[crimson_e_86]

Chapter Four

As the last truck turned the far corner and out of sight, Michael’s Humvee pulled up from the opposite direction to the front of the gym. Upon seeing the smashed and broken doors, the happy joyful smile fell from his face like a rockslide.

“Oh my God! What the Hell happened?” He said in shock.

Leaping in a single movement, his huge body moving swiftly through the shattered doorway and entering the registration area.

“Yolanda! Where are you?”

There is no sign of her. Michael notices that oddly there is very little damage inside. He moves past the desk and toward the hallway into the gymnasium proper. There he spots the blowtorch damaged and fully open doors.

“The basement!”

Muttering half in fear and half in hope, trying to convince himself that she must be here, but not believing it either.

“She’s fine . . . she’ll be fine . . . she’s got to be . . .”

Upon Michael’s reaching the bottom and seeing the wrecked apartment not sparing a second and like a maddened predator, racing around the basement looking for a sign of her – any sign of her. However, seeing only smashed partitions, the scraps of military fatigues on the floor, scattered pools of blood, a bloody weight plate and a barbell – his worse fears are now a nightmare in reality. All the while terrible thoughts permeate his very thoughts – what happened, is she all right – and most importunately where is she? Finally, completing his circuit of the apartment he is back at the starting point near the stairwell once more.

Outwardly, tears start to form while from deep within his massive frame a flame has been kindled like no other he had ever felt in his life – a combination of soul sick grief and a burning fury. As though a switch has been thrown, he can only feel unadulterated anger at the person or persons responsible for doing this vile act. To pick on him would be one thing – daring to hurt the light, the love of his life – that is totally beyond the pale.

“I will save you, Yolanda. No matter what the distance, no matter the cost, no matter what – I will find you.”

With his hands gripped into tight fists the nails biting into the inside of his hands, the anger boils within him. Like some ancient warrior, a consensus begins to build within him – not for justice, but for revenge. Feeling the unadulterated wrath, angrier then he, the good-natured Michael ever thought he could possibly feel – like a simmering volcano. Righteous outrage was one thing, but letting his fury consume him was out of the question and he must control his passion, if possible. This is no time to go on a Hulk-like berserker rage – Yolanda was counting upon him. He must suppress his heated passion in favor of a rational course of action . . . but what, who, why and where to start?

“Quite a mess you have down here, lad.”

He turns in a flash to the source. In the shadows of the partly lit stairway, there is a man in a suit.

“Who are you? Where is she? You’d better talk or I’ll . . .”

“Hold on a moment! I didn’t do this! I’m one of the good guys!”

In fear, the man begins to back up a bit, but Michael is much faster. In a couple of strides, he is towering over him glaring at the stranger.

“Well if you didn’t, identify yourself then. And show some ID too!”

Beamis slowly pulls out a wallet from an inside coat pocket.

“Colonel Frank Beamis – Special Operations Agent for the Office of Strategic Services. Here’s my ID. Take a look for yourself.”

“Thank you, I will!”

Michael still in a surly mood takes the ID wallet from the stranger. Looking at it closely, it seems to be authorized official governmental issue and fully legit. The picture matches the dark haired, six-foot tall, 200 pound, athletically built stranger. Satisfied the snaps the wallet shut and returns it. Beamis puts it back into the inside coat pocket.

“Alright, for the moment I’ll believe you are who you say you are. That still doesn’t mean you aren’t responsible!”

Michael instantly grabs Beamis’s suit with one hand and bodily picks him up with one arm. Beamis is shocked at the speed of this Giant. Michael is inconceivably fast, like nothing Beamis expected from such an extremely huge man.

Whoa, put me down!”

“Not until you prove to me you aren’t responsible! And you’d better talk, too! I ain’t exactly in a very happy camper mood just now!”

“Well I’m not. Besides, if I were responsible I would not be foolish enough to still waiting for you to come home. In addition, I wouldn’t have done it so sloppily. Very unprofessional.”

“Alright then Mr Know-It-All, who did?”

“A Brutopian Special Forces Kommando Unit did, that’s who. Now lad, will you please put me down. You’re going to ruin my suit!”

As the shock sets in, Michael instinctively knows Beamis is telling him the truth. At this, he gently puts the man down.

“You mean that fascist South American country that sports a double headed eagle as the national symbol?”

As he straightens his expensive suit, Beamis replied, “And in one taloned claw, the sword of tyranny and the other claw, the ball and chain of slavery. Yes, quite correct. Those people took Miss Yolanda. Your damn lucky lad, this suit is tailor made and set me back a small fortune.”

Beamis can see that Michael is in an angry, hurt and bewildered emotional state. He knows that winning the trust of this Giant is of supreme importance or all will be lost. Not only for Michael and his great love, Yolanda, but also the world as well should El Jefe succeed in his goal. He must be honest and forthright in dealing with him.

“How do you know this?” Michael said, as in the tone of someone who’s had all the power taken out of him.

“OSS section has had you and Miss Yolanda under surveillance for some time now.”

“I always thought the OSS was the CIA.”

“No we’re not them . . . have ever seen Mission Impossible on TV?”

Michael nods an affirmative.

“As such, we are held in reserve for just those sorts of tasks. You must come with me, for only with our assistance will you be able to save her.”

Although suspicious, Michael acquiesces to Beamis’s request.

“I’ll come along. But if you’re stringing me . . .”

“Don’t worry I’m not.” Beamis said.

Chapter Five

As they leave the gymnasium, Michael doesn’t say much and Beamis is content to leave it that way for the time being. After getting into the parked Humvee, the pair of them drove the several miles distance that it took to reach the downtown area of Chicago. The traffic was still light for this major United States urban area. Beamis directs Michael towards the entrance of a parking garage for some investment outfit called the Utopian Research Associates – Your Best Bond to a Secure Future, call us today for a prospectus! Once they’re inside of the structure, they drive toward an automobile elevator that is supposedly under repair – the truth is its far from out of order. Only after putting his hand against a flat panel and running a holographic engraved ID card through a lock, do the doors close behind them. From the sensation, he can tell they are not going up, but down, way down below the street surface. Observing the floor numbers as they light up and pass only confirms it.

“Quite a bomb shelter you have.”

“Yes, it is – by the way get ready as my people have detected the fact I am not alone.”

“Don’t worry Beamis, I’ll behave myself.”

When the elevator doors open they hear a siren going off. Posted behind steel and concrete reinforced bulletproof pillboxes are two dozen-armed security guards. Michael sees they have their 9mm Heckler & Koch MP5 Sub-Machine guns ready and aimed at them. The Captain in charge orders them from the vehicle and they comply. Beamis calmly explains himself and his unauthorized “large friend.” After a recheck of his ID and confirmation from their superiors, they are both cleared to enter the underground complex. An armed security guard asks Michael to let him take the Humvee. Michael quietly acquiesces and the man takes the vehicle away to be parked in another part of the complex. Four other heavily armed guards escort them – two in front, two in back – to the head of the Office of Strategic Services.

As they walk down the corridors Beamis explains to Michael that the Chief of Section is only called Number One. At Michael’s mystified look, Beamis explains this is true of all the heads of the various departments throughout the OSS Section organization. For security reasons when you become a Chief they take away your name and give you a number for your own protection and your immediate family’s as well. They go through the reception area, check with the secretary officer, and then go into the office. Number One to Michael’s astonishment looks like Charlton Heston with a graybeard and an eye-patch. His voice sounds like him, too! He explains that Dr Alexander Kochalski, indirectly worked for them.

“We had hoped she would carry on his research. After a while it seemed she just wanted to hang on to the equipment as a caretaker, which was fine by us. So we lowered our surveillance, Colonel Beamis here had the job for this rotation.”

Michael turns to Beamis and said angrily, “Why the Hell didn’t you stop them?”

Then turning to Number One, “Or have proper security? You knew she had the Formula and all the equipment to use it.”

Number One said, “As for security, Mr Moray, she was secure. We covered her past quite well. Or so we thought until now. If we had put armed guards all around you two it would have been a dead give away to someone such as El Jefe. You would be surprised that in our kind of work how often hiding in plain sight is overlooked.”

In frustration Beamis exploded, “Shoot man! I was alone and the Brutopians had a full Kommando Unit. Besides I though you would get home in time and turn them into dust. As it was however, your girlfriend all but did that herself.”

“Yes, I saw the mess. Yolanda can be a real terror if she gets riled. Once when a guy took a swing at Yolanda, she was really ticked off. She picked the guy up by one arm and shook him unconscious before tossing him bodily out the door.”

“What caused this ah, gentleman to do that?” asked an interested Number One.

“Well sir, the gentleman in question was one of those types who are intimated by strong, smart and sexy females. In his attempt to put her down, he commented that she didn’t look like a real woman. So muscular that she wasn’t in any way feminine, of course everyone present knew that was a damned lie. You could have heard a pin drop in the gym. So she counter-insulted the fellow’s supposed manhood in very creative way. She said, ‘No problem, think what you will, but you me bucko have the real problem . . . because your penis is too small for even a dwarf-sized female.’ He then exploded. The bastard was just damn lucky Yolanda just tossed him out – I was about ready to push him into the ground.”
Number One then had an extremely satisfied look to him, to Michael’s way of thinking, like he was actually proud of Yolanda. Damned odd – considering he’d never met her. Michael decided to ignore this for the moment.
Michael asked, “How the Hell did El Jefe track her down if you covered Yolanda’s tracks so well?”

“We are still trying to find that part out, but we believe that once he knew about the existence of the Formula he spent whatever it took to find her. A very stubborn man as well as a megalomaniac.”

“But I would have thought you’d have boundless resources, this should have been nothing for you to cover.”

“We’re a small organization – analogous to a single rapier, right now we are being stretched for manpower. Currently we are ruining the chances of a certain Middle Eastern country, . . .”

At this point Beamis looks at Number One who does a 5mm nod to go ahead and continue.

” . . . The Islamic People’s Republic of Irant to gaining atomics. If we don’t stop them Israel will turn that country and the oilfields there into an extra large radioactive glowing parking lot – most defiantly not fit for mall shopping.”

“Excuse me, but how do you know that?”

Number One replied matter-of-factly, “They told us in no uncertain terms do sometime about it or we will. That’s one thing about the Israelis. They are blunt, to the point, and don’t piss around when they do a job. They do it right the first time out of the box. At the first sign that Irant’s ICBM system is nearly ready, Israel will launch an all out, no holes barred, nuclear attack against Irant. And probably a few other Islamic countries to just make the point that they, and they alone, are going to be the nuclear big shot in that area of the world.”

“We are getting sidetracked here. If you guys aren’t going to do something about getting Yolanda back . . . I will and I don’t piss around either! And somewhat I hold you people partially responsible for what has happened. I know you did what you thought best, but sometimes the best of intentions produce the worst of results. And this most definitely is one of those times.”

“Yes, I know. I know all to well and more then you can possibly realize just yet, Mr Moray. Rest assured we will help you to get Miss Yolanda back.”

Again, Michael looks at him for more, but nothing more came. So again, he lets it ride for the time.

“Alright, the bottom line is with the library of compact disks they can install the morphing software into their system. However, unless they place a certain access diskette when prompted for it, the program will remain encrypted on their system, useless to them. I seriously doubt that Yolanda would willingly tell them. She’ll plead ignorance – and claim that only I know the correct protocols to finish the final installation of the program.”

Number One nodded, “You’re intimately familiar with the program, so I believe you. In a way that is good. El Jefe goals will be thwarted – for the time being. But that doesn’t mean he cannot reverse engineer the software or learn the passcode. We must get Miss Yolanda back, recover the captured Formula and the Morphing software. Or if necessary destroy it.”

Beamis said, “Not everyone is as ethical with such power as you or Yolanda. El Jefe is a madman and wants to use the Formula to breed a master race, with himself as Emperor. With such a army of supermen and superwomen at his command he will be able to conquer and rule a large section the world.”

“Just out of curiosity, from where did he first find out about the Super Soldier Formula Project?”

“A bureaucratic asshole at the National Archives had a general outline history of Dr Kochalski’s early work. The fool approved a FOIA request to a person who just happened to be an Intel agent of El Jefe. The same agent was also responsible in a bungled attempt at kidnapping Dr Kochalski. That how he bought the farm in that so-called car crash. We arrived too late for the good Dr Kochalski’s sake, but we did liquidate the fellow who was responsible. However, he had already forwarded the info by fax to El Jefe. A day late and a dollar short. That’s how these things usually happen.”

After a moments silence by all three, Number One continued, “At this time, however -” Number One now looking at a computer display mounted on his desk, a list scrolled past and stops. “I can only supply you with a minimum team. Colonel Beamis here, an explosives expert, a medic, and forty other agents in support. That the best I can do at this time. We will insert you and the others into Brutopia by air drop from a twice weekly Hercules transport that goes to Brazil.”

“Hope you like flying Adios Airlines, Inc, my lad.”

“You’re kidding – really?”

“It’s a front company,” Beamis replied, “one of many that we own under our Utopian Research Associates façade – the profits of which goes into paying our operating expenses.”

Number One said, “Colonel Beamis, here, will meet you in the outfitting room in a few minutes.” Then he looks at Beamis and says, “I would like a few minutes alone with Mr Moray here.”

“Very well sir.”

After Beamis leaves the office and the door closes, Number One looks directly into Michael’s face. He can sense that his earlier suspicions and questions might be answered now. Who is this man and how – or better yet why – does he seem so familiar about Yolanda?

“He is my best agent and I trust him implicitly. However, Son, I am going to tell you a secret I have only revealed to him and to no one else. You are not to repeat it to anyone . . . except to Miss Yolanda. I want your word on this as a gentleman.”

“You have my word on it, sir.”

Smiling at his reply, “Good, I trust you son. I know you are truthful and honorable from your dossier.” Then with a serious look on his face, “Alexander was my brother. I’m Yolanda’s uncle.”

Michael for a moment a total look of surprise is on his face.

“That explains . . . but . . .”

Number One explained, “We did work together, indirectly as I said. Nevertheless, because of the work I choose I could never be a part of my niece’s life in a way I wished I could. Security reasons at the time dictated that I have no close family ties. Those have only recently changed. However, despite that, I did my very best to ‘bend the rules’ to look out for her after my brother was killed. God knows I now know that was not enough. She knew at one time that her father had a brother but I haven’t seen her since she was a small child and I now doubt she even much remembers me. When my brother cured her, I was overjoyed. God, she got so tall and huge as a very muscular female. And now she’s even bigger and stronger – truly a Super Amazon.”

Number One chuckled at the thought; Michael couldn’t help himself and smiled in agreement as to use of the term. Yolanda was that – and much more.

“At first I was a bit apprehensive about her change, but after read the reports in her dossier, I was delighted that she was so happy with her new found existence. Later, I got very proud of her new talents for she is a wonder. Even so, I knew she was lonely in way that no one could understand, being what she had been morphed into. Many men could lust after her seeing only the body, but only a few would see the soul and fall in love with the person inside such an Amazon Giantess. With her father gone, love was something she needed badly from the right kind of man. Then you came into her life and filled that void. I know you deeply love her and she loves you beyond price to give you such a gift that your body now possesses. You two have something very special that so few ever get in this life. True love. There’s no doubt of that in my mind. If anybody can get her back, you will – I just know it. With the way she transformed your body it is now built like a human tank and will be almost unstoppable. Still I have to say it; I couldn’t be human if I didn’t. Please bring her back safely, not just for you, but for me as well. And when you do, I would like you to introduce me to her. I have a lot to make up to her as a human being and as well as her uncle.”

“Don’t you worry about it sir, I will find her and nobody is going to get in my way of saving her. Even if I have to do it all by myself,” with added emphasis, “and in single combat.”

“Excellent, I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

“By the way, if you don’t mind my asking, what’s your first name?”

“Darius . . . what can I say, but that our parents loved classical history.”

Chapter Six

“Camouflage fatigues are no problem,” said Number Twelve, “we’ll have them ready in no time at all, but Colonel Beamis, there just isn’t any body armor here big enough to fit a man of his size.”

“Never mind,” put in Michael, “I’ll be fine.”

“Like bloody Hell you will,” commented Beamis, “what do you think you are bullet proof?”

“You know considering some things that I have noticed lately about myself and Yolanda . . . I really don’t know if I am but let’s find out.”

They go to the science and research labs of Number Four – the OSS Chief Scientist. He and his assistants perform some point pressure tests on his huge body. Also, some other tests of various types on Michael. After two hours in private, Beamis listens to Number Four.

“It’s due to the molecular density of his super body Colonel Beamis. According to our tests he not truly bullet proof, but damn near close to it. An armor piercing round, shrapnel, any sharp edged projectile could penetrate his or Miss Yolanda’s skin. However, ordinary bullets, no. Their skin just too tough, it’s denser then Kelvar. Yet, to feel and touch it, the skin is as soft as yours or mine. It’s an amazing mutation. In addition, the increased molecular density is one of the reasons why his musculature is so much more physically powerful in relationship to his size. Over time, the transformation by the Super Soldier Formula apparently continued to work in very subtle ways that even Dr Kochalski couldn’t have imagined. In any case thank God, he normally is so gentle and mild mannered. With the way he is built now, combined with anger and adrenaline you have a fearsome weapon indeed! However I am concerned about the emotional stress tests I had run on him by Miss Davenport.”

“Oh, how so?” asked Beamis with a questioning look on his face.

Number Four in a knowing but worried tone, explained, “Well, based on the tests with each passing day his increasing stress levels will get higher and higher. Not even his super body is immune to that kind of emotional pressure.”

One of the nearby female assistants who was a physical dead ringer for the superfitness model Diedre Pagnanelli looked up with a knowing smile.

“Its called Being in Love, sir.”

“Excuse, me but what!” exclaimed Number Four nonplus.

“Looks like you got the drop on your boss again, Sharon.”

“Just how do you know that Miss Davenport?”

“Simple sir, I asked him and he open up almost at once to me.”

“How dare you take the direct approach Sharon, you’ll end up ruining the good Professor’s tedious work.”

She again smiled a knowing smile and looked right back at Beamis.

“The big guy is totally smitten with Yolanda. He finally got the nerve up and was going to ask her to marry him today. In fact, he still has the engagement ring with him in his pocket. It’s quite a stone he bought for her. Michael’s worried sick to death about her and is as mad as hell at El Jefe for hurting her. To paraphrase Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto: The Brutopians have awakened a sleeping giant and filled him with a terrible resolve. And with his massive size and super strength, Michael has lots and lots of resolve to spend. El Jefe better watch out, Michael is liable to turn him and his army into bloody mush!”

“Simply incredible,” said Number Four, “and why am I always the last to find out these things. Nobody here has said a word about his being so attached to the young lady.”

“Well,” Sharon answered sympathetically, “you usually have your head buried in unemotional facts and figures, that why. Personally, I think it’s very romantic. Yolanda is a very lucky girl to have such a man who would do anything for her. Even lay down his life for her. To cheer him up I told him if she is so foolish enough to turn him down I want to be first in line as his next choice. I actually got a real smile out of him.”

