Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.
[
bottom
]
Nametag:rook
ONE STEEL JACKET STRAIGHT UP
Brenda Wade sat at the penthouse balcony patio table of her
Wade Tower suite reading a brochure curtesy of the new
Spewmen Spa which had arrived in the morning mail. "I could
really go for a good facial," she purred as she adjusted her
fake glasses on her small nose.
"Geesh, you had seven this week!" Lydia Wells rolled her eyes
behind her own fake glasses perched upon her own small nose
and continued talking in her usual oblivious rush as she sat
down at the outdoor patio table. "Personally I find the salt
in the sperm burns my eyes. Yuckie!"
Before Brenda could reply a hulking brute of a man slipped
through the open sliding glass doors with a silver covered
breakfast tray in his ham fisted paw and began to meekly
serve the two women. He was dressed in a tux suit and his
wild hair was oiled and slicked down to some extent and he
wore an eye patch over his right eye of his heavily scarred
stubbled face.
The two women demurely watched and smiled as the towering
savage gently and with pinky etiquette removed the silver
dome cover despite his hook on his right hand and placed
their china plated toast and grape fruit halves before each
of them with finesse.
Lydia yawned and stretched and thus popped the one and only
button on her see-through nightie top and her firm full teen
double DD's slipped free of the taught mesh top with nipple
hard jiggles.
The brute, who already had a pulsing pecker erection in his
pants, stiffened up noticeably and his purple bulging eye
face glued upon the teen girls exposed quivering wonders.
With a deep long drawn out grunt a stain spread across his
dress slacks and then there was a sudden loud bug zapper
snapping sound and the smell of burnt tuna as he shot bolt
upright with his teeth clenched and his eye rolling back in
his head before he toppled over stiff as a board upon his
back, unconscious.
"Oops." Lydia bit her lower puffy pillow lip and then dropped
her arms as she leaned over and looked down at the man who's
dress pants crotch was now smoking.
Brenda leaned over and looked down at the man too and added
in a non-pulsed voice, "I guess Mister Long Shoreman is not
going to make his parole after all."
"Have you noticed that since you introduced this Brenda Wade
Rapist Rehabilitation Program, that none of the convicts who
have been up for their parole have passed?" Lydia mused and
began to wave her small hand in front of her face and cough
at the smoke that was still rising up steadily from the
unconscious man's groin.
"Well, the theory is sound enough. The rapist is placed in
our home for four weeks and if they can maintain an amiable
state up close to two hot women then they are given their
parole." Brenda returned to her upright seated position upon
the patio chair and replaced the Spa brochure with the
newspaper, snapping it open with her wrist, while munching on
a piece of butter toast with jam. "Pity he made the best
meals of any of our serial rapist convicts."
"Well, at least we don't have to wear these silly
constricting garments anymore," Lydia stood up and shimmied
out of her lacy see-through panties and shrugged off her
button popped top and tossed them on the face of the
unconscious man. "I so prefer when we can walk around the
house naked and not have to put on clothes when we have these
men around."
"Hmm, so do our neighbors," Brenda agreed off handily, being
already engrossed in her newspaper and toast. She, as well,
was wearing a lacy transparent bra and panties as well as a
see-through frilled gown. "Looks like Green Specter got her
sexy ass nailed again at Hyde Ann Zeek Park. Heh heh heee. Of
course the paper is saying she was engaged in a beat-down
with some thugs when due to a wardrobe malfunction she had to
desist. God bless the free press!"
Lydia looked down at her grapefruit half and wrinkled her
nose and reached for the chocolate syrup still on the sliver
serving tray. "Don't you think it odd that none of the
convicts make it past the first few days or even hours? I
mean, they know they have that erection monitor on them and
that chastity belt that is going to put like a gazillion
jolts through them if they ejaculate but still..."
"Well, yeah," Brenda was buried behind the paper crunching
her toast and talking with her mouth full. "But this Long
Shoreman was a real long shot for a parole. Remember when we
tackled the guy as Ms. Americana and Flag Girl? That hook of
his which he could transform into anything he wanted (some so
called gift from a mermaid he saved from his net) and yet all
he ever changed it into other than the hook was that huge
metal dildo?"
