Cat And Mouse: OK, Where Were We Now? free porn video

Cat and Mouse: OK, Where Were We Now? By Bluto Week 15 - 9AM, EST "So, hon, how about some coffee? I just made a big fresh pot a caf? late and Starbucks ain't got nothin' on me, girl!" The little ray of sunshine was Joanna, aka Johnny Schiete, a middle-aged, 200 pound man wearing a pink wig and matching Day-Glo dress. Joanna had been Nicky Graeo's number one assistant at the Glamor Boutique from day one and used her sharp tongue on the boss whenever opportunity presented itself. "Well, well, what have we here," she shrieked, as she put her hands to her chubby cheeks. "You're wearing Dockers and a tie today? Where the hell is the flamboyant Nicole? Don't tell me you're going to disappoint your little southern fried ham?" "That's what I get for sharing my secrets with a mouthy bitch," Nicky sighed.?"I can dress however the hell I feel around my own store, you know, and Mr. Arrow has nothing to do with it. You're just still pissed off because you didn't get the job?as Harvey Firestein's understudy for 'Hairspray.'" "Well excuse me, miss thang, but I was kinda gettin' used to you all gussied-up in the dress and the corny dago accent every day. I thought maybe you were going to have some fun and join me at this year's Ms. Fabulous New York City contest. You could make the top five, no problem." "Joanna, you stupid old cow, you know damn well that I'm not a drag queen and I sure ain't gona enter some faggy contest. I'm an actor, and a fuckin' good one, too." The hefty transvestite smiled and poured her boss a cup of sweetened coffee. "Yeah, Nicky, I know. Only, you've been doin' the fem bit so much lately, I'm beginning to wonder. It really was a surprise to see you dressed as a man today. And don't let your drink get cold, it's so good." "I guess it's easy to get caught up in a role, isn't it?" Nicky said, busying himself with routine paperwork. "Now I'm starting to understand what Mick was talking about right before... he changed. (sigh)" "Oh where did the love go, eh babe? Hey, lookie there, we've got customers waiting for us to open already. Hmmm, ain't they an interesting bunch." She unlocked and opened the front door for five people. They were all dressed in a combination of new clothes and stuff that looked like Goodwill rejects. They all moved as a group and one of them seemed to be the leader. "Er, hi, my name is Robert, but everybody calls me Weirdoid," the fellow with the dirty beard and fresh haircut said. "Tony Bass recommended this place." 9 AM, MST "So, this is the Anaconda, a damned un-American drug dealer who was hidin' in the jungle. I must say, I am disappointed, yes I am." After their escape from Venezuela, Joe Santi had brought the newest of the demon-possessed directly to the Master in El Paso, TX. Donald Welldon III was not pleased; his plans did not include a fugitive Colombian drug lord being given the power of a fallen angel. "Well, that's too bad, now isn't it?" Ernesto Ochoa said, pleasantly. "Here I am, surrounded by three other rather hostile members of the so- called demon-possessed. You seem to have me at your mercy, so what are you going to do?" "How 'bout we kill ya, cut up yer body ta make sure da demon goes back into da snake idol and find somebody else for dat power?" Peter Denuche suggested with a sneer. "What do ya tink about dat, greaseball?" Ochoa's expression did not change. "Yes, you could do that, but only because the Bear is here with you. I am much stronger than the Bat and the Rat put together, and you know it. Any fight between the four of us could be very damaging for us all." Although Ochoa's English wasn't very good, the other three could understand his words . and the tone of his threat perfectly. The tension in the air was so thick it fairly took Billy Welldon's breath away. "Whew, you gentlemens need to relax, right now," he said, as he pranced in carrying a note pad and waving his hand. "Daddy, agent Hurle is on line one for you. Does anyone want a drink? And I DON'T mean a drink of human blood!" Billy, by his very nature, got everyone to relax just a bit. While he had no powers of his own, he was unafraid of the dangerous people in his midst and his fruity behavior always seemed to lighten the mood. Welldon took his call and the others all ordered strong drinks despite the early hour. As Billy served them, Ochoa looked at him curiously, while Denuche and Santi would not take their eyes off the snake man. "You are this 'Master' fellow's son, yes?" "Yes suh, that I am, Mr. Snake." "Are you the one he wanted joined with Pautapur instead of me?" "Oh, heavens no, silly," Billy giggled. "Jesus, why would I want to be a scaly old snake? No offense, of course. No, I'm waiting for you big, strong mens to kill that lion bitch so I can get her spirit, oh yeath." "Ah, a good choice," Ochoa said, as he finished his straight 10 Cane rum and licked the glass with his long, forked tongue (much to Billy's delight.) "I have seen the lion woman; oooo la la, those breasts, that ass, that tail, aieee! She likes to go naked and raise the male temperature. You like that too I bet, eh? You know, she would have beaten both those fools over there if I had not helped them." "It would be best if you did not continue to provoke me," Santi seethed. "I do not know which of us is physically more powerful, but I have more than strength to rely on." "Ah yes, your little magic tricks," Ochoa said, snidely. "Very effective at putting weak humans under your control. But don't you know that snakes have been renowned over the centuries for their ability to hypnotize their prey?" Ochoa stared at Santi with his evil snake eyes, with their vertical slits for pupils and whites that seemed to glow. The former drug lord's teeth were sharp, curved and widely spaced, while his ears were negligible and his body almost hairless. As "Carlos" he was 5' 8" tall and skinny, but now he was equal in height to Santi at close to 7' and full of sinewy, reptilian muscle. "Hey, hey, enough of that; if there's any hypnotizin' to be done around here I'll do it, by golly." Welldon's voice intruded on the moment like a bucket of cold water. "Carlos, Ernesto, whatever you call yourself, do you still have any drug connections in this country?" "Things will have changed somewhat, since I have been out of circulation for a while, but I know a number of people in the business that I can still contact. Why, does your 'Great Plan For America' include a bag of coke for everyone?" "Not hardly, my friend," Welldon said, with a crooked smile that exposed his new canine teeth. "However, if you really want to join us and avoid a costly battle between us, there's a simple way you can prove your loyalty to our cause. Let me