“I believe it,” nodded Number Four, “and excuse me, I have to check on something.”

“Oh my,” sighed Beamis, “it looks like I now have competition for your affection Sharon.”

Reassuring Beamis, she takes his hand in hers. Despite the teasing of the two, the affection they share for one another is obvious to any present and looking.

“Don’t you ever worry about that, darling. No one will ever replace you in my heart . . . as you know quite well.”

She kissed him, but Beamis seemed to want a bit more reassurance. So he made it last somewhat longer by embracing her – which she didn’t mind. Then after a minute, they broke the spell.

“Now darling, go over and encourage that big friend of yours, he needs it badly.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

Beamis walks over to the very depressed looking Michael. Sharon was right; Michael seemed like he had shrunk in size from the emotional weight he was carrying on those massive shoulders.

“Don’t worry lad, we’ll bring her back safe and alive.”

For only the third time since the morning, Michael smiles a bit as he looks up from the floor.

“Thanks Beamis I needed that about now.”

Beamis sympathetically remarked, “Looks like you could use a real friend too, Michael. Would you please consider me to be one?”

Michael looked at him, with a pleased surprise on his face.

“Yes, I would like to be your friend Beamis, very much so.”

“Good, call me Frank if you feel like it. Like those paladins of old, we will ride into battle, as comrades should. Shake friend?”

“Friends to the end, Frank.” Michael said, sincerely shaking Beamis’s small hand in his much larger one.

In a medieval inflection, Beamis saluted, “Well met good sir. We two shall save your lady fair – and El Jefe will rue the day he ever dared to do her harm.”

[crimson_e_86]

Chapter Seven

Seeing that Michael’s hands are too large to use normal sized firearms, the armaments master, Number Ten decides to issue him an American made Westfield – Model Mk2 Panzertot 50mm four shot anti-armor/personal recoilless-rocket launcher. From long nights reading about history and various weapons the device looked like a Swedish Carl-Gustaf recoilless-rocket launcher on steroids. Number Ten and his assistant Robert Douglass demonstrate to Michael and Beamis how the weapon works.

“It’s a great improvement over their earlier Mk1 two shot model. After all their company motto is: ‘We always strive to deliver you a bigger Ka-Boom for your Bucks.’ See here, it has a capacity for carrying various projectiles.”

Michael and Beamis follow him over to the underground firing range nearby. They put on ear protection headgear. Number Ten continues the instructive lecture taking recoilless-rocket launcher into the firing range area.

“In this case, Anti-armor such as that one-inch metal plate that Robert is setting up. By the way gentlemen, never have anyone standing directly behind you when using this weapon. Remember, safety first.”

“Alright, I’m clear sir.”

“Very good.”

Number Ten replies and levels the weapon, aims, and then fires.

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWW WWWWWSSSSSSSSHHHHHH KA-BOOOOM!

A gaping hole was charred through it.

“It has a computer aided range finder, all weather scope and laser sights. This recoilless-rocket launcher weapon has some real loving craftsmanship built into it.”

“But what about if I get pinned down . . .”

” . . . By unfriendlies, no problem my young sir. Flip this switch here and you change to the other projectile cartridge clip. In this case I just happened to load that one with Anti-personal rounds – HE with shrapnel heads. Like a super-shot gun. Based on the laser, the range to target information is fed to the computer. The projectile is fired and explodes at the critical preprogrammed set distance with devastating effect.”

He aims and fires at another target – a group of mannequin soldiers previously set up by Douglass.

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWW WWWWWSSSSSSSSHHHHHH KA-BOOOOM!

Instantly they disintegrated into powder.

“Excellent, just what every patriotic Second Amendment loving American needs for close quarters home defense. No need to call the police afterwards, just get the mop and pail out.”

Ignoring Beamis’s quip, Number Ten hands the launcher to Michael. In his hands and with his size it looks more like a small 22-caliber rifle.

“It’s very easy to operate. So simple a child . . . or in your case Mr Moray, a Giant can use it. Remember what I showed you. How to aim, operate and load. Now you go practice with it under Mr Douglass’s supervision. Make certain of the round you have prepared for the target to be hit.”

During the hour of dry fires, then some live target practice under the guidance of Douglass, both men found they got along very well and discovered they had some mutual interests. Michael discovered, like himself, Robert had from the time he was a teenager liked and loved athletically built females. And was in fact engaged to one of the female OSS agents – a mini-Amazon by the name of Sue. Michael could see how much the young man was in love with the lady. He confessed to having a hard time putting on much size, to which Michael was very sympathetic and said as much. By the time Robert had to go, they had started to become friends and agreed to continue some of the discussions when there was more time.

With the drilling practice done, he too, left the room to do a bit of exploring. It would help to keep his mind off his worries about Yolanda. As he was going down the hallway leading from the Weapons Section, Michael looked into a room off to the side. To all appearances the area looked like a cross between a museum, a library and a weapons archive armory. Being the type who loved history, books and museums as well as weapons, he went through the doorway to look the place over. No one was in sight, but everything was well lighted and immaculately clean. Michael spotted a historic display where there were swords, spears, armor and other outré weapons. This appearing to be the oldest material, he walked over to look at them more closely.

As he was looking over the display and reading some of the plaques, Michael saw an oversized battleaxe. Its deadly design incorporated two wide sharp edges and was topped off with a long pointed stiletto for ramming into an opponent. The jet-black blade was mounted on a long wooden shaft with a two handed, steel wire grip. Michael felt odd looking at it for it was as though a magnetic force radiating from its deadly beauty was drawing him closer – calling to him. Slowly he moved closer, within an arm’s length. With his careful eye, Michael estimated that its weight has to be at least an impossible 100-125 pounds. Who could have used such a heavy weapon?

Experimentally Michael took it from the rack and as he did so, just for a second he felt a mild electrical impulse, as though it was alive. Then it was gone. Must have been static energy, he thought. In his hands of course, it was as light as a feather and strangely felt like a part of him that had been missing all his life was now restored. Or perhaps, weird as it sounded, a thought passed through his mind. Not from himself, but something that had been missing from this object, the right kind of person to use it once more in the cause of justice.

Beamis noticing him from the doorway, laughed softly, “I see you have found our library and historical weapons exhibit. That one you have in your hands is axe of Morgan, the Black Knight of Avalon. It wasn’t easy to find but here it’s had a very safe home for over fifty years.”

“Who? I’ve never heard of him,” Michael said coming out of his reverie and turning to face Beamis.

“Not many have today,” replied Beamis walking up to him. “Morgan, the Black Knight was a mysterious chap who was a hero to many peoples in many lands about a 1000 years ago. With his companion, the Lady Tara, they fought for the right against all sorts of evil. According to the legends, he was a large powerful man like yourself.” He paused, then corrected his statement at Michael incredulous look. “Well not quite as large as you, Michael. However, he was larger then normal, too. However, looking at you holding it there, the axe looks like it was made for you.”

“Perhaps it was,” Michael commented aloud, “and now its time has come once more – to serve and protect – with a new master.”

“But this is modern era, not the medieval and jousting is a bit out of style these days.”

“I’m going use on the people who took Yolanda. When I’m done with them, they’re going look like the leftovers from a Ginsu ad.”

“I think given a choice, they’ll prefer bullets to being sliced and diced.”

“Frank, you said OSS needed a covert name for me – what did you have in mind?”

“Well, since you seem to have taken on his mantel, figuratively speaking – or perhaps it you, how about the Black Knight?”

“Sound just fine to me – in fact,” he broke out into an roguish smile, “I would insist upon it.”

“I’m not even going to question why you are looking that way, I think I already know the answer.”

Just then, an announcement was carried over the Intercom – a feminine monotone of a voice requesting their attendance in the Strategic Planning Room Two. With Beamis in the lead, the pair of them exited the Library and headed off in the direction of the scheduled conference.

Chapter Eight

When they entered the Strategic Planning Room an assembly of khaki clad OSS agents was there waiting to greet them. The group of officers consisted of two females and four males.

“This is Major Sue Wagner. She’s one of our best field operatives and will be my second in command for this mission.”

With a start, he realized that this lady must be Douglass’s fiancée. To Michael’s experienced eye, as Douglass had said, Sue was most definitely into physical culture in a major way. Sue’s clothing stretched erotically over her broad shoulders, deep chest, thick arms and legs. Physically he felt like Redwood tree towering over her blonde haired 5′-2″ – 150 pound body.”

“Hello there big guy!”

Sue had her head tilted back looking up at him. Michael blushed at her obvious appreciation of his physique. With her eyes sparkling and perky disposition she continued to tease him.

“They must grow ’em big where you come from.”

“Oh yes, Miss.”

Not certain what he should say about the Formula, Michael decided to cover, though he doubted anybody here would believe him.

“It’s – ah, something in the water, I think. My Lady Yolanda is much the same.”

“Wow!” Sue exclaimed. “I got to get some of that for my boyfriend, he could really use it – me too.” Then whispering confidentially, “Beamis explained it to me earlier so don’t concern yourself, I won’t spread it around.” She winked.

Beamis then introduces Michael to a 5′-10″ tall, 190 pound, handsome athletically built man. “This serious looking fellow is Marcus Devereux also known around here as the Demolition Man.”

“Why is that?” Michael asked.

“Because my large friend, I love to blow up things.” Devereux answered with a chuckle.

“Ah yes,” commented Beamis, “for him – paraphrasing the movie Apocalypse Now – he loves the smell of C-4 in the morning. It smells like victory.”

“Oh come on now Beamis, surely you’ve gotten over that accident in the Congo by now?”

“Like Hell Marc, you ruined a perfectly good and very expensive three piece suit. I still haven’t gotten the stink out of it!”

Beamis then continued to introduce some of the others – Alfred (Al) Kaiser the medical tech, Sarah Boyett leader of Group B, Charles Birch leader of Group C, and William Kurland his second in command of Group C. With the introductions completed, Beamis then took a pointer and begun the briefing to explain their parts in the mission.

“People, this operation has been code-named: The Big Stick. And this, ladies and gentlemen, shall be the target of its fury.”

A miniature scale diorama of a Brutopian base was on display in front of them. The detail was extraordinarily accurate, right down to the uniformed soldiers guarding the main gate.

“It’s called The Black Eagles Nest Research Center. We are fortunate in that it’s a scientific base and not a full military one. Other then the standard military garrison, with a few armored cars and some helicopters, its main armor support would be from the nearby Fortaleza Santiago, which are several miles away. We will parachute in two groups, Group C will drop here under the command of Birch and Kurland and will secure the nearby De Soto airfield. Groups A and B under my command will be dropped here.”

The spot Beamis pointed to was an open field a few miles from the base. The area of the drop zone was well concealed by the hilly landscape and forested terrain. Being out of line of sight of the installation also was a major bonus. A nearby dirt road ran through site in the direction of the facility.

“We will make our way to the Black Eagles Nest Base. After separating, the two groups will approach the base from opposite sides. Group A will penetrate the installation from the west. Group B, along with the portable mortar artillery to be used, you will set up diversionary explosives all long the far eastern end of the compound to draw any support units away. When Group A is ready to crash the gate; this building here is the weapons armory of the base. Group B, you will target your mortars on the structure and destroy it. However, you’d better be fast, your second target is the helicopter hangers. From our current Intel by satellite photography, there are currently four Mi-8 Hippo troop transports and two Mi-28 Havoc attack helicopters. They must be destroyed; especially the Gunships or we will all be toast. If you miss, do not hesitate for a moment. Use the two hand-held Stinger missile launchers we will be taking with us. For Group A, our main goal is this building.”

Beamis pointed at a large structure near the center of the base within a group of similar looking buildings. They all were of stone and concrete construction.

“These are the Conquistadors Laboratories. We will take out any personal in our way. The most important goal for us is the recovery of Miss Yolanda, we need her alive at all costs. Re-taking the stole Super Soldier Formula and Morphing software is the secondary goal. If the Formula or Morphing software has been compromised, and most likely they have, we have been ordered to destroy the material along with the laboratories – totally.”

“What about El Jefe?” asked Birch.

“Hmmm,” Beamis thoughtfully ruminated, “El Jefe, also known as Juan Diego the Presidente and Comandante of Brutopia has been on our ‘better dead’ list for quite a while, so this operation gives us the excuse to take care of him. The orders are terminate him and any involved in this mess. All high command officers, scientists and other technicians – no survivors, period!”

Kurland said, “I see how we get into Brutopia, but what about support armor units from Fortaleza Santiago? Once we attack, they’ll be screaming for help.”

“And not to mention how do we get out without being shot down by their air force?” added Birch.

“Ah, I was waiting for someone to ask that. Very good gentlemen.” Beamis smiled a knowing smile. “Number One has conferred with President Thompson and he has agreed that the Super Soldier Formula in the hands of El Jefe constitutes a major national security threat. So the good men and women of the US Navy and Air Force are going to be in the process of destroying the Brutopian Air Force and their air bases about three hours after with hit dirt. By the time they are through there won’t be a Piper Cub of the Brutopian Air Force fit to fly. They will also strike at armor depots such as Fortaleza Santiago, SAM Batteries and radar installations. The air wings will consist of B-1s and B-2s of the Air Force launched from the continental US – combined with F-14s, F-18s, A-6E Intruder bombers and EA-6B Prowler electronic warfare planes from the USS Theodore Roosevelt carrier task force. Our forces will have complete control of the air space over Brutopia for the duration of this operation.”

“You weren’t kidding about called this operation The Big Stick,” chuckled Sue.

“We really are going to clean El Jefe’s clock before this is over.”

“Indeed my lady, Brutopia will learn it’s not good idea to fuck with the Colossus of the North – but remember we are on our own as to the ground mission.”

Chapter Nine

After a flight of several hours, the Brutopian 747 transport lands at the De Soto military airfield near the Black Eagle’s Nest scientific research installation. Colonel Salazar, Major d’Este and the surviving troops from the mission disembark from the plane. The stolen materials are carried from the aircraft to be loaded aboard a convoy of waiting trucks. Yolanda is carefully removed on a stretcher handled by six men. The medic had covered her with a blanket, which barely concealed the size of her large muscular body. Upon reaching the ground, they gratefully transferred the heavy body to a waiting reinforced gurney, which they moved into a military ambulance. Inside the control tower, Colonel Salazar is reporting by secure telephone to El Jefe.

“As per your orders sir, we remained in radio silence. The mission had some – ah, unforeseen problems but we accomplished it regardless.”

“Excellent,” replied the excited voice of El Jefe – Juan Diego on the telephone.

“I and Dr Roland Von Holzner will be awaiting you at Black Eagles Nest Research Center. Bring everything to the Conquistadors main laboratory building.”

“Very well sir.”

The trucks drive from the airport on the road to the main gate of the base. Colonel Salazar’s convoy goes through security checks, are cleared and passed through. At a building marked with a sign – Conquistadors R&D – the trucks stop. Men waiting in front help the others getting out of the trucks to unload and move the stolen equipment into the building. Yolanda, still in a drugged stupor is removed from the military ambulance and the gurney is then wheeled through the steel security doors into the laboratory building entrance. Many of the soldiers and technicians comment in awe, aloud and in whispers, about the size of Yolanda. The term La Grande Hembra was mentioned more then once as they passed by the crowd. The group lead by Colonel Salazar goes down a long hallway. At the end of corridor is a second security door. Unlike the first one into the building, this barrier looks more like the door from a bank vault. The entourage then passes into the main laboratory where El Jefe, Dr Roland Von Holzner and the medical technical staff are waiting.

“This is her?” asked El Jefe.

“Yes, El Jefe. She is the one you have sought. Señorita Yolanda Kochalski.”
Colonel Salazar confirmed – as he does so he pulls the cover off her body.

“She’s a huge Amazon!” exclaimed El Jefe in awe. “I never expected her to be this enhanced, look at the size of her . . . she must be over two meters tall.”

“Yes, El Jefe and strong as an elephant, this was the – ah, unforeseen problem I mentioned. She was quite a handful to suppress even with over sixty men at my disposal.”

“No doubt, no doubt,” said El Jefe in amazement.

“Ya, a Valkyrie she is,” remarked Dr Roland von Holzner, the German Scientist.

“Which proves that the American Formula and the transformation process works well beyond our hopes. Not just a physical improvement, but a full physique enhancement to a superior human form.”

“What are her physical stats?” asked a still astonished El Jefe.

Dr Holzner answered, “As per my request to Colonel Salazar, the basic measures taken just before the flight show her to be 7′-3″ in height and with an approximate weight of 600 pounds. She is so far above the normal expected levels for a mature female that I would have to classify her as superhuman, ya.”

“Well, I suppose its time to revive her. Do it, Dr Holzner,” commanded El Jefe.

“Yes, Mein Leader.”

Dr Holzner motions to the waiting medical technical staff. They carefully pick up Yolanda from the gurney and transfer her to a specially built examination table. They removed the two-inch steel bands from her arm and legs, but locked new ones specially built into the table across her body. Smaller five-inch ones lock her arms and legs in place. Seven-inch thicker ones are placed across her neck, chest, waist and pelvis. Finally, with them in place, her body is totally immobilized. With Yolanda now safely secured, Dr Holzner takes a hypodermic injector gun from a medical technician filled with a counter agent to the sedative.

“Hmmm, there,” Dr Holzner quietly commented. “It will only take a minute or two for her to awaken.”

“She won’t be able to break free?” asked Colonel Salazar.

“Nein nein. A complete fool I am not. Within the injection there is a strong muscle relaxant, she will be conscious but not able to fully use her super strength. In addition, the examination table is made of reinforced steel and titanium. With those thick steel bonds holding her immobilized, she will have no leverage to work with either.”

“I wouldn’t be too certain about that if I were you, Señor Doctor,” Colonel Salazar growled at him. “I just hope you are right. You’ve not yet seen her in action -”

Slowly at first, Yolanda regains consciousness. Fully awake she angrily struggles at the restraining five and seven-inch steel bonds – but being so weakened by the muscle relaxant, it’s to no avail.

“See, as I said Colonel, nothing to worry about,” Dr Holzner smirked in confidence. “Maybe she strong as an elefant, but as long as the muscle relaxant is active she is of no threat.”

El Jefe in a teasing tone observes, “Careful you might hurt yourself. And I couldn’t have that, now could I, my dear.”

“Where am I and who the Hell are you?” Yolanda angrily snapped.

“Watch you mouth Señorita,” advised Colonel Salazar. “You are in the presence of El Jefe Juan Diego the Presidente and Comandante of Brutopia for life. You are at his total command and under control. You would do yourself a favor and will be polite, as young ladies should when in the presence of men.”

“Now, Colonel, your zeal is commendable, but I think the Señorita is highly intelligent and will cooperate with us. Won’t you be my child?” El Jefe said soothingly.

