“The Redeemer”
by ”URN My Power“
“Status report.” demanded the President, his bulldog-like features forming a scowl as he took his seat.
“The world is being overrun, sir.” replied the Secretary of War. “It’s like a comic book being written by a Goth. Supervillains are popping up all over the place, and we don’t have enough superheroes to combat them. Many of them are powerful enough that they’re taking on the millitary might of the most powerful nations in the world.”
“Like ours.” the President said. The Secretary nodded.
“Perhaps I can be of some assistance.” said a voice from one corner of the room. A plan young gentleman stood in the doorway.
“How did you get in here?” the President demanded.
“Nobody ever notices me, not unless I want them to.” the man said. “Would you mind describing me?”
“Is this some kind of joke?” the President asked.
“Humor me.”
“Well, you’re...plain-looking...kind of ordinary.”
“Details, Mr. President.” the young man said. The President tried to focus on him. He could see the youth clearly, but nothing would stay in his mind. “It’s hard to do, isn’t it, Mr. President? That’s a result of the glamour which surrounds me.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Long story short, Mr. President, for a price, I’ll get these supervillains out of your hair.”
“Why not just do it out of the goodness of your own heart?” the President asked.
“Because I have expenses, too.” he said. “I believe I can do it for, say, six hundred thousand each.”
“Done. Whatever. What do you want me to sign?” The stranger smiled. He hadn’t expected the President to fold so quickly. He had expected to haggle back and forth and probably end up with about one hundred thousand per supervillain. The stranger had the Secretary draw up papers detailing their deal.
“Lovely doing business with you, Mr. President.” he said, leaving as suddenly as he had appeared. He appeared only as a faint, soap-bubble like distortion on the security cameras.
Ultragirl was growing tired of these meddlesome normals shooting at her bulletproof skin. Ever since she had discovered her extraterrestrial origins, she had known she was destined for greatness. She lifted a police cruiser over her head and hurled it away from her. She punched a hole in the bank truck and was about to rip it open when she felt something tugging at her. She turned, and walked away, pulled by some unseen force to an alley. No one followed her. She encountered an ordinary-looking young man and stopped in front of him.
“Are you happy doing this, Ultragirl?” he asked.
“Yes.” she snapped.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Look within yourself, and tell me truthfully...Are. You. Happy.” Without knowing why, Ultragirl looked. She had fun, on occasion, playing with the pathetic little humans and listening to them scream. But mostly they were a nuissance. She was constantly looking for a challenge worthy of her, and coming up empty. “When was the last time you were truly happy?” he asked. Ultragirl closed her eyes. She’d been a good little girl, once, happy and content to live out her life like farm girls ought to, despite her distinctly Asian appearance. She had enjoyed swimming, and sitting in her adoptive father’s lap, steering the beat-up old pickup while he worked the floorboard. Then, at sixteen, she had discovered her powers, and her parents had showed her the spaceship they had found her in. Seeing great possibilities for her powers, she...murdered her parents, and began taking whatever she wanted, turning her back on everything she had been taught...everything she had ever loved. She felt a surge of grief and guilt.
“What have I done?!” she pleaded. She began to cry. She felt strong arms around her, and she cried on a shoulder. Her powerful young body was wracked by sobs. She didn’t know how long she stayed there, crying on the stranger’s shoulder. She hung limply in the man’s arms, feeling empty inside. The next thing she knew, she was naked on a bed, curled up in the fetal position. Where was her costume? Her mask? She found she didn’t care. The idea of being Ultragirl no longer appealed to her. She felt cold and empty, weighted down by self-loathing.
“Let it go.” a voice instructed. “You realize you have made mistakes. That is the first step. Now is the time to change. Give up this darkness within you. All of it, every last drop. And in return, I offer that which you so desperately need.” She looked up at the man. His glamour was withdrawn. She truly saw him for the first time. She felt so empty. Guilt and shame and self-loathing were all she had left. But she gave them up willingly.