explain..." *** 10 AM, EST "Hey, evraybody, listen up!" Richard Gibbons Robichaux, better known as the Arrow, had an announcement to make to all Protectors, wannabes and hangers-on at the HQ gym. "Ah jes got word dat de gang has taken a emergency detour on their way back from South America. Seems like de Medium tol' dem about a vision she got of a cave-in at one a dem coal mines in West Virginne an' Cat an' Nightman an' Little Wildcat are goin' to help. Ah'm not sure when theys goin' to get back so y'all goin' to have to cool yoah jets for a while longer. Sorry." The room quieted for a moment, then everyone went on with their individual activities.? Wendy J was putting Diego and Lupe through their paces, while Tony Bass continued to receive personal instruction from the Arrow, who had himself just returned from Louisiana.? Ahmed Ibrahim was there waiting for the Medium, so they could go over their plans to retrieve the Perfessor from limbo. Security was busy too, setting up the gym for Cecilia's, the giant girl's, tryout. She and her father had taken temporary residence at the HQ, to avoid the commotion they'd cause at any hotel. Nancy Miller, however, was not there. She was in Washington for a few days attending meetings and taking care of some long-neglected red tape. Technically, her job was to act as the Protectors' liaison with the Department of Homeland Security, but, practically, she had been acting as their field leader since the Whale incident and had been spending almost all her time in NYC. With the Arrow back and Cat, Micki and Nightman returning soon, Nancy felt she could finally spend some time back in the nation's capital. It was going to take a while to explain the sorry recent performances of her team to her bosses, especially now that some of those bosses knew the truth about Cat. The Arrow had spent a week taking care of his ancestral family property, which had suffered considerable damage from Hurricane Katrina, but he was eager to start Tony's private self-defense lessons. "OK, honey, you's got to remember to shift yo weight from de left foot to de right. Use yoah opponent's strength against him, like so." With that, the Arrow sent Tony Bass flying through the air to land on an old, hard floormat. "Ow, ya crazy hick, ya coulda hurt me, damnit. Are yous sure you ain't still mad about that haymaker I landed on ya at Diego's birthday party? An' watch it with da sweet talk, alright?? My son is here ya know." "Aw, now you know ah could nevah be mad at you, hon, er, Toni," Arrow said, as he helped the former wiseguy to his feet. "An' ah think little Deano is too busy wit' our potential new member to pay much attention to us now. Er, by the way, you say you have three boys an' de oldest one is 15. How dat possible, girl, I tought you was a virgin, like me?" Tony could only roll his eyes and sigh. Deano Bass was once again at the HQ as his father's guest. He couldn't take part in the training, of course, but it was still cool just to be there. He was currently entertaining Cecilia and her father as they waited for the missing Protectors to arrive and her membership trial to begin. "So you've got two older brothers, Deano. I sure wish I'd had a brother or sister when I was growing up, but, I think having me was kind of hard on my mother and she never had any more kids." "Ah, that's too bad," Deano said, as he played with the girl's catcher's mitt-sized hand. "But, truth to tell, my brothers can be a couple'a jerks, you know? They haven't even come to see Dad here at the HQ yet. I think they're kind'a embarrassed about what happened to him." "Well, we all have our problems. I haven't even been able to think up a good superhero name for myself yet." "Wait, wait," Deano said, breathlessly. "I thought up a super name for ya last night. What about Giganta? You know, like that Japanese cartoon character, 'Gigantor'?" "Uh uh, that sounds like the name of a female monster to me," the girl frowned. "You don't want the population running in panic at the sound of my name, do you?" "Aw, but you gotta have SOME kind of a name. We can't keep calling ya the big girl." "Why don't you call me by my real name, Deano?" she whispered to the child. "If you can keep a secret." "Oh yes, yes ma'am, I can keep a secret. I ain't told none of my friends my Dad's really Toni with the big hooters from television, you know." "Hmm, er, OK, Deano, my name is Cecilia." "Oh, that's a pretty name, kind of old-fashioned. Kind of fits you, too." "Are you saying I'm old-fashioned?" "Well, no, not really, but you do talk awful proper and your clothes are kind of, you know, modest." "Huh?" "I mean, what's your favorite type of music?" "Classical." "Classical rock? Classical country? "Classical classical. You know, Mozart, Beethoven, Haydn." "See? And look how most other teenage girls dress. They're always showing off their belly buttons an' their underwear an' their legs an' they're wearing really tight stuff. An' look what the female superheroes wear. I mean, the Cat goes around in next to nothing most of the time. Then here you are, dressed like a lumberjack. Why do you carry that ax and sledgehammer anyway?" Cecilia glanced at the testing area. They had already set up a series of heavy oak doors for her, the same kind Cat had used for her test months earlier. Cecilia pulled out her double headed ax, aimed, and threw it at a door 50 feet away like it was a tommahawk. It whizzed through the air like a pro fastball and hit the door with such force that the blade buried itself in the inch-thick wood. "Wow, that was awesome!" Deano screamed, as his little eyes bugged out. Cecilia's casual demonstration of power and skill caught the attention of everyone in the gym and they all stopped what they were doing to stare in wonder. "Hey, that was a hell of a throw, big girl," Diego said, as he stopped working his pecs long enough to saunter over to the young giant. "Where'd you learn how to do that?" "Oh, back home on the farm. I had a lot of spare time for practice, when I wasn't clearing fields, or smashing rocks or pulling up trees. I wear these gloves, but I'm afraid my hands are still pretty calloused from all that, see?" She took off her leather gloves and showed Diego her huge paws. One of her hands made two of his and her fingers were very powerful and hard, yet Diego sensed softness and warmth in those hands as well. He smiled at her and gently rubbed her right hand, causing the girl to blush awkwardly. "Harumph," her father cleared his throat loudly. "Mr. Persuader, don't you have practicing to do? I know my daughter does."