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Warning: This is adult literature.  If you’re not of a legal age to read this stuff, don’t.

 

Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction.  No semblance between the characters described here and real individuals -- living or dead -- is implied or intended.

 

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The addict's room was depressing.  Sunlight clawed its way through thin yellow blinds, casting his bed in a jaundiced light.  Vicky began wishing that her visit was over, and it hadn't even started yet.

 

"They had to replace a kidney, and his liver will never be the same," the doctor said of the gaunt figure in the bed.  "But the biggest challenge is between his ears.  These chemicals alter the brain, alter what you consider desirable.  I'll leave you alone with him now," he said as he pulled the door closed.

 

How could someone do this do himself, she wondered as she sat gingerly on the side of his bed.  It is all such a downer.  She sighed deeply, causing the blinds to flutter, disquieted.

 

As her breath passed over him, he stirred suddenly, and his eyes opened.

 

"Hi," Vicky said uncomfortably.  It was all she could manage.  Looking at his frail form, he seemed entirely foreign to her  -- weaker, even, than a normal man.

 

Recognition slowly unfolded across his face.  "You.... you're uh... the girl.... the super one... V.... Veronica?"

 

"Vicky," she corrected.  Fame still felt unusual to her.  "I came here to learn a little bit about drug addiction.  They said you might be able to tell me your story."

 

"Aren't you impervious to drugs?" he replied.

 

"No, they have an effect on me.  But it's a only pleasant one.  The simply enhance whatever pleasure I'm already feeling.  I never experience the lows or the addictions."  Vicky took fingers that were strong enough to tear tank armor to sheds, and folded them uneasily on her lap.

 

"So, you're going to have a hard time relating to this."

 

"Perhaps so.  But for what I need, I see no alternative."

 

"It began innocently enough," he started.  "Just something my friends were doing.  There was some peer pressure... a party... I didn't want to be the only guy who was being lame.  But the chemicals -- they took to me more than the other guys.  The next day, I wanted another hit.  The day after that, it went beyond wanting: I needed it."

 

"Go on," she said with caution.  Something about this felt strangely femiliar.  She glanced at the ceiling.  Somewhere far beyond it, the alien ships roamed.

 

"Soon, the pangs became overwhelming.  I was unable to think about anything else, unable to function normally.  I didn't care about my friends, my relationships.  I didn't care about my career.  All I wanted was to satisfy the craving.  I knew that listening to the cravings would lead to my own ruin, and even destroy the people around me.  It was as if every cell in my body was rioting against me.  I tried to resist, but.. but my will was weaker then the need.  Even now, the need claws at my insides, and it can't be denied.  And when I give in to the need, it destroys everything in my life.  I'm sure it's hard to relate ..."

 

Vicky felt a familiar pang in her gut, and instinctively rubbed her hand over the device that resided inside of her.  "No," she replied with effort, "I know the feeling very well."

 

 

--------------------------------

 

 

They spent an hour talking, Vicky and the addict.  Maybe it was two hours.   Vicky didn't know.  She listened to everything.  She learned about way the cravings would come and go.  She learned about the way that, even if he desperately wanted to be better, he was always constantly at risk of slipping back into oblivion.  In fact, this was his third time in rehab.  He had relapsed twice, and not for lack of desire to be healthy.  His moments of darkness were that strong.  

 

She learned that he could only stay on the path to recovery if he had a dream-- something to stumble towards, like a light that beckoned the way out of his mental dungeon.

 

Vicky's affinity for this man deepened with every word he spoke.  Drugs for him were more than just a bad habit that needed to be broken.  They were as tempting during his recovery as they were when he was a full blown user.  With every new day came a new threat -- a resurgence of the dreaded cravings -- that could easily pull him back into his own destruction.  The outcome was by no means assured.

 

"Thank you," Vicky said, as his story came to it's natural conclusion.

 

He put a hand on her knee.  "I should be the one thanking you.  You're presence here is... invigorating."

