Mob-Girl – Chapter 10-12
Written by Dru1076 :: [Tuesday, 14 June 2005 10:53] Last updated by :: [Sunday, 19 June 2016 11:10]
Mob-Girl – Chapter 10-12
Clark Kent had missed his chopper ride home. Desperately calling for help with the transmitter, he was having no luck. If the other Kryptonians had been sent to planets like Earth there was a strong chance they had left long ago.
Then, as the list of contacts grew short, Clark was successful. The figure of a blond man appeared, a smile on his face.
"Is that the son of Jor-El?"
"I'd just about given up on finding anyone."
"What's the problem?"
Clark explained ths situation with relief to his fellow Kryptonian.
"I'm leaving right now. I'll follow your signal to navigate, so don't turn the transmitter off."
"How long will it take you?"
"I don't know. I've never travelled that far before."
Emily returned from her joy-flight just as the sun rose over Metropolis. As the first light of day glowed on her body she felt the aches of eight-hours constant flight disappear. Streaking through the gold hued clouds she came down over a Daily Planet delivery van. Punching her small fist through the roof and peeling back a section, Emily reached in to take a paper. As she had hoped, Mob-Girl's assault on Fat Jimmy's bar was front page news.
HORIFFIC GANGWAR GRIPS METROPOLIS
Mob-Girl death toll grows overnight
The photo pleased her. One of the people who had been blasted back when she had taken out the second convoy of hitmen had obviously been carrying a camera. It wasn't a very clear shot … the person had snapped it from at least twenty feet in the air as they were accelerating away … but Emily could be seen with her hands on her hips, a hint of a smile on her puckered lips.
Emily rose over the skyscrapers reading the article. She was surprised that Clark Kent hadn't written it himself, but the by-line attributed the story to Lois Lane. Thinking it over, Emily realised this meant Clark must have left Metropolis. It was the only explanation she could think of. But where would he go, she wondered? To seek help from another hero? But he had told the world himself that he was more powerful than any one of them. At least he had been two days ago.
As she passed the Daily Planet building, Emily checked Perry White's office. The window was already fixed, and the trashed furniture replaced. But Perry White was still in hospital, and would be for a very long time. There was no point in asking him where Clark was, because the man was incapable of speech and people with two broken arms can't write.
Flying over Frank Forelli's Fashions, she looked in through the roof to see him working away on designs. She landed on the sidewalk in front of the door, which was still locked this early in the morning, and carefully pushed it open with her hand.
Floating through the building into the studio, she touched down behind him.
"Good Morning, Frank."
He jumped, and turned around in anger. But his fury left him when he realised who had startled him.
"It's you …"
"Have you got something to show me, Frank?"
He stepped aside and closed several pages of his sketchbook to show her his first drawing. It was a blue and red mini-skirt and short halter.
"There is a lot of fabric. It's possible to make more than one garment."
"That great!" she told him, genuinely pleased. "How many have you made so far?"
"None," he replied, his eyes wandering over the lines of Emily's magnetic curves.
"And why not?" she asked, absently hoisting him by the chin.
"I can't cut it!"
Emily lowered him to the floor and looked back to the sketchbook. Of course he couldn't cut the stuff … it was invulnerable.
"I might need lasers," the nervous man observed.
"I don't think they would help at all."
Giving it some thought she realised that it was up to her. Testing a theory she had, she blasted the sleeve of the super-suit with her eyes. As she intensified the beams, the area around the suit burst into flames. She stopped, and blew the fire out.
"We're going to have to this somewhere else," she told him. "Get your book."
As soon as he'd picked it up, Emily grabbed the startled designer and moments later they were soaring over the mountains. Emily turned west, and the coast soon passed below them.
"Where are we going?" Forelli asked, his voice unstable.
"A little island I spotted last time I was out this way."
Landing on top of a dead chunk of rock surrounded by huge rolling swells, Emily put her passenger down.
"Let's cut it up. Show me how you want it done."
Taking the supersuit to another small island nearby, Emily had the job done in no time. Taking the pieces back to Frank, he showed her where he would need holes made for the stitching. Using her super-speed she had it all done in under two minutes, and was home again within an hour of leaving.
Flying Frank back into the studio she left him to complete his work while she went home to check in.
Breaker was up with the sun, a fat cigar in his mouth, egg yoke and fat cooling on his plate. He was feeling great. Being out of prison was like being reborn. And the power he had his fingertips, thanks to his daughter, still made him drool if he thought about it too long.
"Mister Kirkland is here, Sir," the butler informed him as he removed the plate from the table. "Shall I send him in?"
"I'll meet him in the smoking room."
