bobcat?"
Hammerson laughed. "I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, Blue Lynx. But don't worry. If you can get through the next couple stages, you'll find out, soon enough."
Erin scanned the walls of the room, looking for a speaker. She searched up and around until she saw, high in a corner of the ceiling, a small black security camera mounted with a small megaphone.
"I can see you," Hammerson giggled.
"What is this place? Your home?" Erin asked. "Did you failing drug operation force you to sell all your stuff?"
"No Blue Lynx," Hammerson replied, no longer laughing. "This isn't my house. It's yours."
Erin stared up into the camera. "Really? You bought it for me? You shouldn't have."
"Oh, I didn't just buy it, my dear. I built it. A very special stadium, custom-made for our city's slipperiest, sexiest superheroine."
Erin heard the door lock behind her. She didn't flinch. She'd been expecting it to happen.
"Seems like a lot of work," Erin said. "I must really be a thorn in your side."
"Oh yeah," Hammerson said. "You've been quite the fucking nuisance. But tonight, it ends."
"Hmm," Erin said. "We'll see about that."
"You're not leaving this house alive, Blue Lynx. This is your last stand. It's you versus my Fearsome Five, one final time."
"I'm going to win, Hammerson," Erin said. "I'm going to save the Black Bobcat. And then, it will be you who's finished."
Hammerson laughed. "Famous last words, superheroine. But enough talk. I don't want to delay this any longer. From this point on, I'll be watching your progress."
Erin extended a middle finger to the security camera.
"Blue Lynx!" Hammerson yelled. "Welcome to THE GAUNTLET!"
The ceiling lights exploded into color. Erin was suddenly covered in red, blue, and green. She heard a small hissing sound, and the room slowly filled with smoke. It collected around her ankles and thighs. Erin waved it away, taking a small whiff to determine its toxicity. The gas was odorless, and she assumed it was simply for "atmosphere." Just another part of Hammerson's game, this "gauntlet" he'd created.
The black door creaked open, and into the smoky, multicolored room sauntered a small, frail man with round glasses and a tiny mustache. It was Hammerson's doctor, and the Blue Lynx's poisoner: Grigory Todorov.
"Why hello there!" he said, kicking at the smoke plumes, shutting the door behind with a clumsy turn. "Welcome, Blue Lynx. Welcome and hello."
Erin smiled. "Todorov. Are you my first challenger?"
"Indeed I am," he replied, sticking his hands in the pockets on his lab coat. "Aren't you happy?"
"Oh yeah," Erin said, bringing her fists in front of her face. "This shouldn't be too difficult."
"No, no," Todorov said. "It's an easy start, for you." He grinned at Erin. "There's just one problem."
"What's that?" Erin said, shuffling toward the doctor.
Todorov chuckled.
"I cheat."
He pulled a pistol from his coat pocket, leveled it at Erin, and fired.
On to Chapter Seven
The Fearsome Five: The Gauntlet: Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
April 18th, 10:01 PM
Erin turned away, but not far enough. The bullet slammed into her left shoulder, spinning her around and down to her knees. Her hand immediately went to her upper arm.
"Augh!" she cried.
She'd been shot! For the first time! Blasted at point blank by Todorov! Ahh! How? Why? She'd been shot! Oh God!
She was so gripped by terror that it took a second for her to realize: she wasn't in pain.
She looked over at her shoulder. There was no blood or bone. Just a small dart, sticking from her blue spandex like a metallic mosquito. Erin plucked it from her skin and threw it to the floor.
"That all you got, Todorov?" she said, rising unsteadily to her feet.
Todorov nodded. "That's all I need."
Erin stepped toward him, and the ground felt uncertain, like she was walking in an inflatable bounce house. She brought her hand to her head. The lights and smoke were suddenly disorienting.
"What did you put in there?" she muttered.
"Just a light tranquilizer, my own recipe," Todorov said, smirking. "Something to slow you down a little bit."
Erin tried to take another step. Moving her boot felt like moving a concrete block. She brought it up, and immediately back down. She placed her hands on her thigh, trying to get her leg going, but there was no strength in her muscles. She felt like she was hardening, turning into bone.
"You bastard," she mumbled. Even her tongue felt numb.
"Mr. Hammerson has designed a pretty incredible series of obstacles for you," Todorov said, meandering toward Erin. "It's just a shame you won't even be getting past me. Little old me!"
He had arrived within a couple feet of her. His eyes were examining her body, which stood almost completely inert, her hands still fastened to her thigh, her boots still locked into the floor.
"Come on, Blue Lynx!" Erin thought. "You've got to MOVE!"
"Seems like my recipe is working pretty well," Todorov said, poking Erin in the bicep. "You're practically frozen in place."
Erin wasn't quite frozen. She could flex her fingers, and was sliding her hands up to her belt as Todorov spoke, hoping he wouldn't notice.
"Such a fine young specimen," Todorov said, pacing in a circle around Erin, flicking her hair with his fingers. "A true exemplar of feminine beauty and strength."
"What... are... you... talking... about?" Erin said. Speaking can become as difficult as moving.
"Just look at this posterior," Todorov continued, crouching down behind Erin. She suddenly felt his fingers pinching her butt. She tried to squirm away, but her boots still refused to budge. Whatever Todorov put in that drug, it was potent. At this point, Todorov could put his hands anywhere he liked, and Erin would only be able to whine in protest.
"I'll bet you work out every day. Smart girl," Todorov said, once again walking around to face Erin. "Enjoy your youth while you can."
"Thanks... for... the... lecture... Old... man."
Her fingers were now prying at the flaps of her belt pockets. "Keep looking at my ass," Erin thought. "Keep drooling over my 'feminine beauty'..."
Todorov's eyes flashed. "Oh no, you don't," he said, grabbing Erin's wrists and, with almost no resistance from the Blue Lynx, pulling them away from her belt.
"No!" Erin cried.
"No toys for you, Blue Lynx," Todorov said, yanking Erin's arms behind her back.
She couldn't make any sort of move without Todorov noticing. How was she possibly going to get out of this jam?
"Think, Erin. Think. You can't move. But you can still talk. You've got to talk him into... Something. You've got to work on him, somehow."
"Mr. Hammerson said I was just the primer," Todorov said. "He said I was just going to warm you up. I told him I could do better than that. And now, you're totally helpless."
He waved his hands up at the security camera. "You see this, Brent?" he shouted. "Looks like I've beaten the Blue Lynx. So much for the Gauntlet."
"You... haven't... beaten...me..." Erin muttered, sensing an opening. "You've... done... nothing."
"What's that?" Todorov asked, turning back to Erin. "I've done nothing?"
"You... couldn't... beat... me... if... your... life... depended... on... it..."
"Doubting me, Blue Lynx?" Todorov grinned. "I ought to knock some sense into you."
"Try... it... you... wimp..."
Todorov stepped toward Erin, wound back his fist, and brought it forward, punching Erin in the chest. She absorbed the blow with a small cry of pain, toppling over backward and falling onto her butt.
"How'd you like that?" Todorov said, shaking his fist out.
"Pretty... pathetic..." Erin said. She sat on the ground, still sluggish and defenseless, but looser, somehow, as if Todorov's punch had knocked away the drug's effect.
"I'll show you," Todorov said. He bent over and lifted Erin up by her armpits, standing her upright once more. He then wound back his fist for a second time and again threw it into Erin's body, this time catching her in the abdomen. Erin let out an "Oof!" as she crumpled forward onto her knees.
"Still feeling tough?" Todorov asked.
Erin nodded her head slowly. "Yeah," she said, feeling more strength returning to her muscles. "You're... a... lightweight."
Todorov's face turned red. He slapped Erin hard with the back of his hand, spinning her down to the floor.
"Young lady," he said, trying to regain his composure. "That's no way to speak to your elders."
He reached down and snatched a handful of Erin's hair, pulling her face up from the ground, forcing her into a kneeling position.
"I'll teach you how to respect me," Todorov said. "I'll take off that mask and we'll see who's the tough one."
Todorov gripped Erin's head with one hand and moved his other toward her face. Erin grimaced as Todorov's fingers brushed her cheek, zeroing in on the blue fabric shielding her secret identity.
"You seeing this, Brent?" Todorov called, turning his head around to face the security camera. "I'm about to unmask her! Who would've thought it would be me who'd do it?"
He slid his thumb into Erin's mouth, pulling down her lower lip.
"Now we'll get to see that beautiful young face as nature intended," Todorov laughed.
But Erin made the first move. She chomped down on Todorov's thumb, biting into his skin, tasting warm blood on her tongue.
"AIIIIYYYYYEEEEEE!!!" Todorov squealed. He tried to pull his hand back, but Erin wouldn't let go. She'd clamped down on Todorov like a pit bull, and the doctor released her head in a panic, allowing her to jump to her feet. Still hooked on Todorov's hand, Erin threw her fists up, punching wildly at her foe, hitting his body with slow but powerful jabs. After several hits, Erin opened her mouth, and Todorov brought his bloody hand to his face, gawking at the deep wound made by the Blue Lynx's teeth.
"You fucking... bit me!" Todorov screamed. "You fucking bit me!"
Erin ducked low and sprang forward, pushing her shoulder into Todorov's belly. He fell backward, his hand spraying blood, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. Erin mounted his writhing body, pushing aside his hands, and dug into his coat pocket. She pulled out the pistol with which she had recently been blasted.
"Your recipe needs some work," Erin said, looking at the gun. "It doesn't seem to work on me."
Todorov scowled. "Give me my gun," he said, pushing at Erin's legs, unable to move her an inch.
"If you insist," Erin said.
She stood up, pointed the pistol down, and fired three darts into Todorov's chest. Todorov shivered with each dart's impact, convulsed for a bit, and then went slack. He was unconscious.
Erin tossed the gun into a corner of the smoky room. Her body hadn't fully recovered from the drug, but she felt good. She could run, she could jump, she could fight.
"I need to keep moving," she thought.
She took a glance up at the security camera, stepped over Todorov's frozen body, and opened the black door to the next stage.
On to Chapter Eight
April 18th, 10:01 PM
Erin turned away, but not far enough. The bullet slammed into her left shoulder, spinning her around and down to her knees. Her hand immediately went to her upper arm.
"Augh!" she cried.
She'd been shot! For the first time! Blasted at point blank by Todorov! Ahh! How? Why? She'd been shot! Oh God!
She was so gripped by terror that it took a second for her to realize: she wasn't in pain.
She looked over at her shoulder. There was no blood or bone. Just a small dart, sticking from her blue spandex like a metallic mosquito. Erin plucked it from her skin and threw it to the floor.
"That all you got, Todorov?" she said, rising unsteadily to her feet.
Todorov nodded. "That's all I need."
Erin stepped toward him, and the ground felt uncertain, like she was walking in an inflatable bounce house. She brought her hand to her head. The lights and smoke were suddenly disorienting.
"What did you put in there?" she muttered.
"Just a light tranquilizer, my own recipe," Todorov said, smirking. "Something to slow you down a little bit."