?? "Whowee, this new girl is a big un, huh, chere?" the Arrow said, as he was mercifully distracted from the subject of Tony's virginity. "She bigger din the Girl Goliath!" "Way, way bigger," Tony said, as he swigged from a bottle of spring water. "Girl Goliath, hey, dat would be a good name fer her, but she probably wouldn't want a name been used already." "An' ah would object, anyhow," the Arrow said, adamantly. "Rae Ming was a hell of a Protector and ain't nobody gona take her name, no suh." "Ya know, you surprise me sometimes, peckerwood. I know yous is a racist, chauvinistic sonovabitch, but yous is a loyal, racist, chauvinistic sonovabitch." "Why, thank you, hon, ah think," Robichaux said, as he continued staring at Cecilia. "Lagniappe, dat be one huge woman." *** A Northern Interlude - Barrow, Alaska is the northern most city in the USA and it's still 1,000 miles below the North Pole. Our short story takes place off the northern Alaskan coast with the Beaufort Sea, less than 200 miles from the Pole. No one lives in this barren, spectacularly beautiful region. It's still ruled by the polar bear, the arctic fox and the bearded seal. The indigenous people only come here to hunt. Those people were once called Eskimo, a somewhat derogatory term which means "eater of raw meat," but now are called Inuit, meaning "real people." It's only a few miles from a small, seasonal gathering of these "real people" where we find one of the more notorious members of our far-flung cast. The late Fall sun rests on the horizon after shining for less than two hours and the long night will bring temperatures of well below zero, but two people sit together on a block of ice and view this blue-white world with the pleasure a garden in the spring might bring to you or me. They are a very odd couple, these two. One is small and bent over with age, with few teeth and long, but thinning hair. He wears a magnificent old coat, made from the fur and skin of a polar bear killed by his own hand in his youth. His boots are made from a beautiful seal he personally harpooned. He wore nothing else except a small totem of his tribe which he carved as a young boy almost 90 years ago. The other man is a huge, hairless giant with sharp, widely-spaced teeth and no visible nose or ears. He wears nothing to cover his black and white skin but a simple ragged pair of slacks, held up by a dirty rope, yet he is even more comfortable in the numbing cold than his fur-clad companion. They'd sat there for more than an hour, each buried in his own thoughts. Anyone coming upon them would feel certain that the old man was in grave danger, for his terrible companion has a horrible reputation for evil. Yet the old Inuit is unafraid and has a bemused look on his face, as he has come to a very pleasant decision and wants his friend to be the first to know about it. "Tell me Barbara, have you enjoyed your months here with my people? Didn't I say you would have a wonderful time?" "Yes, you did," the giant replied, in a voice that caused the nearby glaciers to shake. "I was confused and angry when I got here but I have never felt such peace before, Attuk.? I could easily stay here for the rest of my life." "That is not your destiny and you know it, my friend. Your time among us is nearly past, as is my time on this earth." "What do you mean by that?" "I am old, much too old for this migratory life. I have outlived two wives, four children and all those who grew up with me. I do not want to outlive the ways of my people, but I am afraid I no longer have any choice. The kayak has given way to the motorboat; the dog sled, to the snowmobile. The white man's pollution affects us even here. And... I have learned my grandchildren plan to have me put in a nursing home in Barrow. This is the last time I will be allowed to come out here on the pure ice." "Bummer." "Indeed. I have heard about such places. You lie in a bed all day and are fed from a tube in your stomach. Your mind slowly dims and you forget everything you have learned in life. You must rely on others to clean your filth off you, as if you were once again a baby. I studied at the white man's school long ago, when I was but a child, that is how I know his English language. But I have no use for anything else he has to offer, not his modern ways and most definitely not his nursing home." "So, what do you plan to do?" "I want to be consumed by the great spirit of the north," the old man said, glancing at the Whale with a smile. "There is a tradition among our people, but it is no longer practiced. Those who are too old to be of any further use are put out on the snow at night, there to await the spirit and to be consumed by it." "Uh, I saw that in an old movie once. Think it was called "Savage Innocence," or something. Starred Anthony Quinn. His mother-in-law was old and toothless and, without saying a word about it, she got up one night and left the igloo, so as not to be a burden on her children. She went out into the cold and offered herself to a polar bear. The implication was that, someday her son-in-law may kill the bear who had used her for food, thus providing meat and sustenance for her grandchildren. Geeze, I didn't know you people really did that sort of thing." "We do not, not anymore at least. But I would much rather do that than die in a nursing home." "Are there many polar bears around here?" "I don't want to be consumed by nanuq, the polar bear," Attuk said firmly. "I want to be consumed by you." The big man looked at his companion with an expression of disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about?" "Please, my friend, I am old, but I am not stupid," Attuk said. "And I am not totally ignorant as to what happens outside this land I love so much. I have heard of the Killer Whale who walks like a man, and who fought the Army and the Navy and the superheroes in the State of California. Do you deny that you are that same person?" "Well, er, maybe. So what if I am?" "I have heard that this Killer Whale has eaten men before, swallowed them whole. That he even swallowed the cat woman, but spit her back up. I have heard that this Killer Whale is evil, but I don't believe that is so. There is no evil in the polar bear when he kills and eats a man, that is just his way. So, too, with the Killer Whale." "I've never actually killed anyone, you know?" the Whale said softly. "The men I consumed, they were already dead. I was going to kill my husband, but the Cat showed me I didn't really want to do that. So I came here, as far away from people as I could, to live alone and not harm anybody. But even in this glorious wasteland, I have found companionship. I don't want to kill you, Attuk." The old man laid a frail hand on his massive companion. "I am already dead, my friend. You would merely be removing me from the earth. I will not leave this place. If you do not consume me, I will simply freeze