"Yeah. He was a real creeper." Lydia had poured the whole
bottle of chocolate syrup over her grape fruit and was now
bending over and licking it off. "He was outside my bedroom
door all night breathing heavily while I was masturbating."
"YOU TOO?!" Brenda dropped the paper with wide eyes and then
licked the raspberry jam off her chin with her small tongue.
"I thought the perv was just key-holing me as I banged my
love box?"
"Well, they all DO that," Lydia kept licking at her
breakfast. "They are always peeping at the bedroom doors
while you are banging yourself. It's real creepsvile."
"True. I have given up even closing my door. I just leave it
open anymore." Brenda sighed and went back to her paper.
"Yeah. I do the same thing when I shower. I just leave the
door open and the curtains half drawn. Just seems to save
time in sending them back. You know what I mean?" Lydia
slurped up the last of the chocolate syrup off her grape
fruit half and then with obvious disgust picked up the
offending so-called fruit with her finger tips and dropped it
on top of the unconscious man and started licking the rest of
the syrup off her plate.
"As a woman you can only do so much for them." Brenda sighed
behind her paper again. "The penis monitor showed he had a
constant boner the entire 72 hours he was here."
"Seriously?!" Lydia sat up and leaned over and eyed the body
again and gave the smoldering crotch a tentative kick.
"That's some serious wood."
"Boners are alright. It's natural. Even complimentary for a
man to tent in the presence of a superior woman. But
ejaculation is just so wrong. They know the rules. And now
Mister Long Shoreman can spend the next six years in a cell
meditating and considering on his lack of willpower and how
he can make amends for it in the future at his next parole
trial." Brenda turned the page of the paper and snapped it
open with her wrist again.
Lydia frowned and then nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right.
Besides that dildo hook thing-y of his was like really cold
in my caboose when we first busted him. Was not looking
forward to putting him away a second time."
"Nonsense. If they pass the - Battling Bra Busters!" Brenda
shouted as she slammed the newspaper down over her plate and
leaned forward to scan the print with increased intensity.
"What is it?!" Lydia leapt up from her seat where she had
been siting on one folded leg so as to keep her sensitive
young pussy off the cold metal seat. She raced around and
perched herself hovering over Brenda's shoulder but could not
read the paper as Brenda's head was in the way.
Brenda ignored the teenager and kept reading. Eventually she
leaned back in her chair and slapped the newspaper in front
of her with her spread palm before slowly withdrawing her
hand and placing it on her chin in contemplation.
Lydia snatched up the paper and began reading, "so who is
this Steel Jacket who Interpol thinks is now in Delta City?"
"Only the world's most deadliest assassin. We trained
together in the Far East under the same sensei. We may even
have been friends, while also rivals, and lovers, if also
destined to be deadly enemies. Steel Jacket was always
willing to follow the darker paths and stray from the more
noble callings of the world."
"Wow. How come I have never heard you mention this guy
before?"
"Not a guy. Not a man at all. We were teen girls, soul
sisters, when we were in school together. No. Not a man. A
man could never hope to become my true nemesis," Brenda
looked down with obvious indifferent contempt at the still
smoldering crotch at her feet and then shook her head. "No.
Steel Jacket is all woman and thus the deadliest foe I have
ever faced."
"Gosh. But what about Elsa? I thought she was your deadliest
nemie-sasy-whatever?"
"Well, other than her, Steel Jacket is my greatest foe,"
Brenda brooded.
"What about Dragon Queen?"
"She's more Got Gal's thing. You know all the mutant plants
and such, but after Elsa and Dragon Queen, Steel Jacket is my
most nightmarish foe."
"What about-"
"Yes. So top ten. Top twenty. Thirty at the most. Deadliest
adversary. Ever. So can we give it a rest?"
"So what do we do?" Lydia glanced down at the paper in her
hands, "it doesn't say anything about where they think she is
or even why she is in Delta City?"
"The only reason Steel Jacket shows herself, even briefly, to
law enforcement is because she has accepted a hit and she is
defying anyone to stop her; She and her ego, are here to kill
someone. And it is up to US to stop her! First, we change
into our work clothes and then we drop off this felonious
fish fry fish stick at Commissioner Bordon's to send back to
Watergate Prison.