Erin tried to take another step. Moving her boot felt like moving a concrete block. She brought it up, and immediately back down. She placed her hands on her thigh, trying to get her leg going, but there was no strength in her muscles. She felt like she was hardening, turning into bone.
"You bastard," she mumbled. Even her tongue felt numb.
"Mr. Hammerson has designed a pretty incredible series of obstacles for you," Todorov said, meandering toward Erin. "It's just a shame you won't even be getting past me. Little old me!"
He had arrived within a couple feet of her. His eyes were examining her body, which stood almost completely inert, her hands still fastened to her thigh, her boots still locked into the floor.
"Come on, Blue Lynx!" Erin thought. "You've got to MOVE!"
"Seems like my recipe is working pretty well," Todorov said, poking Erin in the bicep. "You're practically frozen in place."
Erin wasn't quite frozen. She could flex her fingers, and was sliding her hands up to her belt as Todorov spoke, hoping he wouldn't notice.
"Such a fine young specimen," Todorov said, pacing in a circle around Erin, flicking her hair with his fingers. "A true exemplar of feminine beauty and strength."
"What... are... you... talking... about?" Erin said. Speaking can become as difficult as moving.
"Just look at this posterior," Todorov continued, crouching down behind Erin. She suddenly felt his fingers pinching her butt. She tried to squirm away, but her boots still refused to budge. Whatever Todorov put in that drug, it was potent. At this point, Todorov could put his hands anywhere he liked, and Erin would only be able to whine in protest.
"I'll bet you work out every day. Smart girl," Todorov said, once again walking around to face Erin. "Enjoy your youth while you can."
"Thanks... for... the... lecture... Old... man."
Her fingers were now prying at the flaps of her belt pockets. "Keep looking at my ass," Erin thought. "Keep drooling over my 'feminine beauty'..."
Todorov's eyes flashed. "Oh no, you don't," he said, grabbing Erin's wrists and, with almost no resistance from the Blue Lynx, pulling them away from her belt.
"No!" Erin cried.
"No toys for you, Blue Lynx," Todorov said, yanking Erin's arms behind her back.
She couldn't make any sort of move without Todorov noticing. How was she possibly going to get out of this jam?
"Think, Erin. Think. You can't move. But you can still talk. You've got to talk him into... Something. You've got to work on him, somehow."
"Mr. Hammerson said I was just the primer," Todorov said. "He said I was just going to warm you up. I told him I could do better than that. And now, you're totally helpless."
He waved his hands up at the security camera. "You see this, Brent?" he shouted. "Looks like I've beaten the Blue Lynx. So much for the Gauntlet."
"You... haven't... beaten...me..." Erin muttered, sensing an opening. "You've... done... nothing."
"What's that?" Todorov asked, turning back to Erin. "I've done nothing?"
"You... couldn't... beat... me... if... your... life... depended... on... it..."
"Doubting me, Blue Lynx?" Todorov grinned. "I ought to knock some sense into you."
"Try... it... you... wimp..."
Todorov stepped toward Erin, wound back his fist, and brought it forward, punching Erin in the chest. She absorbed the blow with a small cry of pain, toppling over backward and falling onto her butt.
"How'd you like that?" Todorov said, shaking his fist out.
"Pretty... pathetic..." Erin said. She sat on the ground, still sluggish and defenseless, but looser, somehow, as if Todorov's punch had knocked away the drug's effect.
"I'll show you," Todorov said. He bent over and lifted Erin up by her armpits, standing her upright once more. He then wound back his fist for a second time and again threw it into Erin's body, this time catching her in the abdomen. Erin let out an "Oof!" as she crumpled forward onto her knees.
"Still feeling tough?" Todorov asked.
Erin nodded her head slowly. "Yeah," she said, feeling more strength returning to her muscles. "You're... a... lightweight."
Todorov's face turned red. He slapped Erin hard with the back of his hand, spinning her down to the floor.
"Young lady," he said, trying to regain his composure. "That's no way to speak to your elders."
He reached down and snatched a handful of Erin's hair, pulling her face up from the ground, forcing her into a kneeling position.
"I'll teach you how to respect me," Todorov said. "I'll take off that mask and we'll see who's the tough one."
Todorov gripped Erin's head with one hand and moved his other toward her face. Erin grimaced as Todorov's fingers brushed her cheek, zeroing in on the blue fabric shielding her secret identity.
"You seeing this, Brent?" Todorov called, turning his head around to face the security camera. "I'm about to unmask her! Who would've thought it would be me who'd do it?"
He slid his thumb into Erin's mouth, pulling down her lower lip.
"Now we'll get to see that beautiful young face as nature intended," Todorov laughed.
But Erin made the first move. She chomped down on Todorov's thumb, biting into his skin, tasting warm blood on her tongue.
"AIIIIYYYYYEEEEEE!!!" Todorov squealed. He tried to pull his hand back, but Erin wouldn't let go. She'd clamped down on Todorov like a pit bull, and the doctor released her head in a panic, allowing her to jump to her feet. Still hooked on Todorov's hand, Erin threw her fists up, punching wildly at her foe, hitting his body with slow but powerful jabs. After several hits, Erin opened her mouth, and Todorov brought his bloody hand to his face, gawking at the deep wound made by the Blue Lynx's teeth.
"You fucking... bit me!" Todorov screamed. "You fucking bit me!"
Erin ducked low and sprang forward, pushing her shoulder into Todorov's belly. He fell backward, his hand spraying blood, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. Erin mounted his writhing body, pushing aside his hands, and dug into his coat pocket. She pulled out the pistol with which she had recently been blasted.
"Your recipe needs some work," Erin said, looking at the gun. "It doesn't seem to work on me."
Todorov scowled. "Give me my gun," he said, pushing at Erin's legs, unable to move her an inch.
"If you insist," Erin said.
She stood up, pointed the pistol down, and fired three darts into Todorov's chest. Todorov shivered with each dart's impact, convulsed for a bit, and then went slack. He was unconscious.
Erin tossed the gun into a corner of the smoky room. Her body hadn't fully recovered from the drug, but she felt good. She could run, she could jump, she could fight.
"I need to keep moving," she thought.
She took a glance up at the security camera, stepped over Todorov's frozen body, and opened the black door to the next stage.
On to Chapter Eight
The Fearsome Five: The Gauntlet: Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
April 18th, 10:10 PM
"Congratulations, Blue Lynx," Hammerson's voice announced. "You've passed stage two. You've beaten Grigory. Though I must say, I expected you to finish him off sooner."
Erin stepped into a room very different from the first. It was, in a word, red. The walls were covered in crimson paper, the floor was covered in a large maroon rug. On top of the rug was a bed shaped like a big red heart, its point facing Erin. There was a bump underneath its scarlet bedspread, the recognizable outline of a human figure. The room was lit by a pair of lamps, each one sporting a red lampshade, in the corners furthest from Erin.
It looked like a bordello. It made Erin gulp.
"Stage three should be fun for you," Hammerson said, his voice again emanating from a small megaphone next to a ceiling security camera. "Your best friend is part of it."
Erin looked again at the human-shaped bed bump. Was Margot under the blanket?
"What have you done with her, Hammerson?" Erin yelled. She stepped up to the heart, peering at the disguised figure. Underneath the thick bedspread, and surrounded by a bevy of red and pink pillows, it was impossible to tell if the thing she was looking at was even a person.
"Why don't you jump in bed and find out?" Hammerson laughed.
Erin shook her head and walked over to where the pillows were. She could see the bump breathing. It had to be Margot.
Erin snatched the hem of the bedspread and pulled it down.
"Surprise!" Sunny said, laying across the mattress in her typical leather outfit. "Miss me?"
Erin gasped and stepped back, watching in shock as Sunny sat up, took a pillow, and brought it across Erin's face. It didn't hurt, but it did shock, and Erin fell over from the impact, splaying across the heart bed.
"It's so good to see you again, best friend," Sunny said, crawling over to Erin, pillow in hand.
"But... you're dead!" Erin cried, scrambling up to her feet. "The house... Fell on top of you!"
Sunny shook her head and smiled. "I can't die, Blue Lynx. Not before I defeat you!"
She swung the pillow at Erin, who jumped back to avoid the impact.
"I don't understand," Erin said. She was again finding it difficult to speak. "You... you..."
"You're not the only one who knows how to make a comeback, babe."
She was crouched on the bed, clutching the pillow, grinning maniacally, a demon who Erin could never dispel.
"Now, why don't you come on in to bed," Sunny laughed. "So we can get reacquainted."
Erin clenched her fists. It was all so clear now.
"You've been working on this trap... For months," she said.
Sunny nodded, punching the pillow with her fist. "Right you are, Blue Lynx. It was my idea. We wanted to catch you when you were least expecting it."
Erin sighed. She had been so, so stupid. She should've known Hammerson was up to something. She should've realized that his "message" was a set-up.
"Come sit down," Sunny implored. "Take a load off." She patted the bedspread and smiled.
Erin shook her head. "I'm not sleepy."
It wasn't quite true. She'd already been involved in two rough battles tonight, had taken multiple hits to the body, had Todorov's drug still flowing through her system. The bed looked warm, comfortable, enticing. But she'd couldn't rest, couldn't stop for a second, until Margot was safe.
"You sure?" Sunny said, on all fours, beckoning toward Erin. "You sure you don't need... a pillow!"
She hurled a cushion at Erin's head. With little fanfare, Erin punched it into a corner of the room.
"No thanks," Erin said, stepping up to the bed, lifting her fists up.
"Try this one!" Sunny cried, tossing another pillow at Erin. Erin punched it, too, only this one didn't bounce away: it exploded into dusty fragments. Erin coughed, pushing at the red smoke enveloping her face, not noticing as Sunny crawled up to her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and flung her on the bedspread.
"We've had a lot of time to come up with traps," Sunny said, pushing down on Erin's chest with both hands.
Erin coughed. "Yeah, I'll bet. But did you have enough time to see this coming!"
She punched at Sunny, but Sunny was ready. She snatched Erin's wrist and pulled it back behind her, turning Erin onto her stomach. Sunny climbed onto the back of Erin's legs, fetching her other wrist, bringing them together near the small of Erin's back.
"You're a little out of practice, aren't you?" Sunny said, leaning down, whispering into Erin's ear. "Been a while since you've faced someone like me, hasn't it?"
Erin struggled, bouncing on the bed, but Sunny had her whole weight on her. She couldn't stop her foe from wrangling her hands together. She felt something simultaneously soft and metallic around her wrists, and heard a small click.
"Some fuzzy cuffs ought to put you in your place," Sunny laughed.
Erin tried to pull her hands apart, but they were chained. Sunny had removed herself from her legs, and Erin rolled over on the bed, trying to see where she had gone. Looking up, she saw Sunny at her ankles, fastening an additional pair of pink fuzzy cuffs around her boots.
"Sunny! This is ridiculous!" Erin said.
"I know," Sunny replied. She watched Erin work against the cuffs, twisting her body to no avail. "It is ridiculous. And it's great."
