Clara is going up against a military force sent to engage her.

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Clara stood tall as a storm as the first salvo of bullets hit her, ripping through her bathrobe and turning it into swiss cheese. It left enough gaping holes and metal slugs to clatter onto the ground to fill a several buckets.

Despite the intense violence inflicted on her favorite evening clothing, Clara refused to conjure a ward to shield herself from the attack. She embraced this avalanche of hate like a determined martyr as each bullet crunched itself to a scrunched lump of metal on her impregnable skin.

She played with the idea of using her powers to repair her wardrobe to new but discarded that option. Let these grunts behold her in her Eve costume.

Then the shelling started. She saw dozens of dots flashing out of the muzzle's end of barrels on the ground.

Clara let out a satisfying moan when the shell of an Abrams hit Clara full in the chest and ripped what little remained of her robe away in a flurry of fabric and wind.

She opened her eyes while relishing the sound of volleys coming from rows of tanks and artillery stations on the ground. Their feeble attempts to harm her cracked a smile on her face.

Upon surveying the mass of armed forces giving her the full brunt, Clara wondered how many of them had joined this strike force willingly. How much chance did they think they had in bringing her down? Surely, they must have seen or heard her doing impossible things like stopping a thundering train with one arm, pulling a stranded cruise ship back to deeper waters, and blowing a category five hurricane away from the mainland with merely the strength of her lungs.

However, this was the first time Clara's limits were put to the test while facing a military force. And yet, Clara wasn't anxious at all. She had this inner knowing that nothing these soldiers would throw at her could harm her. As if on cue, several news crews with cameras revealed themselves from nearby trees.

It made her smile. Here she was, as a single woman, taking on a military force, and the world would bear witness. The thought only added to her anticipation as Clara prepared for what was about to come.

Keen eyes would observe if they could notice any weaknesses in Clara. Clara laughed. Let them.

Clara's steely gaze scanned the battlefield below, her determination and patience thicker than armor. Her breath began to quicken as a smile spread across her face. It was time to show the world how pitiful it was compared to her.

Her body glistened under the blanket of rain like liquid gold, each droplet trailing along her naked curves like tiny rivers. With unbridled ferocity and no fear, Clara cannoned off and propelled herself towards the battalion of Abram tanks battering her from the forest edge. With deadly precision, Clara hones in on one tank, bullets whizzing by her while explosions rip through the air around her.

There had always been this one thing she wanted to do the moment she was blessed with these powers. She wanted to know how it felt like to pierce her body straight through a heavily plated war machine. Zeroing her sights on one particular tank, Clara shot towards it.

Her stunning and invulnerable face bore through the tank's main cannon, crunching its metal. A high explosive round was fired by its crew, and it met Clara when her face was halfway through, busy pulverizing its barrel. It detonated upon impact, wrecking the tank but leaving her flawless face intact, thus, denying Clara's satisfaction of flying straight through it.

It didn't matter. There were still plenty of tanks left to play with. A chuckle escaped Clara's lips when she noticed that most of the tanks were still busy rotating their cannons in her direction, utterly incapable of catching up with her speed. It had to be one hell of a sight to see a beautiful lady, standing proud and butt-naked amidst a field of steel and fire wearing nothing but a smile.

Clara scanned her surroundings and did an eeny-meeny-miny-moe before choosing her next target.

Another Abrams tank. And this one was firing an armor-piercing round containing a depleted uranium rod. It didn't matter how hard and dense the military made their rounds, it was still no match against a Godlike being like Clara. Its shell made a full hit on her left boob, making it slightly jiggle. A deep moan escaped her mouth when a delightful sensation crackled through her body.

"Mmm, again, please?" Clara said.

Another shell hit her, on her right ass cheek this time, coming from another tank behind her. Clara turned around, irked that this idiot had the audacity to interrupt her moment of intimacy with his colleagues.