Kablammo Girl stood in the foyer of one of the many federal buildings downtown, threatening to blow the place to pieces unless her demands were met. Suddenly, a figure burst through the doors, dressed in black full-body tights, black leather gloves, black boots and black Ray-Bans. Kablammo Girl had seen plenty of supervillainesses on the news reports, and instantly recognized this Asian-looking young lady.
“Ultragirl?” asked Kablammo Girl.
“That name no longer holds any meaning for me.” she said. “My name is Kismet, and I have come to ask you to let these people go.”
“Why?” Kablammo Girl demanded. She held up one hand, her index finger and thumb about an inch apart. “I’m this close to getting everything I’ve always wanted, ‘cuz everybody knows if I don’t get what I want, I go BOOM!” She burst into insane, hyena-like laughter.
“I used to think like you do.” Kismet said. “I used to think the world owed me a living. I used to think I could get whatever I wanted easy, no price, no strings attached. But I was wrong. Before I really even got started, I killed my adoptive parents—the people I cared about the most, and I turned my back on everything I needed, in exchange for fulfilling my insignificant little whims. I didn’t know it, but I was slowly killing myself. Now, I want you to look within yourself and ask yourself ‘what do I truly want?’ The answer may surprise you.” Kablammo Girl looked at Kismet askance.
“What the FUCK have you been smoking?” she asked. It was then she noticed that all her hostages had snuck out the back entrance. “You stupid little bitch!” she roared, and exploded. Kismet was knocked out into the street. The building came down. Kismet moved swiftly, catching any rocks or pieces of debris that fell toward the crowd. On top of the pile of rubble, Kablammo Girl reassembled herself. “You distracted me so they could get away!” Kablammo Girl exclaimed. She formed a ball of explosive energy in her hand and hurled it at the dark-haired superbeing. Kismet rushed at it. It hit her in the chest and exploded, knocking her back to where she had been. Kablammo Girl hurled a second ball at a nearby building. It went into a window, and when it exploded, people came flying out. As fast as lightning, Kismet soared toward the building and caught those that were falling. She went back to Kablammo Girl, but her Master was already there, speaking with her. Kismet watched as Kablammo Girl’s insolence faded, to be replaced with sadness as she realized how empty her life truly was. She watched as he lifted Kablammo Girl into his arms, and she felt his call in her head. She airlifted him to the remote-controlled chopper waiting above them.
Kablammo Girl remembered the first time she used her powers. It was on a schoolyard. Some bully had taken away her favorite doll. HER doll. She had been so angry that she had literally exploded, taking out four city blocks. When her molecules had found each other once more, she was standing in the midst of a black, charred ruin, the only one unhurt in the midst of the carnage. Her doll lay against the school building, amindst the remains of the bully. It was a charred mess. No matter. She would get more things. She shoved grief and guilt and all that other bad stuff down as far as it would go, past her knees until she was almost walking on it, so that she no longer felt it. But it was there, and now Kablammo Girl felt nothing BUT those emotions she had so carefully repressed. All pretense and falsehood was gone, leaving her cold and unhappy. She was curled in a fetal position, neither knowing nor caring where her clothes were. He heard the strange man’s voice in her head, asking her to let it go, and she did, emptying herself emotionally. He showed her happy memories from her childhood. She had loved her parents before they had died in her accidental explosion. She loved them still, though the memories were so painful that she had repressed them along with the darkness. The stranger reminded her that she was still capable of such things as love and happiness. He wanted to help her experience them again. She wanted to experience them again. The next few hours were filled with such tenderness and pleasure that she would relive them over and over again in her wet dreams. He made love to her five times, and as she lay there, her body practically humming with happiness, she suddenly became aware of Kismet’s presence, nude as Kablammo Girl was, and an odd tenderness as she touched her. Soon, the two young women were making love. Kablammo Girl had never thought she would find herself engaged in same-sex intercourse, but it was happening, and she was enjoying it. Then, the stranger returned, and they all made love to each other, and it was beautiful.
The next thing Kablammo Girl knew, she was surrounded by water. Gentle hands were bouying her up. Kismet’s hands supported her on one side, the stranger’s on the other.