 

Vicky marveled at the fact that her over-the-top sexuality, even in this situation, was hard for men to ignore.  She had no interest in him sexually, not with so much else on her mind.  But after sharing with her his life story, she concluded that, at the very least, she could throw him a bone.  She leaned in for a brief kiss of gratitude.

 

As her lips touched his, the man's chest rose dramatically, as if he had been hit with an invisible defibrillator.  Her touch had infused him with new vigor.   When she pulled away from his face, his eyes were wide with the sock of unexpected delight.  

 

"Wow," he gasped.  "That was the best... the feeling.... the most awesome...."

 

She leaned in close, her lips close to his cheek.  Her scent settled on top of him like another blanket, and her whisper tickled his ear.

 

"Get better," she rasped, "and I'll come back to give you a real kiss."

 

 

--------------------------------

 

 

"I've never seen a patient recover so quickly," the doctor told the interviewer.   

 

Louisa unwound herself from Chad's embrace long enough to turn up the volume on the TV.   After three weeks in Mexico City, it was a relief to find something -- anything -- broadcast in English.

 

"Tell us more, what were you able to do for this addict that you had never done before?"  The interviewer asked.

 

"One word: Vicky."

 

Louisa groaned.

 

The doctor continued, "She visited the patient while he was throes of withdrawal and made him a promise: get better and I will visit you again.  Her presence touched him in some deep way, and the idea of her coming back gave him a something to strive for, a goal."

 

"So, you're saying that alone was enough to give this man willpower he never had?" the interviewer asked.

 

"Indeed," the doctor responded. "And now, she has rolled out a national campaign to get America off mind-altering, addictive drugs."

 

"And it's been wildly successful, I might add.  Rehabilitation centers have been filled to capacity, and success rate in achieving a full recovery has climbed to atmospheric levels."  The interviewer waved an arm toward the stage entrance.  "So, without further ado, let's meet the supergirl Vicky!"

 

Applause cascaded throughout the room as the auburn-haired supergirl entered.  She was wearing trim white slacks and heather-colored off-the-shoulder shirt.  The neck of the shirt was so wide that it revealed not only her shoulders but also an enticing bit of cleavage.

 

"Vicky, you've dubbed your campaign Sober is Sexy.  Tell us about why you decided start this campaign, and how the campaign got such an unusual name."

 

"Well, Bob, it started out actually with a trip to Mexico, where I witnessed firsthand the way demand for drugs in the US was destroying communities in Mexico. And of course, drugs also destroy the lives of the people that use them here.  I knew I wanted to do something, and my first reaction was to use my superpowers to improve enforcement along the border.  If they can't get the drugs into the country, then they can't use them."

 

"Sounds reasonable."

 

"Well, it wasn't.  Trying to stop smuggling is like trying to keep stop a swarm of ants -- there is always a crack or another way around.  It was pretty discouraging."

 

"So you decided that it was impossible to stop the smuggling.  What then?"

 

"Well, we are taking a two-pronged approach. On the one hand, me and the girls continue to help the police conduct drug busts, both north and south of the border. But some of the most important work is going on right here at home, in our own living rooms, where users are slowly giving up the habit, which eliminates the demand for drugs in the first place.

 

Louisa groaned at the TV.  "Some of the most important work?  That's what she's doing?  Then what the fuck are we doing, some of the least important work?"

 

Vicky's image on the screen continued.  "We're asking addicts in the U.S. to submit themselves to treatment, and for those who might experiment with hard drugs for the first time, we're imploring them to think twice.  That was the origin of Sober Is Sexy."

 

"Well," the interviewer nodded approvingly, "it certainly seems to have captured the world's attention. Your SiS campaign posters have gone far more viral than speeches from the Surgeon General ever did.  And we're hearing countless stories of addicts putting themselves through rehab just to get a photo op with you."

 

"That's right, Bob.  If you're an addict, and you successfully kick the habit in rehab, then I'll pay you a personal visit.  You get a smooch from the most powerful woman that ever lived."

 

The interviewer chuckled nervously.  "Is that legal, to bribe people with a kiss?"