Dabbing out his cigar Carlos walked through into the smoking room and sat down to wait. A moment later Kirkland entered.
"Good morning, Boss."
"Where's Rudall?" Breaker asked, realising that Kirkland was alone.
"He'll be here later."
"Have you seen the paper?" Carlos waved his hand at the coffee table. "We're celebrities."
"You mean I'm a celebrity."
Emily, dressed one of her old casual outfits, walked gracefully into the room. Kirkland was sure her feet weren't quite touching the ground.
"Good morning, Emily," Carlos greeted her warmly. "Did you sleep well?"
"I didn't sleep at all. I'm not tired. What are we doing today?"
Carlos grinned. "I like your attitude. Straight to the point."
"I feel so great, Dad. Let's rob a bank or something …"
"Whoah. I'm not into that armed robbery shit anymore."
"Then who can we take down?"
"I've got a fair idea we can take down any mutherfucker we want … pardon the French. But I have to wait to hear Rudall's report. Whoever adds up to be the greatest leech on my empire will die today."
"Where's Rudall, then?" Emily demanded, taking a cigar out. "I don't see him anywhere."
"He's working on the report. He should be here anytime soon."
"I hate that saying," Carlos grumbled. "Anytime soon can be said a thousand times before anyone shows up."
Emily tried to light the cigar with her eyes, incinerating the whole thing. Picking out another she tried again and managed to get it burning without destroying it.
"Well," she declared, "If he's not here by the time I finish this cigar, I'm going out." Putting the Cuban to her lips, she drew back on it. Both Carlos and Kirkland were already dazzled by the manner in which she sparked up. But when she puffed the long thick cigar down to a short stub in one go, filling her lungs with smoke, their eyes widened further.
"He's not here," she observed. Taking her fingers away and holding the short butt with her lips, she drew back, taking the smoke deep into her lungs once again. Emily sucked the cherry in between her lips and blew the ash it left behind away in a cloud of dark smoke. "I'm out of here."
"When will you be back?" her father asked, picking out a fresh cigar of his own.
"I'll keep my eyes out for Rudall. When he gets here, I'll come home."
As she walked out Carlos caught Kirkland staring at her ass.
"Hey! Who the fuck do you think your perving on, Marcus?"
"Sorry, Boss. But I couldn't help it."
At least Kirkland was an honest criminal. Carlos had employed him for twelve years and never once had the man lied to him.
"Back to business. Let's go outside and you can fill me on on the money situation."
Rudall had finished the report before three in the morning. When Kirkland had come looking for him he'd been sleeping. It had been easy to convince Marcus that there was still work to do, leaving Rudall the chance to get out while he still could. He knew Carlos would want Chinese blood today. Their heroin was flooding the market and bringing prices down as more and more suppliers abandoned Lehay's Colombian imports.
While Carlos had sat waiting for breakfast, Rudall was at the airport waiting to board his flight to Gotham. He had been forced to charter a flight, because there wasn't a plane headed that way until after lunchtime … and by lunchtime Rudall would be as dead as Fat Jimmy. The expense of hiring a pilot and renting his cessna was of little concern to Rudall, since he had been filtering large sums of Breaker's money slowly into a bank account he'd opened in Barcelona. The payments he was taking to distribute Chinese merchandise through Breaker's old dealers were nothing compared to his generous embezzlements.
They had taken off just about the time Kirkland got to the compound, and were now well underway. The turbulence was nearly bad enough to abandon the trip, but Rudall's pilot was an iron-bellied dare-devil. The scruffy man laughed as Rudall turned a pale shade of green in the first ten minutes.
"Don't worry man," he assured his passenger. We'll be there in a few hours."
There was storm rolling in off the ocean as Emily rose over the city. She checked on Forelli, and found he still had a lot to do. Stretching her deceptively powerful body she flew down over Rudall's house and looked inside. There was no-one there. Remebering Rudall drove a blue Viper, Emily flew above the powerlines and followed the road all the way to her fathers compound, but didn't see Rudall anywhere.
"Where could he be?" she wondered. Checking her father's bank and the police stations turned up nothing. Rudall's Viper wasn't in the impound yard or anywhere else Emily could think of. Getting an idea, she rocketed upward until she could see the entire city, suburb to suburb. Combining her superspeed and enhanced eyes, she darted her gaze methodically back and forth over Metropolis. Emily found several blue Vipers, and a moment later she read Rudall's custom plates.
"There you are!" she declared at last, zooming on the airport parking garage. But why was Rudall at the airport? Emily experimented more with her eyes, exploring the airport in great detail looking for Rudall's ugly face. Searching floor by floor she found no sign of him anywhere. Checking again more thoroughly proved to be a wasted minute.