Erin closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was caught. Again. It didn't matter what she did tonight: her opponents found a way to get the upper hand. Maybe Sunny was right, and she was out of practice. Or maybe this was just an really, really bad day for the Blue Lynx. Either way, it was embarrassing, and all Erin really wanted was to be home, a cup of tea in her hand, getting ready for real bed... Not this horrible simulation Sunny had concocted.
"Let's get you nice and comfortable," Sunny said. She crawled behind Erin, slid her hands around Erin's chest, and dragged her across the bedspread. She pulled her up to the head of the bed, set her down on the pillows, and stepped back around to Erin's front.
"There," Sunny said, smiling at her foe, now in a seated position, her arms and legs cuffed, her hair disheveled, her face red and flustered. "How does that feel?"
Erin sneered at her. "You know, once I get free, I'm not gonna be this nice to you, Sunny. You might as well stop trying to butter me up."
Sunny slid over the sheets, moving atop Erin, and straddled her body.
"Who said I was being nice?"
She picked up a pillow, brought it to one side, and then quickly brought it to the other, catching Erin's face along the way.
Erin breathed in and out, holding her head to the side. "You're going to... what... pamper me to death?"
Sunny swiped the pillow to its previous occasion, striking Erin on the other side of her face.
"I'm going to keep doing this," Sunny said. "Call it Chinese pillow torture."
She swung the pillow again, knocking Erin to the left, and then once more, knocking Erin to the right.
"It's... not going to do... anything..." Erin muttered. But she could already sense a change. With each hit, she could feel her mask jostle. It was slowly losing its grip on her face.
"I think you know what it's doing," Sunny giggled.
She hit Erin again. And again. And again. Harder and harder each time. Knocking her head around, flinging her hair this way and that. No single blow hurt. But after the twentieth or twenty-first swing, Erin's face started to ache. She began to moan.
"You doing okay, Blue Lynx?" Sunny asked. She pounded Erin in the face with the pillow. "You feeling alright?" She hit her again.
Her mask seemed to be hanging on by a thread, now. Erin figured she had maybe ten or fifteen hits before Sunny knocked it clean off her face.
"Sunny," she groaned. "Take a break. Please."
"A break?" Sunny cried. "A break?"
She had been pummeling the Blue Lynx for five minutes. Erin's face was beet red, her mask slightly askew, her mouth hanging open.
"I guess I am a little tired," Sunny said, setting the pillow to the side.
Erin exhaled. She'd bought herself time. Now she just had to think...
Sunny's hand was in her costume, had slid inside her V-neck, was fingering her bra strap.
"I've missed this, Blue Lynx," Sunny said, pushing her groin against Erin's abdomen.
Erin rolled her eyes. It was all so predictable. They hated her and they loved her. They beat her up so that they could feel her up. All of them: Todorov, Sunny, Hammerson. They were sick, evil perverts.
"Waiting for weeks for this moment... It was hard," Sunny said. "But we needed to surprise you. And I think it was worth it. Because, well, look at you! You're so helpless!"
She wasn't, though. Her fingers were now grazing the back pockets of her utility belt. Erin knew she had some Lynx darts in there. She just had to lift the flap, get in, and cut herself free. It would help if Sunny was distracted.
"I am helpless," Erin cooed. "I can't get free. Looks like I'm at your mercy, Sunny."
Sunny licked her lips. "I do love hearing you say that," she whispered, slipping her entire hand underneath Erin's blue spandex.
"Don't hurt me too much," Erin said.
Sunny placed her other hand on Erin's thigh, running it up to the bottom seam of the Blue Lynx's outfit. She worked her finger around the leg hole, sticking it inside the spandex, gently stroking Erin's butt.
"I'll be nice," Sunny whispered. She pushed her upper body forward, bringing her face in with Erin's, and pursed her lips. She pushed further forward and met Erin's lips. The women kissed. Sunny closed her eyes. Erin kept hers open.
"Mmm..." Sunny said. "Let's do that again."
She forced her mouth to Erin's, this time pushing her tongue inside. Erin let out a small, genuine moan. Sunny was a great kisser. But the Blue Lynx couldn't be seduced...
Not now...
But it felt so good...
Sunny's body on top of hers... She could feel her lower half getting warm... Hands on her legs, hands near her breasts... It had been so long since she'd been pleasured... Too long...
The Lynx Dart almost dropped from Erin's glove.
"No," Erin thought, snapping back to reality. "I can't let her do this! I have to get free!"
Sunny kept kissing her, her neck and her face and her lips, and Erin did her best to ignore it, poking at the cuff key hole with her Lynx Dart.
"Focus," Erin thought, stabbing at the cuffs, her lips smacking against Sunny's.
"Focus..."
Sunny cupped her breast, and Erin moaned.
She couldn't focus... She couldn't stop... She couldn't resist... She couldn't...
There was a sudden click.
"What the hell was that?" Sunny said, pulling her face back.
Erin smiled. "Nothing."
She whipped her fist from around her back and slammed it into Sunny's face. Sunny blurted out a howl of pain as she tumbled over Erin, landing next to her, holding her cheek.
"Augh!" Sunny cried. "You're free!"
Erin rolled on top of Sunny. Her boots were still cuffed, and she couldn't get into an ideal position, but it was good enough. She pressed on Sunny with on hand and wailed on her with the other, striking her face with three strong, swift punches.
"But, Blue Lynx," Sunny mumbled. "I thought we had something."
"We don't," Erin confirmed. She delivered a crushing hook to the side of Sunny's head and Sunny's body went slack. She was unconscious.
Erin sat up and reached down to her ankles. She worked the boot cuffs with her Lynx Dart, eventually clicking them open. Once she was free, Erin straightened her costume out, tucking her bra back into her spandex, smoothing out the hems of her leg-holes, re-aligning the mask with her eyes. She bounced off the bed and turned around, taking a final look at Sunny's unconscious figure.
She couldn't think of anything to say. No one-liner, no cocky statement of purpose, nothing. She was still in disbelief: that Sunny was alive, that she had come up with this crazy plan, that the Blue Lynx's mask had almost been taken off by a fricking pillow.
"I can't dwell on this," Erin thought. "I've got to keep moving."
There was a red door behind the bed. Erin walked toward it, opened it, and left Sunny's stage for good.
On to Chapter Nine
April 18th, 10:10 PM
"Congratulations, Blue Lynx," Hammerson's voice announced. "You've passed stage two. You've beaten Grigory. Though I must say, I expected you to finish him off sooner."
Erin stepped into a room very different from the first. It was, in a word, red. The walls were covered in crimson paper, the floor was covered in a large maroon rug. On top of the rug was a bed shaped like a big red heart, its point facing Erin. There was a bump underneath its scarlet bedspread, the recognizable outline of a human figure. The room was lit by a pair of lamps, each one sporting a red lampshade, in the corners furthest from Erin.
It looked like a bordello. It made Erin gulp.
"Stage three should be fun for you," Hammerson said, his voice again emanating from a small megaphone next to a ceiling security camera. "Your best friend is part of it."
Erin looked again at the human-shaped bed bump. Was Margot under the blanket?
"What have you done with her, Hammerson?" Erin yelled. She stepped up to the heart, peering at the disguised figure. Underneath the thick bedspread, and surrounded by a bevy of red and pink pillows, it was impossible to tell if the thing she was looking at was even a person.
"Why don't you jump in bed and find out?" Hammerson laughed.
Erin shook her head and walked over to where the pillows were. She could see the bump breathing. It had to be Margot.
Erin snatched the hem of the bedspread and pulled it down.
"Surprise!" Sunny said, laying across the mattress in her typical leather outfit. "Miss me?"
Erin gasped and stepped back, watching in shock as Sunny sat up, took a pillow, and brought it across Erin's face. It didn't hurt, but it did shock, and Erin fell over from the impact, splaying across the heart bed.
"It's so good to see you again, best friend," Sunny said, crawling over to Erin, pillow in hand.
"But... you're dead!" Erin cried, scrambling up to her feet. "The house... Fell on top of you!"
Sunny shook her head and smiled. "I can't die, Blue Lynx. Not before I defeat you!"
She swung the pillow at Erin, who jumped back to avoid the impact.
"I don't understand," Erin said. She was again finding it difficult to speak. "You... you..."
"You're not the only one who knows how to make a comeback, babe."
She was crouched on the bed, clutching the pillow, grinning maniacally, a demon who Erin could never dispel.
"Now, why don't you come on in to bed," Sunny laughed. "So we can get reacquainted."
Erin clenched her fists. It was all so clear now.
"You've been working on this trap... For months," she said.
Sunny nodded, punching the pillow with her fist. "Right you are, Blue Lynx. It was my idea. We wanted to catch you when you were least expecting it."
Erin sighed. She had been so, so stupid. She should've known Hammerson was up to something. She should've realized that his "message" was a set-up.
"Come sit down," Sunny implored. "Take a load off." She patted the bedspread and smiled.
Erin shook her head. "I'm not sleepy."
It wasn't quite true. She'd already been involved in two rough battles tonight, had taken multiple hits to the body, had Todorov's drug still flowing through her system. The bed looked warm, comfortable, enticing. But she'd couldn't rest, couldn't stop for a second, until Margot was safe.
"You sure?" Sunny said, on all fours, beckoning toward Erin. "You sure you don't need... a pillow!"
She hurled a cushion at Erin's head. With little fanfare, Erin punched it into a corner of the room.
"No thanks," Erin said, stepping up to the bed, lifting her fists up.
"Try this one!" Sunny cried, tossing another pillow at Erin. Erin punched it, too, only this one didn't bounce away: it exploded into dusty fragments. Erin coughed, pushing at the red smoke enveloping her face, not noticing as Sunny crawled up to her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and flung her on the bedspread.
"We've had a lot of time to come up with traps," Sunny said, pushing down on Erin's chest with both hands.
Erin coughed. "Yeah, I'll bet. But did you have enough time to see this coming!"
She punched at Sunny, but Sunny was ready. She snatched Erin's wrist and pulled it back behind her, turning Erin onto her stomach. Sunny climbed onto the back of Erin's legs, fetching her other wrist, bringing them together near the small of Erin's back.
"You're a little out of practice, aren't you?" Sunny said, leaning down, whispering into Erin's ear. "Been a while since you've faced someone like me, hasn't it?"
Erin struggled, bouncing on the bed, but Sunny had her whole weight on her. She couldn't stop her foe from wrangling her hands together. She felt something simultaneously soft and metallic around her wrists, and heard a small click.
"Some fuzzy cuffs ought to put you in your place," Sunny laughed.
Erin tried to pull her hands apart, but they were chained. Sunny had removed herself from her legs, and Erin rolled over on the bed, trying to see where she had gone. Looking up, she saw Sunny at her ankles, fastening an additional pair of pink fuzzy cuffs around her boots.
"Sunny! This is ridiculous!" Erin said.
"I know," Sunny replied. She watched Erin work against the cuffs, twisting her body to no avail. "It is ridiculous. And it's great."