 

Vicky leaned forward in her chair, and let the light of the cameras delve into the depths of her cleavage.  "Would you decline it if it was?"

 

The interviewer chuckled nervously.  "I'd never decline anything, Vicky, if it was offered by you.

 

Louisa hit the mute button in disgust.  "Why is everyone fawning over her, while I sit here and do the dirty work?  She sent me to Mexico three fucking weeks ago and it's been nothing but bullshit ever since we got here."

 

Chad ran a reassuring hand down her arm, but said nothing.

 

Louisa turned the sound back on again.  

 

The interviewer was in mid-sentence.  "-- the turning point for you?  How did you come up with such an inventive strategy?"

 

"It all goes back to something my friend Tamara told me:  Believe in people, and they will help you be truly super."

 

Louisa's temper now boiled over.  "Great, even Tamara gets to bask in the glory, while I rot here in Mexico City in meeting after bullshit meeting with the police."  She hurled the remove at the TV with such force that it exploded upon impact, folding the screen nearly in half and sending the entire appliance hurtling across the room.

 

"Louisa," Chad responded hesitantly.  He clearly did not want to suffer the same fate as the remote.  "Just a few more days of meeting and we should be ready for action.  The Mexican government just needs some time to get comfortable with bringing the fight to the doorsteps of the kingpins themselves.  It's one thing to arrest the small-time dealers, or disrupt the trafficking patterns, but it's another thing entirely to go after the kingpins personally."

 

"How so?" Louisa growled.

 

"The kingpins know where every single Cabinet member lives  They know where the children of the cabinet members go to school.  They know where the wives of the cabinet members get their hair done.  If the Mexican authorities go after the kingpins, the kingpins will retaliate.  And the kingpins are ruthless."

 

"Do you think I care?"  Louisa bellowed, rising to her feet.  "We've done more than a hundred drug busts in the last week.  We're already disrupting them.  They're already under pressure.  And the fact that they are still around is pissing me off!"

 

Chad inched away from her on the couch.

 

"Nobody-- and I mean nobody-- can defy me.  I said it was time for the kingpins to go, and if they're too stupid to take the hint, then it's time for me to teach them a lesson.  And if the kingpins want to interrupt a color treatment at hair salon so they can blow holes in a few of the politician's wives, then fine.  That's the price we have to pay.  Most of those women are coloring their hair red, anyway."

 

Chad put up his hands, as if to block her.  "If you want to move on the kingpins now, let's come up with a plan for making sure that the key government officials are protected.  We can present it at tomorrow's meeting."

 

"No, no more fucking meetings.  If I'm going to be the runt of the litter while everybody else gets the glory..." she waved a dismissive hand at the dead TV "... then I might as well have fun rather than sit in meetings."  Her feet were off the ground now, and she was floating to the window.  "I'm going to Acapulco.  When the government here is ready for some action, tell Ethan to find me."

 

 

--------------------------------

 

 

Louisa awoke the next morning feeling refreshed.  While still like supine in bed, she stretched her arms over her head.  Her firm boobs rode up on her chest, forcing aside the head of a man who had spent the night draped over her.

 

He's exhausted, Louisa noted as she rolled him off her entirely.  They all are.  

 

The room was littered with a half dozen other men, all in similar states of undress and fatigue.  The fight at the Acapulco bar last night about who would get to go home with the beautiful lady turned out to be a pointless one.  They all went home with her.  For two nights now she had turned the Acapulco night scene upside down with her sex drive, to the point where just about everybody seemed to know her name.  She wasn't lying low, that was for sure.

 

Her feet made a cackling sound as they walked over a small lake of cash that had been tossed on the floor.  She had been stupid enough to leave for Acapulco with no credit card, no ID, nothing.  Ethan had spent an hour figuring out how do wire her a cool million to play with, amidst some grumbling about how it wasn't his job.  And what is, Louisa wondered?  Kissing Vicky's feet?