"If he's not there then must already be in a plane," Emily decided after giving it a moments thought. Smiling, she realised that he couldn't be very far away even if he was, and she plummeted below ten thousand feet to check each plane one by one. With the weather turning bad there weren't many planes in the air, and it only took a moment for Emily to find who she was looking for.
"What the fuck is going on?" she wondered, closing in on the Cessna at her leisure.
"This reminds me," the pilot was saying, "Of the time I flew my commanding officer into Vagas back in the eighties."
"You were in the Air-Force?" Rudall asked, glad for the distracting conversation.
"Got my license there when I was young. Flew all kinds of birds. But I gotta tell you, that old C-130 was a lot smoother ride through a storm. These old Cessnas are workhorses too, don't get me wrong, but they're so much lighter."
"How much further to Gotham?"
"We only just started, man. We should clear the storm soon. If we fly around sixteen thousand feet we should have a smoother ride."
Rudall looked out the window as the plane finally came through the clouds and into the dazzling sunlight above. A sea of rolling cloud surrounded him as far as he could see, but as the Cessna rose higher and higher over the storm he began to spot the edges.
"Beautiful isn't it?"
Emily agreed. Listening in on them as she flew along directly above them in one of the planes' blind spots. The slow Cessna didn't remotely challenge her ability to fly. Winds that blew the plane around over the place didn't affect the slim super-villian nearly so much. She could blow harder gales through her nostrils.
Several possibilities opened up for her as Emily decided how to get Rudall home to her father. She decided just to carry the whole plane back with her, knowing it must weigh a lot less than the Black-hawk she had captured last night.
Wanting Rudall to know who was taking control of the Cessna, Emily closed the gap between them and flew in under the wing.
Rudall was fighting down his nausea, even though they had it a bit easier now he could still feel the plane moving about with the wind. He had his gaze wandering out over the sea of cloud to take his mind off his motion sickness. When Mob-Girl's face appeared outside his window, he screamed.
Then Rudall grabbed the bucket while the pilot jiggled a finger in his ear.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, man?"
"Didn't you see her?" Rudall demanded, wiping vomit off his lower lip.
"Whoever she was, she sure must'a' been ugly."
"Maybe I was just dreaming," Rudall thought. He was drunk on fatigue, so it wasn't too surprising that his mind was playing tricks on him.
Rudall was given little time to entertain this train of thought. The plane jarred, which was not unusual. Rudall's chill came from the unnervingly smooth motion of the plane afterward.
"Hey, something's wrong here," the pilot remarked, controls in his hands becoming unresponsive as the plane lurched to the left.
"Bullshit. I don't buy into that crap."
The plane turned tightly around, slamming the occupants into the side. Then the pilot was reminded of flying F-18's as they accelerated back toward Metropolis. Robbed of fuel and air the engine stalled as the scenery became a blur to the helpless passengers. The Cessna threatened to tear itself apart as it flashed back into the sea of cloud, and came out under it north of the city. The storm was behind them when they flew down over the sun-drenched upper-class properties, decelerating to hover over one of the larger mansions.
Carlos was drinking his first bourbon of the day and listening with cunning ears while Kirkland gave him a thorough run-down on the power situation. The news was mostly bad, as he had known it would be. Every organisation had their fingers in Breaker's pie. The experienced criminal leader was about to curse Rudall's tardiness for the umpteenth time that morning when a shadow fell across his tidy lawn.
"What the …"
Carlos looked up, and saw his daughter wave at him while she held up a small aircraft with her other hand. He blinked his eyes a few times, and looked up again. She was gone. While he had cleared his vision she had floated down to the lawn nearby and was then carefully lowering the slightly damaged plane to the trimmed grass.
"You'll never guess what I found." Emily walked up to Rudall's door and scrunched the panel in her hand. Smiling with the ease of it, Emily pulled the door off and reached in for the mesmerised man. She walked across the lawn holding him casually off the ground by the back of the neck.
"Rudall?" Carlos asked in confusion. "What were you doing in that plane?"
He remained silent as Emily dropped him in a seat and stood back with hands on her hips.
"The pilot might know something," Kirkland suggested, trying unsuccessfully to take his eyes off his boss's energetically gorgeous daughter.
Emily launched twenty feet and came down on the far side of the plane. The pilot was too bedazzled to move as she removed his door and snapped his harness with her fingers. She flew him slowly over to the chair next to Rudall, and landed behind them.
Looking around at the four men, Emily realised that only her father didn't have an erection. She was in complete control here, and she knew it. While her father asked questions, and Rudall's betrayal and attempted escape came out, Emily was giving serious thought to a little betrayal of her own. What did she need with her father? She was the only source of his power now. While Rudall spilled his guts, Emily was thinking about what she could do if she went solo.