Erin closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was caught. Again. It didn't matter what she did tonight: her opponents found a way to get the upper hand. Maybe Sunny was right, and she was out of practice. Or maybe this was just an really, really bad day for the Blue Lynx. Either way, it was embarrassing, and all Erin really wanted was to be home, a cup of tea in her hand, getting ready for real bed... Not this horrible simulation Sunny had concocted.
"Let's get you nice and comfortable," Sunny said. She crawled behind Erin, slid her hands around Erin's chest, and dragged her across the bedspread. She pulled her up to the head of the bed, set her down on the pillows, and stepped back around to Erin's front.
"There," Sunny said, smiling at her foe, now in a seated position, her arms and legs cuffed, her hair disheveled, her face red and flustered. "How does that feel?"
Erin sneered at her. "You know, once I get free, I'm not gonna be this nice to you, Sunny. You might as well stop trying to butter me up."
Sunny slid over the sheets, moving atop Erin, and straddled her body.
"Who said I was being nice?"
She picked up a pillow, brought it to one side, and then quickly brought it to the other, catching Erin's face along the way.
Erin breathed in and out, holding her head to the side. "You're going to... what... pamper me to death?"
Sunny swiped the pillow to its previous occasion, striking Erin on the other side of her face.
"I'm going to keep doing this," Sunny said. "Call it Chinese pillow torture."
She swung the pillow again, knocking Erin to the left, and then once more, knocking Erin to the right.
"It's... not going to do... anything..." Erin muttered. But she could already sense a change. With each hit, she could feel her mask jostle. It was slowly losing its grip on her face.
"I think you know what it's doing," Sunny giggled.
She hit Erin again. And again. And again. Harder and harder each time. Knocking her head around, flinging her hair this way and that. No single blow hurt. But after the twentieth or twenty-first swing, Erin's face started to ache. She began to moan.
"You doing okay, Blue Lynx?" Sunny asked. She pounded Erin in the face with the pillow. "You feeling alright?" She hit her again.
Her mask seemed to be hanging on by a thread, now. Erin figured she had maybe ten or fifteen hits before Sunny knocked it clean off her face.
"Sunny," she groaned. "Take a break. Please."
"A break?" Sunny cried. "A break?"
She had been pummeling the Blue Lynx for five minutes. Erin's face was beet red, her mask slightly askew, her mouth hanging open.
"I guess I am a little tired," Sunny said, setting the pillow to the side.
Erin exhaled. She'd bought herself time. Now she just had to think...
Sunny's hand was in her costume, had slid inside her V-neck, was fingering her bra strap.
"I've missed this, Blue Lynx," Sunny said, pushing her groin against Erin's abdomen.
Erin rolled her eyes. It was all so predictable. They hated her and they loved her. They beat her up so that they could feel her up. All of them: Todorov, Sunny, Hammerson. They were sick, evil perverts.
"Waiting for weeks for this moment... It was hard," Sunny said. "But we needed to surprise you. And I think it was worth it. Because, well, look at you! You're so helpless!"
She wasn't, though. Her fingers were now grazing the back pockets of her utility belt. Erin knew she had some Lynx darts in there. She just had to lift the flap, get in, and cut herself free. It would help if Sunny was distracted.
"I am helpless," Erin cooed. "I can't get free. Looks like I'm at your mercy, Sunny."
Sunny licked her lips. "I do love hearing you say that," she whispered, slipping her entire hand underneath Erin's blue spandex.
"Don't hurt me too much," Erin said.
Sunny placed her other hand on Erin's thigh, running it up to the bottom seam of the Blue Lynx's outfit. She worked her finger around the leg hole, sticking it inside the spandex, gently stroking Erin's butt.
"I'll be nice," Sunny whispered. She pushed her upper body forward, bringing her face in with Erin's, and pursed her lips. She pushed further forward and met Erin's lips. The women kissed. Sunny closed her eyes. Erin kept hers open.
"Mmm..." Sunny said. "Let's do that again."
She forced her mouth to Erin's, this time pushing her tongue inside. Erin let out a small, genuine moan. Sunny was a great kisser. But the Blue Lynx couldn't be seduced...
Not now...
But it felt so good...
Sunny's body on top of hers... She could feel her lower half getting warm... Hands on her legs, hands near her breasts... It had been so long since she'd been pleasured... Too long...
The Lynx Dart almost dropped from Erin's glove.
"No," Erin thought, snapping back to reality. "I can't let her do this! I have to get free!"
Sunny kept kissing her, her neck and her face and her lips, and Erin did her best to ignore it, poking at the cuff key hole with her Lynx Dart.
"Focus," Erin thought, stabbing at the cuffs, her lips smacking against Sunny's.
"Focus..."
Sunny cupped her breast, and Erin moaned.
She couldn't focus... She couldn't stop... She couldn't resist... She couldn't...
There was a sudden click.
"What the hell was that?" Sunny said, pulling her face back.
Erin smiled. "Nothing."
She whipped her fist from around her back and slammed it into Sunny's face. Sunny blurted out a howl of pain as she tumbled over Erin, landing next to her, holding her cheek.
"Augh!" Sunny cried. "You're free!"
Erin rolled on top of Sunny. Her boots were still cuffed, and she couldn't get into an ideal position, but it was good enough. She pressed on Sunny with on hand and wailed on her with the other, striking her face with three strong, swift punches.
"But, Blue Lynx," Sunny mumbled. "I thought we had something."
"We don't," Erin confirmed. She delivered a crushing hook to the side of Sunny's head and Sunny's body went slack. She was unconscious.
Erin sat up and reached down to her ankles. She worked the boot cuffs with her Lynx Dart, eventually clicking them open. Once she was free, Erin straightened her costume out, tucking her bra back into her spandex, smoothing out the hems of her leg-holes, re-aligning the mask with her eyes. She bounced off the bed and turned around, taking a final look at Sunny's unconscious figure.
She couldn't think of anything to say. No one-liner, no cocky statement of purpose, nothing. She was still in disbelief: that Sunny was alive, that she had come up with this crazy plan, that the Blue Lynx's mask had almost been taken off by a fricking pillow.
"I can't dwell on this," Erin thought. "I've got to keep moving."
There was a red door behind the bed. Erin walked toward it, opened it, and left Sunny's stage for good.
On to Chapter Nine
The Fearsome Five: The Gauntlet: Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
April 18th, 10:28 PM
She found herself in a narrow corridor, a space maybe six feet wide. The room was dim, illuminated by small circular lights embedded in the ceiling, but she could see a door at the other end of the hall, maybe thirty yards away. She began to march toward the exit, and then she noticed the pictures.
They were on either side of her, one for each couple yards or so. Each one situated in an ornate golden frame. Each one a lovingly crafted, beautifully painted rendering of her, the Blue Lynx, in a horrible predicament.
The first image showed a familiar scene. It was her hanging from the rafters of that hillbilly barn, her wrists and ankles roped together, her mouth shut with duct tape. To the painted Blue Lynx's left and right were the two men, Clayton and Jackson, who had menaced her so long ago.
"What the hell is this?" she thought. The painting showed details that Erin had thought only she had remembered: the way the men dressed, the amount of hay on the floor of the barn, the exact way her belt sort of drooped on her hips.
"Do you like it?"
Erin turned around. It was Hammerson's voice. Again coming from a speaker somewhere.
"How much did you have to pay the pervert to do it?" Erin asked, pointing at the painting with an unimpressed stance.
"Nothing," Hammerson replied. "I did it. I did all of them."
Erin blinked.
She looked at the first painting on the wall opposite the "Hillbilly Manor" scene. It depicted the second time Hammerson had seen Erin in a jam: that night at the factory, when they'd first captured Margot and used her as bait. Once again, every detail had been considered: the way Erin and Margot sat together, the exact amount of rope binding their limbs, the look of the bomb that had been meant to end the Blue Lynx.
"I didn't know you liked to paint," Erin said, shaking her head. This was getting eerie.
"I didn't know either," Hammerson said. "I think I just needed a muse. I needed you, Blue Lynx."
"Don't you have anything better to do?" Erin shouted. It wasn't just a rhetorical question. Each of these paintings probably took days to finish, and even more time to mount and display in this hallway, which Hammerson had already said was "custom made" for the Blue Lynx. So much time, so much money, so much energy spent on her. On her destruction.
"You know, I'm not sure if I do have better things to do," Hammerson said. "Tormenting you... It's become the best part of my life."
Erin had moved on to the next painting. This one wasn't quite as accurate as the rest-- Hammerson hadn't been in the van when Todorov had secretly given her his poison. The way Hammerson saw the scene was even more humiliating than its inspiration: he showed Erin bent over the table like a little girl waiting for a shot, her wrists bound behind her, Todorov sticking a syringe into her butt while the news crew laughed.
"I like that one," Hammerson said. "Grigory told me what happened. Hope you don't mind if I've taken some creative liberties."
Erin shook her head and kept walking. There weren't many more scenes for Hammerson to recreate-- he hadn't known he'd captured the Blue Lynx, too, when he'd kidnapped Erin Steele-- and yet, there were at least fifteen more paintings lining the corridor.
"I've let my imagination roam for the rest of the pieces," Hammerson said.
Erin took a deep breath before she looked at the next one. It showed her strapped to a gurney, completely naked except for her mask, a couple of strategically placed metal bars shielding her breasts and womanhood. A plastic cup had been placed on her face, and a tube connecting it to a machine was pumping some sort of gas. The Blue Lynx's eyes were closed in the picture, as if she were being knocked out, or killed.
"Ugh," Erin shouted. "You're disgusting!"
Hammerson's laughed echoed through the hallway. "You have no idea." He paused. "Yet."
Erin's eyes darted to the next picture. It was another with her and Hammerson, another one with her wrists bound behind her back. In this one, Hammerson was pushing Erin's spandex costume off her shoulders, letting it bunch around her arms, and laughing hysterically at her exposed breasts, which were larger and rounder (but not by much) than real life.
"You're sick!" Erin yelled.
Erin pulled the painting from the wall, threw it to the floor, and stepped on it. The hallway resonated with the sounds of the frame cracking and Hammerson chuckling.
"Go ahead, destroy it," Hammerson said. "I've made a copy."
Erin had begun to feel nauseous. She had become a fetish for Hammerson: he got himself off by picturing her tied up, gagged, naked. She knew he had been attracted to her, had known he was a perverted freak, but these pictures-- this gallery of her in peril-- it was something newly terrible in her superheroine life.
Her mind raced. Did other people think about her in this way, too? Were there hundreds, thousands of gross old men in the city, painting pictures of her demise, writing stories about her failures, hoping desperately for one night when they could be with her, take a lock of her hair, cop a feel, unmask her?
She put her hand on the wall, trying to steady herself. She had to get out of here. This was the worst stage yet.
She took off into a run.
"What's the matter, Blue Lynx? You're not much of an art fan, are you?"