“What’s your real name?” Kismet asked in a sweet voice.
“Amelia.” Kablammo Girl said.
“I’m Kim.” Amelia smiled. She no longer felt like thinking of herself as Kablammo Girl. It was a silly name anyway, she reflected.
What would you like to be called, if not Kablammo Girl? the stranger’s voice asked.
“I don’t know.” she sighed softly. “Would you mind picking something nice?”
“We’ll think of something together.” Kim said.
Smilodon felt like he was king of the world. He snarled as he lifted some wannabe superhero by the throat and hurled him backwards into a storefront. His accomplice, Katscratch, was too fast for the superhero-wannabe’s little friends, who used their various skills to try to snare her. But she was a mistress of line-of-sight teleportation, not to mention the enhanced strength, senses and agility of a jungle cat. Smilodon didn’t have the teleporting abilit, nor was he quite as fast as she was, but he was big, and could bench-press a bulldozer if he wanted. He was equally at home on two feet or all fours, whereas Katscratch kept herself on two feet all the time. She was still human, basically, but the experiment which had given her her teleportation powers had covered her in a jellicle coat of fur. Her ears had migrated to the top of her head, and she had grown retractible claws, a tail, and long, sharp canines (an unfortunate choice of terms, in both their opinions). She roared like an enraged mountain lioness as she teleported from one place to the other. Some lunkhead of a hero with stupid-looking eyewear would be scarred for life as her claws raked diagonally down across his face.
Suddenly something spirited the wannabes away. Something fast. An Asian girl in black was talking to them. Smilodon’s enhanced senses picked up the words “show you how it’s done.” Smilodon chuckled. Suddenly, the swift woman clocked him a good one to the jaw. He swung a punch at her, but he was off-balance, and she got in a jab to the nerve cluster in his deltoids. It didn’t hurt, but no force on earth could help him lift his right arm now. He backhanded the little bitch across the street, and suddenly the ground exploded beneath his feet.
“I didn’t know Ultragirl and Kablammo Girl had teamed up.” he muttered.
“You must have us mistaken for a couple of supervillainesses.” said the second woman, her fiery red hair blowing in the wind as she stood next to her partner in matching outfits. “I am Plastique. This is Kismet.”
“Whatever.” Smilodon said. “You’re still the same little sluts.” A ball of explosive energy caught Smilodon in the chest. The next thing he knew, he was covered in bricks. He caught sight of a guy in civilian clothes talking to Katscratch. He could hear what they were saying.
“Why do you follow him blindly into action if you don’t really like what he’s doing?” the stranger asked.
“Because I love him.” Katscratch said.
“Do you really?” the stranger asked.
“I...I think so.”
“Look within yourself. Does he treat you with respect, or does he treat you as though you were an inflatable doll, a thing to be used and then put away until he wants to use you again.” Smilodon roared in rage, shoving the bricks off himself. He charged the stranger, but found himself blasted into an alley by Plastique. Kismet appeared behind him and flipped him over her shoulder, and he was in the next street over. He chucked a brick at Plastique, but she caught it. It started to glow and she threw it back. It exploded on contact, sending him into the path of a semi. Fortunately, he was tough, and the truck only dazed him. He healed quickly, one of the advantages he had over Katscratch. Suddenly the heroines were on either side of him. Plastique hurled a ball of explosive energy at him. He sidestepped it, and it hit Kismet. Plastique gasped and propelled herself through the air with a series of small explosions, finally ending up at Kismet’s side, inquiring as to her well-being. Smilodon batted the girl across the street. Feeling was starting to come back to his right arm. He lifted a New Beetle over his head—the things were butt-ugly anyway—and prepared to crush Kismet with it. Suddenly he felt claws in his back and roared in pain and rage. Kismet got out of the way before the New Beetle dropped. He whirled. Katscratch was dressed in the same costume as the other two.
“What’s this?” he demanded. “I thought you loved me.”