"Well, you have been busy," Carlos observed to Rudall. Then he turned his scowl on Kirkland. "I'm disapointed in you Kirkland. You should have known about this."
"But Boss I …"
"It's alright. I still trust you, Marcus." Looking back at Rudall, Carlos shook his head. "I can't trust you, though. Can I?"
"I thought you were finished."
"So you started the 'Save Rudall Fund'?"
Rudall looked at the floor.
"How much have you spent?"
"I bought a villa in the Riveria. A few parties. Most of it's still in the bank."
"I want all back, Rudall. Just give me the account numbers and I'll have Kirkland take care of it for you. In the meantime I want to know who I can take my anger out on. Who's sucking my money the most, besides you?"
"The Chinese. Hung Hyi to be more specific. He's the one who approached Leo and turned him. He got to me too. The man has more money than the government."
"How much did you cost, Rudall?" Kirkland asked, angered by his friends betrayal.
"It was enough. More money than I'd made in the last ten years. Sure I took it. If you had stayed in prison the empire would've collapsed in another three months. We'd all be dead. So I was looking out for myself for a change."
"You didn't do a very good job of that," Emily observed, playfully starting small fires on his clothes. "Look at the situation you're in now."
"Let's all go see this Hung Hyi," Carlos told everyone, rising to his feet. "When I'm though with him, They'll have to call him just Hyi."
Emily stepped closer to the pilot. "I'll catch up. We don't need this guy tagging along so I'll just take care of him."
Watching her father and his two colleagues walk toward the house, Emily smiled at the man who had been flying Rudall's plane. He was sweating in the shade, and shifting uncomfortably as she dominated his personal space.
"What are we going to do with you?"
"Please," he begged. "I don't even know the guy! I don't even know who you are!"
"Get in your plane."
He looked at her in confusion. Emily didn't waste time repeating herself, and hoisted him from his chair with a finger wrapped in his collar. Hovering across the lawn to the plane, she tossed him in Rudall's seat. Crouching down, Emily rose with the plane above her and carried it high into the sky above Metropolis. Looking up through the belly of the plane she could see him strapping into the seat and had to laugh as he grappled with the controls.
Wanting to get back before her father left the compound, Emily went out over the ocean a little faster than she should have. She watched the man sink further and further in his seat as rivets started to pop out of the airframe. A wing tore off, taking a section of roof with it. The other soon followed as Emily steadily increased her speed. The pilot died when the plane suddenly exploded, the fuel reaching critical temperature.
Dropping the flaming wreckage into the ocean, Emily flew back to Metrolpolis, able to travel many times faster without her fragile cargo. Carlos was still shaving, so she went to see Forelli. Surely he must have finished one of her outfits by now.
Clark didn't know much about the Kryptonian he had contacted. He worried for a while whether this stranger would be able to resist the opportunity that Emily Lahey presented. Fortunately, The green clothed man that landed in the Fortress of Solitude turned out to be no less than his cousin. Soon the disciplined and caring Kryptonian was carrying a slightly embarrassed Clark Kent back to Metropolis.
"Don't worry Kal-El, I will find her, and take her back to your fortress. If it's the same as mine, it should have the technology to remove your powers from the girl."
Clark stood alone in his apartment for a only short time before getting a very chilling thought. After his fight with Zod, Superman had been so absorbed with the Lois situation he hadn't re-wired the control panels. If his new friend tried using that device on Mob-Girl, then things were going to take a major turn for the worst.
"There aren't many people out today," Carlos noted, poking his thumb at the window.
Kirkland nodded. "Not surprising. You know your daughter killed more people yesterday than most hitmen manage in a whole career."
"She really is amazing," Carlos remarked with genuine admiration.
Rudall entered the conversation,
surprising his old boss. "You can see she's go'na get out of control? What would you do if she turned on you?"
"Emily's my only daughter. She loves me, why would she betray me?"
"Because she is your daughter."
"You shut up," Kirkland told Rudall firm and cold. "I'll cut out your snake tongue myself."
"She won't take orders for long. Emily's smart … and she's got your driving ambition, Carlos."
"You're already dead, Rudall. Just like Hung Hyi: You don't know it." Carlos looked back out the window. "Put a gag on this dumb-ass."
A short time later Carlos was startled by his daughter's face. She was flying low alongside the limo wearing a very classy yet revealing red and blue outfit. Carlos wound the window down to talk to her.
"You scared the shit out of me!"
"Sorry," Emily grinned, "I was just wondering where we're going. Chinatown?"
"Yea. Follow us … but let us go in first."