 

She pulled her lace thong up over her rounded ass cheeks and ran a hand through the long curls of her hair.  Stepping onto the patio of her penthouse suite in nothing more than the thong, Louisa sighed with happiness as she took in the ocean vista.  It was probably illegal in Mexico to be  topless in public, but Louisa didn't care  She had an awesome body, she reminded herself had she ran a hand over the swell of her tit and the taut skin of her midriff.  And an awesome body deserves to be shown off.   Several of morning joggers seemed to agree, stumbling in the sand as they craned to get a better look at her.

 

An early morning surfer was out as well, his attention engrossed in the waves rather than her.  Louisa pouted with disappointment.  You may not have noticed me, but I can make you.  Gale force winds emerged from between the lips of that pout, a blast of air that no creature or machine on earth could reproduce.  The surface of the ocean quivered with the force of wind.

 

Not satisfied with her superhuman feat, Louisa increased the intensity of her exhalation.  Smaller waves crested, shuddered, and broke as if they had rolled straight into rocks.  Lousa was unhappy still, and decided that a little more juice would be required.  Her magnificent tits jutted out firmly as she inhaled a storm's worth of air and then unleashed a blast more powerful than her previous one -- by a factor of twenty. 

 

The surfer was riding a huge twenty foot wave in when Louisa's latest blast hit.  The wave shuddered, then froze still.   Then, under the insane forces created so thoughtlessly by the supergirl, the wave peeled itself backwards, breaking the wrong direction.  The wind caught the surfer as well and send him hurtling thirty yards back to the sea.  

 

"That'll teach him to pay attention," Louisa giggled.

 

A soft vibration emanated from Louisa's phone back in the room.  Striding quickly toward it, she saw "Ethan" on the screen.  What is his fucking problem, Louisa wondered?  He called, like, seventeen times last night.  

 

At the same moment, there was a knock on the penthouse door.  Louisa threw on a bathrobe on found a member of the hotel staff on the other side, bearing a pile of clothes and a manila envelope.

 

The pile of clothes had been expected.  Too lazy to pack a suitcase for her trip to  Acapulco, she had called down to the resort's golf shop and told them to bring up one of everything.  But the manila envelope had not been expected.

 

She pulled a pastel green golf shirt top over her voluminous bust, and felt the material stretch and strain as it encountered dimensions that no sensible garment designer would expect.  Then, a white miniskirt rose over her generous hips.  It was hemmed at the upper thigh.  Stiff pleats made hem of the skirt almost bounce as she returned to the patio with the curious manila envelope one hand, and he phone in the other.  

 

As she settled into a plush chair on the  patio, Louisa wondered to herself why Chad hadn't been in touch at all over the last 48 hours.  It was not like him to ignore her, she thought as she tore open the manila envelope.  She turned it upside down.

 

The sound of the ocean was quickly overpowered by Louisa's scream.  In her hand was a dagger, with blood on it.

 

 

--------------------------------

 

 

"It's their way of telling you that they are serious," Ethan's voice explained to Louisa over the phone."

 

"Well, it fucking worked," Louisa replied.  

 

The dagger, more than anything in the world, symbolized her bond with Chad.  He had plunged the thing into his own thigh in front of her once.  She had jokingly suggested that he harm himself to show of his devotion to her.   But he had treated the suggestion as no joke.  To this day, she did not know whether his unnecessary wound was the result of stupidity or genius.  He had nearly killed himself, but had also won her affection in a way that no other man had.  Ever since then, she had implored him to keep it, as a reminder of her special bond with him.  

 

And now he was in trouble.

 

She said to Ethan, "While I was here in Acapulco having a supergirl fuck fest, the man more devoted to me than any other was being abducted."

 

"Don't blame yourself," Ethan responded.  "You couldn't have seen it coming."

 

"Vicky told me that if I took any men to Mexico, I should be sure to protect them.  And I fucking ignored her.  And now this."

 

Louisa reached a hand deeper into the envelope and withdrew a photograph -- armed men with machine guns, a hostage seated, and a cloth bag over the hostage's head.  Without even seeing the face, she knew it was Chad.

 

"It's called a proof of life.  They sent one to us in Phoenix as well.  The newspaper shown there is evidence that the photo was taken no earlier than yesterday."