“So did I.” Katscratch said. Smilodon pounced on her, but she teleported away with him, then teleported back. Smilodon found himself two miles up, and falling fast.
The President was watching the news with interest. Not only was the anchorwoman attractive, but the story was the best news he had heard since the world had discovered that superpeople were real.
“Citizens have less to fear now with the dramatic alteration which has come over three of the more feared supervillainesses, formerly known as Ultragirl, Kablammo Girl and Katscratch, now known as Kismet, Plastique and Bastet, respectively, as well as the death of the supervillain Smilodon at the hands of Bastet. This reduction in the supervillain population is attributed to a strange man who spoke with all three of the former supervillainesses before they switched sides. Witnesses describe him as ‘ordinary-looking,’ and are hard-pressed to remember any details about him. Even more puzzling is the fact that he shows up as nothing more than a soap bubble distortion on camera.”
“Damn.” the President muttered. “The motherfucker’s actually doing it.” He dialed the phone, calling the Secretary of the Treasury. “Mr. Secretary, I want you to arrange payment for a certain service which has recently been performed for the nation. I’ll send the paperwork your way A.S.A.P.”
“Ladies, we’re moving out of this motel.” the Master said softly.
“Why?” Plastique asked. “Did we do something wrong?”
“No. I just got paid.”
The Amazon stood six feet tall, and was built like a real hardbody. But even this would tempt someone to underestimate her, because her body was invincible. She had taken hits from missiles, bazookas, the most poweful lasers the U.S. Government could come up with, had channelled over a hundred million volts of electricity through her body due to lightning, superheroes’ electric attacks, being lured under high-voltage lines, and several other electrifying situations, but felt no pain. She was fast for someone of her build, often launching herself feet-first into an opponent and breaking bones as she made contact with her powerful legs. She had once thrown a full-size crane over fifty miles while holding a would-be superhero at bay with the other hand. She was the strongest woman in the world, and she knew it. A blur of black in her peripheral vision alerted The Amazon to the presence of Kismet on the battlefield.
“Well, if it ain’t the little turncoat.” she said, chucking a National Guard tank at the superheroine. Kismet caught it and set it gently back on the ground so the operators could climb out.
“It’s a pity you think that way.” Kismet said. “I was hoping to persuade you to join us.”
“Join you, huh?” the Amazon sneered. “Join the team? Be a turncoat too?”
“What did these humans ever do to you?”
“What did they do? What did they do? I never fit in. I was always big for my age. They made fun of me, tripped me in the hall so I’d fall and split my lip. I developed early, and all the girls were jealous, so they took every opportunity they could to torment me. Everyone I’ve ever known has hated me! Even Daddy....” She caught herself. This was not an avenue of conversation she wanted to continue to pursue.
Go on. a gentle voice in her head urged.
“Even Daddy used to beat me.” she said, tears coming to her eyes. “He used to hurt me, to do things...bad things...especially after I developed. He...I...” She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Somehow, some stranger had snuck up on her. His arms were around her. He was roughly her height, maybe a little shorter. But he was a man. Women weren’t supposed to be six feet tall. Emotions boiled back and forth in the Amazon’s mind, and finally found expression in a fit of sobbing.
“Yet another conquest by the man dubbed The Redeemer by many, the supervillainess formerly known as The Amazon has changed her name to Titana, and joined Kismet and her team of reformed heroines in their battle against the large number of supervillains plaguing our world.”
“Turn it off, Amelia.” said the Master. Plastique complied. At a gesture from him, Plastique disrobed and joined everyone on the bed. She pillowed her head on Titana’s huge left tit. Titana had never felt so happy before. For the first time in her life, she belonged. She had that wonderful, honeylike sense of family too long absent from her life. She felt a protective urge come over her. She wanted to use her invincibility and strength to protect those in her family, now and in the future. She sighed as she pulled Bastet closer. The young mutate purred contentedly.