to death today and offer my body to whatever wants it." At that, the old man slowly removed his magnificent coat and boots, laid them aside and stood there feebly, as naked as the day he was born but for his beloved totem. "I want you to have the coat, to remember me," Attuk said. "Leave the boots, so my children can find them." The big man sighed and nodded his fearsome head. A green glow emanated from his body and he grew and changed into his full-demon form, 30 feet tall and 10 tons in weight. The old man gave a toothless smile of approval and wrapped his arms around his chest as he chanted a death song his people have known for 1000 years. And the Whale? The awful, heartless monster who had terrorized two continents? The Killer Whale wept. *** Noon, CST Personal audio record of John Hurle, FBI field agent, specializing in superhuman affairs: "The Chicago Seven is a borderline superteam at best - borderline meaning they don't have any super powers and not much in the way of special abilities either. Based in the Windy City - and having no connection to the radicals from the famous 1969-70 trial - they're just a group of ex-hippies who still believe in Flower Power and spend most of their time championing 'liberal' causes. They do, on occasion, get involved in actual criminal cases, and that's why I interviewed them today. "Their HQ is located in a storefront in one of Chi-town's less fashionable neighborhoods. Naturally, several of the team members are lawyers and they keep busy with a never-ending stream of pro-bono cases for the local losers. Their leader is a middle-aged African-American dude who calls himself Black Power, for God's sake. He's balding, with a gray goatee and a fat gut, but you can tell by his shoulders and hands that he's still a strong motherfucker. "'Oh, we've had our run-ins with the FBI before, man,' is the first thing he tells me. 'You're a servant of The Man, you know, but we all just gotta get along and work for justice, right?' "Jesus fuckin' Christ. "As Black Power droned on, I glanced at the framed photographs of the original Seven on the wall behind him: Mystic Mama, The Weed, Flower Gal, Bad to the Bone, Slick Rick and Words. According to their files, Mystic Mama had marginal psychic abilities and was still an active member like Black Power; as was The Weed, an expert in the use of a variety of herbs (mostly ganga), who once trained under the 'dear departed' Ole Perfesser. The others had all retired or died and been replaced?by either their children or another younger relative. Anyhow, this relic from the past finally got to the reason for my visit. "'Yeah, Angela, er, Mystic Mama, got this inkling that something was goin' down in the business district around midnight, so a bunch a us jumped into the action van to investigate. We got to the Fed downtown and here was this big dude pulling open the front door. He must have been a strong sombitch, you know? Soon as he'd finished I saw a blur streak into the building and just a few seconds later it started dropping bags of money out front. Well, by this time we were out of the van and halfway up the stairs, when the big guy sees us. He laughs and does that stupid 'Matrix' come-and-get-it move with his hand. Well, four of us jumped on him and he shook us off like we was nothing. We don't use guns, but our non-lethal weapons just bounced off him. He must have been armored like a tank. The Weed took out his powder sack and threw some knock-out dust at him, but the blur returned and blew it away. Then a third member of this band showed up. He was a weird-looking dude, seemed to appear out of nowhere and he was the first one a them to speak. 'I've got some powder of my own I'd like you to try,' he said, in a kind a European accent. Then the blur, who happened to be a girl, slowed down and yelled at him, 'Oh no you don't, we don't do that anymore.'? By then the cops had arrived (late, as usual), but so had a helicopter armed with missiles. That thing fired on the cop cars, scattering them, while the three bad guys escaped with the loot. Then we had to stay with the cops 'til dawn tellin' them the same story I just told you.' "I asked 'Black Power' to describe the 'weird looking dude' and this is what he said: 'He was tall and real thin, dressed all in black, but the weird thing was he didn't seem to have a face. I don't know if he was wearing a mask or what, but he didn't seem to have a mouth or nose or eyes or anything. I wondered how he breathed, let alone talked.' "I'm sure you will find that last bit of information of special interest, Master. An edited copy of this report will go to the FBI, of course. The full report is for your eyes only. Agent John Hurle, out." 3 PM, EST "Look at the TV monitors," Wendy J shouted. "They just broke in with this on CNN." ". . . our viewers, this is happening now, as I speak. What could have been a major disaster at this coal mine in Humming, West Virginia has been averted by members of the superhero group known as the Protectors. They somehow arrived on the scene just after an explosion of unknown origin caused the collapse of the roof of the #2 mine, trapping two dozen miners more than a half-mile underground. Before mine officials could even start a rescue effort, the Protectors known as Cat and Little Wildcat began digging furiously, using only their hands and feet. Their leader, Nightman, was right behind them, lending support and communicating with both authorities and the trapped miners. Astonishingly, after only four hours of constant digging, the mother and daughter team reached the miners, who, as per their emergency instructions, had taken refuge in a prepared area. I have with me Joe Thomas, from the West Virginia Bureau of Mine Safety. Mr. Thomas, did the Protectors make a difference in this case?" "Hell, yeah, they made a difference! If we'd had to rely on conventional rescue efforts I doubt we'd have even gotten started by now, because the equipment we need is spread all over the State. In cases like this, every second counts. Those two women may look strange, but they were a godsend. They..." Just then, shouts and yodels filled the air and an eardrum-busting blast was heard from the mine whistle. "They're out, they're out! There's Nightman leading the way. And here come the miners, covered in soot and some of them look like they've been injured. Here's Cat and her daughter, both of them are carrying several miners on their backs. Those must have been the worst injured. I'm going to try to talk to these heroes, folks. I'll be right back." Protectors HQ also exploded with cheers from all present. "Wahoo, now dat's what superheroin's all about," the Arrow shouted. "Well, we needed some good publicity, and there it is," Lupe