Erin tried to keep her head down, but her eyes couldn't help but scan the remaining paintings. She saw the Blue Lynx tied to railroad tracks, Penelope Pitstop style. She saw herself being placed by Hammerson and Sunny into an Egyptian sarcophagus. She saw herself in the middle of a giant spiderweb, her costume being ripped to shreds by an eight-legged robot. She saw chains, ropes, cuffs, nooses, hooks, restraints, gags. She saw her bare flesh, again and again-- her thighs, her butt, her boobs, her belly button, her pubic hair, her cunt. She saw herself being slapped, whipped, groped, licked, and penetrated: by Hammerson, by Sunny with a massive dildo, by a brainwashed Black Bobcat, by a random gang of young men, by tentacles, by a fucking... half-man, half-cat mutant.
It had only taken a half minute to reach the door, but it had felt like an hour. Erin placed her hands on her knees. She was sweating, gasping for air, rapidly blinking her eyes.
"You've got one more stage, and then me," Hammerson said. "I hope you're ready."
Erin shook her head. "Fuck you, Hammerson," she spat.
The Gauntlet had taken a toll on her: physically, mentally, emotionally, and now, spiritually. She could take a punch. She could even handle a drug being pumped into her system. But this room, with its insinuation that the Blue Lynx was nothing but a sexual fantasy, a prostitute... It hurt.
She didn't know if she was ready.
But she had to keep going.
On to Chapter Ten
April 18th, 10:28 PM
She found herself in a narrow corridor, a space maybe six feet wide. The room was dim, illuminated by small circular lights embedded in the ceiling, but she could see a door at the other end of the hall, maybe thirty yards away. She began to march toward the exit, and then she noticed the pictures.
They were on either side of her, one for each couple yards or so. Each one situated in an ornate golden frame. Each one a lovingly crafted, beautifully painted rendering of her, the Blue Lynx, in a horrible predicament.
The first image showed a familiar scene. It was her hanging from the rafters of that hillbilly barn, her wrists and ankles roped together, her mouth shut with duct tape. To the painted Blue Lynx's left and right were the two men, Clayton and Jackson, who had menaced her so long ago.
"What the hell is this?" she thought. The painting showed details that Erin had thought only she had remembered: the way the men dressed, the amount of hay on the floor of the barn, the exact way her belt sort of drooped on her hips.
"Do you like it?"
Erin turned around. It was Hammerson's voice. Again coming from a speaker somewhere.
"How much did you have to pay the pervert to do it?" Erin asked, pointing at the painting with an unimpressed stance.
"Nothing," Hammerson replied. "I did it. I did all of them."
Erin blinked.
She looked at the first painting on the wall opposite the "Hillbilly Manor" scene. It depicted the second time Hammerson had seen Erin in a jam: that night at the factory, when they'd first captured Margot and used her as bait. Once again, every detail had been considered: the way Erin and Margot sat together, the exact amount of rope binding their limbs, the look of the bomb that had been meant to end the Blue Lynx.
"I didn't know you liked to paint," Erin said, shaking her head. This was getting eerie.
"I didn't know either," Hammerson said. "I think I just needed a muse. I needed you, Blue Lynx."
"Don't you have anything better to do?" Erin shouted. It wasn't just a rhetorical question. Each of these paintings probably took days to finish, and even more time to mount and display in this hallway, which Hammerson had already said was "custom made" for the Blue Lynx. So much time, so much money, so much energy spent on her. On her destruction.
"You know, I'm not sure if I do have better things to do," Hammerson said. "Tormenting you... It's become the best part of my life."
Erin had moved on to the next painting. This one wasn't quite as accurate as the rest-- Hammerson hadn't been in the van when Todorov had secretly given her his poison. The way Hammerson saw the scene was even more humiliating than its inspiration: he showed Erin bent over the table like a little girl waiting for a shot, her wrists bound behind her, Todorov sticking a syringe into her butt while the news crew laughed.
"I like that one," Hammerson said. "Grigory told me what happened. Hope you don't mind if I've taken some creative liberties."
Erin shook her head and kept walking. There weren't many more scenes for Hammerson to recreate-- he hadn't known he'd captured the Blue Lynx, too, when he'd kidnapped Erin Steele-- and yet, there were at least fifteen more paintings lining the corridor.
"I've let my imagination roam for the rest of the pieces," Hammerson said.
Erin took a deep breath before she looked at the next one. It showed her strapped to a gurney, completely naked except for her mask, a couple of strategically placed metal bars shielding her breasts and womanhood. A plastic cup had been placed on her face, and a tube connecting it to a machine was pumping some sort of gas. The Blue Lynx's eyes were closed in the picture, as if she were being knocked out, or killed.
"Ugh," Erin shouted. "You're disgusting!"
Hammerson's laughed echoed through the hallway. "You have no idea." He paused. "Yet."
Erin's eyes darted to the next picture. It was another with her and Hammerson, another one with her wrists bound behind her back. In this one, Hammerson was pushing Erin's spandex costume off her shoulders, letting it bunch around her arms, and laughing hysterically at her exposed breasts, which were larger and rounder (but not by much) than real life.
"You're sick!" Erin yelled.
Erin pulled the painting from the wall, threw it to the floor, and stepped on it. The hallway resonated with the sounds of the frame cracking and Hammerson chuckling.
"Go ahead, destroy it," Hammerson said. "I've made a copy."
Erin had begun to feel nauseous. She had become a fetish for Hammerson: he got himself off by picturing her tied up, gagged, naked. She knew he had been attracted to her, had known he was a perverted freak, but these pictures-- this gallery of her in peril-- it was something newly terrible in her superheroine life.
Her mind raced. Did other people think about her in this way, too? Were there hundreds, thousands of gross old men in the city, painting pictures of her demise, writing stories about her failures, hoping desperately for one night when they could be with her, take a lock of her hair, cop a feel, unmask her?
She put her hand on the wall, trying to steady herself. She had to get out of here. This was the worst stage yet.
She took off into a run.
"What's the matter, Blue Lynx? You're not much of an art fan, are you?"
Erin tried to keep her head down, but her eyes couldn't help but scan the remaining paintings. She saw the Blue Lynx tied to railroad tracks, Penelope Pitstop style. She saw herself being placed by Hammerson and Sunny into an Egyptian sarcophagus. She saw herself in the middle of a giant spiderweb, her costume being ripped to shreds by an eight-legged robot. She saw chains, ropes, cuffs, nooses, hooks, restraints, gags. She saw her bare flesh, again and again-- her thighs, her butt, her boobs, her belly button, her pubic hair, her cunt. She saw herself being slapped, whipped, groped, licked, and penetrated: by Hammerson, by Sunny with a massive dildo, by a brainwashed Black Bobcat, by a random gang of young men, by tentacles, by a fucking... half-man, half-cat mutant.
It had only taken a half minute to reach the door, but it had felt like an hour. Erin placed her hands on her knees. She was sweating, gasping for air, rapidly blinking her eyes.
"You've got one more stage, and then me," Hammerson said. "I hope you're ready."
Erin shook her head. "Fuck you, Hammerson," she spat.
The Gauntlet had taken a toll on her: physically, mentally, emotionally, and now, spiritually. She could take a punch. She could even handle a drug being pumped into her system. But this room, with its insinuation that the Blue Lynx was nothing but a sexual fantasy, a prostitute... It hurt.
She didn't know if she was ready.
But she had to keep going.
On to Chapter Ten
The Fearsome Five: The Gauntlet: Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
April 18th, 10:37 PM
The room Erin found herself in had a sense of dread that was palpable. It was dark, cold, and spare, another long rectangle-- maybe fifty feet by two hundred, or so-- with two matching rows of gray pillars stretching down its length. It was not a space designed for living, for eating, for anything, really, except for-- Erin could already tell-- causing the Blue Lynx pain and humiliation.
"Hammerson," she called out. "What is this place?"
She received no response, just the eerie echo of her voice.
Erin gulped. The first room had been a weird joke, obviously imagined by Todorov, who the Blue Lynx had never considered a true threat. The second room was a strange, seductive nightmare, built by Sunny to woo Erin into submission. And the third room was a creepshow, plain and simple, made to unnerve its occupants just prior to this one, which Hammerson said was the last before Hammerson himself.
It had worked, that third room. Erin couldn't stop her heart from racing. She didn't know who or what she'd meet here, but it didn't take long for a horrible idea to form in her brain.
"If Sunny survived..." she thought. "That means..."
And suddenly, there he was. Standing on the other side of the room, his arms spanning the distance between the pillars, a black vision of horror.
Steve.
"You!" Erin shouted. "But you're dead!"
Steve shook his head and, with lightning speed, ducked behind the far pillar on Erin's left.
Erin quickly moved behind her own nearest pillar.
"Shit," she thought. "He's here. And I can't... I can't beat him."
She had barely moved, but she felt winded. What was she going to do?
She'd faced him three times before: in her house, after she was kidnapped, and inside Julia Wright's office building. Each time, he had defeated her, and easily. He moved faster than her, punched harder than her, was twice her size. He had broken her arm like it was a toothpick, could pick her up like she was a housecat. He was Erin's most skilled opponent, and maybe the most ruthless: the only living member of Hammerson's gang who had taken off her mask. She didn't stand a chance...
"No," she thought. "That's not true." She couldn't think that way. She had a chance, of course she did. She was the Blue Lynx. She had beaten everyone else in the city, had fought off small armies of men, had escaped from the most dire of predicaments. She had improved as a fighter since their last encounter. And if she didn't beat him now, Margot would be goner. He had to lose. She had to prevail.
Erin removed the taser from her belt pocket. "Steve. What kind of name is that, anyway?" she thought. "That's not a ninja name. He's not even a real ninja."
She could feel her mind settling, her adrenaline pumping. She could do this. She just had to be careful. Not make any mistakes.
She slunk around the pillar, moving to the back of the room.
"Let's do this..."
He was there. Inches away from her.
Erin threw a punch, and Steve pushed it away. She stepped back and released a roundhouse kick. Steve blocked it with his wrist. Erin tried to plunge the taser into Steve’s body but the ninja jumped back. Erin ran at him, her taser held out in front of her, but just as she was closing in, Steve swatted her across the face with the back of his hand. The impact flung Erin to her knees. She dizzily stabbed her taser in the air, hoping Steve was close. He was: he avoided the taser and snatched her wrist.
Steve bent Erin’s hand backward, and she screamed. The ninja’s other hand was pulling back her fingers, wrestling the taser away from her grip. Erin tried to get to her feet, and Steve booted her in the stomach, sending her to the floor and forcing her to release her weapon.
Erin clutched her stomach for a second, and then rolled away. As she got to her knees, she saw Steve look at the taser, shake his head, and toss the device across the room.
“Hey!” Erin yelled, leaping to her feet. “That’s mine, you asshole!”
Driven by fury, she jumped at Steve, unleashing a series of punches. The ninja deflected the first couple and then, shockingly, took a blow to the chin. It pushed him back on his heels, and Erin brought her knee forward, slamming it into Steve’s thigh. She saw his leg slightly buckle and she socked him in the abdomen. He was creating openings, and Erin was capitalizing. She was winning!
“Yes!” she thought, driving her palm into Steve’s shoulder, once again knocking him off balance. “Keep it going, Blue Lynx!”