Hung Hyi was, as always, in his club. The lights were still going, and people were still dancing … though they lacked a certain energy in their movements. Hung was counting the takings again, upset that the till was short. Three days in a row this had sent him into a rage. Whoever was taking his money was very confident. And as Hung looked around he club, he noticed one of the barmen throw him a smile. A smile not returned.
"Miss Lu," he said to his assistant, "Go get you friends."
His dark haired mistress smiled at him, and bowed respectfully before leaving the room. Hung rose to his feet, and waved his two bodyguards away. They took the cash-box and paperwork away with them. Hung approached the barman.
"How long has it been, San?" he asked him. "Twelve years?"
San knew he was about to be fronted, but remained confident. "Yes sir, mister Hyi. Twelve years and a few months. What can I get you this morning?"
"It adds up to over three-thousand dollars, San. Do you still have the money you took last night?"
"I don't understand. Is there something I should know Mister Hyi?"
Miss Lu returned, accompanied by three equally beautiful women. The group flanked the boss.
"Search him," Hyi commanded, stepping back.
The girls went into action. Hung had trained them personally to be more deadly than most of his best men. Working as one, two of them dragged him across the bar and sprawled him on the floor. Normally Hung would take this kind of action into the back rooms, as such behaviour among his staff was bad for business. But this issue had him really pissed off.
The efforts of the four trained girls produced a wad of various notes from within San's jeans. Hung counted it, while San looked up in fear.
One of his security staff approached the scene. "Mr Hyi, we have a situation that requires your immediate attention."
"It can wait," Hyi snapped.
"Carlos Lahey was seen entering Chinatown."
"So what? If he comes here, offer him a fucking table." Hyi looked back toward Miss Lu. "Take this fool out back."
"Do you want me to pull-up, Mr. Lahey?" the driver asked as they approached the club.
"Yea." Carlos looked over at Rudall. "Take your gag off."
Rudall removed his tie from his mouth, but didn't speak.
The Chinese businessman had done very well for himself. The club was the showpiece of his empire, and was impressive. Hung Hyi had poured millions into the design and construction, and now it was complete.
"Lead the way," Carlos invited his disgraced employee.
Two-thousand feet above, Emily watched the grim trio enter the big club. She already knew that the men inside weren't set to pounce, though she noticed quite a lot of thugs. Well dressed thugs the likes of which Emily had grown up around. Their faces and beliefs were different, but their clothes and greed remained constant among all Metropolis's gangsters.
Listening in as Rudall organised a table from the very friendly security guy, Emily crossed her arms in dismay. This was going to take a while. As she hovered there she thought again about ditching her father and going it alone. Thinking of the ease with which she had handled the soldiers last night thrilled her. All their munitions and training couldn't save them from her unarmed inexperience. Searching the building from basement to roof, Emily found nothing like the weapons she'd faced up in the mountains. Though some of the Chinese guys were a lot more buffed than those unfortunate soldiers, Mob-girl was certain she had nothing to worry about from them.
Her father was still on his way to a table. Frowning, she drifted down to nearby alley. Ignoring a small gathering of pissed rag-men, all gaping at her through suddenly sober eyes, Emily walked out onto the street and up toward the club. Noticing a lot of eyes flashing her way, she found pride in the sound of quickening heartbeats and quiet "Wow"'s.
The guys on the door of the club had the entrance open before she started up the steps. Smiling at them, she could see their sweat pores getting busy as they posed and tried to look tough for her. Emily's smile turned to a grin at the thought of these guys trying to fight her. Hopefully, she'd very soon have that chance.
Walking inside, Emily went directly to the bar.
"What can I get for you?" the barman asked.
Through the timber of the lavish bar, and the expensive threads, Emily could see the effect she had on this poor guy.
"A bottle of Vodka."
Without taking his eyes off her, he reached up and grasped a bottle from the shelves behind him. Putting a bottle of Jack Daniels on the bar in front of her, he turned to get a glass.
Shaking her head at the dazzled barman, Emily took the bottle and left without waiting for a glass. She sat near a window and waited for something to happen. Looking out on the street she tuned her ears into the conversation at her fathers' table.
"… ary. He's a very busy man."
"I'm an old friend, and I don't …"
Emily shook her head. Her father could be such a dramatic windbag at times in her opinion, and she knew he would drag the power-game he was playing out as long as he could, then wring it a bit before he'd signal her.
"Excuse me, Miss."
The firm voice speaking behind her belonged to a large thug. His stern facial expression was betrayed by his body language, but as Emily turned he continued to do his job.
"The barman informs me that you haven't paid for you drink."