 

Louisa wanted to collapse from frustration and guilt.  How could she have allowed this?  How could she take the guy who was more devoted to her than any other and leave him in harm's way?  

 

"A note came along with the photo, and we had it translated to English.  They know that you're super.  That's why they abducted him in particular."

 

She looked away from the photo in frustration.  In her lap the dagger glinted the bright sun at her, accusingly.

 

"What the hell do they want?"

 

"They didn't say exactly.  They have a proposition for you-- for your ears alone.  They gave us a location in Mexico City, where they will show you Chad and then present their demands."

 

"So they want me to go there, alone, and talk to them?  How about I go there, talk to them, and then kill them?  I'm bullet proof.  I'm so fast then men see me as a blur.  I can lift 250 to--"

 

"They know the litany of your abilities, Louisa.  They will be ready for you.  I expect that several people will have guns trained on Chad's head during the entirety of your visit.  They also appear to have strapped a bomb to his throat.

 

"And after I meet their demands?  Once I've done what they wanted, what's to prevent them from killing Chad?"

 

"Nothing.  In fact, I'm sorry to say, but our hostage expert says that the most likely scenario is one where they get what they want from you, relocate Chad, and then kill him..  That way, Chad cannot provide you any clues as to where they live or who they are."

 

Louisa's hand trembled as she tried to slide the photo back into the envelope.  The photo quivered and didn't go in.  She tried again.  Her hand was shaking even more now.  The photo bent but did not go in. She threw it all on the ground in frustration.

 

"When do they want to see me?"

 

"In thirty minutes, or they start pulling his teeth out with a pair of pliers.  And then whatever task they have for you next, it will be on a similarly quick deadline.  They are keeping us off balance."

 

Louisa cursed under her breath.  No time to get her emotions under control.  She jammed the phone between her shoulder and her cheek as she pulled her hair into a tight bun, to get it out of the way.  The dagger made a convenient hairpin: she slid its razor sharpness through dark locks that were far stronger.

 

Ethan's voice spoke into her ear.  "If it's any consolation, this situation bears some resemblance to the situation Tammy found herself in with Alec.  And that worked out ok."

 

"No, it DOESN'T bear a resemblance," Louisa retorted.  "Alec got himself into his own mess, but this mess is all my doing.  I neglected the safety of my main man, thought only of myself, and now he's paying for my selfishness."

 

Louisa scanned the constellation of one-night-stand dudes that was scattered across the furniture and floor of her penthouse.  The commotion had awoken all of them, but they were only slowly rising and finding their clothes.  

 

"Out!" she screamed, loud enough to crack the adobe.  "Out all of you, right now!"

 

 

--------------------------------

 

 

Louisa walked slowly to the back room of the bar, through a cloud of shouting and revelry in Spanish.  The soccer game was on.

 

Turning the doorknob, she pushed the door slowly open.  No dramatic entry through the roof, she lamented to herself, nothing that left the door teetering on its hinges. They had her playing by their rules.  She was reduced to reacting.

 

Before her stood a group of men playing pool.  They separated upon her arrival, revealing Chad seated in a chair on the opposite end of the room.  He was bound and gagged.  Three men stood beside him, holding Glock pistols to his head.  Ethan had anticipated this: Glocks were infamous for their delicate trigger action.  

 

"We also have him rigged him to a bomb," a man holding a pool cue explained.  "If you move him, he dies."

 

"What do you want from me?" Her voice quivered.

 

"Nothing that you can't handle."  He handed her a sheet of pictures, with titles -- President, Secretary of War, Secretary of Internal Affaires.  It was the Mexican Cabinet.  "They are meeting today.  I want you to assassinate them -- all of them."

 

Louisa felt her breath catch in her throat.  It wasn't an option -- not at all.   If she had shown herself to be selfish by going to Acapulco, how much more so would she be if she killed a whole Cabinet to save her boyfriend?  

 

But what other options were there?  Her every instinct told her to tear everyone in the room apart.  But it was physically impossible to touch all of them before they squeezed a trigger on Chad. 