She jumped in the air and kicked Steve square in the chest. For the first time, Steve left his feet, flying backward and crashing into the floor with a huge BOOM. Erin stood there, watching the ninja struggle to get up, basking in the moment.
“That all you got, Steve?” she said.
With his customary lack of response, Steve curled into a somersault and rolled backward behind a pillar.
Was he retreating?
Erin sped around the corner of the pillar. She scanned from side to side.
He wasn’t there.
“Shit,” Erin thought, running down the aisle. “Where the hell did he go?”
She turned in a circle. Just as she was completing a 360, she heard a creak. From the ceiling.
She looked up. Steve was there, wedged between the pillars, several yards above her, watching her.
"Oh--"
Before Erin could react, the ninja swung down, kicking her in the chest with two feet. Erin flew back, colliding with a pillar, her arms and legs splaying out upon contact. She tried to find her bearings, but Steve was already on her, his hands closing around her throat.
"Ock!" Erin coughed. Her hands raced to Steve's wrist. He was standing away from her, his arm straight out, holding her in place. He dug his fingers into her neck and, with seemingly no effort, lifted her. Erin could feel her boots leave the floor. She kicked wildly against the air and the pillar.
"Steve... Stop..." she whispered, feeling her breath depart. He had hoisted her against the pillar, several feet off the ground, so that she was looking down at him, her eyes squinting with small tears.
"He's... killing... me..." Erin thought. "I... can't... break... free..."
She had stopped struggling. Her legs hung lifelessly against the cold surface of the room. Her breath came out in short, pained bursts. Her focus had dimmed; she looked up at the ceiling now, watching it fade in and out.
It was over.
And then, Steve threw her, chucking her across the aisle like a plaything. She hit another pillar and slid down the wall, wilting into the floor.
It hurt, but Erin could breathe. Her whole body was an ache, but she was alive.
She felt her gloves on solid ground, knew she had to get up, tried desperately to move her feet.
But suddenly, once again, Steve was upon her. She could feel him before he even touched her, his shadow smothering her like a tarp. He wrapped his blackness around her, catching her head and neck in chokehold, and squeezed. Erin could barely resist, couldn't summon the strength to even move her hands toward Steve's. She just sat there, kneeling on the floor, a captive of the ninja, now and always, and let him push her, second by hazy second, into a state of blissful unconsciousness.
On to Chapter Eleven
April 18th, 10:37 PM
The room Erin found herself in had a sense of dread that was palpable. It was dark, cold, and spare, another long rectangle-- maybe fifty feet by two hundred, or so-- with two matching rows of gray pillars stretching down its length. It was not a space designed for living, for eating, for anything, really, except for-- Erin could already tell-- causing the Blue Lynx pain and humiliation.
"Hammerson," she called out. "What is this place?"
She received no response, just the eerie echo of her voice.
Erin gulped. The first room had been a weird joke, obviously imagined by Todorov, who the Blue Lynx had never considered a true threat. The second room was a strange, seductive nightmare, built by Sunny to woo Erin into submission. And the third room was a creepshow, plain and simple, made to unnerve its occupants just prior to this one, which Hammerson said was the last before Hammerson himself.
It had worked, that third room. Erin couldn't stop her heart from racing. She didn't know who or what she'd meet here, but it didn't take long for a horrible idea to form in her brain.
"If Sunny survived..." she thought. "That means..."
And suddenly, there he was. Standing on the other side of the room, his arms spanning the distance between the pillars, a black vision of horror.
Steve.
"You!" Erin shouted. "But you're dead!"
Steve shook his head and, with lightning speed, ducked behind the far pillar on Erin's left.
Erin quickly moved behind her own nearest pillar.
"Shit," she thought. "He's here. And I can't... I can't beat him."
She had barely moved, but she felt winded. What was she going to do?
She'd faced him three times before: in her house, after she was kidnapped, and inside Julia Wright's office building. Each time, he had defeated her, and easily. He moved faster than her, punched harder than her, was twice her size. He had broken her arm like it was a toothpick, could pick her up like she was a housecat. He was Erin's most skilled opponent, and maybe the most ruthless: the only living member of Hammerson's gang who had taken off her mask. She didn't stand a chance...
"No," she thought. "That's not true." She couldn't think that way. She had a chance, of course she did. She was the Blue Lynx. She had beaten everyone else in the city, had fought off small armies of men, had escaped from the most dire of predicaments. She had improved as a fighter since their last encounter. And if she didn't beat him now, Margot would be goner. He had to lose. She had to prevail.
Erin removed the taser from her belt pocket. "Steve. What kind of name is that, anyway?" she thought. "That's not a ninja name. He's not even a real ninja."
She could feel her mind settling, her adrenaline pumping. She could do this. She just had to be careful. Not make any mistakes.
She slunk around the pillar, moving to the back of the room.
"Let's do this..."
He was there. Inches away from her.
Erin threw a punch, and Steve pushed it away. She stepped back and released a roundhouse kick. Steve blocked it with his wrist. Erin tried to plunge the taser into Steve’s body but the ninja jumped back. Erin ran at him, her taser held out in front of her, but just as she was closing in, Steve swatted her across the face with the back of his hand. The impact flung Erin to her knees. She dizzily stabbed her taser in the air, hoping Steve was close. He was: he avoided the taser and snatched her wrist.
Steve bent Erin’s hand backward, and she screamed. The ninja’s other hand was pulling back her fingers, wrestling the taser away from her grip. Erin tried to get to her feet, and Steve booted her in the stomach, sending her to the floor and forcing her to release her weapon.
Erin clutched her stomach for a second, and then rolled away. As she got to her knees, she saw Steve look at the taser, shake his head, and toss the device across the room.
“Hey!” Erin yelled, leaping to her feet. “That’s mine, you asshole!”
Driven by fury, she jumped at Steve, unleashing a series of punches. The ninja deflected the first couple and then, shockingly, took a blow to the chin. It pushed him back on his heels, and Erin brought her knee forward, slamming it into Steve’s thigh. She saw his leg slightly buckle and she socked him in the abdomen. He was creating openings, and Erin was capitalizing. She was winning!
“Yes!” she thought, driving her palm into Steve’s shoulder, once again knocking him off balance. “Keep it going, Blue Lynx!”
She jumped in the air and kicked Steve square in the chest. For the first time, Steve left his feet, flying backward and crashing into the floor with a huge BOOM. Erin stood there, watching the ninja struggle to get up, basking in the moment.
“That all you got, Steve?” she said.
With his customary lack of response, Steve curled into a somersault and rolled backward behind a pillar.
Was he retreating?
Erin sped around the corner of the pillar. She scanned from side to side.
He wasn’t there.
“Shit,” Erin thought, running down the aisle. “Where the hell did he go?”
She turned in a circle. Just as she was completing a 360, she heard a creak. From the ceiling.
She looked up. Steve was there, wedged between the pillars, several yards above her, watching her.
"Oh--"
Before Erin could react, the ninja swung down, kicking her in the chest with two feet. Erin flew back, colliding with a pillar, her arms and legs splaying out upon contact. She tried to find her bearings, but Steve was already on her, his hands closing around her throat.
"Ock!" Erin coughed. Her hands raced to Steve's wrist. He was standing away from her, his arm straight out, holding her in place. He dug his fingers into her neck and, with seemingly no effort, lifted her. Erin could feel her boots leave the floor. She kicked wildly against the air and the pillar.
"Steve... Stop..." she whispered, feeling her breath depart. He had hoisted her against the pillar, several feet off the ground, so that she was looking down at him, her eyes squinting with small tears.
"He's... killing... me..." Erin thought. "I... can't... break... free..."
She had stopped struggling. Her legs hung lifelessly against the cold surface of the room. Her breath came out in short, pained bursts. Her focus had dimmed; she looked up at the ceiling now, watching it fade in and out.
It was over.
And then, Steve threw her, chucking her across the aisle like a plaything. She hit another pillar and slid down the wall, wilting into the floor.
It hurt, but Erin could breathe. Her whole body was an ache, but she was alive.
She felt her gloves on solid ground, knew she had to get up, tried desperately to move her feet.
But suddenly, once again, Steve was upon her. She could feel him before he even touched her, his shadow smothering her like a tarp. He wrapped his blackness around her, catching her head and neck in chokehold, and squeezed. Erin could barely resist, couldn't summon the strength to even move her hands toward Steve's. She just sat there, kneeling on the floor, a captive of the ninja, now and always, and let him push her, second by hazy second, into a state of blissful unconsciousness.
On to Chapter Eleven
The Fearsome Five: The Gauntlet: Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
April 18th, 11:03 PM
Margot couldn't help Erin. She couldn't stop the ninja from dragging the Blue Lynx into the room, couldn't pry his fingers from the back of Erin's spandex costume, couldn't wake her friend from her unconscious state. She couldn't threaten Brent Hammerson, who watched the two new arrivals with absurd glee, or throw a smoke bomb behind his desk, break all of his stupid screens which he'd used to monitor Erin's progress for the last hour. She couldn't grab the Blue Lynx and leave, couldn't fight off her attackers, couldn't save the day.
All the Black Bobcat could do was watch.
She had been captured, restrained and gagged, and had waited, helplessly, for Erin to complete this "gauntlet." They had fixed her to a wall with five chains, two for her ankles, two for her wrists, and one around her neck. They hadn't unmasked her, stripped her, or really done anything with her since this had all began. They had simply let her stand, her mouth taped, her chains just long enough to futilely shake, and look around the room. It was a sort of office for Hammerson, with a desk and chair and a bunch of computer screens, but also more lavish elements: a turkish rug, an immense, lit fireplace, some garish paintings. It would've been the typical hideout of a filthy rich playboy but for the young woman attached to its back wall.
Hammerson had barely talked to her, was clearly not interested in her at all except as bait for his real quarry: the Blue Lynx, who now lay in an unconscious heap on the rug, just a few feet away from Hammerson's desk.
"Thanks for bringing her in, Steve," he said, standing up from the chair. "For a second there, I thought you were going to kill her."
Margot looked up. Steve was silent, still. She seen him just once before, but had heard enough from Erin to know that this man was dangerous: the fastest, strongest, and most cunning member of Hammerson's "Fearsome Five." He was huge. Next to him, Erin suddenly seemed small, weak, and inexperienced.
The thought made Margot gulp. "He's... defeated her. And now... she's... here..."
She shut her eyes. This was it, it had to be. There was no coming back from this one. Margot couldn't escape. And Erin had been beaten and knocked out, was now totally prone before her greatest foe.
"MMPH!" she yelled. "MMMMPH!!!"
Neither Hammerson nor Steve acknowledged her. They didn't care about her: the Blue Lynx was here, and helpless. Margot was just a bystander, now.
"Let's chain her over there," Hammerson said, pointing at the wall perpendicular to Margot's.