“Depends,” answered Yolanda in a suspicious tone. “What do you want?”

“Access to the information you have regarding about the Super Soldier Formula – its creation and implementation on Human subjects, such as yourself.”

In a tired and resigned voice Yolanda remarked, “I guess I don’t have to ask why . . .”

“No problem,” said El Jefe – his voice persuasive, “I will explain – the western world desperately needs order and unity against the new threats and challenges facing it in this 21st Century of ours. The so-called victorious confederation of the nations of America and Western Europe who toppled the Union of Soviets only a few decades ago have become corrupt, decadent and impotent – and barring a divinely-sent miracle are now beyond any salivation. Politically, they are incapable of ruthlessly dealing with the growing peril from Islamic fundamentalism and worse, the grave threat posed by the rising military-industrial superpower strength of China.”

“I’m not impressed – or by your thumbnail analysis of America, especially.”

“You should – the United States is a nation of only 300 million, by contrast mainland China is one of well over one billion – and increasing in numbers despite all the attempts at birth control to curb it. Unlike the rapidly industrializing Germany of the 19th Century who had similar problems of increasing population growth, she only wanted colonies for raw materials to sustain its existence. China on the other hand will need – and will demand – vast tribute in the form of food in order to feed their expanding population. If they are refused, as they naturally will be – for what nation would allow its people to starve to death in favor of another – they will take it by military conquest. Someone must be a potent counterbalance to stop them – in that light I plan to offer to the peoples of the Amero-European world what it needs most at this time – a New Order. With a vast army transformed to your level of super empowerment – no one will dare threaten us. At first, it we shall allow those who want to join me to do so, peacefully – while those nations foolish enough to resist . . . well, they’ll be forced into our New Order. If you help me, you will have an most honored place on my staff of Superhumans – even be appointed to the rank of a ruling Governor over one the conquered nations of my unified Amero-European empire.”

“Hmmm,” Yolanda wryly commented, “suppose I turn down your cozy offer, what then?”

“If you are so foolish to say no to my very generous offer and decide to resist . . . well, after I get what information I want extracted from you, I might let you live . . . as my personal breeder.”

“Well then shorty, you have my answer as of now . . . you can civilly and politely, go to Hell – furthermore, I am personally going take great pleasure in ripping off your pitiful manhood before I shove it down your throat.”

At this rebuff, he slapped Yolanda in the face – a maniacally fury in his eyes now.

“You don’t even look like a real woman – you’re a muscle-bound . . . slut!”

“Well then,” she replied – coldly, “if you can only get it up with weak and helpless women then you aren’t much a real man.”

Before he can properly respond to her insulting taunt a nervous looking technician with a clipboard in hand respectfully asks to interrupt the proceedings. With a nod from El Jefe, the man swiftly confers with them – explaining that although they’ve been able to install the software a sophisticated form of encryption is protecting the program. Worse, a dire warning is flashing on the main monitor prompting the user to supply a physical instillation key – unstated is whether this is a password or another disk. This development only further infuriates El Jefe – already seething at Yolanda for her blatant refusal to cooperate and the questioning of his manhood. Brusquely dismissing the man, he turns about – seemingly contained in his expression – gazing at the smugly smiling Yolanda who has overheard every word.

“I want the access to the computer you bitch! And I want it now!”

“Up yours, you creep – besides,” she smirked, “I don’t know the protocols anymore, but my Michael does. It’s so that scum as you could never get hold of it. I’d hate to be in your shoes, you bastards – when he gets here he’s going to make you very sorry indeed. He’s very big and very strong – in fact, he’s far stronger then I am. It’s something I made damned certain of when I used the Super Soldier Formula on him.”

El Jefe moves away to have a conference in private with the Dr Roland Von Holzner and Colonel Salazar.

“Who is she talking about? A boyfriend or husband? Did you see anyone with her? And why didn’t you take him as well?”

“No, El Jefe she was alone,” explained Colonel Salazar. “As it was, we had our hands full with just the female. We only learned of the existence of the male after we secured the place. If the male was home too and as enhanced as she is, I shudder to think of what he would have done. At the very least he probably would have reduced us to matchwood.”

“I was going to prepare a preliminary report for you Mein Leader based on the paperwork brought back by the good Colonel,” Dr Holzner reported in a sycophanticish tone. “As a Biochemist, she would be useful to us, a pity she will not be cooperative. From what data I have so far, his field of study is in computers, so she must be telling the truth. Unfortunately, I believe that he will be just as unwilling to cooperate with us.”

“Then we will have to force his cooperation to get access to the secrets of the transformation process. The Señorita is the key to that problem. Being an American, he will be soft when I threaten the life of his woman.”

While they are conferring with El Jefe, Yolanda ponders and analyzes her predicament.

“No way are these bastards going to hold me like this. Hmmm, that Nazique Doctor said something about a muscle relaxant so cannot use my super strength at this point. The poor dears don’t understand that the enhancement also super improved our immune systems. We don’t get sick for very long – and drugs or chemicals in time become neutralized.”

Yolanda carefully observes the way her body is restrained. The five and seven-inch steel bonds are keeping her immobilized, the table is made of reinforced steel and titanium.

“I cannot move but I can still flex my muscles. It should be possible to stretch the bonds ever so subtlety as my super strength slowly restores – metal fatigue will free me. I wonder what would happen if combined it with my fully expanded chest or contract my abs to sit up? It will be something to try. Must be careful though. But when I get unfettered, El Jefe and especially that Colonel Salazar are going to be very sorry, indeed.”

[crimson_e_86]

Chapter Ten

Seated together aboard the Adios Airlines-Freight Hercules transport on its normal run headed for Brazil, the OSS team relaxes for time being, each member with his own private thoughts. Some few are playing cards, other are reading or looking out the windows to pass the time.

Beamis commented to Michael, “If you think this is strange, some day I will have to tell you about one of my fishing trips to northern Wisconsin.”
Michael deep in his own thoughts says nothing in response. To attract his natural curiosity, Beamis pulls out from an inside coat pocket a sealed plastic tube that has a 9mm round in it. Michael comes out of his communion and notices it.

“Hey, that looks like silver.”

“Indeed, yes it is.”

He observed Beamis holding it in his right-hand rotating back and forth. The light reflected off it with a pure, silver-white radiance. Michael looked a bit strangely at Beamis.

Beamis explained, “It’s a good luck piece my friend. I always take it with me. The Pope himself blessed it. After I did a job which as a consequence helped the Church in a rather sticky situation he asked if there was anything he could do that would be helpful to me . . . and this is what I asked for.”

Incredulous, Michael asked, “But why that of all things?”

“Because lad,” ruminated Beamis, “I have not said why, nor will I now – but suffice it to say I have been all over this world. To places both mundane and sometimes mysterious. You never know when this sort of thing will come in handy – some day.”

“Hmmm, well short of stopping something supernatural I don’t think I want to know the answer. Sorry I asked.” Michael replied. Then another thought comes to him, “By the way, earlier in the OSS Section offices I overheard most of what you said to Miss Davenport. Even though I pretended not to look – I mean you and Miss Sharon Davenport – may I ask if -”

“Yes, we are most certainly ‘an item.'” Beamis cutting him off lost in his own thoughts, then he saw the questioning look on Michael’s face. “Have been for a very long time. I would like very much to marry her. However, she’s put me off several times. It’s the job.”

“Frank, don’t make the mistake I did by waiting too long.” Michael sighed sadly.

“Work on it and convince her if you can. I really should have asked Yolanda sooner. We love each other dearly, but I have been so afraid to ask. Afraid she would turn me down for some reason unknown to me. If she’s dead I . . . I . . .”

“She not dead,” Beamis forcefully rejoined. “Don’t you ever think that – El Jefe is no fool. Crazy yes, like the Mad Hatter, but foolish no. He’ll keep her alive at any cost, because he needs her expertise for getting the transformation to work.”

“I hope so, but he’s hurt her – he’ll wish unto death he hadn’t.”

Beamis now in a persuasive and confidential tone, “As for your fears, naturally you’re nervous about asking her. There hasn’t been a man yet born who wasn’t afraid of asking one’s true love to marry them. Don’t worry about it. She’ll say yes, trust me. I know she will.”

Sue in the seat directly across the aisle from them cannot help but overhear the two. She decides to change the subject a bit, to take Michael’s mind off worrying about Yolanda.

“Mr Moray . . .”

Michael looks up hearing her familiar friendly voice smiles a bit.

“Please Sue, my friends call me Michael.”

“Alright, Michael. I’ll take you up on that invitation. Let me start over again. Please, I am not trying to make a pass at you or anything like that, I can see how much you love Yolanda. But I can’t help but admire the fact that you have one Hell of a physique, almost like a mythological Demi-God. I know from what Beamis here has explained to me, she greatly enhanced you with the Super Soldier Formula. Personally I’m curious, even with that done, do you workout much, I mean . . .”

“Oh, yes Sue,” Michael explained. “I’m very much into weightlifting to stay fit and trim.”

Michael flexes his massive body and the fatigues stretched over his frame. Sue chuckled bit at the extraordinary sight of physical perfection personified – one more appropriate to a comic book Superhero then any Mortal of the real world.”

“My Lady Yolanda and I own a gymnasium, too. If I’m not being too bold, you look very nice Sue. From what I can tell by the way your clothes contour and fit, you must be into weightlifting in a very serious way. Any man would be proud to call you his own.”

“Thank you, Michael. Despite my height I’ve worked very hard to be the way I am now – and love it, though I wish I were taller. However, you’re right, I’m into bodybuilding, also my boyfriend, actually he’s my fiancé, is too. You may have met him, Robert Douglass? He works in the armaments section as second to Number Ten.”

“Oh, yes I have, he instructed me in the use of my weapon.” Michael replied. “We got along very well. So much so, I consider Robert a friend as I do you or several of the others. He told me about you.”

“He did?” Sue smiled. “Everything good I hope. You must have made a real impression on him then.”

“Sue, he thinks the world of you. You’re very lucky to have lassoed such a man, he seems very nice, intelligent and caring – a real find for a lady like as yourself. It’s not easy to find the right kind of male partner if you’re a female seriously into physical culture.”

“Yes, I know. However, I cannot help ever since I was fifteen that I wanted to look like a supermuscular Amazon. Many men are turned off by my appearance, but I love it and so does Robert.” Seeing Beamis’s expression, she added, “Yes, I know Frank you’re one of the exceptions. Sharon has a killer fitness body, as do you.”

“Did I say anything?” Beamis smirked, looking about the cabin.

Michael was looking back and forth, a bit confused at the banter.

“I’ve tried to push Sharon and Frank to go further,” Sue sighed, “but no such luck. They’re both quite good, if you ever saw them with most of their clothes off. With a little more size they could compete in an amateur mixed pairs division.”

“Well,” commented Beamis, “we’re not much into the Olympian look for ourselves. However, we do understand the desires of those who are and support such people in their endeavors.”

“Anyway getting back to the topic of Robert and myself; we met a few years ago and started dating after clearing it first with Number One. We slowly took to each other over time – finding increasingly that we loved about each other’s company. Schedules permitting, we love to workout together.”

“He looks to have a fine physique,” Michael said, “though more of a fitness lifter’s body then a bodybuilder’s. I could tell that he was disappointed about his lack of development, even before he told me so. I understand greatly his feelings about the inability to gain size.”

“That’s one of the things I would like to ask her about . . . among other things. I would like to discuss it with Yolanda, get some advice.” Sue paused in thought.

Michael confidently said, “I’m sure she would love to be your friend Sue. She’s very helpful and knowledgeable about physical culture. As to what you are hinting at – she’s wanted to do some further research with the right type of people. Maybe after this is over you and Robert would be willing to stop by and visit. Perhaps take up a membership at our little place – and help her out?”

“Oh, yes. I think we both would go for that.” Sue said happily. Then continuing,

“Well, don’t you worry about your Lady Yolanda, Michael. Nobody is going to get in the way of you two being reunited. Cuz I’m going to personally kick El Jefe’s butt if he objects.”

“That is,” Beamis wryly smiles, “if you can find it after Michael here is finished with smashing, mashing and pulping him.”

The red light flashed and the pilot announced: “Attention People! We have just crossed the border into Brutopian airspace. Ten minutes to drop, Groups A and B get ready, repeat Ten minutes to drop, Groups A and B get ready.”

Beamis stands up and states loudly to all, “Alright people – double check and make certain your gear is in place!” Turning to Michael, “We’ll drop you out of the back of the plane because my friend you’re . . .”

“Yes, I know! I am as big as a tank. No problem Beamis.”

Michael stands up walks the rear of the plane. There he pulls on the backpack and parachute. Then he placed the Panzertot in the holster carrier and straps the belts to secure it. Finally, he straps the 125-pound axe in place. The rest of the soldier-agents are doing likewise with their gear.

A Green Light flashed and pilot announced: “Attention People! Groups A and B we are over the target area, Groups A and B we are over the target area.” Then as in an afterthought, “Good Luck people!”

They begin falling in line and exiting the plane through the door. A crewmember opens the rear of the plane and Michael jumps. After the last soldier-agent has exited, the plane continues on to drop the second infiltration detachment –

Group C near De Soto airfield.

Chapter Eleven

After parachuting into Brutopia, teams A and B land in the drop zone field. So far, nobody has spotted them. Sue motions a couple of the soldier-agents to secure the area while the rest assemble. As they are getting ready to move out, the perimeter guards spot a Brutopian patrol on foot coming down dirt road. Beamis and Sue decide to terminate the group – but by quiet surprise. If possible Beamis wants at least one survivor to interrogate. Michael is ordered to position himself to cut off the Brutopians retreat in case any try to escape. From concealment the OSS agents pop out and kill all but two fortunate ones who make a break for it.

“We must get back to report that the Americans are here!”

Both of them weren’t looking ahead but behind to see if they were being pursued. Suddenly they ran into a brick wall, a human brick wall.

“What the . . .?” As one of the pair looks up from the ground, a camouflage fatigued Giant is glaring back down at them.

“Where the heck do you two think your going?”

“Jesus!” (he pronounced it hey-zeus) Then whispering-whimpering, “El Grande Hombre!”

“I might not habla mucho español – but you two, ah caballeros are coming with me.”

As he says so he swiftly grabs each one by the front of their combat jackets and hoisted them up effortlessly. Scared to death, they started to mindlessly whimper in low tones. Beamis with two of the other soldier-agents spots Michael.

“Hold on lad! For God’s sake don’t kill them yet, we need to get info out of them.”

“Alright!” Then to the Brutopians, smiling an evil wry smile, “Man o man, are you two lucky . . . for the moment.”

Beamis wants to question them about the current strength of the garrison at the base and other relevant info that was not known by the OSS when the operation was planned. However, the two of them clam up and say nothing.

“Stubborn are we,” observed Beamis, “well, I have a cure for that, a very strong one, indeed . . . Michael . . .”

“Yes?”

Beamis suggests that Michael take over the interrogation process – much to the terrified expressions of their two prisoners. Seemingly, as if instructing him in some of the finer tips of information extraction they stroll to just out of earshot of their pair of Brutopian captives.

“Just don’t kill him,” he confidentially whispered, “but do scare the shit out of the little bugger.”

“Understood,” he replied in a low hush, “I wouldn’t anyway.”

With a nod and sharply pivoting about Michael reproaches the two and with a grim cold stare looks at the more stubborn of the two – dramatically pointing his finger at him.

“Fine – you’re first!”

Grabs him in a flash and lifts him up. Whimpers and moans come from the Brutopian soldier. While the other one stares in white-faced horror as Michael chuckled loudly for psychological effect.

“This is going to be very fun . . . for me, not you, you scum bag. I’m gonna squash and roll you up into a ball. Then your ‘friend’ here will be next.”
Michael takes him into the brush where now unseen loud screams begin to emanate.

“No . . . no no no no . . . Por favor . . . Merced! Aaaaggggggg!”

“Now,” Beamis dryly commented, “you’d better tell us all that you know . . . otherwise.”

The soldier drips sweat but doesn’t answer – in the opinion of Beamis and Sue, this is one tough customer, but it’s just apparent he’s on the verge of breaking. All he needs is a gentle push.

“He’s right,” added Sue, “your fearless leader kidnapped his girlfriend and he’s . . . well, as you can see the big guy is very upset over that fact . . . and I doubt we could stop him from ripping you apart, assuming that we wanted to . . .”

At this disclosure the soldier cracks and spills his guts. He informs them of the troop strength, armor support that is currently based at the facility, and what the garrison’s state of morale is. It turns out that at the present time there’s only three Saladin armored cars for patrols. The heavy armor that was stationed on the base has been moved to Fortaleza Santiago for a monthly maintenance check. The troop transport and attack helicopters are in perfect working order.

Then after telling everything he knows the Brutopian soldier asked Beamis, “Ah, when did the El Grande Hombre – Incredible Hulk join the US military?”

Beamis quickly smirks as a flash of an idea hits him. “Oh! He’s not the Hulk didn’t you notice? No green skin. That’s the Juggernaut.” The soldier’s eyes widen in total fear. “Yup, the unstoppable one. He’s a reformed fellow, haven’t you heard? He works with the X-Men now. Oh! And I almost forgot, Jugs is only the advanced guard. Captain America and Ironman are on their way, too.”

From the brush Michael bellowed, “Can I have the other one yet?”

Beamis laughed, “No, lad. We got what we needed out of this one. Let the poor bugger go.”

“Alright, but remember you asked for it!” Michael chuckled. From out of the brush flies the other Brutopian soldier.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” The soldier screamed as he sailed through the air and hit the soft ground with a THUD!

“Alright you two,” said Beamis, “you’re free to go, so get the heck out of here.”

At first they cannot believe that they aren’t be executed by these people. But quickly before they can change their minds, the one undamaged soldier helps to carry his hurt comrade and off they go on a trot. Both are extremely grateful to be away from the wrathful looking Giant and his friends.

“Why did you let those two go Beamis?” asked Michael.

“Disinformation, lad. IF they actually think you are the Juggernaut it will help to spread fear in the ranks. Rumors are great weapons if used correctly.”

“Good God, did you see the looks on their faces?” Sue remarked. “It was classic. I wish I had a camera with me.”

“How so Beamis? I mean the Juggernaut is a fictional character from the Marvel Comics.”

“Oh, yes that’s true, lad. However, in this country with its controlled media, black-market comic books that are smuggled in and sold in the local zocalo are considered the real news of the outside world. And they do love to read ’em.”

Chapter Twelve

Beamis double-checking the map layout of the compound goes over the incursion plan one more time with the others. Four main buildings, the weapons armory and the helicopter hangers. Plus an odd number of small barracks, motor pool and fuel storage depot. The perimeter fence surrounded the entire complex with only break in it being the main entrance. He orders Group B under the command of Sarah Boyett to go to the far side and set up the diversionary explosive devices and make ready the mortar batteries. She salutes and leads her team off in the general direction of the base. Time passes. Michael and the rest finally receive word by coded signal over the scrambler radio that all is ready.