"Did I forget to pay him? How silly of me! Well, I'll be sure to fix that … just as soon as I drink it."
"Do have a purse with you?"
Emily smiled and looked around as if expecting to find a handbag. "Why, would you believe that?"
"I think you better leave."
"But I haven't even opened my bottle yet."
"Leave that behind. It's a good thing you didn't open it, or I'd be calling the police."
"You can't make me leave," Emily told him with genuine arrogance in her voice. "My boyfriend will be here soon. He'll pay for it."
The guard looked at her with cold eyes, yet his Asian complexion did nothing to hide his reddened face. Part of him wanted to throw this woman down and have her right there in the club, but he knew better than that.
"Let's go," he told her, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward the back alley exit.
Emily allowed him to move her, trying to keep her steel arm soft so he didn't realise who she was. They were soon outside the club in the narrow alley behind it. The high buildings either side made the alley dark even on the brightest of days.
As the door closed behind them, Emily looked around until she found the hidden security camera. Melting it to slag, she turned her eyes back to the Asian bouncer. He hadn't seen her heat vision at work because he was running his hands up he inside of her skirt.
"This is how we treat women like you in my country," he told her, his hands gripping more firmly as he got behind a dumpster with her.
"You don't know anything about women like me, tough-guy."
She let him get her down on the ground, and checked on her father while she waited for his next move. Looking back, she saw him struggling to remove her halter. The alluring clothes fashioned for her by Forelli were too tight for him get his fingers under, let lone remove. She was about to help him when something very unexpected happened.
The large half-loaded dumpster was suddenly gone. In its place stood a blonde man dressed in green.
"Resist and die, Earthling. But breathing or not, you're coming with me."
Emily gulped as she realised she couldn't see through him. She had just enough time to realise what this meant before he flashed in and delivered a powerful blow to her head.
Opening her eyes, Emily looked around. Her head ached, and she was very uncomfortable. Her attacker had put her inside some sort of transparent tube.
"What a fool Kal-El is. Letting a pathetic thing like you steal his powers."
The blonde stepped into her view.
"Who are you?"
"I am one of the few survivors of Krypton. Soon I will be the last."
Emily was a little confused. "Aren't you working for Superman?"
"Ha! He thinks I am. I was going to kill him, but then I thought it better to let him live. He can't do anything to me now. And when I activate this machine, the same process that gave you all Kal-El's powers will transfer them to me. I just finished rigging the conductors. Once I have doubled my power, I'll use the chambers of other Kryptonians to take theirs. Before long, I'll be so powerful that nothing in the universe can stop me. And it's all thanks to you, Earthling."
"What are you doing?" she asked, as he floated over to the control panel and turned on the machine.
"It really is a great plan," he mused. "I'm going to put Kal-El's powers into the machine. Then I'm going to put them in me. And to do all this takes the push of one button."
Emily banged on the glass, but even with her Kryptonian strength she failed to damage it. Around her the air sizzled with energy, but nothing else seemed to happen. The alien device was far less brutal than what her team had developed.
The door opened, and the green-clad blonde looked down at Emily as she stepped out of the chamber. "I'm sure you'll miss the abilities of my race, girl. But don't worry, I wouldn't want you moping the rest of your life away." He grinned at her, his handsome face made ugly it. Then the evil grin fell away and he squinted at her. His eyes lost their confident sheen as he leaned forward and stared hard at Emily's chest. "What's going on here? This is wrong …"
Floating up into the air, Mob-Girl regarded her opponent with a cute smile and laugh playing about her eyes. "Oh no, weirdo, this is just right." Resting her elbow on her hand, she stroked her chin. "Was this what you were trying to do, Blondie?"
The Kryptonian fell back as Emily blasted laser beams from her clear blue eyes. His back never touched the floor, as his weakened form soon vaporised.
With little laugh, Emily landed where he had been standing only moments before. Piercing the panel with her eyes, she soon found the problem. Her enhanced mind had o trouble fathoming what had happened. Superman had left the machine as it was the day he had defeated the three rogues. All he done was rewire a few buttons, and put the emitter from the chamber into the wall of the Fortress.
Emily got a rush as she realised the potential of the situation. She didn't even have to rewire the console, just use different buttons. Quickly understanding what all the controls did, she tapped a button and the machinery wound up.
Emily wasn't sure anything had happened at first. A little worried she may have stripped herself of her Kryptonian powers, she floated up a little to make sure it was still possible. But the red glow had done its work, and she found floating required less effort now. Looking around she saw through the walls of the Fortress and found no problem seeing everything all the way to the horizon. Not that there was much to see besides snow.