added. "This has got to help our image." Since it was obvious the members in West Virginia would not be returning any time soon, tryouts were canceled for that day and most of the wannabes left. Nightman, Cat and Micki were still being interviewed on CNN when Wendy J noticed a disturbing item on another of the HQ's multiple monitors, this one tuned to the Fox News Network. "Hey, gang, look at this," she said. "Rotundo, known as 'The Battling Buddha,' who just recently joined Luchadores Maximos, was killed several days ago in the jungles of southern Venezuela during a joint mission with the American super team known as?the Protectors. The nature of that mission has been deemed top secret by all governments involved, but rumor has it that it was somehow related to the infamous East Harlem incident that cost so many innocent lives earlier this Fall in New York City. Most disturbingly, it is also rumored that one or more of the Protectors killed several citizens of Venezuela who were fighting them in the jungle. Eyewitnesses report that one of the team's members 'went into a rage and ripped their foes to pieces, literally,' this, despite the Protectors' well-know policy against killing. President Hugo Chavez has released an official statement that killing citizens of his country is totally unacceptable, no matter what the cause, and is demanding an explanation from Washington. The release indicates that the Protectors did not tell him about the incident before they left the country. We will have more news on this breaking story as it happens." As this message was sinking in, one of the security people had an announcement. "It's Nightman and the others," he said. "They want to speak with you via the internet in the video conference room." The Arrow, the Medium, Lupe and Diego hurried to the second floor. No one else was allowed to participate.? Nightman, Mickie and Cat were waiting for them on the plasma TV monitor. They were all still dirty, as they hadn't yet had time to clean up after the rescue. "Arrow, Medium, I take it you heard the news?" Nightman asked. "Thanks to you, Gaby, we were able to get here in time to save all those miners. That ought to make those stuffed shirts in Washington give us some slack. I sure wish Nancy was there with you now." "Yeah, yeah Teddy, we heard da news," the Arrow said, testily. "Congratulations to you all." "Hey, what's up?" Nightman asked. "You never call me Teddy unless you've got a problem with me. What's wrong now?" "We heard about what happened in Venezuela," Diego spoke up. "One of the Lucadores got killed and they're going to have a state funeral for him in Mexico City. And the news said a bunch of other people got killed, too." All eyes focused on Cat. "Think we'll be invited to the funeral?" she asked. The Arrow glared at the screen and pointed at Nightman. "Hey, man, what da fuck is goin' on?" he asked. "Is dat true? Did da Cat kill somebody down there? 'Cause it's all ovah de damn TV." "Yes, people were killed," Nightman said, tersely. "But that's all I want to say for now." "Lack hell dat's all you have to say. Ah thought dis organization stood for somethin.' Ah had to give up mah guns before ah could join, an' now you're goin' to turn a blind eye to de Cat killing again? That's bullsheet!" For a moment, all Nightman could do was silently glare at the Arrow. Then he spoke. "Alright, Arrow, let's get one thing straight. Cat didn't kill anybody on our last mission. It was someone else." "Who, Nightman, you?" "No," Micki said. "It was me." "Oh my God, Micki," the Medium gasped. "That report, it said the victims were torn to pieces!" "Victims?" Cat shouted. "Those 'victims' had just helped that bastard Santi destroy an entire village of peaceful Indians. Then three of them stabbed Rotundo in the back! They raped and killed and they were about to rape Tetasina when Micki stopped them. Santi had used his woo-doo on them, they had no human feelings or remorse. The only way to stop them was to kill them. Would you have preferred Micki tried to restrain them one at a time? And in the meantime let that mutherfucker stick his nasty dick in dear Tetasina? No, I didn't kill them, but if I wasn't so busy with Santi and the Rat I would have, gladly." "Look, dat all sounds awful, alright, an' ah can understand things can happen in de heat a battle. But oura bylaws specifically state..." "How many people have you killed, Robichaux?" Nightman asked. "Ted, ah don't see what dat has to do with any a dis." "How many, Richard? A dozen? Two dozen?" "Ah was in the army, goddamit! An' dat was long before ah became a Protector." "You were in black ops, Richard, technically, you weren't in any of the services. And you didn't kill in a fit of passion, did you? You were an assassin; they told you who to kill and you did it silently, secretly, dispassionately. Do you really want to be so quick to judge what Micki did? Do you think the public would put up with you being a member of the Protectors if they knew what you've done in the past?" "Are you threatening me, Ted?" "No, I'm not, Robichaux. I'm just saying that those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. I have no intention of putting what happened in the official report. The Luchadores promised they would not mention it either and I believe them. This information could have come from any number of sources, but unless someone I don't know about had a video camera recording the scene, it's going to be their word against ours." "An' what do you say, Micki?" the Arrow asked. "Why did you kill dose men?" "I, I'm not sure. I've never done anything like that before, never. I went into a rage, it was like I wasn't in control of myself. And, and, I enjoyed doing it, my God!" "Haven't any of you noticed that Micki's changing in more ways than just physically?" the Medium interjected. "She's become moody, more aggressive, easier to piss off. I'd put it off to overactive hormones and junk up until now, but maybe it's more than that. Even over the television monitor I can see that her spiritual aura has changed. When she was the Mouse, it was pure and clear. Now, slowly, subtlety, it's become murky, dark. I hate to say this, but it's beginning to look more and more like the Cat's, fer real." "Dat would explain a lot," Robichaux said. "So now we got two of 'em in da Protectors. Nice." Robichaux ignored the baleful glares that comment drew from both Cat and Micki. "Maybe we need to change our bylaws, then," Nightman sighed. "Because we cannot face the new Destroyers without them. It would be like going up against a tank with a BB gun." "Un huh, so it's all a matter of expediency, huh? It's OK if Micki kills someone on occasion because we need her to fight de Destroyers. Well, dat