“Alright after we begin the infiltration of the base, Sarah you begin the attack on the far end. Take out the required targets. Draw as much of their support away from us. Then pull out and head for the airfield. You help Birch and Kurland in securing it.”

“Will do, Beamis,” Sarah confirmed.

Group A, moving under cover of trees and brush swing into a point only a few hundred yards from the main gate of the Black Eagles Nest Research Center. Beamis looks over the place through a pair of binoculars.

“Alright, now how are we going to get in?”

Smiling a devilish smile at Beamis, “Simple I’ll run the gauntlet – and you’ll follow me!”

Michael breaks cover and heading straight for the gate.

“WAIT! Oh crap! There he goes.”

As Michael comes on like a bull, he is quickly spotted by one of the gate guards. The guard levels his FN FAL semi-automatic rifle at the approaching Giant.

“What the . . .? ALTO ALTO!”

He knows in his gut that this Goliath isn’t going to stop. The Sargento in the gate building also seeing the oncoming Michael, rings the command center. On the TV screen, Major d’Este appears.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Sir,” the Sargento reported, “we are under attack.”

“What? What are you talking about? An enemy strike force?”

No a lone person sir, a . . . ah . . . well you’re not going to believe me sir, but he’s a massive Giant of a man. And I swear he’s three meters tall, maybe even more.”

Major d’Este blanches on the TV monitor and whispered, “It’s him.” Then after eternity of a pause, “I believe you. Sargento, you are ordered to stop him at all costs. I will dispatch ground and air armored reinforcements to the gate immediately.”

“Yes sir!” the Sargento replied. Turning to his men, “Open fire on him you fools!”

Then he hits the alarm button and siren starts to wail.

rrrrrrrrrrRRRRHHHHH HHAAAAAAAAAA!

The guards begin to open fire on the approaching Michael.
In automatic reflex, his arm comes up – just like a knight flipping his shield-visor into place to protect his face. A hail of semi-automatic fire begins to rake his huge body – all to no avail as far as the Brutopians are concerned.

**********

“He needs some cover,” commanded Beamis. “OPEN FIRE!”

The OSS agents aim their G3 H&Ks and start to take out the perimeter guards. In the open the unsuspecting Brutopians are clay pigeons. They go down to a man and the firing stops. He also orders Boyett to begin her attack. On signal, Beamis and the others break cover and follow in Michael’s wake. Within half a minute, the group starts to hear the distant whistle of incoming mortar rounds headed for the weapons armory. Flashes of light and explosions can be felt by all – Boyett’s artillery is dead on target. Then almost on cue, she detonated some of the explosive devises at the other end of the base to draw away further ground support.

**********

As soon as Major d’Este in the Black Eagle’s Nest Command Center had disconnected, the incoming mortar shells could be felt. The compound was shaken by the blasts from destruction of the weapons armory.

“What the Hell was that?” asked Major d’Este. “Bombers?”

“No sir,” said one of the Comm officers, “the east side parameter towers are reporting incoming mortar shells from the forest. In addition, explosions are being reported along the edge of the base, could be rocket fire from portable artillery batteries. Evidently the American strike force is well equipped.”

“Get the Havoc attack copters to search and destroy them, get them off the ground now! And send an alert to Fortaleza Santiago that we are under full assault. They are to bring armor support here as fast as possible.”

“Yes sir.”

“In coming message sir – from the Conquistadors Laboratories communications room.”

“El Jefe?” Major d’Este gulped.

“No sir, its Colonel Salazar.”

“Thank God,” thought Major d’Este. He got in front of the two-way TV monitor screen with Colonel Salazar looking right back at him.

“What the Hell is going on Major?” demanded Colonel Salazar. “We can feel the shaking even inside of the Laboratory Building. His Excellency is demanding to know.”

“We are under attack by and American Special Forces strike unit, sir. They seem to be well equipped and are using mortar and rocket fire on us. Their main strike force has already broken in at the main gate. The covering fire . . .”

He stopped for a second. More explosions.

” . . . Is from the eastern side of the base, in the forest.”

“Defend as necessary, you know what to do.”

“Yes sir, but sir from what the Sargento at the gate said just before he was cut off . . . they seem to be lead by or being assisted in this attack by the Giant man, Señor Michael Moray.”

“Oh God,” whispered Colonel Salazar.

**********

Even without being ordered to do so, at the first sign of the attack, the Brutopian pilots were desperately trying to save the Hippo and Havoc helicopters from destruction. As the machines were warming up, they could see the incoming fire getting closer and closer. Smoke and fires were burning all over the eastern side of the complex. The blades begin to rotate fully and combat soldiers were boarding the Hippos. All of them were eager to get back at the enemy. Too late! Another wave of shells started to plummet into the helicopter hangers and the parked aircraft – blowing them apart or damaging them before they could get off the ground. One of the Havoc attack copters was lucky enough to get up in the air – but not for very long or very far – two streaking Stinger missiles came in and destroyed it. The burning wreckage fell from the sky and crashed in a smoldering heap upon the hard ground.

**********

“Sir, we just lost our air support,” reported the Comm officer. “The American artillery has damaged or destroyed the Hippo transports.”

“What about the Havoc attack copters?”

“One was in the process of getting off the ground when a mortar shell blew the tail rotor off. The other one did get up into the air, but was swiftly destroyed by Stinger missiles.”

“Damn, all we have left are the Saladin armored cars.”

At this, more shells could be felt within the base, destroying secondary points of opportunity.

**********

Meantime Michael, without pausing to slow down, grips the security gate and rips it off its wheel mounts. Then he tosses it aside and continues into the compound.

As they are running in Michael’s trail Beamis says in a sigh to no one in particular, “Oh well, there goes the element of surprise.”

“Yeah, but I bet the Brutopians are surprised to death, too,” comments Sue.

Way ahead of the others Michael decides not to stop, but continue deep into the compound – heading for the closest large building. Just as he is approaching the structure, the three Saladin armored cars dispatched by Major d’Este appear from around one the buildings.

“Oh Mary, Mother of Jesus!” exclaimed Lieutenant Pinzon looking through the command view port. “To all units, prepare to open fire.”

“Screw you, I have no time to waste!”

There is no time to charge the oncoming vehicles and stop them with his super strength. They’d cut him down before he got close enough with their 76mm cannons. Instead, he pulls the Panzertot Recoilless-rocket Launcher out of the holster on his back, aims it at the closest Saladin. He squeezed the trigger and the weapon fires.

“Eat this and digest it – if you can.” He said aloud.

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWW WWWWWSSSSSSSSHHHHHH KA-BOOOOM!

The armored car is reduced to a burning and black smoking pyre of slag scrap metal.

Then sights on another. Fires again.

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWW WWWWWSSSSSSSSHHHHHH KA-BOOOOM!

The second armored car is blown apart.

Aiming at the third, gunfire suddenly breaks out from his right side quadrant. More Brutopian soldiers heading for the gate have arrived and began shooting at him but to no effect. At least forty men he estimates – swiftly ejecting the clip he slams in another – this one loaded with anti-personal warheads. Turning the Panzertot at the group and with his large finger on the trigger, he takes careful aim.

“Hasta la vista, you bastards! I’m the Black Knight and I’m gonna kill you all, no prisoners!”

Through the range finder, scope Michael sees most of them turn white faced, some even stop shooting. Then he opens fire.

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWW WWWWWSSSSSSSSHHHHHH KA-BOOOOM!

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWW WWWWWSSSSSSSSHHHHHH KA-BOOOOM!

The few not killed out right, flee in terror. Michael hears screams from the exiting survivors.

“It’s the loco Yankee Juggernaut, run for you lives!”

“Run El Grande Hombre!”

“He’ll kill us all!”

The smoke clears as he watches them run away.

Michael’s only thought is, “No more problem.”

Then he turns his attention back to the remaining Saladin. Which now has had enough time to work its way around the ruined remains of the other two armored cars. Pinzon and his crew don’t hesitate, but start firing at him with their 76mm gun.

BOOOOM!

Michael leaps and hits the ground. The fire hits close enough that he feels the ground debris from the misses hitting near him.

“Oh shit! Big problem. I’m one huge target.”

“You moron! Get him get him! Fire Fire!” shouted Lieutenant Pinzon to the gunner.

“For such a El Grande Hombre sir, he moves like a cat.”
BOOOOM!

“Thank God that type of car is manual loading.” Michael comments.

From his prone position he then aims at his approaching tormentor and squeezes the trigger – even if its still loaded for anti-personal, it will distract the crew long enough until he can change over to anti-armor ordnance.

CLICK

“What the . . .?”

CLICK CLICK CLICK

“Oh, crap! It must have been damaged by the near misses.”

“Now we have him, fire!” shouted Lieutenant Pinzon.

BOOOOM!

Michael gets up in a bound, dirt debris falling all around him. He ducks for cover behind a building corner.

BOOOOM!

Chunks of brick, cement, and concrete fly off the corner – a near miss. He feels the grit smack his backside. He continues down the side of the building and goes diagonal to the neighboring building structures. There Michael stops, holds up and pulls out his Comm unit.

“Hey Beamis,” he said, “where the Hell are you?”

“Just leaving the main gate, lad. You left us behind in your haste to take them on single-handed. Now more importantly where are you?”

“Up the road a bit. You’ll catch up soon enough. Just look for the burning armored cars.”

“WHAT?”

“Yes, I took two out. I’m going to take out the third as well, but my gun is damaged, I think.”

“How the Hell are you going to take an armor car out without the launcher? Wait for us we will be there in few minutes.”

“No, time is wasting. Yolanda needs me.” Michael then spots a nearby wooden telephone/light pole. “Hmmm? Well I think I just spotted a big enough stick to use.”

“Oh no, I’m afraid to ask what, but knowing you I won’t.”

“Hey don’t worry, Beamis. See you soon.”

Michael then re-strapped the Panzertot and waited patiently for the Saladin to pass.

[crimson_e_86]

Chapter Thirteen

“Where the Hell did that God damn El Grande Hombre disappear to? Does any one see him?” Lieutenant Pinzon angrily asked.

“No sir.”

“Not here sir.”

“Nothing yet sir.”

The Saladin armored car cautiously and slowly goes by Michael position not seeing him – at first.

“Wait! Sir he’s behind us!”

“Stop the Car! Now! Rotate then turret and fire God damn it! Before he kills the lot of us!”

Michael realizing he’s been spotted dashes out and heads for the pole. He reaches it as the turret starts to turn in his direction. Grabbing the wooden pole with both of huge hands, he snaps it off and twists it free of the telephone wires.

“Sir we have him!” Lieutenant Pinzon says in the microphone to Major d’Este in the Command Center.

Just as the turret is aimed in his direction he hoists the pole with one arm, aims and throws it like an ancient Greek Olympic javelin. It streaks through the air swooshing.

“Oh my God . . . it’s inconceivable,” whispers Lieutenant Pinzon upon seeing it.

The wooden pole comes down with such force that it pierces the armor plate of the car. The shaft goes right through chassis lifting the entire vehicle three feet off the ground with a THUMP/CRACK/CRUNCH and a muffled internal KA-BOOOM!

“Hello, hello! Are you there Lieutenant? Report your status!” shouted Major d’Este into the microphone.

The Comm officer shook his head, “No answer sir.”

A lance corporal runs into the Black Eagle’s Nest Command Center.

“Sir! One of the towers reports that the armored car group dispatched to the gate has been totally destroyed . . . by the Juggernaut!”

“Would you SHUT UP and stop saying that! Where the Hell has this rumor come from? He is not the Juggernaut! Just a very powerful and large Yankee hombre. We can stop him. Order in the reserves to stop him.”

“There are not many men left. Those not killed and many more are fleeing the base in droves.”

“I DON’T CARE, ORDER THEM INTO IT NOW!” exploded Major d’Este.

“Sir,” said another, “Colonel Salazar at the Conquistadors Laboratories communications room is demanding an update on the situation.”

Major d’Este groaned inside. Never had he been required to report such a failure as this fiasco was rapidly becoming. Slowly he walked over to the TV monitor and put on his best face before going on camera.

“Sir, we cannot stop him.” related Major d’Este in the command center. “The men are broken and fleeing. There’s a rumor that the Juggernaut is here for his woman. He is approaching your position even now with the American strike force.”

“You have to slow them down Major.” commanded Colonel Salazar in the communications room of the Laboratory. “Call up Fortaleza Santiago and order in heavy armor to support us.”

“The minute we came under attack I did. However, I fear sir it will get here too late.”

“Yes, possibly that will be the case, lets hope not Major. But in any case, I will have a clear conscience when I report our failures to El Jefe. As of now the laboratory building is sealed. Hopefully the steel security blast doors will stop him until our reinforcements arrive.”

“I doubt it, he’s an unstoppable force of nature,” Major d’Este muttered after signing off.

**********

Beamis and the others arrive on a run and then slow to a stop. Open mouthed and shocked seeing the smoking and burning armored cars. However, the last one holds their full attention.

Michael again smiled a devilish smile, “Not enough fiber in their diet. So I gave them a heavy dose of supplementation.”

Marcus blurted, “Sheeesh, Beamis it looks like an iron shish kabob on a stick.”

“He’s just a bit upset about his girlfriend,” Beamis chuckled – then in response, “excellent work lad – glad to see you’re getting those pent-up frustrations out of your system.”

Chapter Fourteen

Even as Michael, Beamis, Sue and the others move out toward the Conquistadors Laboratory building, the Brutopians are far from finished off. Major d’Este and Sargento Espinoza have scraped up the last remaining reserves for one last desperate attempt at stopping the American strike force.

“Major d’Este,” said Sargento Espinoza, “I see the Giant and the other Yankee bastards.”

“Very good, you know what to do.”

“Yes sir. I am to stop him and them at all costs. My men are well armed considering we lost the weapons armory in the attack. I really wish we had some SPG-82 anti-armor rocket launchers or even just one good tripod mounted MG3 machine gun to use.”

“The trap is now set, Sargento. You’ll just have to make do with the small arms you’re equipped with. Take them by surprise and they will never have a chance.”

**********

“Beamis I don’t like this, it’s much too quiet,” commented Sue, walking alongside Michael.

“Neither do I, but maybe our large friend here has panicked them totally. In any case remain alert people.”

Moving closer they approach some small building structures, also there are vehicles parked in front. Military trucks and some jeeps.

Beamis waved, “Yo, you two – couple of grenades. Just to make certain they aren’t booby trapped.”

They pop the pins and throw them in the general direction of the first truck.

KA-BOOOOM!

KA-BOOOOM!

“Oh God,” said one the Brutopian soldiers, “they have seen us!”

Upon hearing this comment before Sargento Espinoza can calm them down, several of the Brutopian soldiers panic and open fire too soon. At this the entire group joins in and commences shooting on the Americans. Three OSS agents are hit and go down. Some others pick them up on the fly.

“COVER! TAKE COVER!” yelled Beamis.

“OVER THERE!” shouted Michael, pointing at the cement barricades in front of a building. They all start running and shooting on the fly. Michael, being fully bulletproof, acts cover for the ones nearest to him.

“Ahhhhhhh!”

Michael upon hearing her cry pivots about and scoops her up in his arms – covering Sue’s body from the gunfire as he carries her to safety.

“No – not her . . .”

Finally they make it to the barricades and Michael puts Sue gently down well out of the way of the continuing barrage that has them pinned down.

“Out of my way, let me see!” orders Alfred Kaiser – the med-tech practically pushing him out of the way.

“How bad is it Marc?” Beamis asked. “How many got hit?”

“Four Beamis, including Sue. Fortunately, none are dead. The body armor saved them. Unfortunately, the Brutopian bastards now have us pinned down now. Only a miracle will save us.”

Listening in to the conversation but not really listening to them Michael has his focus is elsewhere. Hotly furious with rage rekindled – first Yolanda and now his new friend Sue is hurt by these evil people. As if a volcano was pushed to the point of no return – he erupts. Without pause or hesitation he unthinkingly bolts upward in single leap – his huge body sailing over the barricades and charges straight at the Brutopian soldiers.

“YOU FUCK’N BASTARDS I AM GOING TO KILL THE LOT OF YOU!”

From the backpack he unsheathes the huge 125 pound jet-black axe. In an instant the name for it comes to him. “THE LADY SANGRE IS VERY HUNGRY!” He shouts heading toward the largest group of Brutopian soldiers.

“Good God Beamis he gone . . .”

“Berserk, yes I can see. But then he’s our best chance to getting out of this trap, too. You asked for a miracle, I give you Sir Michael – our Black Knight.”
Beamis shouts: “OPEN FIRE! GIVE THE BIG GUY A HAND!”

Chapter Fifteen

“Sir,” Sargento Espinoza gasps, “the El Grande Hombre has gone loco – is charging right at us with a . . . ancient battle-axe in hand as if he was El Cid Campeador . . .”

“I don’t care if he’s Don Quixote – you must stop him dammit! You must . . .”

Just then, Michael reaches Sargento Espinoza’s position and Major d’Este’s orders are the least of his and his men’s worries. Firing continues but to little effect on Michael’s huge bullet resistant body. The jet-black axe swings again and again in his left hand, chopping men down or thrusting forward, impaling them on its deadly stiletto point. His clothing becomes torn and tattered from the bullets. Nor is hand to hand combat to any avail against this enraged Giant. Michael with his free right hand bodily picks up men and tosses them. In the process of the fighting the remains of his shirt is ripped away, leaving him bare chested. Bodies slam against buildings, into trucks parked there and into other soldiers. Michael’s tanned body and the axe are covered in blood. He uses the weapon mercilessly – cutting down or impaling men left and right. Finally the remaining Brutopians having had enough break and run. Most flee in total abject terror screaming.

“Run for your lives, its El loco Grande Hombre!”

“He’ll kill us all!”

“The Juggernaut is here – run!”

“I AM DEATH IT-SELF YOU SCUM! RUN RUN RUN IF YOU CAN FROM THE AXE OF JUSTICE!”

Michael waves the Lady Sangre in the wake of the few surviving Brutopian soldiers running away. Slowly the red haze starts to clear from his mind as he calms down. The other OSS soldier-agents are in awe of him as he meets them coming out from behind cover.

Beamis said, “Quite a performance. How do you feel?”

“Sick to my soul and stomach Beamis – I want to throw up. I never wanted to hurt a person in my life – ever – and here I am half-naked and covered in blood. I wonder if I will ever be the same again.”

“Well – yes, and you might not believe me now, but you will in all the good things that make up you as an individual – that will never leave you. But in some others, no, no you never will. It’s something you will have to live with lad. But remember this you never did it in cold blood, only out of self-defense and the willingness to protect those you care deeply about.”

“Thanks Beamis I will remember that. Oh God, is Sue . . .?”