 

Think, Louisa, she told herself.  You need time to think.

 

"Mind if I break?"  she said, looking at the balls arranged neatly in a triangle on the billiards table.  She cursed the nervousness that her voice betrayed.

 

"Be my guest," he replied, handing her a cue.

 

She circled around to Chad's end of the table, avoiding his eyes on the way.  She hit the cue ball haphazardly, and it skipped slightly before weakly colliding with the assembled balls.  She heard a chuckle wander around the room,

 

"You seem nervous," he replied as he lined up his shot.

 

"Why do you want to assassinate the Cabinet?"

 

"Just business," he replied, as the crack of the balls echoed throughout the room.  One of his solids skittered into the corner pocket.  "When a city's mayor dies, people in that city stay out of our way.  If the federal politicians die, then the whole country stays out of our way.  Can you imagine having a thousand mile border without a single politician willing to stand up to us?"

 

Louisa lined up another shot, her arms shaking as she did so.  She jerked a striped ball toward a side pocket, but it went wide.  Some of the men on the side sniggered.

 

"We'll pay you a fifty million for the job," their leader continued, jamming his cue at the white ball.  It made a CRACK, followed by THUD as a solid ball rolled into the corner pocket.  "It's worth that much to us."

 

"I don't wan't your fucking money," she replied.

 

He motioned to a woman.  Thin build, alluring features -- in any other context Louisa would have found her attractive. 

 

"You should be very proud of your boy," the woman said as she sidled up to the bound and gagged Chad.  She ran a delicate finger along his jawline.  Chad groggily shook his head.  "Most men succumb to my feminine wiles, but he just kept saying your name."

 

Louisa felt red hot jealousy boiling up inside of her.  She had to rest the pool cue against the wall to avoid snapping it.  

 

"We even had him strapped to a bed for a while as a I worked his cock over with my mouth.  He didn't give us an ounce of the information we were looking for.  But I got him good and hard."

 

Fury -- it raged through Louisa like never before, a volano of anger that had been rumbling all day and was about to erupt.  "You keep your hands off of him, you BITCH."

 

Any attractiveness the strange woman possessed immediately disappeared.  Her face went rigid with disdain. "If you want him back, you do what we say.  And do not suppose for a moment that we are squeamish about harming him."

 

The woman extracted a pair of pliers from her pocket and opened Chad's mouth.  The gag was on tight, and she had no trouble getting to the teeth.   Several men held him down as he screamed.

 

Stay calm, Louisa told herself as Chad's screams filled the room.  You're his only hope.  You have to stay calm.  But inside, she too was screaming.

 

"Poor man," the woman purred as she examined the tooth in her pliers.  "He gives up so much for you."  She pecked him on the check.  Louisa felt her blood beginning to boil.  For a moment, the fear left her, replaced by a simmering anger.  

 

Keep the game up, she reminded herself.  It buys you time.  Cue in hand, she began to line up a shot of own, examined it, and then reconsidered.

 

"I hope you'll be better at killing those politicians than you are at playing pool," he scoffed.

 

"Killing I happen to be very good at," she retorted, feeling the heat that had risen to her face.  "Pool is completely beyond me."  She circled around the pool table to the side opposite Chad.  There he sat, moaning, blood dribbling down his chin.  The vile woman was running delicate fingers down his abused face.  Three guns were still pointed at his head.  The bomb still protruded from his neck like some kind of warped Adam's apple.

 

"I believe in you, Louisa.  You're better than them.  Let it shine through."  The voice was Chad's.  

 

Upon hearing it, something tiny shifted inside of her.  Calm, she told herself.

 

Louisa leaned slowly over the table.  She heard the thugs behind her quietly chuckle as the obtained a glimpse of her pert rear under the miniskirt.  The thugs in front of hear also reacted, as the "V" in the golf shirt draped open to the show off her cleavage.  Nice, she thought.  I'm not reacting to them anymore; they're reacting to me.