While there we pick up any intel from him that we can't get
off the internet or from our own files that Interpol may have
shared with the Commissioner. Then, well, then we do what we
are best at in all the world!" Brenda leaped out of her chair
and punched her fist into the air.
"And what's that?" Lydia asked frowning.
"Seriously? I just jumped to my feet and pumped my fist in a
heroic moment and you got to flame it down with, 'and what's
that?' We kick butt! We are the world's greatest super
heroine team!"
"Ohhhhhhhh. Okay, cool. For a second there I thought you
meant we go out and get our sexy asses publicly reamed;
because right here on the same page it says at the end of the
Green Specter article, 'and while Green Specter may have had
one of those inappropriate moments common to all Delta City
super heroine crime fighters it does not compare in the
slightest to the Ms. Americana and Flag Girl team-up which
takes impurity to an almost god-like level of public
exhibitionist embarrassment. Surely they are the greatest
sluts of our time.' See right here."
"What? Let me see that," Brenda yanked the paper out of
Lydia's hands and frowned over it and then wadded it up in a
ball and tossed it aside. "Obviously you can't believe
anything you read in the press these days. They should shut
those wanks down."
*************************************************************
If only it was the Alphas. Commissioner Bordon liked the
Alphas. The mother Alpha woman would spend hours in his
office bent over at the waist, her full round ass swaying and
wiggling like a puppy dog tail, looking for nonexistent files
from the bottom drawers of his file cabinet that he would ask
he would ask her to retrieve for him. And the teen! He had
never seen a fuller firmer rack on a young girl. And he dealt
with super heroines!... all day, every day, hence his
migraines and ulcers.
Still Alpha Girl had more under-cleavage than most super
heroines even had boobs! Well, maybe Azure Angel had a larger
teen rack but Azure Angel made his head hurt every time he
looked at her because she was so much suspicious bitter
attitude and trouble and paper work.
Alpha Girl was no trouble at all. She would stand on his desk
while he gazed up at her under boobage and her tiny
cameltoeing panties teenie crotch while she diligently
searched for listening devices and spy cameras in his light
fixtures. He really liked it when she squeezed between his
knees and looked under his desk for the same.
Ahhhhh, Alpha Girl he often had dreams about her, him, and a
ship wrecked deserted island where the age of sexual consent
was based on body development and not the passing of physical
time. Yes, no one had a more developed body than-
CRASH! The constantly bickering Ms. Americana and Flag Girl
had in their petty arguing knocked over his coat rack which
in turn sent shattering across the floor his glass statue of
Police Commissioner of the Year award into a thousand pieces.
Yes, Alpha Girl. He reached for his third bottle of antacid
tablets of the day and sighed.
*************************************************************
"Not much info from Commissioner Bordon," Flag Girl sat in
the passenger seat of the Ms. Americana Mobile bitting her
lower pillow lip as she worked at the dash board computer
link to the Ms. Americana main computer back in their cave
base.
"Yes. He seemed distracted. And not in his usual pervy way."
Ms. Americana whipped the nuclear powered jet car through the
city streets. "I wonder if Green Specter and Specter Girl
have been giving him trouble with their constant screw-ups?
You have any luck hacking into Interpol's secret files?"
"You know just because I was lucky enough to guess Green
Specter's password to her official website and change her
waist size and weight does not make me some kind of internet
hacker- oh! Wow. I guess I am in?"
"Look for their files on Steel Jacket."
"hmmmmm, okay. You know if we just asked them for this
information I am rather sure they would share it with us. Us
being super heroines and all."
"Where is the fun in that?!"
"Okay. Got the files and am downloading them to our privet
cloud server. What exactly do we want to know anyway?"
"See if they had any leads before the trail went cold for
them."
"Bingo! They had a local lead named, 'Kizeandick.' He went
missing and they haven't been able to reestablish contact."
"Hmmm. The name is vaguely familiar. We should concentrate
our efforts on this Kizendick as I am sure he would be much
easier to find than Steel Jacket."
*************************************************************
"Mister Kizeandick, you do realize if you spurt your love
juice all over my panties then its a long, long haul in jail
for you." Flag Girl had the greasy rotund balding man pinned
in a chair and was slowly rubbing her panty crotch up and
down on his exposed penis. "You were such a HARD man to find.