Lightspeed watched his daughter’s inaugural run with pride. The genetic quirk which had given him the power of superspeed had bred true—more than that, she was faster than him. She could literally run circles around him. She was so fast she could run from Los Angeles to Sydney to Barcelona to New York and then back to Los Angeles without getting her feet wet. It was always a source of pride to see her go from a standing start to mach 3 before she had even left the house, to see her running on water, to watch her slip into a house and come out with loot between the frames on the security cameras, and during that little piece of a second, pick the lock, search each room, find the goods and pack it in, then zip back out and re-lock the door. Only the occasional sonic boom stood between her and complete undetectability. The only downside seemed to be that she lived her life in fast-forward. She didn’t seem to be aging any faster than a normal kid, but her perceptions moved so quickly that she would get bored waiting for a soda to be dispensed out of the vending machine. And he had trouble getting her to slow down to try to communicate. Her sentences ran together like the Micro Machine Man on a sugar high.
A blur of motion drew Lightspeed’s attention to an intruder. His accellerated perceptions allowed him to get a look at her. It was that Kismet woman! No way was he going to let that weird Redeemer guy get his daughter talked out of following him in the family business.
“You’re rotten to the core.” a voice said from behind him.
“Excuse me?” Lightspeed asked, turning around.
“You don’t really care about your daughter.” he said. “All you care about is maintaining the legacy. That’s why you called her Lightspeed II. You want your name and reputation to live on in her.”
“That’s the only kind of immortality available to us humans...even those born with odd genetic quirks.” Lightspeed retorted. He dashed, hoping to catch the man from behind before he could have time to turn or dodge, but he suddenly found himself paralyzed, unable to move. “Wht th fk s gn n?” he said, unable to move his mout tho speak.
“This is MY power, Lightspeed.” the man said. “I am a psychic, able to read and, if I choose, control minds. But I only use them for the cause of good. Now tell me, tell me honestly and with absolute sincerity...do you love your daughter? Would you lay down your life for her? Would you give up everything you have to make her happy?”
“Do you think I’m crazy or something?” Lightspeed demanded. “In this game it’s every superhuman for himself.” Choked sobs from behind him told him that his daughter had heard the exchange. He was released from his psychic bondage, and free to turn around and look at his heartbroken daughter. Suddenly, she dashed into his waiting arms, crying on his shoulder. He spoke softly as Lightspeed watched, dumbfounded. Suddenly he cried out in rage and charged the Redeemer. Before he had reached his enemy, however, his daughter was lashing out, using her superior speed to drive him not only over the edge of his rage, but the building as well. He couldn’t flap his arms fast enough to slow himself down.
Sheila Reiley, now called Arriva in the field, was still feeling guilty over what she had done to her father. Everyone else, including Master, had forgiven her, but she was having trouble forgiving herself. She felt gentle fingers in her mind.
Would you like to see what I saw when I looked into his mind? Master asked.
I don’t know. Sheila said. Suddenly, she saw the world through his eyes. He thought of everything, even her, in terms of how it could benefit him. And he expected no less from her. He had not screamed as he fell. Rather, he had smiled up at her, thinking That’s my girl. Sheila shuddered. But suddenly, it didn’t hurt as much. It was as if she had opened her eyes and seen a puppeteer in her father’s clothing. Then she thought about where she was now, in a large bed, surrounded by people who loved her, who would lay down their lives for her, as she would for them...who would do everything her father never would have. She felt Master behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist. She felt his fingers circling her pussy. She hadn’t thought she had any sexual energy left after the “welcome to the group” orgy they had had that evening, but she felt the desire grow within her. She wanted him in her. Wanted to feel his hot, throbbing DICK in her hot, slick, wet PUSSY. She felt so naughty thinking those words, but it was a kind of naughty that made her feel good. She followed him out to the living room, where they made love...just the two of them.
Nuclear Woman was determined to do what was right for the planet, on or above it. She had found out that the government was launching Star Wars technology on the shuttle, and she wasn’t going to let that shuttle make it to orbit. She was about to turn the whole thing into microwave energy and absorb it into herself, but Kismet interfered, keeping her busy until the rocket was well on its way. She teleported to the edge of the atmosphere and started building a radiation wall.