Clara's eyes sparked with anger, burning bright red.

"You deserve to die!" Two devastating beams shot out of her eyes, melting the tank's steel, that hit her in the back, to a luminous puddle that scorched the meadow where it was riding upon as it seeped in streams until it hardened due to the cold raindrops that poured down from the skies.

The first tank, the one that scored a full hit on her boob, fired another round—this time, hitting her full in the face.

"The boob, dude!" Clara frowned. "You've got one chance to make your short life useful before I make it even shorter."

The tank fired another round, missing her as its shell grazed along her torso, vexing her enormously. "Time to meet your maker."

With a single thought launched from her mind, Clara exploded the tank in a fireball that engulfed several other tanks nearby, rendering their tracks and canons beyond repair. In its wake remained a crater wide enough to stretch a football field.

Clara's face contorted with rage as she cursed. Now she still did not have the satisfaction of boring through a steel cage on wheels. No worries, though. There were still plenty of tanks left, and more were bearing down on her, firing an onslaught of shells at her.

"Good!" Clara licked her lips in anticipation as explosions blossomed around her. "There's got to be at least one of you skillful enough to hit me on the–"

Clara's sentence was cut off by a deep guttural moan coming from her throat when a shell hit her full in the crotch, crackling a shockwave of pleasure through her body that felt otherworldly delicious.

"You!" Clara pointed at the tank responsible for this exquisite experience. "Get over here!" As if it was nothing, Clara's mental powers pulled the 80-ton warmachine closer to her, dragging its tracks that were spinning in the opposite direction through the field, plowing it. The naked superwoman stood with her hands on her hips, a predatory gleam on her face, as her mental powers were reeling the machine in like a fish. "Ah, yes. Come to mommy." Clara said, beckoning him with a single finger.

But his buddies came to his aid as they ramped up their firepower.

In the dead of night, an earsplitting roaring erupted as howitzers and rocket launchers thundered, letting their deadly salvo rain down upon Clara, all converging on Clara's body. Like a living explosive epicenter, her body became the focal point of firepower that obscured her from sight.

However, it did not stop her mental powers from reeling the Abram tank in. It did not stall her even.

Its crew knew what was coming, so decided to go on the lam. At least, an attempt to do that was made. The top hatch opened up, and one guy leaped out, followed by another. When a third guy tried to crawl out, he was bowled over and fell back into the tank when his buddies that had gone before him were hurled through the air by an invisible force and stuffed back into the tank. The hatch slammed down, sealing it tight. Satisfied with her intervention, Clara chuckled as she saw everything clearly despite all the dust and dirt flying through the air around her. "You're not going anywhere."

Upon witnessing it all, commands were roared to cease fire, for the strike force did not want to hit their own comrades. Like a flailing prey who did everything in its might to escape the clutches of its predator, the tank roared hard as its tracks spun in the opposite direction in an attempt to drive away from the stunning, naked superwoman reeling them in. It was all to no avail. When the Abram tank stood right before Clara, she lifted off into the air and hovered her vagina before the cannon's mouth while exposing her clit.

"Hey!" Clara snapped the terrified crew to attention, who were busy screaming, yanking and pounding on the tank's hatch. "Focus, gentleman. Give me everything you got and I might grant you a painless death."

Before the soldiers could contemplate the order given by the superwoman hovering outside their tank, they felt an invisible force taking control of their bodies, coercing them into position. Of course, Clara could use her powers to operate the tank without the personnel's use, but it was more fun this way.

Moved by Clara's will, the loader picks up a shell, loads it into the breech, and closes it. The tank commander's mouth – also under Clara's influence – bellows the command to fire, coercing the gunner to fire.

The pointy end of the shell hit Clara's clit, and she came instantly. Under the tearing of a satisfactory piercing scream, Clara's body immediately emits an insane amount of thermal energy that blasts outwards, cutting a swath all around her and scorching the entire strike force to cinders.