And I found you oh so Hard." She giggled.
Her boots pinned his wrists to the armrests of the chair and
her hands were on his knees as she raised her lower body up
and down slowly on is throbbing erection. His face a mask of
alarm and fear as she leaned back crabwise and gyrated her
hips her knees pressed against his shoulders.
"Just a few spots of your sperm on my wet panties and its
jail bait rape for you. Twenty years in the big house for the
rape of a minor." Flag Girl smiled at the helpless frightened
man. Of course Flag Girl aka Lydia Welles was an eighteen
year old high school student and of the age of sexual consent
but she looked far younger than her age in the face. She had
learned this particular effective interrogation technique
from watching Azure Angel who was actually a year older than
Flag Girl but looked even younger than her in the face. It
had proved very, very effective against the right sort of
man.
"Oh, my, I think you're about to pop? I can feel your thick
juicy pecker throbbing like mad. Are you about to soak my
teenie panties with your spunk Mister Kizandick? Drench my
thong in federal and state evidence? You know what they do to
jail bait rapists in prison don't you Mister Kizandick? It
isn't pretty."
Flag Girl increased the pace of her up and down grinding of
her panty crotch against the man's exposed penis while now
adding loud long moans and groans of her own. The man was
frantic but helpless to escape her power belt enhanced grasp.
"I'll talk! I'll talk!" He shouted as his short stout purple
pecker started to vibrate angrily.
Flag Girl winked over the man's shoulder at where a bemused
Ms. Americana waited in the shadows.
*************************************************************
"According to Mister Kizandick, Steel Jackets target is one
Jewels Spewmen. Here," Ms. Americana was back at the wheel of
the Ms. Americana Mobile. She reached down and popped a small
chrome tube out of her boot top and handed it to Flag Girl in
the passenger seat. "Panty Fresh. A spray I developed for
disinfecting and deodorizing male semen and pre-cum from
one's secret garden. Open the other end for an emergency pair
of back-up panties."
Flag Girl nodded and shimmied out of her drenched panties.
Though they had left Mister Kizandick tied up and
'unsatisfied' with his pecker still painfully throbbing, her
own little motor had quiet soaked her maryjanes.
She removed the sodden underwear and tossed them out the
passenger side window where they landed on a motorcyclists
face causing him to promptly crash.
"He should have been wearing a helmet," Ms. Americana tisked
as she swerved out of the way of his crashing bike.
Oblivious to the wreck she had just caused Flag Girl gave her
young feverish crotch a good spray and then popped the
emergency panties deployment button and a thin piece of 'O
shaped' elastic string with another half circle of the same
string with both its ends attached to the first circle of
string which in turn had something like the size of a postage
stamp of gauzy fabric attached to one of the attached points
where the half circle joined the full circle popped out into
her palm.
She blinked at the tiny thing and then stretched and wiggled
it on over her boots and pulled it up her thighs. The waist
band was pencil thin and the string running up her butt crack
and now splitting her wet labia lips was even thinner and the
postage stamp piece of fabric barely covered her hardened
clit. She blinked again at all of her exposed sex and pubic
hair and then blinked at the passenger side window where she
had just jettisoned her maryjanes and then looked over at Ms.
Americana who gave her a wink, smile, and thumbs up.
Flag Girl pulled down her small skirt and handed the lip
stick sized tube back to Ms. Americana who waved it off, "no
you keep it in your boot top. It has a dozen emergency
panties in it ready for deployment. And a young woman never
knows when she might need them."
Flag Girl thought of the fact she would now be flashing her
exposed sex to everyone and anyone for the rest of the day
and rolled her eyes but tucked away the useless tube for sake
of argument.
"Spewmen, Spewmen? Why is that name so familiar to me?" Ms.
Americana weaved through the busy city traffic leaving angry
horn honks and screeching tires and crashing cars in her
wake.
Flag Girl sighed and began searching the car's dashboard
remote tie-in to the crime computer back in the cave base.
"Well, it looks like Mister Jewels Spewmen is the sole owner
of a series of world wide elite wealthy only spas and he has
just opened one here in Delta City and will appear at its
grand opening ceremony latter this week?!"
"Hmmm, no that's not it."