Steve nodded. He once again took Erin by the fabric on the back of her neck, and dragged her. Her limp body slid across the rug with a small, scuffing sound. They reached the wall, and Steve first placed her in a sitting position, then picked her up by her armpits, bringing her to her feet. He picked up Erin's lifeless left arm, stuck her wrist in the cuff, closed it, and then repeated the process with her right arm. The ankle chains came next, and then finally the neck chain. As Steve snapped it around Erin's neck, Margot could see her friend's eyes flutter. She was waking up.
"Ugh..." Erin mumbled. "Urgh..."
"MMMPH!!!" Margot cried. "MMMMPH!!!"
She was sweating. The room seemed to have gotten hotter-- the fire raged in its brick enclosure, casting long shadows from Hammerson and Steve. It was hell, and at the center of it was her friend, chained, groggy, probably in immense pain.
"Blue Lynx, welcome," Hammerson said, walking over to Erin, his hands in his pockets. "You've made it to the final stage. My stage."
Erin had shaken off the sleep, and was glaring at Hammerson, her arm and leg muscles bulging. She wasn't giving up. Margot was terrified, but Erin continued to fight.
"Your stage, huh?" the Blue Lynx said, sarcastically. "Seems like it's your ninja friend who's doing all the work."
Hammerson shook his head and laughed. "Oh, this is undoubtedly a team effort. Steve provides the brawn. I provide the brain."
"That's highly debatable," Erin said.
The tape on Margot's mouth crinkled as her lips forced a smile.
"You think so?" Hammerson said. "I got you here, didn't I? You think this sort of thing just comes together overnight? I've been planning this for months. Every stage of it. The paint factory 'statement.' Kidnapping your partner. Designing this wonderful gauntlet. You've followed me here, all the way. And now, you're mine."
Erin gritted her teeth and pulled at the chains on her wrists. They wouldn't budge.
"You see?" Hammerson continued. "You can't break free, Blue Lynx. You're strong, but you're not that strong. These chains are made of steel. Not even Steve could break them."
"You're sick," Erin spat. "All of this time and work. For what? To capture me? You need to get a life."
Hammerson had moved over to Erin, had set his hand on Erin's waist. She instinctively shuddered.
"This is my life, my dear," Hammerson said. "I used to think politics was my passion. I got over that. I found drugs, and I thought they could hold my attention. They didn't. But you..." He rubbed his fingers along Erin's side, finally hooking them on the top of her belt. "You are so tantalizing. So exciting. You are a project worthy of my attention."
"I'm not your project," Erin sneered. "I'm your nemesis. I'm going to get out of here, and I'm going to punch your face in."
Hammerson chuckled. "It's just a shame, really, that it has to end." He pressed the palm of his hand to Erin's stomach, let his other hand slip behind her back. "I can't let you get away, Blue Lynx. Not now."
Margot couldn't help but watch as Hammerson bent over, stuck out his tongue, and licked Erin's neck. Erin squealed and shook her chains.
"The Fearsome Five has done its work," Hammerson said, pulling away from Erin, licking his lips. "They've brought you to me. And now, I get to really know you."
"Hammerson! Stop!" Erin shouted, but he didn't. His hands had fallen behind Erin's back again, and were now clutching her butt cheeks, pushing them around in circles. He pressed his crotch against Erin's, then thrusted it at her. Erin's body bounced against the wall, her chains rattling with each shove. She looked up, forlornly, her mouth alternating between winces and cries.
"You know what would really turn me on," Hammerson mumbled, his face deep in Erin's chest, his hands still kneading her rear. "Seeing your face..."
"Don't!" Erin yelled. Hammerson's hand crawled from her butt and moved up her spine, then worked its way around to her breasts, then climbed up her bare chest, toward her face.
"Oh God," Margot thought. "Here it comes..."
"I've waited... so long... for this," Hammerson breathed, his body still glued to Erin's, his fingers prying at her mask.
Suddenly, Steve stood behind Hammerson, his hand clamped on his boss's shoulder.
"What the fuck?" Hammerson gasped, turning his face around, leaving his body against Erin. "You scared the shit out of me."
Steve kept his hand on Hammerson. He was shaking his head back and forth. He was saying, "No."
"Can't you see I'm busy?" Hammerson said. "Jesus fucking Christ."
Steve continued to shake his head. Hammerson squinted at him.
"What do you want, you big dumb mute fuck? You want me to stop? You want me to just walk away?"
Margot blinked. What was happening? She could see Erin look on at the scene, could see a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
Steve shook his head, back and forth, completely silent. Hammerson's face had turned bright red.
"Such a fucking mystery man. Think you're a fucking big shot because you've defeated the Blue Lynx, because you've unmasked her. Well it's my turn now, you fucking imbecile. Back the fuck off, give me some fucking space, and let me have this moment."
Steve released Hammerson's shoulder.
"Fucking thanks, prick," Hammerson said, turning back around.
"Now," he said, bringing his hand back up to Erin's face, delighting in her pained grimace. "Where were we?"
It took just a few seconds to unfurl. Steve grabbed Hammerson by both shoulders, picked him up, threw him back to the ground. Hammerson groaned, and Steve took his ankle, spun him around, tossed him into the wall where Margot stood, chained up, watching it all in shock.
"Oh my God," Margot thought. "Is this real?"
Hammerson whimpered on the ground, his suit a dusty, rumpled disaster, his hair flung out in every direction.
"Fuck..." he muttered. "You... fuck..."
Hammerson lifted his face, and Steve knocked it back with a kick. Hammerson's body snapped back, hit the wall again, fell back to the floor. Steve picked him up by the back of his suit jacket and threw him over his desk, smashing the computers, flinging paper everywhere, cracking the chair with his body.
Margot couldn't see Hammerson, could just hear his high-pitched drone of agony. He was beaten, destroyed, completely humiliated by Steve, but the ninja wasn't done yet. Steve marched past the desk and bent down. The sounds of punches and Hammerson's accompanying shouts of pain echoed through the room.
Margot looked up at Erin. She was still chained, her costume all stretched out of proportion thanks to Hammerson's filthy hands, her pink bra and panties visible, her hair tangled up, her belt slumped down onto her thigh. She looked worn-down and weary and defeated. But she was smiling.
"Kick his ass, Steve!" she shouted.
Finally, Hammerson's cries subsided, and Steve stood up, looking just as he did minutes before. Only his now blood-stained fingers indicated that he had been in a fight. He shook out his hand and walked from behind Hammerson's desk, not looking back at the body he'd left bruised and unconscious.
Margot was torn. Hammerson hadn't unmasked Erin, had been beaten by his own man... But the Black Bobcat and the Blue Lynx were still prisoners. And there was no telling what Steve would do next. He was walking toward Erin now, still calm, still silent. Erin's smile slowly morphed into a look of anxiety.
"What's up... Steve?" she said.
Steve nodded, and with a single mighty pull, tore the chain on Erin's left wrist from the wall. He pulled four more times, and just like that, the Blue Lynx was free, standing next to Steve, chains hanging off her body, a bewildered look on her face.
"You're... letting me go?" she asked.
Steve looked down at Erin. And then, in a deep and resonant tone, he began to speak.
"All of my life, I've searched and searched for a challenger. Someone who was worthy of my skills. I've been from city to city, hunting for the man who could stand up to me in combat. I came to this city, your city, not knowing that the man I was searching for was actually... a woman."
Erin stared up at him, still confused, but clearly growing more hopeful.
"Blue Lynx, I've hunted you for reasons unlike Mr. Hammerson's. I have no desire to imprison you. I seek not to end your career. I've only wanted to fight you, you who have bested so many men, you who have demonstrated mental and physical superiority against foes double and triple your size."
Margot looked on. Erin was nodding now. Things were starting to make... sense?
"I joined up with Hammerson for the opportunity of facing you one-on-one. When we first fought, you were weakened, and I must admit that I did not play fair. I broke your arm and unmasked you as a test: would you be able to recover after such a terrible setback? And of course, you did recover. You are a very resilient woman. There are not many I've fought who have been so willing to pick themselves back up and try again.
I continued to work with Hammerson. I knew that this 'gauntlet' would give me another chance to fight you the way I've wanted to. And this time, you were faster, stronger. You hit me. You knocked me down. I had never been knocked down in combat before. I'm not sure if I'd even felt pain before that moment. And for that, I thank you, Blue Lynx.
You have much to learn, still. I could not let Hammerson finish you, not when you have so much potential. He does not deserve an opponent as powerful as you. Someday, you will be a truly impressive warrior, and on that day, I hope to meet you again."
Erin's eyes brimmed with tears. "Steve... I..."
Steve put his finger to his mask-covered lips. "Goodbye."
And with that, the ninja darted from the room, letting the door swing behind him.
Erin wiped her eyes, stared down at the floor, and then looked up, leveling her gaze at Margot.
"It's been a very long, very hard day," Erin said.
She walked over to her friend and peeled the tape off with a gentle pull.
"Erin," Margot whispered. "What the hell just happened?"
Erin shook her head. "I don't even want to think about it, right now. I just want to go home."
She grabbed the chains holding Margot's wrists, trying to snap them. They didn't bend.
"You know where the key is?" she asked.
"Hammerson's pocket," Margot said, nodding to the place behind Hammerson's desk.
Erin sighed and walked over to the corner. She bent down. Margot couldn't see her.
"Is he... dead?" Margot asked.
There was an uncomfortable silence before Erin stood up, keys in hand.
"I don't think so," Erin said. "But he is very, very fucked up."
"Oh," Margot said. "That's good, I guess."
Erin walked back to Margot and began undoing the cuff on her right wrist.
"So... you still feel like being a superheroine?" Erin asked.
She looked Margot in the eye, and Margot saw a woman who, in one evening, had been punched, kicked, thrown, choked, groped, tied up, chained up, hit repeatedly with a pillow, drugged, dragged, insulted, knocked unconscious, humiliated, and almost unmasked.
"Umm," Margot said, with a small laugh. "I think I'll leave that to you, Blue Lynx."
THE END
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April 18th, 11:03 PM
Margot couldn't help Erin. She couldn't stop the ninja from dragging the Blue Lynx into the room, couldn't pry his fingers from the back of Erin's spandex costume, couldn't wake her friend from her unconscious state. She couldn't threaten Brent Hammerson, who watched the two new arrivals with absurd glee, or throw a smoke bomb behind his desk, break all of his stupid screens which he'd used to monitor Erin's progress for the last hour. She couldn't grab the Blue Lynx and leave, couldn't fight off her attackers, couldn't save the day.
All the Black Bobcat could do was watch.
She had been captured, restrained and gagged, and had waited, helplessly, for Erin to complete this "gauntlet." They had fixed her to a wall with five chains, two for her ankles, two for her wrists, and one around her neck. They hadn't unmasked her, stripped her, or really done anything with her since this had all began. They had simply let her stand, her mouth taped, her chains just long enough to futilely shake, and look around the room. It was a sort of office for Hammerson, with a desk and chair and a bunch of computer screens, but also more lavish elements: a turkish rug, an immense, lit fireplace, some garish paintings. It would've been the typical hideout of a filthy rich playboy but for the young woman attached to its back wall.