“Are you really prepared to kill?” Kismet asked, flying up to meet her.
“I will do what I have to to protect this beautiful planet.” Nuclear Woman said.
“Nuclear Woman, the payload on that shuttle may be immoral...maybe even illegal, but are you prepared to justify the deaths of that crew to their families?”
“I...I don’t...Stop it! You’re trying to confuse me!”
“No, I’m trying to open your eyes, the way the Redeemer opened mine.” Kismet said. “There’s a better way to do this. Teleport the payload.” Nuclear Woman did as she was told. “Now do to it what you were going to do to the shuttle.” Nuclear Woman transmuted the weaponry into microwave energy and absorbed it into herself. “Now, the shuttle can’t harm the planet. You can take down that wall.” Nuclear Woman reabsorbed her energy wall, and Kismet pulled her out of the way. “Now, isn’t that so much better?”
“Actually, it is.” Nuclear Woman said. “I really don’t have to kill. Now I feel so guilty for all the lives I took before. I’m supposed to be a hero, but I feel like a zero.”
“You made some mistakes.” Kismet said. “So did I, don’t forget. Come back down to Earth. The lack of oxygen up here is making me dizzy.” Nuclear Woman teleported them both down.
The Black Widow was a luscious vision...if you were into women with six arms. Her volumptuous frame was accented by the spider-web pattern on her black, form-fitting outfit. So what if she only had three fingers and a thumb on each hand? Her golden, fluffy hair which came down to the middle of her back dazzled the eyes as the red hourglass shape on her abdomen advertized how deadly she was. Her ice blue eyes looked disdainfully on the world from behind her black, spiderweb-pattern mask. High-tech web shooters sprayed webbing of various types at her opponents. Depending on the pressure she asserted on the switches in her palms, and which switch she pressed, she could fire a sticky spray which would envelop her foes, a straight line for swinging, impact webbing for quick bindings, knockout webbing laced with curare for keeping someone out of her hair for a while, and venom webbing to eat through the flesh of her enemy while they sat in bondage. She had the proportionate strength and agility of a spider, and could climb walls with the same ease.
Frost, one of The Black Widow’s partners, wore a ninja’s uniform the colore of The Black Widow’s eyes. Her larger breasts and curvier figure would make her a sexual competitor with the Widow if she were interested in such. Her touch was as cold as her heart, having turned her back on love years ago. Her power was the formation and manipulation of ice.
Then there was Fire Ant, a hotheaded young woman with power based on heat and infrared energy, also posessing the strength to lift fifty times her weight. She was dressed in a similar uniform to Frost, except red instead of ice blue.
The fourth member of the group was Lady Proteus, the shape-shifter who could mimic anyone’s appearance, but not their powers. In her actual form (not that anyone had seen that since she had faked her own death) she was a young woman about sixteen, with brown hair and brown eyes and luscious, creamy breasts and a lovely, tight, creamy ass. The shape she used most often, however, was a thirtyish woman with red hair and green eyes, with spikes protruding from her arms and legs, dressed in a one-piece swimsuit and sandals.
The fifth and final member of the group was Terra Firma, a powerful young damsel who controlled the elements of Earth, Fire, Weather, and Water. Her white hair contrasted sharply with her dark, peanut-butter skin. Her large boobs needed no silicon enhancement. She was fully natural, and damn proud of it. In her way, she was one of the most powerful people in the world. She wore a black leather biker’s outfit, with black shades. Her hair was pulled back in a white ponytail, contrasting sharply with the leather. Together, this group was called the Frightful Five. Their first encounter with a well-organized superhero group would be something to see, as Kismet appeared on the scene, followed by Arriva, Bastet, Platique, Titana and the woman now called Lady Ra.
“So where’s the guy?” the Black Widow asked.
“He’ll show himself when he feels like it.” Kismet said.
“If you think we’re going to fall for your lovey-dovey tactics and join up, you’re crazy.”
“Join us or not, that’s your choice, but we do have you outnumbered, and you’re NOT getting your mitts on Fort Knox.”