 

On the billiards table, she pointed the cue down the length of the table -- two solids lay in the path of the cue ball.  Calm, she thought, one last time.  He believes in me.

 

"You're stripes," her opponent reminded her, looking at the pair of solids in her path.  "You don't have a shot in that direction."

 

Louisa took one last look.

 

"Yes, I do."

 

The muscles on her arm tensed into iron as the cue pistoned forward, hard.  The cue ball shot forward in a blistering white blur, hitting the two solid balls and sending them rocketing off the table.  The two gunmen on either side of Chad -- their heads exploded as the billiard balls flew threw them with the force of artillery shells.  

 

Without pausing or even shifting her position, Louisa jammed the pool cue backward into the leader of the gang, eviscerating his midsection.  

 

Then, in a single fluid motion, she reached back into her hair bun, extracted the knife, and hurled it at the last gunman with such force that Louisa winced at the result.

 

It had all happened in less than a second.  The bodies of her four victims were still thudding down to the floor when Louisa began her assualt on the remainder of the thugs surrounding the billiard table.  She mounted the table like a gymnast on a pommel horse, swinging her legs in wild arcs.  She could feel her indestructible foot travel through three skulls in a row, collapsing them like eggshells.  CRACK, CRACK, CRACK they went. 

 

Without thinking about it, she could picture exactly the location and posture of all her remaining targets.  She watched almost passively as her hands shifted under her, sending her to the other side of the pool table.  She could feel her body respond with infinite, supple precision as it contorted and then threw her legs into more wild and deadly arcs.  CRACK, SNAP, CRACK, CRUNCH.  The entire squad of thugs slumped to the floor, their heads obliterated by her superhuman limbs.  

 

Alive in the room now were only herself, Chad and the vile woman.  

 

Louisa dismounted the billiards table and hefted its massiveness into the air.  She swung it overhead.  CRASH went the table into the ceiling as it barreled through acoustic tile and lighting.  CRASH went the table again -- even louder this time -- as Louisa brought it down on her mortal female rival. 

 

Chad, still tied to the chair, cowered but remained motionless.  He tried to slide his chair away from the violence of Louisa's assault.

 

The woman torturer was crushed -- clearly dead -- but that did not stop Louisa.  She hefted the pool table again, and brought it down again, like a lumberjack repeatedly swinging the axe.  All the while, Louisa was screaming at the dead woman's body: 

 

"Don't..." 

 

SMASH 

 

"...you ever..." 

 

SMASH

 

"...fuck with..."

 

SMASH

 

"...my man..."

 

 SMASH

 

"...again!"

 

SMASH

 

The pool table lay in splinters on the floor, and the floor below could been seen through a massive hole Louisa had ripped in it.  

 

Louisa found herself panting, her massive chest heaving not from exertion but from emotion.

 

She turned to Chad.  He was still alive, or at least, half so.  Blood soaked his cloth gag and clothing around his shoulder.  His head slumped dangerously to one side in near delirium.  

 

Without bothering to untie him from the chair, she climbed onto his lap lowered her gaze to the bomb on his Adam's apple.  Below, she felt his manhood awake under the warmth and weight of her presence.  A deft yank severed his cloth gag.  

 

"How does the bomb work?" she asked quickly.  It was a mess of wires.  The explosive seemed to be about the size of a grenade.

 

"There's no way to disarm it," he replied, looking steadily into her eyes.  "They showed me the mechanism.  It goes off it you cut the cord around my neck.  It goes off if I shift my position from vertical.  I goes off if you try to remove the detonator."

 

Louisa paused as the depth of the problem sank in.

 

Chad continued, "I've had plenty of time to think about this.  There is very little you can do.  This bomb is designed to kill me no matter what.  It's not your fault, Louisa."

 

Louisa shook her head defiantly.  "I am going home with you -- alive."  

 

She hoisted the polo shirt over her head.  Her massive tits jiggled slightly as they settled back into the buoyantly pert state.  She leaned her breasts forward, surrounding the bomb.   Gently, she pressed her breasts together, fully enveloping the baseball-seized device.