“She’ll be fine, just wounded lightly, thank God for the body armor and the fact she’s built like a mini-Amazon. Strong that girl is.”
Michael goes over to her next to where Al Kaiser is finishing up with another wounded agent.

“Hello there big dude, you look like a bloody Doc Savage – I hear how you went into Hell for us, for me actually.”

“Yes, Sue I did, but I’m not proud of killing people.”

“Nor should you be, I know it was forced on you.”

“Sue, I . . . well since I first met you I’ve thought of you as the little sister I never had. I hope that’s . . .”

“Don’t say another word. I know what you mean. I would be proud and honored to have you to think of me as a sister. You would be a great brother. In fact, I wish you were. Let’s consider it a done deal.”

“We are going to have to move out soon, ah, could you take a look at my recoilless-rocket launcher? It’s not working right.”

“No problem – my Big Brother.”

At this, he handed her the Panzertot. With him watching on Sue looks it over carefully, then discovers that his heavy handling of the weapon damaged one of the interface chips. As he watches, she pops it out and takes a replacement from the small repair kit Number Ten supplied with the weapon. Soon it is repaired and ready again for action.

Chapter Sixteen

For the time being, with all Brutopian resistance neutralized they reach the Conquistadors Laboratories building. However the structure has been fully sealed and put into biological shut down mode. The team sees that there is a metal security door blocking the way into the main entrance. Looking at it the Demolition Man figures he is going to have to blow it.

Michael said, “There’s no time for that.”

He steps up the door, grips it. The door starts in a matter of seconds deforms, warps, bends, and finally snaps it off.

Michael turns to the rest, “Let’s go!”

Marcus commented, “Beamis, you said the big guy was just a little upset about his girlfriend. From what I’ve seen of him in action, if this is upset I sure as Hell don’t ever want be around him if he ever goes nuclear!”

“No Marc, you certainly don’t want to ever be the target of his fury. In any case, rig the joint to blow, if we aren’t out in twenty minutes. If the Brutopians do get their act together, don’t wait for us. I order you and Sue to destroy the lab facility and get the rest of the team out of here.”

**********

Even as the OSS team is entering the laboratory building, Major d’Este in the Command Center reports of a new development.

“Sir, reports are coming in from several of our military bases. We are being attacked by elements of the United States Navy. As well as the American Air Force. All of our airborne fighters have been destroyed in air-to-air combat by US Navy F-14s and F-18s. Also, the Yankee’s are using long range bombers from the Estados Unidos armed with Tomahawk missiles to finish off the rest of our Air Force on the ground. I fear within an hour we won’t have anything left.”

“What about the SAM systems?” replied Colonel Salazar.

“Destroyed by Walleye II and HARM missiles launched by US Navy Intruders, sir. All of our radar installations are being jammed and eliminated one by one. My guess is the Americans are using electronic warfare US Navy Prowlers against us. See on the map.” Major d’Este changes the screen to the electronic display in the Command Center. One by one, all of the Brutopian radar centers were winking out. “Also sir, reports are starting to come in that most of the nearby armor depots are being bombed as well.”

“Were any of our tanks able to escape Fortaleza Santiago before the bombing? We need armor support to neutralize the assault force in the compound.”

“Yes sir, a few tanks did make it out before the attack. But sir, most likely they will be taken out on their way here by the Yankee ground support aircraft using anti-armor Hellfire or Maverick missiles.”

“Yes I know but get in contact and tell them to hurry its only a few miles between Black Eagles Nest and Fortaleza Santiago.”
Colonel Salazar then turns to El Jefe, “What are your orders Excellency?”

“Nothing. There is nothing we can do Colonel. For the moment, we are safe in here. The Formula and the Señorita are still in our hands. All we need now is to extract the Morphing software access from her boyfriend. Moreover, when we do, I shall have enough of it made to introduce to thousands of our troops. The Americans will pay dearly for this act of wanton aggression against us. We shall destroy a couple of their major cities to begin with, then we will . . . what is that? Why is the room shaking?”

“That’s my Michael, now that he has broken your little army, he is going kick you into next week.”

“It is true Excellency,” reported Colonel Salazar. “Major d’Este just reported that we couldn’t stop him. The man is like a living bulldozer. Our soldiers were pushed aside like ants.” He looked at one of the TV screens. “See he’s on the security monitor and is coming this way.”

“Mein Gott in Himmel!” exclaimed Dr Holzner. “The Fraulein must have overdosed him to make his body twice as massive as hers. He is like a Norse Berserker . . . unstoppable.”

“Actually Herr Doctor, I gave him as much as I had. He’s is going to kill the lot of you – if I don’t get freed first and do it myself.”

“What are your orders Excellency?” asked Colonel Salazar. “Shall we evacuate the building?”

“No, we wait. I want him in here.”

Slowly Yolanda could now feel her immune system finally overcoming the muscle relaxant drugs, making her body stronger. As the approaching Michael distracted the men, she experimentally flexed her body. The metal straps stretched just a bit, the examination table warped a little under her body.

“Very soon,” she thought, “very soon now.”

[crimson_e_86]

Chapter Seventeen

“YOLANDA – ARE YOU IN THERE?”

“I think they heard you clear in New Orleans, my friend. Maybe they’ve evacuated the facility?”

“No she’s in there, I don’t understand why. It’s very weird, but somehow I know she still is here. There’s no place to grip it like the first door. So I’ll do the old-fashioned way – I’ll smash it in!”

Michael started to kick at the steel door with his right foot. With each thundering impact of his huge leg, the door deformed a bit more. Shortly hairline stress cracks began to show. Then, knowing the door is about to collapse Michael in one all out thump causes the thick steel door to crash in with a loud crash/clank.

Michael entered the room first, with Beamis and the OSS men close behind. Spotting El Jefe among the people inside, Michael looks right at him – a devilish thought comes to mind.

“Howdy, I’m an IRS enforcer and we’re here to ruin in your day.”

“Yes,” Beamis added, “Uncle Sam really hates it when you lie on your 1040s . . .”

“Michael – I’m over here!”

Using the axe as a pointer, Michael pronounced, “If you let her go now you bastard, I’ll let you live!”

“Oh no, my large friend I won’t,” said El Jefe smirking.

As Michael starts to move forward, El Jefe quickly signals with a hand and one of his soldiers puts a rifle to Yolanda’s belly. At this, Michael stops cold in his tracks.

“I know that ordinary bullets won’t faze you or your Lady friend here. However, that rifle pointed at her guts is loaded with Teflon coated, Kelvar piercing bullets. At point-blank range, even her tough hide won’t stop a full clip from killing her.”

“Alright El Jerk Breath, what do you want?”

“First drop your weapons, hombre and then we will parlay.”

Michael nods in agreement and lays down the Lady Sangre.

Beamis whispered to him, “What the Hell are you doing?”

“Just do it. He has the drop on Yolanda; I won’t risk her life. Trust me on this, he’s not going to live long if Yolanda gets free.”

“Alright.”

Beamis then ordered his men to follow Michael lead. They hand over their weapons to El Jefe’s soldiers. With the Americans and especially the Giant now disarmed, the Brutopians relax a little but keep their eyes fixed on them. Michael noticed that Yolanda smiled and winked at him for a moment. A signal to him. El Jefe and the others are unaware of her flexing harder, but not Michael. He can see that the steel bonds are gradually weakening under her effort and increasing strength. He knows he must buy her some time.

“Very good, my large friend.”

“Now what?”

“Ah very simple, how do I access the computer transformation system?”

“You’re serious,” chuckled Michael, “you mean you really don’t know . . .”

“What is so funny Yankee?” El Jefe asked angrily. “Your woman claimed that only you alone possessed the knowledge to finish the installation process . . .”

“Think she’s been having too much fun at your expense – because you had it along El Jefe. See that diskette there – just insert it into the floppy drive and the program will be all yours. The operating instructions are self-explanatory . . . and now that you have what you want, let Yolanda go free.”

“Not so fast my giant friend I want to see it work first on me. If it worked so well on a half-dead female and a computer nerd like you – think what it will do to a real man!”

“I’ll try not to. With your ego I shudder to think.”

“Shut up you,” said one of the soldiers, a Sargento.

Michael grimly stated, “I’ll remember you later . . . I never forget a face.”

Chapter Eighteen

“How much do you want me to inject into you Mein Leader?”

“Based on what the Señorita said about her man, I want to be at least twice as big as he is now, perhaps slightly more as a true Giant.”

“Ya, jawohl! I will make it so.”

After stripping off his uniform, El Jefe stepped into the growth chamber for the body scan. The setup seems simple in comparison to the one that Yolanda used – almost like an economy model, Michael judges.

“We have now scanned you, Mein Leader. The projection of the new body is now programmed into the modified DNA sequence serum made from your blood sample. Both the Formula and the DNA serum are currently entering your body. It should only be a few minutes now before you start to feel the effects.”

“Just how large will I be Doctor?” asked El Jefe.

“As per your wishes Mein Leader, your final body size will be 21′ in height – a Giant you shall be.”

“I can hardly wait to become such a superbeing.”

About seven minutes pass, then El Jefe begins to look physically different – a glistening coat of perspiration covers his nude body. His physical makeup appears to be gaining mass as the muscles slowly start to expand and fill out. The shoulder muscles swell in size like two gigantic bowling balls along with the traps and the lats spreading in unison. The upper arms were also growing thicker in size. His thighs were expanding into two thick tree trunks. The calves were becoming huge in size. As the pecs and thick chest continue to deepen, the back grows ever denser and wider. The lats as they broaden, they begin to push the enormous arms and powerful shoulders out further and further in an exaggerated V shape. Slowly as he reaches his maximum normal size a change begins to occur – his 5′-9″ height gradually starts to increase inch by inch. As this happens, the muscle mass takes off again, swelling and growing in sympathy. The expanding pelvis and massive legs begin to spread as well to support the increasing body mass – both skeletal and muscular. El Jefe’s now nude body continued to expand at steady rate passed six feet toward Giant’s size.

Meanwhile as El Jefe has been getting larger and stronger – Yolanda has been slowly working on the bonds by flexing her muscles and expanding her large chest with deep lungfuls of air. She knows her body is rapidly overcoming the effects of the muscle relaxant drugs. Her super strength is quickly returning – already she can tell it’s almost normal. The bonds on her arms are stretching subtly. None of her guards took notice; they are too busy watching Michael, Beamis and the disarmed OSS agents. The rest are watching in wonder as El Jefe grows into a Giant of a man. Under her returning strength, the bonds start to develop stress fractures. Suddenly, she felt her super strength power return in full – like a rush of energy was poured into her body. Nothing now can hold her down.

“Its back and man are these people going to be sorry.”

Finally, with some strain on her pinned right arm, the five-inch steel bond snapped like rope with a loud report. The sound distracted the guards and especially the one with the gun pointed at her. Not wasting a moment, Yolanda reached out with her one free arm and grabbed his gun.

“Hey honey, let me fix that.”

As he stood there in shock, unbelieving while in seconds Yolanda bent the barrel of the semiautomatic rifle into uselessness. She wasn’t finished however, before he could move as she yanked the rifle – hard! Still in amazement and caught off guard, the man failed to let go. His body slammed into the nearby Colonel Salazar knocking them over – senseless.

“I told you I would kill you all!”

Yolanda then pulled her other arm free and began to sit up forcing her abdominal muscle to contract. The steel and titanium table began to warp under her intensive pressure, however the thicker bonds surprisingly only stretch and fail to snap as expected. With the soldiers now distracted watching this Amazon free herself, Michael slammed out with his huge hands at the closest guards. He pounded their bodies with such force that as they impacted into a computer control panel along the far wall they were pulped into mush. Load pops and shorts sounded off and they slumped over dead – broken and electrocuted. As Beamis and the other OSS agents attack the other nearby guards, he picks up his fallen axe and continues forward to aid Yolanda. In the ensuing fracas, Beamis decks another guard with a leg kick to the stomach. He recovers his weapons.

“Sorry old chap, but I don’t think you will be in need of these.”

Beamis along with the four other OSS agents – now also rearmed – proceed to open fire on the remaining technicians and soldiers. In the hail of bullets, they succeed in cutting many of them down. However, the largest group makes for the doorway, firing in retreat. Michael meanwhile leaps across the room to where Yolanda has been bound.

“En garde – you scum! My axe is still hungry!”

Frozen at the sight of the hatefully looking, half-naked Giant coming right at them they fail to move in time. Michael however doesn’t hesitate and in one clean motion scythes down three of guards, turning them into blood pudding. This done, he continued to advance – unstoppable.

As Colonel Salazar slowly recovered his senses and started to get up and onto his feet, his first sight was of the wrathful Giant coming right at him. Slowly he started to back away, but in his daze, he forgets that Yolanda is right behind him. Already she had bent the table into a chair. With her hands now freed, the steel bonds around her neck and chest are already broken. The ones holding her legs were about ready to break as well from the pressure of her powerful thunder thighs. So busy freeing herself, she failed to spot Salazar’s movement. As he comes within her reach Yolanda noticed him and smiled grimly.

“I’m coming to pound you into the ground, you scum bag!”

As Colonel Salazar continued backing up, Yolanda lunged forward like a snake striking – grabbing and picking him up off the ground.

“Aaaaahhhhhhhh!”

“It not my man you should have been afraid of you bastard – but me. Females are much more deadly – and unforgiving.”

At this, she threw his body as hard as she could clear across the room.

“As I once said, you fascist thug – no quarter.”

Salazar’s body impacted into the stone block wall of the room with such force that his body was turned into a bloody mess. Gradually the remains slid to the floor – lifeless. Meanwhile seeing all of his work being trashed all around him by these people, Dr Holzner intercepts Michael to plead with him to stop.

“Nein nein! You cannot do this! Think of what you are doing!”

Unlike the soldiers, Dr Holzner is unarmed and Michael just cannot bring himself to kill the man outright. Instead, in a mercurial, but controlled movement, he bangs the flat of the axe against the head of the other man – rendering him unconscious.

“Consider yourself lucky that I’m in a ‘good’ mood. Otherwise, I would have killed you.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Coldly Beamis walks up to the fallen man, draws and aims his service issue 9mm Beretta. He then promptly shoots the man in the head – then twice into his chest.

“I do what I have to do as part of my job, doesn’t mean I like it but as I said our orders are that we leave no survivors, my friend.”

Michael looks at him, staring. “I understand, I just don’t think I have in me to be like you Beamis.”

“I know.” Beamis commented knowingly, “you have your moments as a soldier, but at heart you’re superhero and not a secret agent with a license to kill.”

Chapter Nineteen

As Beamis and his men continue finishing off the remaining Brutopians in the room, spraying gunfire from both sides continues, but the remaining Brutopians are badly bloody and withdraw out of the main laboratory and down the hallway. While the OSS men cover the doorway, Michael and Yolanda are again reunited.

“Wait, I’ll snap those bonds.”

“Oh no need lover, I’m almost free,” she said smiling.

“Yes I know, but I like to be a gentleman. Ladies shouldn’t have to do that if I’m around.”

“Well you know I never will turn down your help my Knight – in anything. Please do.”

In a matter of seconds with his left hand the remaining metal bonds deform, fatigue, crack and snap free. Yolanda on the warped table gave him a bear hug as he lifted her up and lovingly embraced her. No longer able to hold it in, Michael’s long suppressed emotional dam cracks.

“My Princess . . . I’d rather have died then lose you.”

“You never will . . . I am yours forever, my darling – body and soul – beyond the end of time.”

With tears in her eyes, she returned his loving embrace a second time – smiling that radiant smile he loved so well – angelically Goddess-like and without equal in all the world.

“How touching,” El Jefe sarcastically remarked, “and my congratulations to you both . . .”

At once, the pair of them break off their romantic interlude. Gazing in the direction of his deep barrel-like voice go into a defense posture – shocked to realize that somehow in all of the confusion El Jefe had remained untouched by the firefight.

” . . . However, you’ve done enough here, you Yankee bastards. Destroying my great plans for the world and killing my people. Now that I am partly transformed at a size somewhat bigger then you, Señor Moray, and just as bulletproof, I will personally stop you myself.”

El Jefe, now over ten feet tall, broke out of the restraints with ease. With his free hands, he removed the nutrient feed tubes interrupting the growth process.

“Michael, we’ve got problems here!”

This from Beamis as the ruptured doorway is raked with weapons fire – several of the shots ricochet harmlessly into the underground chamber.

“You know what has to be done, so do it!

He then tosses a grenade into the corridor – a muffled explosion – one that comes with cries of pain and outraged cursing. This done and without waiting for further return fire move off to take out any resistance remaining on the levels above while Michael and Yolanda deal with the monstrous Giant called El Jefe.

“You cannot stop me from crushing you two like insects, I’m more powerful then either of you.”

“I wouldn’t be too certain of that – tall, dark and mistaken!”

Not bothering to wait for Yolanda’s help or even caring to respond to El Jefe, Michael dropped his axe, the Lady Sangre. Like no other thing in this world, he wanted to get his bare hands on El Jefe. He leapt right into him slamming the naked man into the floor and knocking the wind out of El Jefe. Michael while keeping his body on top and with his left-hand pinned the struggling man around the neck. El Jefe discovered to his amazement that though he is somewhat larger than his opponent his strength level is not overwhelming as he believed it would be. He now realized to his regret, that he moved too soon. This Yankee’s super strength was more then a match for his larger size. In fact, Michael’s fury was pushing his body well beyond his norm, but at a price – his remaining strength energy was being used up rapidly.

“You bastard! I’m going to make you pay!”

With his right fist, he slugged El Jefe in the head repeatedly. Not satisfied with just pulping him, Michael bodily lifted the man and slammed him into a wall causing El Jefe’s massive frame to go clean through.

El Jefe dazedly arose, “You damn Yankee pig!”

El Jefe leapt up and counter slammed his body into Michael’s, his fists impacted. The pain Michael ignores – punishing this bastard is the only thing that matters. Instead he bodily grabbed him again and pushed him closer to the growth chamber where the battle royal between the two Giant men continued. However, as they were locked in their death grip, El Jefe went wild in panic, his arms and legs slammed into Michael. Adrenaline started to flow and fear had finally given El Jefe what he needed most – more strength then Michael’s. Repeatedly he struck back, much to Michael surprise. El Jefe punched with his huge fists and struck out with his powerful thighs causing terrible pain. He could see that it was working, Michael was beginning to feel battered and bloody and he poured is on – increasingly. At this point Michael could feel his opponent gaining the upper hand, his body was simply too tired from all the earlier combat and now the brutal punishment at the hands of El Jefe’s resistance. At this he made his decision – all or nothing and leaped into El Jefe forcing him toward the growth chamber itself. Nevertheless, El Jefe struggled and fought all the way. Michael knew in his gut that he simply couldn’t do it alone.

“Yolanda I could use some help here!”

“Thought you’d never ask. Let me at him, lover!”