“Who’s gonna stop us?” the Black Widow asked. Terra Firma called down lightning to strike Titana, but it didn’t even phase her. Arriva was too fast. The lightning didn’t phase Kismet either. Plastique exploded, and Terra Firma smiled in satisfaction.
One down. she thought. Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and suddenly a ball of explosive energy caught her in the chest. She lost consciousness.
The Black Widow was having trouble getting Arriva in her sights. The girl just kept running around and around and around. Suddenly she felt a strong breeze and she was lifted from her feet. She cried out in rage and indignation. “Hey, put me down!” Arriva stopped moving. The Black Widow fell. The fall wasn’t far, so it only knocked the breath out of her. She couldn’t get up.
Kismet and Lady Ra took on Fire Ant. Kismet opened fire with her heat vision, and Lady Ra fired gamma rays. Fire Ant lifted a jeep from the ground and tossed it at Lady Ra, but Kismet caught it and tossed it back, faster than Fire Ant had thrown it. She didn’t have time to balance herself to catch it. It caught her, right in the face. She was unconscious, and that mercy was only because of her strength.
Lady Proteus squared off against Titana. The shape-shifter was fast, but the young superheroine was functionally invincible, and she was fast as well. She caught Lady Proteus’s foot and lifted her over her head. Lady Proteus responded by taking on a heavier form. The tactic availed her naught, however, and Titana slammed the shifter to the ground. She reverted to her true self as consciousness left her. “How pretty.” Titana muttered, bending down and caressing the pretty young face.
Bastet was swift, but so was Frost. There was an audible pop as she teleported, advertizing her location to the frigid ninja. But bastet had more going for her than the ability to teleport. She leaped and dodged Frost’s ice-blasts, whirling like the Tazmanian Devil, claws unsheathed. Frost’s costume took quite a slashing. Having been stripped nude so deftly distracted Frost enough for Bastet to pounce, knocking the wind out of Frost and giving her the time she needed to knock the other woman unconscious.
“Not a bad evening’s work, considering they insisted on a fight.” Kismet said.
“And a fight is precisely what they got.” Titana said. “Let’s get them to the chopper.”
“The Frightful Five is no more.” said the news anchor. “Having been completely rehabilitated by the Redeemer, they took on the uniform and cause of their former opponents, who thrashed them royally in a battle outside Fort Knox before bringing them to the Redeemer for rehabilitation. Taking new individual names for themselves, the members I spoke with earlier today said that they had yet to agree on a group name. The Black Widow has announced that she will henceforth be known as Shiva, and likewise Frost, Fire Ant, Lady Proteus and Terra Firma announced that they wished to be known as Snow, Ant Girl, Meta and Gaia.
“The President spoke today to deny allegations that The Redeemer was a government employee who had been severed from the payroll and was in truth gathering troops to use against the Administration.” An image of the President appeared.
“The Redeemer has not been severed from the payroll.” the President said. “He is receiving monetary compensation for each supervillain he removes from the nightmares of America. The money is to cover the Redeemer’s expenses, otherwise, he has assured me that he would do it out of the goodness of his own heart.” Static crackled across the TV screen. The image of the President was replaced by shadowy figures with glowing eyes.
“We interrupt this terribly boring load of smegging sap from a true smeghead for a truly import’ant announcement.” a thick British accent said. “And now, Oi turn over th’ flo’ar to our glorious leader, the smegging wonderful Darkshadow.”
“I hope you’re watching, Redeemer, because this is very important.” a sinister voice said from deep within the shadows. “My Brotherhood of Empowered Terrorists and I have decided to put an end to your whittling campaign, and are hereby declaring war on you and your followers. You had better hope that no innocents are foolish enough to dress like your followers, even on Halloween, because they will be subject to the same censure as you are. I have taken measures to protect my followers against your powers. You will have to destroy them if you wish to survive. And considering the vastness of our numbers, that will prove to be quite difficult indeed. Your happy time is over, Redeemer. Your days are numbered.”