 

"Louisa, I'm sure you can withstand alot," Chad offered.  "But, a bomb... there?"

 

She answered only by smiling and slowly leaning back.  Chad remained strapped to the chair and couldn't follow her.  

 

Within moments, the wire on his neck was severed and a THUD reverberated throughout the room.  She felt a delightful heat and tingling as the bomb tore away in futility at her softest flesh.

 

Opening her cleavage for his inspection, the crushed debris of the bomb tumbled out.  She felt another warm tingling inside as his eyes went wide at her flawless state.  In that moment, she wanted to kiss him more badly then ever.  

 

She bit her lip, as she had done once before, and flooded his mouth with the healing power of her enhanced blood, quickly scabbing over the places where teeth had been extracted.

 

"There's one more thing you can go home with," Chad offered, demurely breaking the kiss.  He motioned his head toward the carnage at the other side of the room.  "That guy wasn't the true leader.  But I know who is."

 

 

--------------------------------

 

 

"So, it appears that we have yet to reach resolution on this matter."  The chair of the Mexican government's council on drug policy enforcement intoned dryly.  "Shall we reconvene again tomorrow?"

 

Without warning, the oak doors flew open violently, embedding themselves in the wall with a CRASH.  Council members turned to find the Louisa supergirl standing there in a golfing outfit, of all things.  Her hair was up in a bun, the hilt of a dagger just peeking out form behind her head.  Most odd, however, was the fact that she had man draped over her shoulder, and a dead one at that.

 

Louisa threw the body down on the boardroom table, smashing the flower arrangement and sending coffee cups rattling over the edge.  Out of the man's midriff jutted a pool cue.

 

"This guy wanted you all dead," Louisa announced as a translator tried to keep up.  "He was ready to pay me $50 million to kill you."  

 

Council members backed unsteadily away from the body.

 

"I know you've been reluctant to get into a war with the drug gangs.  But cold truth is that the drug gangs have already declared war on you. The only question is whether you are going to declare war on them.  What do you say we go get these fuckers?"

 

 

--------------------------------

 

 

Louisa breathed deeply, and the sweet smell of the park's trees again filled her lungs.  

 

"What a difference a month can make," Kim laughed.  "When we first came Roberto's funeral here they wanted nothing to do with us.  Now, we're honored guests."

 

It was true.  The mayor himself had insisted on accommodating the girls in the guest room of his house.  Mothers were were bringing children to have their photographs taken with the girls in the public square.

 

The reason for this had been all over the headlines.  Over the last four weeks, the girls had unleashed all manner of hell on the drug trade.  Information from Louisa's FBI contact had turned Kim into a one-woman law enforcement machine, busing supply lines as quickly as the gangs could form them.  Meanwhile, the Mexican government, after cleaning the dead thug off the table, had readily agreed to make a no-holds-barred assault on the production and distribution operations, with Louisa herself serving as enforcement agent extraordinnaire.  And then there was Vicky....

 

"Come Miss Keem!  Come Miss Louisa.  She is on the TV!"

 

And indeed she was, on a small TV in a bodega off the square: Vicky, in yet other interview.  It was the fourth one this week.  And in this version of the adoring coverage, addicts themselves were talking about their experience -- the miserable tumble down into the depths of addiction, as well as the inspiration Vicky had brought them, leading to their recovery.

 

Watching the TV, Louisa didn't feel jealousy anymore.  She didn't feel anger either.  She felt pride, in fact, in the role she had played.  After all, every commentator agreed: Kim and Loiusa's enforcement efforts, when combined with the demand declines that Vicky was enciting in the United States, constituted a one-two punch that hand knocked the drug trade senseless.  To have any part in it, however, small, was something to feel good about.

 

Louisa extracted the dagger from her hair bun and let her playful curls tumble down over her shoulders.  She fingered it gently and felt a pang of gratitude that she had Chad back, safe. 

 

So distracted in the dagger was she that Louisa did not notice Vicky double over in agony on TV.  If Louisa had been looking, she would have seen her friend clenching her gut where the module resided, eyes widening with fear.