Now working together they pushed and shoved El Jefe in the direction of the growth chamber. Not easily, however, Yolanda too, caught repeated blows from the man’s ham handed fists, despite Michael’s attempts to stop him from hurting her smaller form. Yet she returned blow for blow, bloodying El Jefe severely all over his huge body. She socked him in the gut repeatedly with her powerful fists. She even kneed him in the groin at one point when he dug in his heels and couldn’t be budged. Only then did he give way and moved up against the chamber itself. As he gasped in total agonizing pain, her only comment through gritted teeth was, “You scum bag! If you think that’s pain, before your dead, you’ll wish to Hell you never had been born.”

It was an incredible scene, if any had time to watch the three of them struggling as if they were single mass of human muscle. With two super strength and size enhanced humans working against him, it was a gradually losing proposition for El Jefe, They finally and painfully, wedged the oversized Dictator into the very machine that created his super sized body. While Michael temporarily held the man’s body pinned for the time required, Yolanda put the screws on El Jefe’s massive frame. She quickly, and not gently, crushed the metal chamber in and into his body to restrain him, like a tubular lock about the oversized massive man. As she did so, Yolanda could see that El Jefe was in terrible pain from the pressure of the fixture. Just for extra measure, like turning a stiletto in an enemy’s guts, she pushed harder on the tube – causing him to bellow in torment.

“Consider this added interest for all those you have ever harmed!”
Now with El Jefe immobilized, Michael and Yolanda stood back a bit to catch their breath. As they did so, the exhausted El Jefe struggled in torture from the restrains about his oversized body.

“God, Yolanda I hurt all over . . .” he grimaced and gasped in pain.

“Yes I know, my beloved, but you’ll soon recover.”

She smiled proudly at him, for Yolanda was indeed very proud of him. To Yolanda this man of hers was like no other she had ever known and nobody would ever replace him in her heart. While he winced and breathed deeply, she lovingly held him, in fact partly supported his weight.

“I will recover too, you blonde bitch – and when I do I will tear the pair of you apart.”

Michael spotted the still flowing nutrient feed line and grinned maliciously in thought.

“You want ungodly size? Well, I’m going to make you choke on it.”

Yolanda letting go of him, Michael bent over and took the nutrient feed line in his left fist. Slowly he walked up to El Jefe and in a lighting flash; he rammed it into El Jefe’s abdomen attempting to rupture his guts. Blood spurted out and over Michael’s body. However, the result was not what Michael expected. Instead of hurting El Jefe, it seemed like it was doing just the opposite – helping.

“Thank you, you fool! I will now heal and grow to my full Giant’s size – more then double yours. I can already feel my size and strength increasing!”
As they watched El Jefe very slowly began to grow more muscular and taller. The metal restraints holding him began subtly to flex from the increasing pressure.

“I’d better pull it out.”

“Wait leave it in!”

“But . . . ”

“Don’t worry, his ass is grass; or I should say mass!”

“How?” Michael said mystified.

Running quickly to the computer control panel, Yolanda swiftly looked over the display and read the Morphing data. In seconds she toggled a few switches, turned a few dials all the way to one direction.

“Simple, the cellular structure of his body will be totally mutated, turning him into a bloated pile of mush.”

“Good God, are you certain?”

“Yes, I am.”

“NO NO! Don’t do it! I will share the mastery of the world with you!”

“Offer – refused,” Yolanda replied and pushed the button, “you bastard.”

“NO NO NO STOP ST. . . Ahhhhhhhhh! Arrrggggggggggg! Uuuuuuuggggggg!”

He continued to scream as his body began to puff up and lose its normal shape, becoming formless in shape. Michael gently took Yolanda’s hand in his and began to move away from the computer station. Just before the left the room they turned back one last time and saw that the man who once was El Jefe was still slowly growing larger and larger but now into a bloated non-human thing – a shapeless blob. What was once a human body was now filling and overflowing the growth chamber like lava made of flesh. Yet he, or rather it was still very much alive, for gurgling sounds came from the shapeless mass of muscle and blood. In addition, a weird translucent glow was beginning to radiate from the form as well. A thought suddenly passed through Michael’s mind – spontaneous human combustion and on a massive scale.

“Let’s get out of here, El Jefe here is going to explode like bomb.”

Still holding her hand, he led Yolanda away at a quicker pace to the doorway. On the way out Michael remembered to scoop up his axe, the Lady Sangre.

[crimson_e_86]

Chapter Twenty

As they ran down the corridor, Michael spotted Beamis waiting for them. He saw the fear in their faces and wondered what could possibly scare those two?

“What’s happening? What’s been keeping you? What going on?”

“No time for twenty questions! Run for your life!”

Startled Beamis replied, “Say what?”

Without a word Yolanda reached out and bodily tucked a very bewildered Beamis under her right arm – gently placed, but firmly held as if she was carrying the family cat. Only when they make it safely outside of the confines of the research building does she put him down – and waves for everyone to clear the area.

“Marc – blow this place!”

“You’re not fully clear!”

“Yes we are dammit – do it now!”

“Alright, you’re the boss.”

Marcus turned the switch on the demolition device.

BBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM M!

They hit the dirt just seconds before the detonation. Turning their heads back, the trio watched the combined explosives and muscle mass energy explosion. The building’s roof flew up and off in one intact piece. The four walls in turn crumbled and collapsed one after another like dominos. Then the roof came back down on top of pile and smashed into the rubble.

“If I hadn’t seen it,” said Yolanda, I wouldn’t have believe it.”

“Well, he wanted to be a big shot, didn’t he? You just helped to push him on his way.”

“Yes, I guess I did – and you haven’t introduced me to your new friends, of the military – I assume.”

“This is Colonel Frank Beamis, Office of Strategic Services.”

“We were sent down here to give Michael a small hand in this operation.”

“Pleased to meet you sir. Any friend of Michael’s is a friend of mine.”

“And this is Major Susan Wagner.”

“Same here – and please, call me Sue.”

“I will, Sue – you seem very much the Amazonian Warrioress.”

“Indeed she is – your uncle is responsible for sending them, but then he’s their boss.”

“What – but,” she said – plainly surprised, “I don’t have . . .”

“Yes, you do my love – I explain later, best for now that we were long gone from this place.”

Chapter Twenty-One

As they are heading for the main gate the radioman signaled to Beamis.

“Yes, what is it?”

“It’s our spotters at the main gate sir. We’ve got company.”

Taking the microphone Beamis said, “Hello, report.”

“Sir, the Brutopians have moved up some armor – four Centurion type battletanks. They are entering the compound now. Guess the Navy missed them. So what do you want us to do?”

“Get the Hell out of there and link up with us here – we’re moving out.”

“Yes, sir – understood.”

“Well, looks like the chain of command in Brutopia has totally broken down. They don’t know their great leader and his staff have bought the farm. So my guess is they will carry out their last given orders and try to stop our little group from reaching the airstrip.” Beamis then looks directly at Michael and Yolanda.

“We’ve got to get through that battletank group. With Sue using your Panzertot anti-tank weapon, we have enough ammunition to take out three of them. Do you two think, oh Hell I know you two can handle the fourth.”

“What do you say Yolanda? Are you up to heavy lifting?”

“Well, I never got to finish my morning workout lover, and you know how cranky I get if I don’t.”

They swiftly get into position under cover waiting the few minutes required. As Beamis and Sue figured, it did take very long. The Brutopian Centurion tanks approach their position deep inside the compound. From cover, Sue sets up the Panzertot for the trap.

“Ah, four big fat targets,” Sue said, “I will first take out the three rear ones. After I knock them off, you two big people go for the lead one. Alright?”

Michael confirmed, “Right!”

“Yes!” Yolanda agreed with a nod.

Sue looked down the sight and carefully aimed at one. Slowly she squeezed the trigger.

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWW WWWWWSSSSSSSSHHHHHH KA-BOOOOM!

The Centurion stopped cold – a burning charred mess.

“One down, two to go,” As she again aimed and fired.

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWW WWWWWSSSSSSSSHHHHHH KA-BOOOOM!

The Second one’s turret exploded due to an internal ammunition detonation and black smoke pours forth from the burning wreck of metal.

By now, the Brutopians are in a panic. The tank turrets began to swing and machine gun fire erupts wildly not knowing where the counterattack is coming from their response is in vain.

“This is the last round Sue,” said Beamis, “make it right.”

“Don’t worry Michael’s Panzertot is a sweet weapon.”

She aimed at the far tank – and fired.

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWW WWWWWSSSSSSSSHHHHHH KA-BOOOOM!

The direct hit caused the machine stop in its tracks. Flames burn brightly from the destroyed tank.

“See, she didn’t fail us.”

“Alright you two, do your stuff!” Beamis commanded.

As Yolanda bolts out, she ran up to the lead Centurion from the right side. Upon reaching the tank, she jumped up and ruined the machine gun port. Then with that done, Yolanda leapt to the ground, turned and grabbed the front edge of the tank in a death grip. Her fingers warp and bend the edge into handholds. With her powerful legs and feet dug into the ground, the tank is quickly immobilized. Michael at the same time running out from the left side and leapt up on top of the battletank. The crew thinking they are stuck gunned the tank back and forth, trying to drag Yolanda along but unable to free themselves from her hold. Michael moving forward, first gripped the 105mm barrel and as he does so, the metal squeaked under the intense pressure from his powerful body. The warping noise got even louder as he began to bend it. He slowly put a 45-degree twist in the gun making it useless. With that done he moved to the front of the turret.

“You know they are being very rude in not coming out and meeting us, could you do something about that, lover?”

“As a loyal Knight, I live only to serve Milady Yolanda. Your wish is my command.”

He then turned to face the tank turret. Squatting down he gripped the front of it. In one clean movement, he began to rise. In short order the metal deformed and squealed under his straining body. With it loose, he finished ripping off the tank turret – to the amazement of the four-man crew inside.

“Hi there boys,” Yolanda smirked, “is the lady of the house at home? It’s Avon calling.”

At this, Beamis, Sue and the others came out from cover. The OSS soldier-agents, not gently, but firmly they drag the prisoners off and tie them up. Meeting no further resistance from the Brutopians the group moved out in captured military trucks for the airfield and extraction.

Chapter Twenty-Two

At the secured De Soto airfield, the radio operator informs Beamis the Hercules transport is coming in. The US Navy F-14s and F-18s are covering the incoming plane’s flight path from possible SAMs or hand held surface-to-air missiles.

“How long?”

“They’re a couple of minutes out yet.”

Beamis takes the microphone and headset from the radioman.

“Hello, this is The Mighty Thor’s Hammer. We are ready to check out of the Hardware Store, over.”

“This is Shopping Cart, we read you over. Be about ten minutes.”

The plane makes its pass, turns and comes in for a landing. It taxis down the runway past the destroyed and burning tower, courtesy of Birch, Kurland and Boyett. Beamis informs Michael and Yolanda it will be about fifteen minutes before all is ready to board and take off. Taking Michael aside, Beamis has a conference with him. While he was being lead away, Michael noticed that Sue came over to chat again with Yolanda. The two women since he introduced them to each other seemed to have hit it off quite well, thought Michael pleased. In fact more like old friends, a pair of blonde haired Amazon Muscle Goddesses. He paused for a second. No, closer then that, almost as if the both of them were sisters despite the great difference in size between them.

“My friend, why not pop the question to her now? If I have learned anything in this life and line of work, you never know what could happen next.”

“Yes, considering all that’s happened lately your quite right Frank, I shall.”

**********

As the dust settles from the waiting Hercules transport as it is idling, Sue moved over to Beamis. They both watch as Michael and Yolanda relocate out of hearing. Sue observes how nervous Michael looks – as though he was afraid of something.

Sue asked, “What’s going on Beamis? He seems so tense.”

“He’s going to propose to her.”

“Oh, wow! This I got to watch.”

Several of the other OSS soldier-agents also notice how their Giant and Giantess friends are acting. A few such as Sarah Boyett, Alfred Kaiser and some of the others join Beamis and Sue to watch the event. Over by the ruined tower, another smaller group with Charles Birch and William Kurland also observe with interest.

Now safely alone, Michael nervously pulls out the battered ring box out of his battle fatigue pants pocket. In opening it a beautiful diamond engagement ring is revealed. Yolanda at first looks at him with a quizzical expression on her face seeing how tense he is – then it changes to a knowing gaze. Michael then gets on both his knees to her. Being lower in height to look up into her face is very proper he thinks – for she is his Goddess, even if he has the powers of a far greater God.

“This really isn’t what I had in mind as a place to ask you. I wanted it to be so very special for you Yolanda, for you are special to me – the one and only light of my life. But . . . will you marry me?”

She joyfully smiled looking down at him – tears forming in her eyes

“Oh my very dear, of course I shall marry you. I always have been and always will be yours, you only had to ask.”

Breaking out in a smile of ecstasy, Michael then takes the ring from the box. She looks at him with loving affection as he puts the ring on her large finger. Once done she tries to hug the air out of his lungs and kisses him at the same time. He in turn encompasses her in his large arms rises to his feet lifting her off effortlessly off the ground in joy and returns the kiss with interest.
Finally, the moment passes and both have to come up for air.

“She said yes!”

Beamis and Sue laugh a bit at the tableau the pair of them made. Most of the others cheer and clap. A few shout congratulations to the couple.

“Really,” Sue chuckling, “you could have fooled me, Big Brother!”

“Of course she would lad, I never doubted it. In record time she’ll have you broken in. I know this, I’ve watched her in action for a long time.”

“Hey Beamis,” asked Yolanda, “would you be his best man?”

“Truly my Lady, it will be an honor.”

The End?

[crimson_e_86]

Spin-off #2… or was this #1

LASTING IMPRESSIONS
A Michael and Yolanda Adventure
A Fantasy GT/GTS/Muscle Growth Adventure Story
By Alexander Germain © 2003 – alexgermain@yahoo.com
Excerpted from “Disharmonic Orchestration” © 2003

Scene One
~~ The First, Last and Best Hope ~~

The Multiverse – Realm of Equal Opportunity Growth Potential
System Sol – Planet Earth (Alt Zero-Zero-One)
United States of America
State of Illinois – City of Chicago
Time Zone: Atomic Age – Circa 21st CE

They were strolling past the business area and nonchalantly entering the perimeter about a construction area for a new office building. Since it was a Sunday the site was deserted – a tableau of great work interrupted. A steel framework of riveted and welded girders and cross beams was arising just beyond the fenced off perimeter and where it dangerously could over shadowed a reinforced covered safety walk had been erected for the pedestrian traffic along the street. Like yellow dinosaurs heavy equipment – bulldozers, mobile generators, forklifts, cranes, dump trucks, loaders, shovels, semi-trailers and a few pickups – was parked amidst the lot left where had been since the end of the work day before. It was a scene of constructive commotion momentary deferred – as if at the slightest provocation the mechanized tableau would sudden spring into violent action.

“You should be proud of yourself Kathy – in so a short a time you’ve made remarkable progress in honing your baseline physique and dexterous skills into its upper genetic potential.”

“And in ever steady excess of the preset goals – without a doubt, it’s an impressive feat of compounded growth in the strength or the gymnastic-martial arts arena. Both Frank and Sharon as your instructors in covert ops have been very impressed with you – and that is high praise, indeed.”

“Well, aside from my outré abilities I can only credit it to having the two strongest superbeings on the planet as my personal training partners. You both really kick my butt just when I need it – I still cannot get over what I did yesterday on the hydraulic squat machine . . .”

“Only in part, we can only advise or encourage – no one can do it for you, in the end its all up to you to succeed or not.”

“Even so – and notwithstanding what I possess as my – ah, rather unusual genetic matrix – I’ll never be in the same league as you or Michael. Impressive as my strength level might be in comparison to normal Humans, it’s only a mere fraction in contrast to yours.”

“Nevertheless – don’t underestimate yourself. Like an Amazonian Demi-Goddess amongst mere Mortals, such a uniquely special one as yourself in the right place at the right time could make all the difference in the world.”

“Demi-Goddess – oh my no, you’re that Yolanda – I’m just tall and athletically attractive looking.”

“Really my sister, in the eyes of some you certainly are – or haven’t you been noticing the expressions of the passersby who’ve been gazing at you?”

**********

Admittedly, in her own right as an Amazonian individual Katherine Beaumont would have stood out as a remarkable sight of Anglo-Hispanic femininity. With mirthful brown eyes that meshed perfectly with her sharp eyebrows, fine-featured nose, high cheekbones and full lips her facial profile was beautifully complemented by a halo of brunet hair that swept about her creasing shoulders. Although of English-Irish-Welsh and Spanish-Indian ethnic ascendants, physically she was far from the diminutive Latin-female stereotype at five-foot ten in height and blessed with a 150-pound physique that was as gymnastic as it was bodybuilder in structural build. This latter was only reinforced by her long legged and limbed stance as her high breasted body moved about with a panther-like grace. The sculpted musculture pulsed with concealed strength beneath the naturally tan-brown skin as if she was ever ready to spring into action like a predatory cat. Her flaring wide-shouldered stance and toned-swollen silhouette when combined with her gorgeous appearance was akin to a fusion of Catherine Zeta-Jones and Barbara Carrera with that of Kristie Alvarado and Myriam Bustamante into a single Amazonian body.

The three of them were wearing casual street clothes – and with it being a warm early summer day they were appropriated attired in accordance to their personal tastes and demeanors as reflected by their choices in garments. However, given their outstanding statures no matter what they ended up wearing it was impossible for them not to impress despite being dressed. In the case of Michael the massive arms of his broad shouldered eight-foot four body were protruding from a masculine looking sleeveless navy blue top whereas Yolanda was femininely outfitted in a loose-fitting scoopneck halter of matching color. That she had on a Bodyflex sports-bra just beneath only enhanced the presence of her ample F-cup cleavage – yet seemed in perfect proportion when taken in perspective with the rest of her seven-foot three Junoesque form. Each of them had on short pants, but whereas his was of a military-styled hemmed khaki, hers were a provocative pair of stonewashed denim shorts that displayed the exquisite contouring of her long legs and firm buttock. Katherine was also outfitted in a black sports-bra of similar style and elastic manufacture for her athletic C-cup bust line – while her hemmed shorts were of the blue denim variety. Lastly, unlike her two friends Katherine was wearing a blue Cubs windbreaker – almost as if she was shyly trying to conceal herself from public view.

Something that was not so easily done as she was continually discovering as a part of her new existence – a feature of which was not missed by the two who’d grown to be her closest of friends.

**********

“I think if anyone is drawing their attention its you and Michael – as Black Knight and Valkyrie of Fantastic Force.”

“Hmmm, do I detect a bit of self consciousness about being a center of attention?”

“Sort of, I’m still not use to such – even before my change, I easily blended into the background as shorter and plainer in appearance then as I am now . . . and even more so as my true self.”

“Kathy, we know you’re sensitive about your natural talents . . .”

“Supernaturally gained, yes – but, I’d hardly call them natural.”