Hammerson had barely talked to her, was clearly not interested in her at all except as bait for his real quarry: the Blue Lynx, who now lay in an unconscious heap on the rug, just a few feet away from Hammerson's desk.
"Thanks for bringing her in, Steve," he said, standing up from the chair. "For a second there, I thought you were going to kill her."
Margot looked up. Steve was silent, still. She seen him just once before, but had heard enough from Erin to know that this man was dangerous: the fastest, strongest, and most cunning member of Hammerson's "Fearsome Five." He was huge. Next to him, Erin suddenly seemed small, weak, and inexperienced.
The thought made Margot gulp. "He's... defeated her. And now... she's... here..."
She shut her eyes. This was it, it had to be. There was no coming back from this one. Margot couldn't escape. And Erin had been beaten and knocked out, was now totally prone before her greatest foe.
"MMPH!" she yelled. "MMMMPH!!!"
Neither Hammerson nor Steve acknowledged her. They didn't care about her: the Blue Lynx was here, and helpless. Margot was just a bystander, now.
"Let's chain her over there," Hammerson said, pointing at the wall perpendicular to Margot's.
Steve nodded. He once again took Erin by the fabric on the back of her neck, and dragged her. Her limp body slid across the rug with a small, scuffing sound. They reached the wall, and Steve first placed her in a sitting position, then picked her up by her armpits, bringing her to her feet. He picked up Erin's lifeless left arm, stuck her wrist in the cuff, closed it, and then repeated the process with her right arm. The ankle chains came next, and then finally the neck chain. As Steve snapped it around Erin's neck, Margot could see her friend's eyes flutter. She was waking up.
"Ugh..." Erin mumbled. "Urgh..."
"MMMPH!!!" Margot cried. "MMMMPH!!!"
She was sweating. The room seemed to have gotten hotter-- the fire raged in its brick enclosure, casting long shadows from Hammerson and Steve. It was hell, and at the center of it was her friend, chained, groggy, probably in immense pain.
"Blue Lynx, welcome," Hammerson said, walking over to Erin, his hands in his pockets. "You've made it to the final stage. My stage."
Erin had shaken off the sleep, and was glaring at Hammerson, her arm and leg muscles bulging. She wasn't giving up. Margot was terrified, but Erin continued to fight.
"Your stage, huh?" the Blue Lynx said, sarcastically. "Seems like it's your ninja friend who's doing all the work."
Hammerson shook his head and laughed. "Oh, this is undoubtedly a team effort. Steve provides the brawn. I provide the brain."
"That's highly debatable," Erin said.
The tape on Margot's mouth crinkled as her lips forced a smile.
"You think so?" Hammerson said. "I got you here, didn't I? You think this sort of thing just comes together overnight? I've been planning this for months. Every stage of it. The paint factory 'statement.' Kidnapping your partner. Designing this wonderful gauntlet. You've followed me here, all the way. And now, you're mine."
Erin gritted her teeth and pulled at the chains on her wrists. They wouldn't budge.
"You see?" Hammerson continued. "You can't break free, Blue Lynx. You're strong, but you're not that strong. These chains are made of steel. Not even Steve could break them."
"You're sick," Erin spat. "All of this time and work. For what? To capture me? You need to get a life."
Hammerson had moved over to Erin, had set his hand on Erin's waist. She instinctively shuddered.
"This is my life, my dear," Hammerson said. "I used to think politics was my passion. I got over that. I found drugs, and I thought they could hold my attention. They didn't. But you..." He rubbed his fingers along Erin's side, finally hooking them on the top of her belt. "You are so tantalizing. So exciting. You are a project worthy of my attention."
"I'm not your project," Erin sneered. "I'm your nemesis. I'm going to get out of here, and I'm going to punch your face in."
Hammerson chuckled. "It's just a shame, really, that it has to end." He pressed the palm of his hand to Erin's stomach, let his other hand slip behind her back. "I can't let you get away, Blue Lynx. Not now."
Margot couldn't help but watch as Hammerson bent over, stuck out his tongue, and licked Erin's neck. Erin squealed and shook her chains.
"The Fearsome Five has done its work," Hammerson said, pulling away from Erin, licking his lips. "They've brought you to me. And now, I get to really know you."
"Hammerson! Stop!" Erin shouted, but he didn't. His hands had fallen behind Erin's back again, and were now clutching her butt cheeks, pushing them around in circles. He pressed his crotch against Erin's, then thrusted it at her. Erin's body bounced against the wall, her chains rattling with each shove. She looked up, forlornly, her mouth alternating between winces and cries.
"You know what would really turn me on," Hammerson mumbled, his face deep in Erin's chest, his hands still kneading her rear. "Seeing your face..."
"Don't!" Erin yelled. Hammerson's hand crawled from her butt and moved up her spine, then worked its way around to her breasts, then climbed up her bare chest, toward her face.
"Oh God," Margot thought. "Here it comes..."
"I've waited... so long... for this," Hammerson breathed, his body still glued to Erin's, his fingers prying at her mask.
Suddenly, Steve stood behind Hammerson, his hand clamped on his boss's shoulder.
"What the fuck?" Hammerson gasped, turning his face around, leaving his body against Erin. "You scared the shit out of me."
Steve kept his hand on Hammerson. He was shaking his head back and forth. He was saying, "No."
"Can't you see I'm busy?" Hammerson said. "Jesus fucking Christ."
Steve continued to shake his head. Hammerson squinted at him.
"What do you want, you big dumb mute fuck? You want me to stop? You want me to just walk away?"
Margot blinked. What was happening? She could see Erin look on at the scene, could see a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
Steve shook his head, back and forth, completely silent. Hammerson's face had turned bright red.
"Such a fucking mystery man. Think you're a fucking big shot because you've defeated the Blue Lynx, because you've unmasked her. Well it's my turn now, you fucking imbecile. Back the fuck off, give me some fucking space, and let me have this moment."
Steve released Hammerson's shoulder.
"Fucking thanks, prick," Hammerson said, turning back around.
"Now," he said, bringing his hand back up to Erin's face, delighting in her pained grimace. "Where were we?"
It took just a few seconds to unfurl. Steve grabbed Hammerson by both shoulders, picked him up, threw him back to the ground. Hammerson groaned, and Steve took his ankle, spun him around, tossed him into the wall where Margot stood, chained up, watching it all in shock.
"Oh my God," Margot thought. "Is this real?"
Hammerson whimpered on the ground, his suit a dusty, rumpled disaster, his hair flung out in every direction.
"Fuck..." he muttered. "You... fuck..."
Hammerson lifted his face, and Steve knocked it back with a kick. Hammerson's body snapped back, hit the wall again, fell back to the floor. Steve picked him up by the back of his suit jacket and threw him over his desk, smashing the computers, flinging paper everywhere, cracking the chair with his body.
Margot couldn't see Hammerson, could just hear his high-pitched drone of agony. He was beaten, destroyed, completely humiliated by Steve, but the ninja wasn't done yet. Steve marched past the desk and bent down. The sounds of punches and Hammerson's accompanying shouts of pain echoed through the room.
Margot looked up at Erin. She was still chained, her costume all stretched out of proportion thanks to Hammerson's filthy hands, her pink bra and panties visible, her hair tangled up, her belt slumped down onto her thigh. She looked worn-down and weary and defeated. But she was smiling.
"Kick his ass, Steve!" she shouted.
Finally, Hammerson's cries subsided, and Steve stood up, looking just as he did minutes before. Only his now blood-stained fingers indicated that he had been in a fight. He shook out his hand and walked from behind Hammerson's desk, not looking back at the body he'd left bruised and unconscious.
Margot was torn. Hammerson hadn't unmasked Erin, had been beaten by his own man... But the Black Bobcat and the Blue Lynx were still prisoners. And there was no telling what Steve would do next. He was walking toward Erin now, still calm, still silent. Erin's smile slowly morphed into a look of anxiety.
"What's up... Steve?" she said.
Steve nodded, and with a single mighty pull, tore the chain on Erin's left wrist from the wall. He pulled four more times, and just like that, the Blue Lynx was free, standing next to Steve, chains hanging off her body, a bewildered look on her face.
"You're... letting me go?" she asked.
Steve looked down at Erin. And then, in a deep and resonant tone, he began to speak.
"All of my life, I've searched and searched for a challenger. Someone who was worthy of my skills. I've been from city to city, hunting for the man who could stand up to me in combat. I came to this city, your city, not knowing that the man I was searching for was actually... a woman."
Erin stared up at him, still confused, but clearly growing more hopeful.
"Blue Lynx, I've hunted you for reasons unlike Mr. Hammerson's. I have no desire to imprison you. I seek not to end your career. I've only wanted to fight you, you who have bested so many men, you who have demonstrated mental and physical superiority against foes double and triple your size."
Margot looked on. Erin was nodding now. Things were starting to make... sense?
"I joined up with Hammerson for the opportunity of facing you one-on-one. When we first fought, you were weakened, and I must admit that I did not play fair. I broke your arm and unmasked you as a test: would you be able to recover after such a terrible setback? And of course, you did recover. You are a very resilient woman. There are not many I've fought who have been so willing to pick themselves back up and try again.
I continued to work with Hammerson. I knew that this 'gauntlet' would give me another chance to fight you the way I've wanted to. And this time, you were faster, stronger. You hit me. You knocked me down. I had never been knocked down in combat before. I'm not sure if I'd even felt pain before that moment. And for that, I thank you, Blue Lynx.
You have much to learn, still. I could not let Hammerson finish you, not when you have so much potential. He does not deserve an opponent as powerful as you. Someday, you will be a truly impressive warrior, and on that day, I hope to meet you again."
Erin's eyes brimmed with tears. "Steve... I..."
Steve put his finger to his mask-covered lips. "Goodbye."
And with that, the ninja darted from the room, letting the door swing behind him.
Erin wiped her eyes, stared down at the floor, and then looked up, leveling her gaze at Margot.
"It's been a very long, very hard day," Erin said.
She walked over to her friend and peeled the tape off with a gentle pull.
"Erin," Margot whispered. "What the hell just happened?"
Erin shook her head. "I don't even want to think about it, right now. I just want to go home."
She grabbed the chains holding Margot's wrists, trying to snap them. They didn't bend.
"You know where the key is?" she asked.
"Hammerson's pocket," Margot said, nodding to the place behind Hammerson's desk.
Erin sighed and walked over to the corner. She bent down. Margot couldn't see her.
"Is he... dead?" Margot asked.
There was an uncomfortable silence before Erin stood up, keys in hand.
"I don't think so," Erin said. "But he is very, very fucked up."
"Oh," Margot said. "That's good, I guess."
Erin walked back to Margot and began undoing the cuff on her right wrist.
"So... you still feel like being a superheroine?" Erin asked.
She looked Margot in the eye, and Margot saw a woman who, in one evening, had been punched, kicked, thrown, choked, groped, tied up, chained up, hit repeatedly with a pillow, drugged, dragged, insulted, knocked unconscious, humiliated, and almost unmasked.
"Umm," Margot said, with a small laugh. "I think I'll leave that to you, Blue Lynx."
THE END
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