Unsure which way to go, Emily put on a little burst upward, until the wind stopped blowing her hair and she put on the brakes. The sudden discharge of energy so close to the snow created a large steaming moat around the Fortress of Solitude. Looking back, Emily smiled and contemplated how powerful she had become now. With the strength of one Kryptonian she had been unstoppable. With all that times two, Emily felt nothing short of godlike.
Curiously taking a breath in the void, she found the sensation strange. Though she sucked as hard as she could, she couldn't get a breath. Unsure what would happen if she lost all the air in her lungs, Emily re-entered the atmosphere over Metropolis. Slowing to peaceful Mach 3, she saw the city as she had never seen it before. It reminded her, she thought with amusement, of the first time she had used her DVD player with a projector. Remembering her father, she decided to make sure he was alright.
It hadn't been ten minutes since Hung Hyi had sent for the Breaker. But already the proud mobster was sorry he'd asked Emily to wait outside.
"Another, Carlos?" Hyi asked, gesturing to Miss Lu.
The small but deadly woman struck Carlos in the gut. The other three members of her team roughed up Rudall and Kirkland.
"Where do you get your balls? Men like you are rare, old friend."
"We'll see who's fucking rare, you slope eyiiiahh!" Breaker was painfully interrupted by Miss Lu's hand in his crotch.
"Thank you, Miss Lu."
Before Hung could say another word there was a huge crash from above, as though someone had dropped a bomb on the place. It was followed by another, making everyone look up. Then the main beam in the ceiling started to bow, the timber groaning like a Spanish galleon. Even the wounded moved quickly to the walls as the curving ceiling reached its stress limit. The beam cracked and fell to the floor, a cloud of dust and splinters settling all around it.
"Just what do you think you bitches are doing?" Emily demanded sternly. She hovered in the sizable opening looking down on the small group.
"Emily! Where were you?"
"I'll tell you later, Dad."
Hung Hyi took a moment to understand that the Daily Planet stories were true after all. While Miss Lu and her friends gaped at Emily with open fear, he set his mind to finding a way out of his unlikely predicament.
Only Carlos and Kirkland were smiling now. Emily descended and touched her naked feet to the rug, right then left, regarding the Chinese criminals with arrogant distaste. "Well?" she asked, "Are you just going to stand there?"
For a moment no-one moved. Miss Lu looked her opponent over, noting that the young woman's stance was that of a spoilt Westerner. The dramatic entrance was the only thing that made Miss Lu aware this woman was a foe to be feared.
"So you can fly," she sneered, taking up a ready stance. "Let's see if you can fight!" The Asian assassin moved in quickly and ferociously. Upon seeing their leader's brave assault, the other three member of Miss Lu's team moved in as
Hung felt a chill as he watched events unfold. The one known to the Metropolis as Mob-Girl made no attempt to protect herself despite the eager assaults of four fully trained masters of several martial-arts disciplines. Hung knew that just one of the blows his ladies were laying on Emily Lahey would kill any normal man, and he saw hundreds land cleanly in all the right places.
Emily just smiled at them and waited patiently for them to realise just how far she was out of their league. They kept going, even after they had broken their fists and forearms. To Emily it was like being the centre of attention in a pillow-fight, except the pillowcases seemed to be filled with balloons. One by one they stepped away, one of them tearfully cradling her elbow having recently destroyed it on Mob-Girl's exposed mid-drift.
"Your problem, ladies," Emily told them, taking on the tone of her old gym teacher, "Is that you lack any style at all. Watch and learn."
Emily assumed a deliberately poor boxing stance, with her feet touching and fists loose. Sick of her whining, Emily stood in front of the teary eyed girl and delivered a slow left to her shoulder.
Hung could clearly see that the Westerner pulled the punch, and though she hadn't put much into it to begin with the effects on the target were impressive. The crying girl snapped back with frightening force, and collapsed in a wrecked heap leaving a clear impression on the wall above. She didn't make any more noise after that.
Miss Lu attacked with desperately powerful kicks, but after slamming her foot twice on the side of Emily's abdomen she found herself in too much pain for another strike.
Emily turned with a smile, lifting her knee smoothly to waist height. "Kicking like that won't get you anywhere," she declared, and brought her foot up. Miss Lu's stomach crumpled around Emily's bare foot, and the doomed woman slammed deep into an undamaged section of roof. Before she had hit the floor another felt the tremendous force of Emily's gentle play-fighting. A backhanded slap on the confused warrior's cheek demolished her face and sent her sprawling across the floor. The last one tried to run, making for the door. But as she took her second step Emily appeared in her path. "Going somewhere?" she asked, tilting her head curiously.