stinks! If Nancy goes along with dat, maybe ah should find myself another outfit to join!" With that, the Arrow stormed out of the room and out of the HQ. He jumped on his modified Harley and roared through lower Manhattan doing 75 MPH. "Well, that could have gone a lot better," the Medium suggested. Meanwhile: Ahmed Ibrahim had taken the opportunity of the lull to speak to Cecilia and her father. "So, as far as you can tell, your daughter's unusual growth was not the result of an overactive pituitary, correct?" "Yes sir, that's true. I've been told a fall or a blow to the pituitary when she was a baby may have caused some of this growth, but not all of it by a long shot. It is a mystery to me and all the other doctors I've shown her to. Why do you ask, sir?" "Because I have a theory as to where extra human powers and abilities come from," Ibrahim said excitedly. "The majority of 'heroes' throughout history, even the masked heroes, are simply highly motivated people who train themselves to be heroes and have a gimmick, people like Nightman and the Arrow. More recently, we have seen science or technology-based super people, such as the EXOs of the Destroyers. Others, and there aren't many of these, gain powers by magical design or accident. People like the Cat and Ms. Micki. Then, there are the most interesting ones, those who are born with their unusual powers, like your daughter here and like the Medium." "Are you talking about mutations?" "No, sir. Mutations are generally not beneficial - for example, a snake being born with two heads - and it can take thousands of years for useful mutations to catch on. Nor am I talking about some evolutionary advance. No, what I'm talking about are genetic throwbacks, people today who have powers and abilities that were much more common thousands of years ago, but are extremely rare now." "I don't understand," Cecilia said. "Well, take you, for example. Historians believe that the Biblical Goliath was approximately nine feet tall, like you. And he was also unusually strong and physically fit, like you. His armor was so heavy it could crush a normal man and he led the armies of the Philistines, which took a lot of vigor. Then, years later, there was a Roman Emperor named Gaius Julius Verus Maximinus, who was supposed to have been eight feet one inch tall and so strong he could wrestle several normal men at once and defeat them as though they were children. I believe you are a throwback to such historical giants." "Not saying I believe you, but how often does something like this happen." "As I said before, it is a very rare occurrence which seems to happen in certain family lines. Lupe, er, Animal Girl, is the granddaughter of a very good friend of mine known as the Ole Perfesser. The Perfesser and several of his descendants also seem to have what I call the throwback gene. In their case, they have a certain proficiency for magic and the arcane. Anyone can learn a few simple magic tricks, but the magical abilities of the Perfesser and certain members of his family are unusually strong." "Are you a geneticist?" "No, I am a professor of antiquities, but this is a very dear subject to me. I have a colleague in Italy who is a world renown geneticist. His name is Dr. Massimo Firpo and I have been sending him blood samples for years from people I think have the throwback gene. I'm very sure he will isolate that gene some day soon." "That sounds exciting. Would you like a sample of my blood?" "If you don't mind and if it's OK with your father, of course." "My daughter makes her own decisions these days, sir. Go ahead, take your sample." *** "We're just gona have to postpone the trials," the Medium said, as the Protectors returned to the gym. "I don't think we should, like, have this tryout without the Arrow's input, you know? I hope he'll be more reasonable after he cools down. Tony, do you have any idea where he might have gone?" "Why ya askin' me? Do I look like his damn keeper?" "Dig it, we all know he likes you and junk and you two have spent some time alone together. So chill out and tell me if you have any ideas." "Wellll, dere's a redneck bar not too far from here. He's taken me dere a time or two, jus' ta discuss business, ya understand?" "Perfectly. Why don't you check it out later and see if he's gone there to sulk?" "Well, den somebody's goin' ta have ta take Deano home to his mother for me." "I'll do it," Diego volunteered. "I've been to his house before you know and, that way, I can get to know the little fella better and maybe pry some more secrets about Tony outa him." "Just get him home to his mother, ass!" ***?? 4 PM, EST With the postponement of Cecilia's tryout, Gaby, Lupe and Dr. Ibrihim decided to use their time to try to reestablish contact with the Ole Perfesser. They'd returned to Gaby's apartment in the Dakota building and had already drawn a pentagram and taken up their positions. "If we can get ourselves and your grandfather aligned properly, we should be able to make the recovery attempt in a matter of days, Miss Basilio," Ibrihim said, as he held his medallion and started a chant. Gaby and Lupe joined him and they'd droned along for five minutes when the apartment floor began to shake. Green smoke rose from the cracks between the wooden floorboards and the room quaked so violently that dishes and artwork crashed to the floor. "Doctor, is this supposed to happen?" Gaby asked anxiously. "I don't think so," Ibrihim replied. "This has never happened to me before, perhaps we should stop and try again another time." At that, there was a gust of wind that whooshed through the apartment and knocked over everything that wasn't nailed down. The room was thrown into utter blackness and someone screamed. Lupe turned into a rottweiler and growled. A labored breathing, sounding something like an ancient blacksmith's bellows, was heard. Rising from the center of the pentagram was something obscene in it's?horror. It was a giant mouth. No face. Just a mouth. With cruel, red lips, sharp white fangs and a slimy forked tongue. The terrible mouth smiled and opened, emitting a smell of fire and sulfur that gagged all present. It said but a single word: "Hades." Then it exploded with such force that all those in the circle were thrown across the room. Suddenly it was daytime again and the room was clear except for the faint smell of brimstone and Gaby's scattered possessions. Lupe returned to human form and held on to Gaby for dear life. "What, what does this mean, Doctor?" "I can't say for sure, child," Ibrihim answered, trying his best to remain calm. "But I'm afraid it looks like the Perfesser has moved to the portion of limbo we know as... Hell." ***?? 