“Sorry, modified talents, if you prefer.”

“No, you’re right for they are natural to me – now. Yet, sometimes I wish I was more like rest of you – you don’t stand out the way I can . . .”

“Do we,” Michael softly chuckled – looking downward, “I’d be hard pressed to see it that way.”

“Well, true you do – but you’re a Titan and Titaness . . . and not just size-wise, you’re genuine Demi-Deities like out of the ancient myths – a Superhero and heroine who are revered by all – and its something that still sets me back when I think about it.”

“Even so,” Yolanda said, “if truth be know its ones like ourselves who should be envious of you – as an individual you can blend in with the rest of Humanity in a way that we can never do.”

“Would you want to – either of you, for real?”

“Mmmm,” Michael pondered, “only in occasional moments of intimate reflection, but we’ve so adjusted to what we are – it’s almost as if it’s always been this way.”

“Nor would we ever want to go back to our former existences – such is just not us anymore.”

“I didn’t mean it in that way . . .”

“It’s all right,” Yolanda said sympathetically, “we know – but you should never feel ashamed about yourself Kathy.”

“I know and please, believe me I’m not – I’m still the same person inside, even if my vessel has been changed. Just as you embraced your special powers, I’ve made the same mental transition about mine.”

“Yet you’re still self-conscious about your appearance – not that I’m saying you don’t have good reasons not to . . .”

“Yolanda,” she sighed, “it’s not that I feel like a freak – not at all, not anymore after all that’s happened, but its how others see me in my true existence, that’s what troubles me. Even my parents the first time I had to reveal myself to them – it startled them greatly, even if they had been prepared for it. Nevertheless, despite my transformation they realized it was still me, the daughter they loved and ever will love. They weren’t frightened of me – only for me.”

“My dear friend, you’re not the only one to feel so – and this we can speak of from personal experience – such will never go away even you decide to never again invoke your powers.”

“Then are you suggesting that I immerse myself in the public’s eye as . . .”

“No – I’m just stating an undeniable truth about life and what it means to be a Metahuman and a potentially a great Superheroine as a part of Fantastic Force. As your OSS recruiter and academic mentor, Dr Julia Clio Harper once told you, the choice is ever yours, to either embrace or reject it. Paralleling her advice to you, in my opinion, the day will soon come when you’ll do as you wish and be yourself as your true self – this regardless of what some few might bigotedly think about it. Moreover, you might not believe it right now, but most will accept you and some will highly admire you – even find you highly desirable . . . sexually, especially.”

“Not possible . . . as the real me – you’re joking right?”

“No I’m not – and yes they will. You’d be surprised how many people might be so carnally attracted – just look to our alien friend Jha’dur, if you need an example of where I speak if strangeness is a factor when opposites attract one another. Though her people, the Ak’kadians, originally came here as invaders, because she was so different, an almost outcast because of her all-to-too Humanistic-humanoid appearance, she found far more in common with us then them. Finally, turning on them and joining us – becoming the most loyal and trustworthy of the friends that we can call our own. She certainly doesn’t lack for interested male friends and in a similar manner, at a deeper level there are those most special ones who will be romantically interested such an exotic-looking and intelligent female as yourself. Just as in her case, it won’t be what you look like on the exterior as a Transgene, but what it reflects about your persona as an ensouled sentient within – as a genuinely loving and selflessly protective being of power.”

While she pondered these words of wisdom, Michael silently signaled to Yolanda that he was heading over towards the lineup of newspaper vending machines spread out along the fence perimeter. In the Moray household Sundays just weren’t real Sundays without the Sunday Edition of the Chicago Sun-Times with the morning coffee and self-indulgent bakery treats, especially caramel-iced pecan bow ties. Pulling forth his money clip, he was just about to insert payment into the dollar bill slot when a shadow suddenly began to cast itself over him.

Whether it was his acute sensory perception or even a flash of psychic premonition of impending danger it didn’t really matter – the results were the same. Glancing upwards Michael immediately sprung into snake-like overdrive – not to evade, but to stand and defend himself against the oncoming object – a massive I-beam that was rushing dead on top of him. With only seconds remanding Yolanda and Katherine were stunned into immobility as they watched his arms thrusting upward and body braced to receive the plunging object just as would a baseball player.

With his Demi-God levels of superstrength, he might have easily picked up such an ungainly object – treating with as little regard as would a child for a Lincoln Log. Unfortunately, its mass density when combined with the built-up energy from its force-filled acceleration and rate of remaining time-to-target more then over compensated for this factor. In an instant, Michael disappeared from sight, as his body was unceremoniously punched butt end first into the sidewalk along with an accompanying three-quarters length of the steel girder. Plunging deep into the urbanized surface, the metallic grating grinding hadn’t even ceased in its ghastly screech when it was joined an emotionally charged chorus of Humanity.

To be continued?

[crimson_e_86]

Scene Two
~~ To Lay Down the Gauntlet ~~

“Nooooooo!” Yolanda screamed from the soul, a deep-throated bellow of agony, as if she could by force of will commanded it to be otherwise.

“Oh my God and Goddess . . . no!” Katherine gasped – a heart-wrenching moan that had the power to break one’s heart if heard.

Leaving the stunned Katherine behind, Yolanda had just starting to run forward when she was intercepted in mid-stride. Not in same violent manner as had struck down the light of her life, but in the form of impossibly huge man who’d arced in from high above her. In a crushing football tackle the two of them smashed into the sidewalk in an explosion of dust – and continued in its thunderous reverberation as they rolled one over the other into the street. Animalistically cursing and fighting along the way they were giving one another as much pummeling punishment from their fists and the rest of their two bodies as was the slamming force from their physical propulsion over the gray-blackish asphalt. Jolted from her mental paralysis in the realization that this was no tragic accident of random chance – they were under some form of assault by a force or forces unknown. So spurred by the sight of her two friends having been struck down Katherine was just about to spring into action – when in a heavy thump of booted feet she was faced by the appearance of a towering female blocking her way. The unexpected abruptness of this chestnut haired Titaness jumping down in front of her nearly startled Katherine out of her wits. As it was she instinctively reacted by leaping backwards to put some space between the two of them. The statuesque super superior woman smiled as she looked downward – an evil expression of arrogance mixed with trace of superciliousness.

“Unless you want to become dead real quick . . . you’d be wise not to interfere with us.”

Katherine’s heart was already pounding and perspiration was coating her tan-brown skin – and in such a state of emotionally induced tension, she felt the first sensations of something else chaffing to be set free. As much as she desired to give in and do so, from experience and the rigid training she’d been receiving for the last several months she had learned to better control her special powers. Even so, under such stressful moments like this it was hard not to let nature take its course. For the moment, it was far better to find out what they were up against – as a normal looking female Human – then she could always proceed to phase two and counterattack. At once, she began analyzing her potential adversary just as she had been taught to do by Beamis and Sharon in strategic tactics – assessing strengths and looking for any overt weaknesses. The first impression, of course, was the woman’s size – a physique similar to that as possessed by Yolanda – albeit by her keen estimation she was about half a foot shorter. The swollen Junoesque muscularity with its double domes of femininity were erotically embossing her – what she presumed was a uniform of sorts – dark purple one-piece make from a Lycra-like material. Calf high boots and forearm length gloves completed the ski suit/skinsuit outfit – reinforced padding-patches were in evidence on the elbows and knees. Second, she was undoubtedly a Metahuman of level far above her own abilities as a Super Amazon. How much higher was still in question but she instinctive gauged her to be less then that of Yolanda else she’d be engaging her instead of leaving that task to her gigantic male companion. Looking beyond the Titaness to where they were now – somehow Yolanda had extracted herself from his grasp and was preparing to square off once more, but this time from upright standing position. Now that he was vertical the impression she had of his massiveness was only amplified – a quick estimation placed him a shade over seven and half feet tall and with a muscular hypertrophy like a thick-bodied wrestler. His associated garments matched that of his female counterpart in style as a one piece – however it was dark brown in coloring and sleeveless, presumably to allow a greater freedom of motion for his huge arms and shoulders. As a Titan-sized being he might be nearly as large as much as Michael – but again there was the instinctual impression that he was not nearly as powerful in superstrength. Nevertheless, it was plain he was on a par – or perhaps was superior – to her dear friend challenging the aggressive Ogre.

“Don’t look so concerned . . . in a few minutes it will be all over.”

Again, the mysterious Titaness had spoken in a condescending tone while she glanced at the two duelists.

Painfully surging and straining to be set free under the stressful conditions the desire to transform had been almost too much for her to bear – and that statement was the last straw. Michael and Yolanda were more then just close friends – they were family – loving and accepting her without reservation . . . just as had Robert, Sue, Jha’dur, Beamis or Sharon. Any mental restraints Katherine had over her body were summarily released at once – and most willingly.

“For we are one clan – we are family and we protect our own . . .” she thought with grim determination remembering the words of Michael and Yolanda when they met her, embracing her as their very own. As a kindred sister, long lost and newly re-found – how could she not do otherwise in kind. It would have been unthinkable, and in her view an unpardonable sin.

In a mere blink of her eyelids, her brown eyes had changed into a feline-like chartreuse – and the irises once round, were now feline-like in shape – the first outward sign that the physical transformation as a Shapeshifter was underway. This was immediately followed by a warm rush of pleasure at feeling the strengthening transition spreading throughout her growing body – one that would progressively transform her into a taller, stronger and dexterously faster lifeform. Knowing that she have need for greater freedom of movement given the amount of size she was about to gain she quietly slipped out of her windbreaker and slipped off the expense pair of Dexter tennis shoes from her feet. She could only thank the God and Goddess that she had had the wisdom to put on her super stretchable Bodyflex sports-bra – Support that flexes with your every move – or so the advertising had stated. She doubted that the manufacture had anticipated female Metahumans with increasing cup sizes in mind, but it was one of the best suggestions Yolanda had ever given her to make as a permanent part of her personal wardrobe.

“No,” Katherine said – a strange lilt in her tone, “it’s you who should be worried . . .”

**********

As they rolled in their somersaulting fist-a-cuffs, Yolanda was filled with enraged fury as she gave as good as she got from the tightly grappling man-mountain who seemed intent not on just defeating her – but killing her, if given the chance. This last in her mind was never in doubt – not just from the level of superstrength she was feeling from the other, but the manner in which her darling Michael had been so brutally struck down. Realizing that her own life was in peril the longer she remained in direct contact it was imperative that she break off at once and change her tactics. Timing her escape to their rolling movements with a supreme effort hit him in the one critical area that promised release regardless – a strong knee to the groin, one she hoped would castrate the bastard. Even as he gasped and contracting involuntarily in spasm loosing his grip on her body, in a twisting gymnastic maneuver she skillfully flipped off him and landed in upright posture a fair distance away. Turning about on the balls of her feet preparing take him out that he was momentarily helpless and flat out on his back she was greeted to the fact that he was already vertical – if but still feeling her blow. Either he was wearing a damnably resilient jock-cup protector and/or his powers of recuperation were as goods hers or Michael’s when it came to regeneration and resistance to physical damage even when wrought by another Metahuman.

Crouching defensively, she only had a moment to assess him more clearly, she noted with interest that her first impression of thinking of him as a man-mountain wasn’t too far from the mark. He was close to eight feet in height and very muscular in structure – however, where as Michael was masculinely symmetrical with a broad shouldered frame – by contrast this male thing was thick in the body like some hyperbuilt wrestler. Combined with his brutish facial profile only added to the impression of a super powered primitive – but created wholly from a modern genetic structure as if evolution had been pulled in both directions in one super powerful individual. Mentally calculating what she had thus far experienced – and placing into the tactical appraisal his greater height and size – she estimated he was on a par with herself or possibly was slightly superior in the normal use of superstrength. Otherwise, if he were as strong as her beloved she’d be dead by now – that she didn’t have the slightest doubt – and therefore she still had a chance to defeat him if she played her cards right. Dynamically, she might have edge if she was emotionally forced to apply it against his greater prowess – but only as a last resort if he pinned her down. Additionally, although he seemed to possess fast reflexes the ability he had was inferior to her own hyperagility – therefore rather then playing to his natural advantages, she would work against his inherit weaknesses to slowly wear him down. That she was facing in the direction of her dear friend Katherine only cemented this decision – she too was facing imminent danger from the female counterpart of this oversized brute. From what little she could tell of the other she seemed more closely akin to herself – if but shorter in stature . . . then all thoughts were ended at hearing the deep sounding voice of her opponent.

“Don’t you think its better this way Valkyrie – now that we’re playing on a more level field?”

Yolanda didn’t know what he meant – obviously, he knew her whereas she only had a strange sense of vague familiarity about him. Of course, it could be that he was only trying to psych her out as they circled about one another and jockeyed for an opening.

“Wouldn’t know – my social circle doesn’t run to that of Human turds like yourself or your girlfriend over there threatening my friend – she’d better watch out.”

“Don’t worry about her – or your friend – we’re only here for you and yours. Your damned husband – now departed, made it almost too easy . . .”

Yolanda almost lunged forward – but forcibly restrained herself. This was not a time to let her emotions or hormones dictate her actions – time latter to take satisfaction in such an indulgence.

“You bastard . . .”

“Cannot take the credit for that much as I might wish to do so. My Anarchy had the pleasure of doing it – she’s very strong I’ll have you know. Tossed that I-beam with terrific force – and since she did her dear Chaos a favor, I’m going to return it by crushing the life out of you.”

“Hmmm, Chaos and Anarchy is it? Oh I’m just so scared . . . ”

“You should be – I’m lot stronger then you.”

“Remains yet to be seen – and by the way, about my friend – she’s a very capable person as your partner is finding out . . .”

“You’ve got to be kidding . . .”

Yolanda only gestured with her eyes and Chaos unable to help himself glanced in the direction of Anarchy. Doing so he couldn’t help but look even more intently at the Lioness-like being that had emerged where only a moment before had stood a normal looking Human female. That she was attempting to attack Anarchy caused him to momentarily drop his guard – and only realized what a foolish mistake that was as he felt Yolanda’s powerful leg thrust against the solar plexus. Unable to stand against the force of her blow his massive body was sent painfully crashing downward onto the asphalt surface. Not resting on her laurels with a grim face of determination Yolanda set forth to make this bastard – and if time permitted – his murderous bitch pay dearly for attacking them all.

“You might be huge and strong, but you’re no match for one such as myself.”

“I’m much more then that Valkyrie – I’m your better in every way possible!”

“Come then,” she said – and gestured in a bring-it-on fashion with her hand, “and prove it to me . . . if you can.”

**********

Turning sharply back the Titaness was about to delivery a verbal rebuff – but her expression changed from contemptuous to that of amazement at what was happening. Where only a brief moment before she had been looking upon Anglo-Hispanic female what now stood staring back at her was the emerging Transgenic form of a Lioness-Human. The facial features, although predominantly Human in structure, certain areas were taking on feline traits such as the eyes, sharp eyebrows and the emergence of ears that were becoming pointed. Her monotone black brunet hair was shifting in tone and content – rapidly taking on a dark rusty radiance even as the lengthening mane continued to fill out into a majestic halo. The surface of her skin – once a natural tan-brown complexion – was shifting into a furry-velvet coat the color of tawny-tan.

Looking towards her hands, she could see that claws were materializing in place of the finely trimmed nails. The teeth were becoming more predatory in appearance – the canine cuspids were especially pointed looking as she stood leering back at her. These were only the highlights – the astonishing factor was how the whole of her tapering body was growing taller – and larger – in overall physical physique size. Hers was an athletically well built form that was steadily augmenting in form – yet it was a sculpted femusculture that was retaining a flawless symmetry as it increased in reinforced molecular-cellular mass and gained additional skeletal height. The form fitting sports-bra seemed to be maintaining parity with her broad shouldered upper body and the swelling orbs that were pushing prominently forward from her chest – soon to be DD-cup in size. The same was true of her once baggy shorts – now flexibly taut about the enlarged thighs and the twin swells of her buttock – albeit with an explosive tear in the rear where a long flickering tail had rapidly materialized.

The socks burst apart at the seams – a combination from the increasing size of her feet and the fact that her toenails – like those of her fingers were turning into claws. Apparently, they seemed to be retractable as well – pulling forth and disappearing at will as she flexed her hands. Only then did become evident that her soles of her feet were well padded with thick protection – the palms, too – but slightly thinner in character since she was a bipedal being. Nevertheless, her feline-like ability to climb up vertical inclines unaided by gloves or cables was assured by these modifications to her genetic structure. Thus done, she continued to bodily fill out for a few seconds longer – until at last she was six-foot five in height and had gained well over hundred pounds in lean weight.

Overall, as a Shapeshifter her Sizeshifting change into this Transgenic form was an incredibly gorgeous vision to behold as one that blended the best genetic aspects of Homo sapiens and Panthera leo into a single living individual. A formidable 285-pound silhouette that was as graceful and elegant as it possessed in stamina and raw power – one that was as femininely beautiful and femuscularly inclined, as it was exotically alluring. Such had been the intentions of Bureau 13 in their proposed design for the ultimate biogenetic super assassin – that is, had they been the ones in control of her metamorphosis. Instead, hers was rendered by her own free will and the supernatural assistance of the Ancient Gods and Goddesses of Aegypt.

” . . . For attacking me and my friends,” Katherine growled softly – the voice femininely deeper sounding.

“What are you?” she asked mesmerized – half hearing her own words.

“Once they tried to call me Lionna,” she snarled, “but my chosen name is Katana!”

It seemed like a moment in eternity and what brought her back again to reality was the mercurial flip-flash of those self-same talon-like claws striking out. Her uniform was shredded, but the tanned skin underneath left unmarred – a critical factor not missed by Katherine whose claws could deeply dig into casehardened steel.

“My, what nice blades you have Katana – but when I’m done your soft pelt will make a fine addition to my wardrobe.”

“Try and catch me, if you can . . .” she retorted – sharp teeth bared, the tail swooshing in nervous anticipation.

“Anarchy is the name . . . and oh I will . . . most definitely little kitty cat.”

To be continued?

[crimson_e_86]

Scene Three

~~ By the Force of Arms Alone ~~

Once she had knocked him to the ground, Yolanda made it her business never to let up for an instant by continually buffeting her larger foe through a combination of fast footed darting and well placed blows. Closely matched in their degrees of overall superstrength, her central advantage was that the behemoth-sized Chaos was no where skilled in rough and tumble as she was from past encounters with other super powered menaces. Neither did he have the physio-mental discipline that she possessed as a Warrioress – both from long hours of practice drills and from real world conditions that no simulation could prepare you for in advance. Lastly, as she knew from previous experience, when emotionally pushed to the point of enraged fury her capacity as a Demi-Goddess to tap the boundless levels of dynamic strength innately within her was awesomely terrible to behold.