Flag Girl raised an eyebrow and returned to the dashboard
computer key board and dashboard screen. "Ah, okay. Here is
another Spewmen. Works as a dock loader. Age thirty-four,
divorced, two kids, but his first name is Niles."
Ms. Americana shook her head; her face frowning in brooding
thought. "Spewmen, Spewmen," she muttered to herself. "Why is
that so familiar?"
Flag Girl shrugged and returned to the dashboard computer
again. "Well, looks like there is one last Spewmen in Delta
City. He's retired. Seventy-four. A widower. No family. And
currently resides at the Delta City Hospice for the Insane.
No first name listed just the first letter, 'J'."
"That's it!"
"Really? Seriously, you think Steel Jacket had been hired to
ice this old geezer? What about the Jewel guy and the spas?
He's like a billionaire and caters to the wealthy world wide.
Sounds like a great set-up for smuggling or black mail."
"No. Our man is this Mister J. Spewmen of the what was it?"
"I am patching in the coordinates to the GPS," Flag Girl
sighed.
*************************************************************
"Well, we have never had a visitor for Mister Spewmen before
and usually we only allow family or legal council but you
both being super heroines and saying that his life might be
in danger. Well." The wide woman in the frumpy nurse outfit
lead them out of reception and down several sun lit hallways
to an inner courtyard. She unlocked the door and ushered them
out into the garden where dozens of people wandered around in
the afternoon sun or played checkers or chess while burly
orderlies in white watched carefully over them.
The woman slowed and spoke over her shoulder, "Mister Spewmen
is not dangerous, so to speak, but he is well, perverted. I
am afraid his mind is mostly gone and what remains has left
him something of a letch."
"Trust me, we are quiet used to handling dirty old men," Ms.
Americana smiled at the nurse.
"Ah, yes. Well, to be honest I was more concerned over wether
you were used to dirty old men handling you! Well that's him
over there in the wheel chair and straight jacket. Whatever
you do don't remove that jacket.
He'll beg you to but he's nothing but a fiendish pervert if
his hands get free." The nurse gave one last look at the
skimpy clad pair of super heroines and then shrugged and
returned to her desk.
*************************************************************
Flag Girl staggered against the Ms. Americana Mobile slapping
her palms against its side and then rolling on to her back
breathing heavily against the door as Ms. Americana stumbled
up behind her gasping as well.
"WHO KNEW AN OLD MAN COULD BE SO... STRONG?!" Ms. Americana
panted as she tried to pull her top back up over her exposed
and hickey covered tits.
"And so full of spunk?!" Flag Girl moaned as she raised a leg
and shook it as sperm freely flowed out of her pussy and
anus. She pulled out the small spray can from her boot top
and then looked at it and tossed it over her shoulder.
"I think I lost an earring?" Ms. Americana reached up to her
ear with a shaky hand. "Not to mention my dignity and my
panties." She looked down at her exposed pubic star and her
dripping snatch and put a gloved hand over it.
"I lost my panties... again. And he tore my top so I got nip
city going on here for all the world to see and visit," Flag
Girl moaned again. Flag Girl looked at Ms. Americana who
looked back at her, "The spa guy?"
Ms. Americana nodded, "the spa guy." And they both made their
way to their respective car doors half bent over on shaky
bowlegs.
*************************************************************
"Thankfully the Ms. Americana Mobile has a completely
automated costume change and body wash system built into it,"
Ms. Americana pushed up at the edge of her freshly washed
hair testing its bounce and eyeing her makeup in the review
mirror.
Flag Girl's own seat which had reclined and slipped into the
back of the car was now returning to the front and to a
seated position. "I always think it feels like you are
getting dildo raped in that auto wash and costume change
thing. Does it have to be so... invasive? It seems to want to
get in ever crack and nook and cranny, if you know what I
mean."
"Nonsense, I think it's rather refreshing. Now, looks like
the auto drive has brought us to the new Spewmen Spa while we
were cleaned up and dressed."
The car had indeed stopped in a brick paved parking lot that
was ringed with potted plants and hedges and with a low squat
glass and adobe building entrance just before them.
"Shouldn't we call or something first? The place doesn't open
for business for a couple more days," Flag Girl eyed the
empty lot around them and the silent building with its
entrance almost hidden behind wind swept plants and vines.