5 PM, EST Deano was really excited to be escorted home by a superhero, even if it was a "junior" one like Diego. Throughout the train ride home to New Jersey he subjected the handsome teenager to non-stop questions about his powers, about fighting bad guys and especially about the Little Wildcat." "So she isn't the Cat's daughter," he said. "Well, I can see how people would think that, 'cause they do kind of look alike, with the claws an' teeth an' tails an' all." "Un huh," Diego said, wearily. "Yeah, yeah, everybody thinks Micki's great, big deal. But enough of THAT subject. Why don't we talk about you, Deano? Have your brothers ever come to the HQ to see your Dad?" "No, not yet." "They can't take a day off from school like you?" "Oh, they could, if they wanted to. I think they're kind of embarrassed, you know, by what happened to Dad." "Well, that's understandable, it's not every day that a man gets turned into a woman (at least, anywhere but around the cockamamie Protectors). How come you've taken it so in stride, kiddo?" "Oh, I don't know. Dad was never around that much, even before he and mom got divorced, so I never had any real strong feelings for him one way or the other, ya know? Little Tony and Frankie, they were around him a lot more when they were younger, so I guess the change affects them more, I guess." "Yes, but, isn't it kind of a shock to you? I mean, your Dad, he was a real mug before, big, tough, all mean like, right? And now, he looks like a movie star, or something out of Glamour magazine. If not for that voice you'd think he was a model or from Hollywood or something." "He was tough before, alright, too tough, if you ask me. I know a man's supposed to be strong, but he went overboard with it. He's a lot nicer the way he is now. The way he is now, he'd never hit Mom or talk nasty to us kids. I don't care if he does have boobs, Dad's so much better than he ever was before. Is it wrong for me to feel like that?" "Not at all, kid. I guess everything happens for a reason, if you want to look at things that way. It's just that, the reasons are hard to figure out sometimes. Anyhow, here's the train station. Let's get off and find a bus goin' to your mother's house, OK?" 7 PM, EST When Cat, Micki and Nightman finally arrived at the HQ the only one left to greet them was Wendy J and she was on her way out. "Micki, is that you?" she asked. "I've never been away from you for more than a few days since we started training. You've... changed. I mean, you've REALLY changed." Indeed. The "15-year old" Micki was 5'6" tall now and hit the tape at 36D - 24 - 35. Her formerly coal black hair was now auburn colored, but even more lustrous than before and her features had made a definite turn from the criminally cute to the drop-dead gorgeous. She couldn't fit into her Little Wildcat costume anymore and she was putting a real strain on the simple T and shorts she had on. Wendy J could swear her teeth and tail were both longer, as well. "Good to see all of you back from South America. Too bad I hear your mission didn't go so well." "Yeah, I guess you could say that," Nightman sighed. "We lost the idol, a Colombian drug lord used it to turn into another monster and join forces with Joe Santi and we were left with two dead friends. Not very successful at all." "Well, everybody's gone now, so you might as well take a shower, relax and start fresh tomorrow. There will be plenty to do, what with the tryouts and all, and one of those people trying out is like nothing I've ever seen before. By the way Micki, you'd better call Nicole right away about a new costume. You don't want to have to fight crime dressed like that, young lady." 8 PM - EST "I never thought that this is where I'd settle down, I thought I'd die an old man back in my hometown, They gave me this plot of land, me and some other men, for a job well done, there's a big white house sits on a hill just up the road, the man inside he cried the day they brought me home, they folded up a flag and told my mom and dad, we're proud of your son" The Rawhide Bar and Grill on West 32nd Street is one of the few places in New York City where one can guzzle beer while listening to Trace Adkins yodel in the background. Once a gay bar, it had been converted into a real live honky tonk, featuring girls who gyrated on the countertops, a karayoke and line dancing contest on Friday nights and at least three fistfights a day. Of course, it was Richard Gibbens Robichaux's favorite bar. "And I'm proud to be on this peaceful piece of property, I'm on sacred ground and I'm in the best of company, I'm thankful for those things I've done, I can rest in peace, I'm one of the chosen ones, I made it to Arlington" Robichaux sat in a corner booth and drank a mug of Voodoo beer while he tried to gather his thoughts. He had changed from his Arrow costume into some civvies he kept in his saddlebags, so he wasn't expecting to be recognized as anything other than a regular customer. He was wrong. The man was tall and well-muscled, but not in a showy, bodybuilder sort of way. He moved like a panther and slid into a seat in the booth across from Robichaux without asking permission. "Quiet evening." "Sometimes quiet is good," the Arrow replied. He wasn't sure who this stranger was, but he had an idea. "I remember daddy brought me here when I was eight, we searched all day to find out where my granddad lay, and when we finally found that cross, he said, "son this is what it cost to keep us free" Now here I am, a thousand stones away from him, he recognized me on the first day I came in, and it gave me a chill when he clicked his heels, and saluted me." "Think you'll make it to Arlington when you finally buy the farm?" the stranger asked. "Anythin's possible, friend," the Arrow replied. "How 'bout you?" "Me? I'm going straight to hell 'caus I've helped too many bastards go there before me." "Funny we're havin' dis conversation now, stranger." "Why's that, Robichaux?" "Oh, we were jus having de same discussion back at da HQ, Mr. Eliminator." "Figured out who I was, have you?" "It wasn't too hard, killer. You have de stench a death on you." "Really? According to my information, that stench is pretty heavy around your HQ these days. You're a cold-blooded assassin, Nightman caused Nightboy's death, the Cat is a living horror show and now I hear the Little Wildcat is following in her momma's footsteps." "Yo information ain't dat good. Cat ain't de Wildcat's mother." "Hmm, that's interesting. Are you also saying she didn't slaughter a half-dozen psychos in the Venezuelan jungle?" "Dat's just a rumor, besides, what's it to a sombitch like you? All you evauh done is kill. Kill, kill, kill, anybody on yoah private hit list. You're a blot on de whole superhero fraternity. An' da kids tink y'all is