Notwithstanding this, what he lacked in finesse or previous experience he more then made up in raw power – a level of superstrength that was frighteningly being augmented by his emotional state of intensive anger. Being denied a quick victory had at first only mildly irritated him – it however soon turned to frustration and then as their duel continued outright rage. Swinging with his fists and attempting to close the distance often proved to be in vain given that Yolanda refused to directly engage him in that manner. Even so, in his rampage these near misses were extremely destructive to the surrounding landscape – vehicles were crumpled up, structures had holes punched into them and the occasional street pole was snapped in half. Inevitably, it was impossible for him not to rack up a number of painful clips or cuffs; nevertheless, she refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging them as they continued to spare back and forth.

With Anarchy, from the moment she moved to attack Katherine it was almost as startling as it was shocking to experience given the smug assumptions that she held about her opponent. Both were of comparable levels of skill and experience – but where as she might be a shape shifting being – presumably super strong in nature – she was in no way comparable to herself. In this, she was right – if only in area of brute strength. Dexterous and as quick as she was, in no way did it compare to the feline hyperagility of Katherine. This she proved by leaping upward and over the now lunging Anarchy in an effortless somersault – nor was she done. Using the backside of Anarchy as a bounce board she accelerated her forward momentum and softly landed at a safe distance away.

By contrast Anarchy was forced to absorb the addition energy into her own body and was pitched forcefully forward turning her lunge into a face first body slam onto the sidewalk. Swiftly rising again to her feet in a roll over and springing body thrust to the vertical once again tried to engage the other in a more traditional mode of combat. Again, Katherine declined the offer by sprinting out of the way even as the other took a swing at her. Not, however, before racking her claws across the others uniform – a process that was turning the once one piece into a ragged two piece outfit, much to the chagrin of Anarchy. She was starting to get really pissed off at this bouncy-trouncy cat-woman who seemed to be playing with her as if she was a stupid ball of yarn. In this assumption she was very wrong for there was nothing that Katherine would love better then to lay her out with a devastating kayo – as could her super powerful sister Yolanda. With a pressing strength of five tons, she might be unbelievably strong, but she wasn’t going to risk being turned into bloody mush by pitting herself against Anarchy in a slugfest that she’d surely lose. Better then to challenge her in arena that played to her strengths rather then penalized her weaknesses – superior speed and agility ever being among her greatest assets as a cat-woman. As they continued to engage – mostly with her delivering and Katherine dexterously evading – they both knew it was only a matter of time before random chance claimed the fleet-footed Katana.

Such wasn’t long in coming. In a calculated ploy as Katherine lithely dodged the direct strike coming from Anarchy, but instead the Titaness dramatically broke off and in a pivoting twist of her large body shifted into the opposite direction. The resulting impact of her thick arm unexpectedly intercepting the still in mid-air Katherine caught her completely off guard – a mental recognition of supreme error that only lasted until she slammed onto the unyielding street surface. Feeling like a Kenworth had broadsided her and painfully stunned into immobility she scarcely had time to register the fact that she was laying prostrate when a sinister shadow fell over her.

**********

Amidst this melee of mismatched super powered pair-offs the missing Michael might be thought dead by his foes – but those who were closest to him knew far better. Invincible and invulnerable to damage wrought by the weaponry of the Mortal world – short of a nuclear detonation there was nothing in existence that could stop him. Near the location of where he’d been removed from the playing field, a large portion of the street began to slowly fissure as if unrelenting pressure was being applied from deep below. With sudden sharp heave, a massive chunk of asphalt was casually pushed aside as he shoved himself onto the urban surface. Choosing to bore his way out had slowed him down – but to have succumbed to his heated passions by rudely thrusting the girder away might have gotten some bystanders killed.

“By the God and Goddess – it’s about time, dammit!”

He angrily thought – and spat out a wad of foul tasting grit.

With his huge body soiled with debris and clothing in shredded tatters, he looked like a disheveled God Hades emerging from his Underworld kingdom. This was sharply contrasted by the fact that he was physically untouched by the ordeal – a testament to his nearly indestructible form. However, his mind freed of one task it instantly turned to another as he took in the situation unfolding only a short distance away. What had happened was no accident – it had been an ambush of the most deadly intentions. His grin of satisfaction quickly changed into a steely-eyed expression of grim determination – and he knew what he was going to do next.

“All right – it’s time for serious pay back . . . and with heavy compounded interest.”

**********

“Such a pity,” Anarchy said in a taunting tone, “the little kitty cat fall and go boom. Any last requests before I put an end to you – and rip that pretty hide off your body, Cheetah?”

It was hard to think – the words of Anarchy seemed muffled somehow. She want to move but she was just too rattled to will her body to do much of anything – at least until it was too late. Being so helpless was something by nature Katherine hated whether as a young child or later still as an adult – and even more so since she had the unique soul of a Lioness-Human. Taking her unresponsive silence for a negative answer Anarchy simply shrugged her shoulders and prepared to terminate the other. However, before the towering Titaness could make good on her threat she was checked by abrupt flash of radiance – almost as if a powerful strobe light had been summarily triggered. It only took her eyes a few seconds to register the fact that from out of nowhere had materialized a newcomer – one who was a complete stranger to her.

Not only to her, but to Katherine as well – twisting about and was astonished to see that it was a man unlike any she’d ever seen before. Physically he was very tall, perhaps around six-foot seven and had a presence of majestic nobility about him like the knights of old – yet one that possessed an aura of mystical strength, too. Outfitted in an anachronistic-styled hooded cape and navy blue futuristic formfitting uniform only accented his masculine physique – a flaring skeletal musculature that was well developed in form as much as in function.

Yet, what drew her greatest attention was his face – although it was obscured by the shadowy cowl such only added contrast to the highlights of his handsome Latinesque features that were reminiscent of Antonio Banderas. Honest and forthright in continence and with set of piercing blue-gray eyes that were filled with a strong sense of compassion and determination he seemed less then a man and more like a being of high wisdom. Katherine had the distinct impression that he had been almost as surprised as they by his sudden appearance in their midst. However, at once had realized the gravity of the situation and had mentally shifted gears to her defense. Of course, one didn’t have to be an expert at reading body language – the murderous intentions of Anarchy were perfectly clear from her hostile posture.

“Halt thou villainess,” he stated in a commanding tone – if but strangely accented, “this fair Shieldmaiden is under mine protection – of this I, Daniel de la Vega, won’t warn thee twice.”

“Oh really,” Anarchy snidely retorted, “how cute – a genuine Don Quixote. Well you might be her protector – but tell me Señor hero who’s going to protect you from me?”

At this she aggressively flexed forward – and was startled into backing away when a burst of cosmic energy suddenly splattered itself against her towering frame. It wasn’t so much the force of the blow – it being a low-yield stun-bolt – but the inconceivable method by which it had been done. Materializing from out of nowhere, the pyrotechnic of Tactical Magic had shot from the fork-fingered hands of the mysterious stranger. Of who was continuing to track her in his occult-martial arts defensive stance as if he was a composite of Dr Strange and Shang-Chi – The Master of Kung Fu.

“That almost tickled – certain you don’t have something stronger to trump me, Dr Fate?”

As if from the Gods and Goddesses themselves she received her answer – summarily, mercilessly and in the form of a huge steel girder that smashed down with a resounding dull-muffed metallic thump. Just as swiftly it rebounded away from Anarchy – now neatly punched into the ground like a railroad spike and outside of some incoherent groaning was just about as lively. So stunned by the dramatic finality it took the two of them a few seconds before they could turn towards the source of their deliverance – and were awestruck by the sight. It seemed that as Arthur had extracted the sword Excalibur from the stone, just so had Michael pulled forth the girder from its concrete sheath and in his grasp had turned it into the War-hammer of a Titan.

“Well what do you know,” Michael dryly commented, “that nailed her in place.”

**********

Emotionally furious and lacking any discipline the towering Chaos was scarcely aware of anything going on around him other then other then his obsession for the one he hated most – Valkyrie. Increasingly frustrated as she obstinately continued to snipe away – swooping in and then just as swiftly would dart away. Sometimes he’d land a grazing retaliatory cuff, more often before he could deliver the full force of his ham-handed blow. By contrast, her thunderous blows were agonizing to experience – her sharp edged tongue as to his style, pose and the degree of his character – or the lack thereof – was far worse. Despite his obvious superiority – or as he believe it to be so, she was definitely proving herself to be his physiological better by drawing upon reserves of strength and stamina that were beyond his own – all of which chaffed at his ego driven male pride.

This was just as she had intended – a fighting style that would permit survival and keep him off balance until an opportunity suddenly presented itself that would finish him off.

**********

“Damn you,” Chaos animalistically growled, “stand still!”

“Not chance,” Yolanda chided – bouncing backwards, “I’m no fool and you’re no genius if you think that I would.”

Again he angrily lunged and swung at her – and was gracefully dodged, but not before punching him in the gut as she finished maneuvering out of the way. Gasping in pain from her force-filled wallop, he could see that she was gazing upon him with an expression of analytical disdain – or perhaps it was an air of contempt.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” he snapped.

“At the waste of so much potential – you’re a pitiful sight to behold, hardly a challenge for me.”

“Screw you . . . this isn’t over yet Valkyrie – I’m not done with you.”

“Well, I’m with you, now that I’ve tested your abilities – and found them wanting – but then you can always argue about it with my husband.”

“What in the Hell are you talking about – he’s . . .”

“Hey Troll face – pick on somebody your own size!” shouted a masculine voice – one that rung with the sound of impossible familiarity.

In reflex the startled Chaos bodily spun about and only had time to register the fact that a steel girder – carried lancer fashion by Michael – was ramming into him. So brutally done the pain-stunned Chaos shot helplessly through the air until a parked delivery van obstructed his trajectory – at least for the few seconds it took his body to smash past it. Only when he crashed into the façade of the adjoining storefront – and demolished it in an artillery-like explosion of shattered glass and broken masonry – did his gravity-defying flight come to a halt.

“Kaor, my Princess,” Michael declared with a broad smile, “mind if I cut in on this Polka?

“Kaor, my Chieftain,” she joyfully replied, “please do – I was getting bored with my offish dancing partner.”

“Here take this Milady,” Michael winked – and then lightly tossed her the I-beam, “and stand ready for my toss of the birdie – it should help to restore a bit o’ fun to this fray.”

“Ooohhh,” she smiled wryly – and easily caught multi-ton object, “I love the way you think Milord . . . game, set and match.”

So saying he then proceeded to march towards the shattered building and disappeared from sight as he entering the vast blackness that lay beyond.

To be continued?

[crimson_e_86]

Scene Four

~~ A Contest of Champions ~~

Sprawled out on the tile floor amidst the wreckage of trashed store displays, crushed shelving and piles of ruined merchandise, Chaos just starting to get his mental balance back when he sensed the fact that he was no longer alone. Sluggishly he tried to make his body move – not an easy thing after having been so harshly struck down at the hands of a being that seemed more like a mythological God then just an enhanced superman.

“Or a Goddess in the case of Yolanda – damn that . . .” he softly muttered.

“There you are – I’m not finished with you just yet!” Michael stated loudly – finger pointing, his tone tinged with simmering anger.

Chaos felt himself being grappled in an unbreakable grip – and one that was forcing him upward until he was suspended off the floor. With his booted feet dangling he couldn’t help but have an intensive feeling of déjà vu – and then felt the thunderous impact of a huge fist socking him in the chin. Stumbling dazedly backwards, his 900-pound form cut open a wide swath through the store until he finally came to a stop after bursting through a cinderblock wall. Originally, he couldn’t believe that anyone could be as powerful as Michael and Yolanda were reputed to be as superbeings. He knew now from first hand experience that he had badly underestimated their true capacity – and secretly wondered if perhaps there were no limits to what they could do.

“Come on tough stuff – give me your best shot . . .” Michael said glowering at him.

Chaos instinctively knew that he shouldn’t – nevertheless, being he was who he was and out of hatred as much as in desperation he struck out at his tormentor. In response Michael parried the attempted punch – and then counter whacked him with such potency that Chaos fell to his knees in writhing agony.

“Oh really? Is that the best you can do?”

“Fuck you,” Chaos spat back, “give me a moment and I’ll show you what I’ve got.”

“Not a chance,” Michael wolfishly grinned, “not that you ever had one with me . . . I have no rival, no man can be my equal.”

And so quoting the rock group Queen – he proceeded to prove it to him.

**********

With only the radiant light from outside illuminating the store interior it was hard for Daniel or Katherine to discern any details – but there was no mistaking the meaning of the titanic struggle that was taking place inside. There was an almost mythological atmosphere to the spectacle as the building shuttered and the ground shook in sympathetic tempo to the violent clashing of their fists – as if a God of Thunder was vying with a Lord of Earth. Overlooking their duel was the sharp-eyed Yolanda ever ready to defend the ramparts with her oversized mace as if she was angelic guard stationed at the Gates of Heaven. Already a growing crowd of spectators was starting to materialize and in the distance, the unmistakable sounds of police sirens were building in strength. Sensibly the civilian onlookers didn’t have to be told to keep a safe distance from the epicenter of the conflict – especially not with the two of them standing in-between as a pair of Superheroic-appearing referees. At first Katherine assumed it was out of fear as much as respect of their personages or specifically in her case the Lioness aspect of her furry augmented form. However, she noted with keen interest that as those she looked closely there wasn’t fear as much as intense interest about her – even expressions of awe on some. Perhaps it was true that she need not be so shy about who and what she really was – but only time would tell if they’d accept her under less stressful circumstances. At the moment, she had more immediate concerns to focus upon and it seemed a new compatriot to share them with – a personage who was a Wizard-mage of the Realm.

**********

“Tho brief his greeting to us, he seemth to be a most gentlemanly individual and is proving himself to be a most fearsome paladin in battle against the enemies of this world – almost like a One-Man Army Corps.”

“I’ll say – he’s a real OMAC,” she agreed – her tail gently flicking back and forth, “but don’t count out our Yolanda, as a One-Woman Army Corp I don’t think she’s done putting in her two-cents with that oversized thug, either. And by the way I’m curious, but did you really mean it, what you said earlier?”

“Mine pardon Milady,” he smiled in pleasure, “but in so short a time we have covered so much, and yet so little . . .”

“Sorry, about me in particular – when you said I was fair looking, do you really find me attractive or were you just speaking in polite generalities while in the face of the enemy?”

“Milady,” he almost stammered, “of course I find thee comely – very much so. Thou are of a personality that is of high wisdom and is as noble and brave in heart as thine are gorgeous to behold. Moreover, as a being of loving protectiveness many who are counted among the most beautiful in all the Blessed Realm would count themselves plain should they stand in thy radiant presence at the Royal Court of The High Castle on Archonia.”

“Really – I’m humbled by your words and see from your blushing face they are most sincere.”

“No, I am the one so humbled – and honored. I never expected that when I volunteered to be assigned here that I’d also be so fortunate as to meet one such as thee . . . I can only hope it goes as well with the Lord Michael and Lady Yolanda. I admit, despite being a Wizard-mage I feel a bit nervous, even intimated – for thine are Demi-Deities, the Blessedly Chosen of He/She the Supreme One.”

“Well, you’ve certainly made a first good impression on me thus far – and I have a feeling that you’ll do just fine with them . . . just be yourself and the rest will naturally follow. Besides with me as your familiar to make the formal introductions it should be a very smooth process.”

“Mine familiar . . .” he said – appearing as much startled as intrigued in expression.

“Well,” she softly laughed with a purring lilt, “you’re a Wizard-mage – and since I’m familiar with you . . . who better then I as one whom assists a Warlock?”

**********

Overlooked by all concerned was that the fallen form of Anarchy was slowly beginning to stir – her body moving slightly as if it was testing the state and degree of her immobilization. Such an encumbrance as was the surrounding concrete encasement was hardly much of a challenge – and gradually as her cognizance exponentially rose into intelligent awareness she started to apply appropriate force against it. The immediate area about her flexing body began to shift – and then radiating fissures appeared that swiftly turned to splintering cracks. Suddenly one limb and then the other burst free – and then inch by inch her six-foot nine body began to push out of its place of interment. The facial expression was one of triumphant satisfaction – a cast that swift turned to evil delight at seeing that her antagonists had turned their backs on her believing she was neutralized.

“Oh do please keep thinking that way – you pricks,” she thought with a murderous glare.

Free and unfettered Anarchy was marching straight towards the one she considered centrally responsible for her humiliation – and planned to take great pleasure in making a bloody mess out of Katana.

“And then as a last act I’ll strip that pretty pelt from your body . . .”

With the path of her vengeance mentally laid out in her mind she confidently closed the distance to the target of her negative affection. Strangely, they seemed to be blithely unaware of her despite the close proximity between them. Now practically on top of the unsuspecting pair she knew she’s there’d be no room for error – they had to be both taken down simultaneously – and flexing her body rushed in for the kill.

However, just short of the prize she found herself running into an invisible force field – the thumping sound of which alerted Daniel and Katherine to her presence as if she had set off tripwire. Pivoting about they saw that Anarchy was indeed once again on her feet – if but looking a tad disheveled in the clothing department. Her body, however, was uninjured in appearance – and was enthusiastically proving it by pounding away at the barrier with her powerful fists. At once Daniel went into action – and with a wave of his hand began to apply reinforcement spells to the preexisting incantation. Magic was not just an application of words and phrases that accessed natural principles that effected the very fabric of the Multiverse – that was only a part of the philosophy. True sorcery, as he had briefly explained to Katherine, was an expression of one’s own inner will to make things as you wish, rather then as they are – and tempered with wisdom it was hoped such was ever used for the betterment of all Humankind.

“I don’t know how you’re doing it – but it won’t work against me!”

Her right fist thudded against the invisible barrier – a booming noise – and again it harmlessly bounced off. Again she repeated the process of socking away and with each blow, the degree of strength being applied by Anarchy was sharply escalating in scale – as was her building rage.

“I won’t let thou hurt her . . . ever!” Daniel stated flatly – with cold determination.

The effort of maintaining it was starting to show on his face and Katherine could see that it was draining him – perhaps dangerously so. She knew that his journey to Earth had taxed him greatly – and he’d yet had sufficient time to recover his full potential. On impulse, she put out her palm to him – her expression one of willing assistance, almost pleadingly. With a brief smile and a nod of approval he took her taloned hand in his own – and at once, the barrier strengthened exponentially in resilience. Never had she felt the like – it was as if her body was plugged into a circuit as a source of power – a resource that was slowly flowing out of her and into the magically generated defense. Fortunately for them, they received a reprieve from having to test the limits of such a dangerous venture – one that came in the form of Chaos violently slamming into Anarchy at full tilt. A bolt of lightning striking couldn’t have done more to end their wrathful intentions on this day – in a single stroke, the pair of them were rendered comatose by their tête-à-tête kayo.

“See,” Katherine quipped, “I told you Yolanda wasn’t done with him or her for that matter – for a non-cat person she’s has a wicked backhand when it comes to a game of badminton.”

To be concluded . . .

[Author]

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