"Nonsense. We aren't here as costumers we are here to talk to
Mister Spewmen and assertain why Steel Jacket would have been
contracted to kill him." Ms. Americana got out of the car and
walked toward the buildings entrance and Flag Girl noticed
instantly that her bottoms were way too small?!
The young teen looked down at her own costume and saw that
indeed her costume was very tight and too small as well. She
got out of the car and quickly called over to Ms. Americana.
"Ah, Ms. Americana I think the auto thingy shrunk our back up
costumes?"
Ms. Americana turned around. The coastal breeze was strong in
the late afternoon hot sun and it was obvious that she could
not hear Flag Girl, "come on! Don't twaddle! We have lives to
save here!" Ms. Americana turned back toward the door and
proceeded onward.
Flag Girl's eyes widened. Ms. Americana's top had indeed been
shrunken and both of her large areolas as well as her ever
hard thumb thick nipples had been exposed above the lip of
her top. Flag Girl quickly looked over her own costume and
could see she was exposing a lot more flesh but could not
tell if it was to such a degree as Ms. Americana who was not
only exposing her nipples but her pubic star and her labia
lips?!
Flag Girl gritted her teeth and hummed as nervously stiff
legged and armed she hiked it after the retreating super
heroine and joined her just as she reached the front door.
"Hmm, it's locked," Ms. Americana yanked on the door several
times.
Flag Girl pulled at the thong digging deep into her pussy
lips and breathed a sigh of relief. "It's obvious no one is
here. The parking lot is empty so even the staff is not
here."
"We didn't drive all the way out here to chat with the
staff," Ms. Americana gave the glass door several more
violent tugs.
"But even if Mister Spewmen was staying at his spa instead of
downtown in a luxury hotel.
Wouldn't there be a car that he came out here in, somewhere
in the parking lot?" Flag Girl was struggling to pull down
her tank top the lip of which was slipping up over the bottom
of her areolas.
Ms. Americana rattled the door again, "stupid door. The damn
thing must be stuck?!"
"Uh, I think its an automated sliding glass door and its
turned off and locked and-"
The door suddenly yanked free under Ms. Americana's
relentless grasp. "Ah, there it opened. They need to fix that
before they open to the public." Ms. American strode into the
main entrance lobby.
"Uh, you know that the doors are designed to break away like
that in case of fire. Just because you yanked it open does
not mean anyone is here let alone Mister-"
"I am Mister Spewmen. What can I do for you?" A short balding
man waltzed across the lobby with hand out smiling.
"Mister Spewmen. I am-"
"No need for introductions Ms. Americana everyone knows the
Queen of Justice of Delta City! I am honored for your visit!"
Mister Spewmen wore a monocle and had a sweeping waxed
mustache and small pointed beard and shook Ms. Americana's
gauntlet gloved hand vigorously. "However since we are not as
yet open I can only guess this is something more than a
personal visit?"
"Indeed. We have received word that the notorious assassin,
Steel Jacket has been commissioned to target you."
"Oh dear! I have of course heard of this monster, as have all
international business men, but I would never have guessed
that someday the fiend would come after me?! I mean, who
would hire her to kill me?!" Mister Spewmen seemed confused,
perhaps slightly alarmed, but not as concerned as Flag Girl
should have thought a man who was just suddenly told such
information should be.
"And you have no idea who may have wanted to kill you?" Ms.
Americana was scratching her exposed nipple while obliviously
lost in deep thought.
"Why no! I mean I have had rivals a time or two but none who
I or they would have wanted to kill one another. In fact, I
am rather perplexed for the rumor is that Steel Jacket has
become so wealthy over the years that she no longer accepts
contracts based on a monetary salary for the completed job;
but instead trades the life of the target for an item or
favor of the person wanting the contracted person dead! So, I
must add to my puzzlement in that not only can I think of no
one who would wish me such violent harm, but I can also not
think of anyone I know who has anything of any passing value
for a hitman/hitwoman such as Steel Jacket?!"
"Hmmm, that does indeed seem odd," Ms. Americana tapped her
chin with one curved finger and now started to absently tweak
her exposed nipples as she thought.