cool!" "I never asked to be considered 'cool,'" the Eliminator said, as he drank from his mug of Anchor Steam, never changing his grim expression. "I do what I have to do for my own reasons. I'm a dinosaur. I can't adapt, like you. All I know how to do is kill, so that's what I do. Look, I know a lot of things. I have access to information that would surprise even an old black ops guy like you. And this is what I know: the Protectors are needed now more than ever and you can't afford to get rid of Cat or the Wildcat, even if they do get their claws a little dirty. Screw the Protector bylaws, change them if you have to. Only don't kick out your two most powerful members, not now." "How you know all dat? Who sent you?" "Nobody. Like I said, I have my sources." "God damn, you done bugged da HQ! You workin' wit' Fix-it, boy?" The Eliminator stood and smiled. "The ultimate battle between good and evil is coming, Richard. If I were you, I'd want the Little Wildcat on my side." With that, the Eliminator headed for the exit, but first he turned to the Arrow and gave him a peculiar smile. "Galveston, Texas," he said. Then he was out the door, with the Arrow right on his heels. But when Robichaux dashed out of the smoky room into the cool night air, the Eliminator was gone. Robichaux ran around the block searching for the vigilante, but there was no trace of him. The Arrow shrugged his shoulders and returned to the bar for another brew. Tony Bass was there waiting. "Hey, redneck," Tony said, with a smile. "I see yous ran off to your favorite place for some quiet contemplation. I guess da library wasn't open, eh?" "Yeah, Toni, here ah am. Want a beer?" "Only if I'm buyin,' cowboy." "Good enough." So the two of them retired to Robichaux's 'private' booth and had a half- dozen brews apiece. They spoke hardly a word at first, then Tony started making conversation. "Well, I guess dis shitkickin' music ain't all bad," he said, as he gently swayed his head to the tune. "At least it's better'n dat damn rap crap." "Haw, 'rap crap,'" the Arrow said, laughing louder than he needed to. "Dat was a rap rhyme right dere. Hee, ah can see you now, starin' in a video, shakin' youh ass and rubbin' all over some big, black, bare- chested buck." "Ain't never gonna happen, fool. Not dat I got anything against black people, but I ain't up for da man-woman thing. Not yet, at least." "Aw, why you keep sayin' things like dat, baby?" "(Sigh) How many times I got ta tell ya I used ta be a man, you idiot?" "Have it youh way, babe. By the way, what you doin' here anyhow? Dis ain't one of youh regular stops without me, is it?" "Ya know why I'm here, Arrow. Da other Protectors want ta know if you still object ta what Micki did." "Ah do... but, ah ain't goin' to make no stink about it. If da rest of ya'll think it's alright, I ain't goin' ta rock da boat. We need de Little Wildcat, an' ah guess we all done did things we ain't proud of." "Ain't dat da truth, " Tony said, as he stood unsteadily. "Hey, Arrow, I took da subway over here and I really don't feel like ridin' it home wit' a bellyful a beer. Mind giving me a ride on dat custom-made hog a yours after I get rid a some a dis excess water?" "Sure thang, sweet thang. Ah gotta say, though, youh belly is mighty flat to be full'a beer. Just be sure to hold on tight, ya hear?" "Aw, shut up an' let's go." So, after a quick potty stop, Richard and Tony roared back to upper Manhattan, as Trace Adkins continued to sing: "we're thankful for those thankful for the things we've done, we can rest in peace, 'cause we are the chosen ones, we made it to Arlington, yea dust to dust, don't cry for us, we made it to Arlington" 10 PM, EST "Yes, Nightman, it was horrible. And now we find out that the Perfesser is in Hell, I mean, REALLY in Hell. God, this was a humdinger of a homecoming for you and junk." "Well, I'm glad I thought to phone you, Gaby, even if the news wasn't good and it seldom seems to be good lately." "Yeah, well, here's a bit of news that may or may not be good." "What's that, Gaby?" "Right after the s?ance I had another vision. About another idol. This one is in Australia, somewhere in the northern part of Western Australia, I think." "Oh lord, here we go again. Thanks, Medium, I'll tell everybody in the morning and we'll get going as soon as possible. Maybe we'll have better luck with this one. Bye." As Nightman hung up, the HQ intercom blared with an unusual message. "Will Nightman please come to the lobby. There are three people down here who want to apply for Protector's membership." "What?" Nightman said, as he put on his mask and gloves. "I was just starting to relax. Why would someone come here so late to apply?" When he got to the lobby he found one man and two women patiently waiting for him. The man was tall and muscular and dressed in a purple, one-piece outfit somewhat like what a circus aerialist would wear, but without the spangles. His well-shaped arms were exposed and he wore a small, purple domino mask. One of the women, the taller of the two, wore a similar get- up, which suggested that she and the man were partners. "We are the Energy Twins," the woman said, as she grabbed the man's hand and held it aloft as if they'd just won a prize of some sort. "When we found out that the Protectors were looking for new members we simply had to apply. We do everything as a team, so you'll have to take both of us if we pass the test. I hope that's OK." "Huh? Oh, yeah, sure, not like we haven't done it before," Nightman replied, absently. The black-garbed hero could be forgiven if he was paying scant attention to what the woman was saying, because he couldn't help but stare at the third applicant. She was small, not much more than five feet in height, but her presence seemed to fill the entire room. She was wearing a pale green sleeveless sheath made of clingy silk that hugged the contours of her body. The bodice was scooped to show an alluring amount of cleavage - not in Cat's class, Nightman noted, but perfect for her small body and tiny waist. Her snug skirt ended about four inches above her knees, giving a pleasant view of long, gorgeously smooth legs encased in sheer, suntan stockings. Her lips were full and pouty and her nose tiny and slightly upturned, her eyes were large and almond shaped and her complexion was rich and creamy. All this was framed by an abundant chestnut mane of loose and curly hair. She was, quite simply, the most beautiful woman Nightman had ever seen, but he hadn't a clue about what powers she might possess, unless it was the ability to cut through anything with those inch-long, blood-red nails. "Hello," she said, in a voice that was like the sound of soft chimes and woodwinds. "My name is Lorilei." End Episode 18