"Uhm, perhaps instead of standing here in a room that has a
large glass front exposed to many snipping positions we
should wait until after we secure Mister Spewmen in a safer
place before we worry about who or why he has been targeted,"
Flag Girl offered as she tried to unsuccessfully tug down the
hem of her skirt over her virtually exposed crotch of her
shrunken panties.
"That is a good point, my saucy sidekick. I am afraid we will
have to insist you come with us Mister Spewmen. For your own
safety." Ms. Americana nodded.
"But that's impossible! This spa opens in just a few days and
I have so much work yet to do?!" The short round well dressed
man waved his arms about his empty lobby. "I shall make due
with police protection."
"I am sorry but a mere police protection presence is simply
no protection against this master killer. You will have to
come with us," Ms. Americana grabbed Mister Spewmen by the
elbow and half lifted him half dragged him off the ground.
"But, but, where are you taking me?!"
"I am afraid that will have to remain a secret." And with
that Ms. Americana reached over and yanked Flag Girl's top
off her young teen body exposing her jiggling tits. Flag girl
yelped in surprise and hand bra-ed her exposed jittering
jugs.
Ms. Americana quickly fashioned a blind fold out of the teen
girl's double DD-cups halter top and pushed Mister Spewmen
toward the broken glass doors and the Ms. Americana Mobile
beyond.
*************************************************************
"Welcome to the Ms. Americana Cave, Mister Spewmen." Ms.
Americana removed mister Spewmen's bra blindfold with a
flourish and stepped back tossing the ruined garment at the
still hand bra-ing teen Flag Girl.
"Impressive!" Mister Spewmen looked about him in first
blinking and then wide eyed wonder. The cave was massive and
filled with gadgets and trophies collected during Ms.
Americana's decades of crime fighting.
"Yes, yes, as with all things Ms. Americana it is impressive
indeed. " Ms. Americana smiled and proudly looked around the
cave herself.
Flag Girl meanwhile picked up her ruined top and tried to
figure out how to use it to cover her exposed teen titties as
she held it with one hand and juggled her jugs with her
other. It was no use the top had, had it and so she sighed
and dropped it and went back to hand bra-ing her exposed
nipples.
"Here, you will be safe. The location is secure and unknown."
Ms. Americana smiled again and then paused in a frown at the
sound of a door bell. "Ah! That will be the pizza delivery
boy! I took the liberty of ordering a head as I thought we
might all be hungry." Ms. Americana walked over past the
banks of computers and to a flight of circular stairs. She
shouted over her shoulder, "don't worry he can be trusted. I
blow him regularly for his tip."
"Actually, she makes ME blow him regularly for his tip," Flag
Girl grumbled as she watched Mister Spewmen wander around in
the wonderland of subterranean spectacle.
"So tell me Mister Spewmen was it a trade of the location of
Ms. Americana's hidden base and all its tech and data base
that Steel Jacket agreed in trade for Ms. Americana's life?"
Flag Girl scoured at the man who did not even blink.
He turned slowly and pulled out a small transmitter out of
his vest pocket. "Homing device. Yes. However, had an inkling
of what I was giving away I many have figured out a way to
double cross the minx. How did you figure it out, by the
way?"
Flag Girl shrugged still hand bra-ing and walked a few steps
toward the man and then stopped and looked up into the steel
sport beams of the cave's lights and air conditioning system
where a pale red headed woman in a tight black leather cat
suit was straddled and watching them.
"Ah, Miss Steel Jacket. As you can see I have lead you to the
hidden lair of Ms. Americana as was my part of the bargin. It
is yours, so please kill her as soon as she returns with our,
chuckle, pizzas. Meanwhile, while we are waiting. Back to my
previous question. Just out of curiosity, what gave me away."
"Body language mostly." Flag Girl kept her eye on the
assassin above her, "the way you made no resistance once you
knew Ms. Americana was taking you to a secure place with no
police. You had to know it was the cave. You wanted to come
here. The why was easy enough to deduce. The data and tech
here is some of the most cutting edge in the world. Anyone
who wanted to know all the police contacts and world spy
rings and phone and pass codes of political and military
leaders would certainly kill for this place. But now that I
have answered your question; you answer mine. Why? Why kill
Ms. Americana? What is she to you?"
"I never wait until my enemies are my enemies my girl. My
spas are centers of smuggling and blackmail that rings the
world. It would only be a matter of time before that big boob
bimbo would come poking her tits into my business. Why wait?
Better to knock her off before she can even see it coming.
Now, enough of this. Steel Jacket you can start with the girl
and get the woman when she returns."
Just then a train car full of adults and kids roared into the
cave; slowed down and then roared out again.
"What the hell was that?!" Mister Spewmen jerked back and
howled in bewilderment.
"Hold up Steel Jacket! You might be the biggest bitch in the
room but I think you will find you are not the biggest dog."
Flag Girl reached in to her power belt compartment and pulled
out and held up a small device. "Ventriloquist sound box.
Let's you make sounds up to twenty yards away from you. Cat
meows, dog barks, phone rings, doorbell chimes. You see,
Mister Spewmen, when you were in the car blindfolded. Ms.
Americana held you on her lap. This made it impossible for
her to drive the car. So she asked me to set the auto-drive
coordinates for the Ms. Americana Cave. Which I did. Sort
of." Flag Girl smiled and slipped the box back into her belt.
Suddenly Ms. Americana came down the spiral stair case sans
pizzas. "Flag Girl you have made a dreadful mistake! This is
not the Ms. Americana Cave! This is the mock-up Ms. Americana
Cave at the Super Heroine Amusement Park!"
There was a brief whisper of a laugh from up in the rafters
of the fake cave and Steel Jacket vanished into the shadows.
"Wait! Come back! Come back! We have a deal!" Spewmen waved
his arms and then stopped suddenly and turned to Flag Girl
and the approaching frowning Ms. Americana. His face turned
pale and he swallowed hard as he backed up steadily waving
his hands in front of him. "No, no, stay back. You can't
prove anything! No, no!
NOOOOOOOO!" He staggered backwards off the lip of the Ms.
Americana fake cave and onto the tracks where another train
of cars ripped into the set and tore the man apart. Entirely
unaware of the accident the car of passengers slowed and
people waved at the hand bar-ing Flag Girl, who forgot she
was hand bra-ing, and waved back giving the children and
adults quiet the show; while Ms. Americana, who also smiled
and waved back, puzzled over what had inexplicably just
happened. Then the cars sped up and were gone in a flash.
"Poor Mister Spewmen!" Ms. Americana edged to the lip of the
cave set and gingerly looked down at the scattered remains.
"I guess this means we won't be having an encounter with my
old nemesis after all."
"I guess not," Flag Girl smiled.
"I am not sure why you are smiling young woman. This has not
been a very successful outing! We have not only failed to
capture Steel Jacket but we have also miserably failed in
defending the life of poor Mister Spewmen!"
"True, but I can not help but realize that when we get back
to the real Ms. Americana Cave we are going to each have half
an extra pizza to eat."
"True..." Ms. Americana followed Flag Girl to the Americana
Mobile. "I suppose there is a bright side to everything. Oh
by the way, we have a new parole rapist that will be staying
with us starting tomorrow. A Mister Longcocks Shoentele. You
might remember him as the one who raped Flag Girl repeatedly
with his oversized tackle while simultaneously draining her
jugs dry with a home made milking machine made out an air
compressor and some garden hose? The one who was running the
illegal moonshine still."
"Not the hillbilly?!"
"Yes, that one. Let's see if we can make this one last longer
than a day or two. The parole board is getting a bit
doubtful. Starting tomorrow we will begin an exercise program
for him. Which of course we will join in as well. Healthy
body equals a healthy mind!"
"Ah, so you think us in our skin tight leggings and bra-less
tube tops doing aerobics in front of him will help him
reform?"
"Yes."
"Okay, guess I won't have to worry about leaving the bathroom
and shower door ajar for very long."
"What was that?"
"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking that nothing tops a pizza
night then some Dairy Queen to go with it! Want me to drive?"
"Ugh! You can't even get the auto-drive right! No, I will
drive and you will pay!"
"Again?!"
"I don't want to hear it! Man dead on the tracks! Wouldn't
have happened if 'I' set the auto-drive!"
The car doors slammed shut muffling the further arguing
whines as in the shadows up above another soft chuckle issued
forth only to be drowned out by the next rumbling group of
amusement park train cars.
************************************************************
*************************************************************
[
top
]
Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.