The last of Miss Lu's small team backed away, staring into the deepest eyes she had ever seen. Then she was looking at the door, and she backed into something behind her. Something warm, something very hard. Before she could turn, the trained assassin felt a heavy vice clamped down ruthlessly on her shoulder. The ball and cup of her shoulder joint merged under the incredible pressure, drawing an agonised cry from the owners lips and driving her to her knees.
Emily was startled to feel the Asian woman disintegrate in her grasp so easily. She had intended to be firm, but her strength proved even greater than expected. Closing her hand completely, Emily had to catch the arm as it fell away. Using the limb as a club, she knocked the woman across the side of the head, the blow spinning the shocked victim into the floor. Focusing her eyes down over her own incredibly firm body, she vaporised the gore from her skin and indestructible clothes.
Emily turned to see where Hung Hyi was. He was standing behind her father, the small pistol in his hand held firmly against Breaker's temple. In his beaten state, there was little Carlos could do.
"Nice show, super-bitch. Now hold it right there."
"What are trying to do?"
"You might be fast, Emily. But I don't think you're that fast. I'm leaving now, and Breaker here will be accompanying me. Try and stop me, and I'll kill your father."
"You aren't going anywhere," she told him firmly, putting her hands on her hips and stepping forward.
"Come any closer, and the papers will be calling you the Super-Orphan."
"Okay." Looking at the arm holding the gun, Emily employed her enhanced visual talents to find the tendon connected to the trigger finger. Pin-point laser-beams burst from the centre of her pupils to sever it, rendering his digit useless. He cried out, and quickly tried to change fingers, but before he could Emily had her hand on his. There was a sickening crunch before she applied much pressure, and when she released him the flesh of his hand and the steel of the gun had merged into a single gory pulp.
"Now then. I think you better apologise to Daddy for being such a bad host." A flick of Emily's middle finger on his chest sat Hung hard on the floor.
"Thank you, Emily." All Breaker's anger at Emily having left it so long to show up had evaporated in light of her display. "I think I'll have a little chat with my friend here for a while. Why don't you clean up the rest of the club?"
"I think I'll clean up the whole district," Emily told him cheerfully, flexing and feeling her subtly buff bicep. "I'm so powerful now steel feels like cotton-candy."
"Have fun," Carlos smiled, and kicked Hung Hyi in the face.
"I will." Turning toward the door, she hovered toward it. Without slowing she passed through the thick cell door and into the hallway. Already knowing the layout of the place, Emily went up smoothly through the ceiling and passed explosively through two walls to the main club floor. Landing in the resulting cloud of dust, her feet further damaging debris on the floor, Emily grinned at the patrons who were all backing away. One got a spark of recognition in his face, pointing and said something in Chinese. Then they all left toward the exits as though there was a fire. Emily let them run a moment, but before the first one got to the door she was there, barring all passage.
"Sorry folks. No-one is getting out." Emily was going to play with them for a while. Leaning forward a little and blowing with wise caution, Emily watched them lean into her gentle breath and struggle to maintain their positions. They started to lean further forward, only to be swept away as Emily put a little bit more into it.
The bouncers had been trying to take her from behind with cruelly shaped daggers since Emily had landed in the doorway. Spinning around she grabbed the bulking men by their necks, being very careful not to decapitate them. She would have to learn, she decided, to be more careful.
Closing the big doors with more success, she squished a few pressure welds into the gap. Remembering that there were other doors, Emily flew to the next one. Spotting a couple who had escaped she incinerated them, igniting several vehicles and a building across the street. As she closed and sealed the second door, someone whacked her with a baseball bat from behind. Letting them get a few more healthy swings in before turning, she thought about how brave this pathetic person was.
"I hope there are more around like you," she mused. Then she noticed that his baseball bat wasn't a bat at all. It was sword. He swung it again, right at her throat and Emily lifted her chin to make sure he saw what happened when his redundant weapon came home. Smiling, she noted a hairline fracture had appeared in his forearm. Suddenly Emily was beside him, her inner thigh gently touching his waist and an arm draped seductively over his shoulder. "Come fly with me," she suggested, and zoomed through a wall on her way to the last exit. When she landed at the last public entrance, her passenger was no longer with her.
"Hey!" Emily called out to the dozen or so people who had made it out, her voice carrying several suburbs and shattering nearby windows. But that was not all her yell did. Everything directly in front of her was hit by a tremendous wave of pleasantly warm air and sent tumbling dramatically into buildings that weren't holding down much better. Surprised that she could destroy things so easily, Emily puckered up and blew a little harder. The buildings before her instantly collapsed and pieces of them flew into the air. Turning her head to the side she cleared the street of everything, including the post boxes, for seven blocks. Looking the other way, she tried something different and drew air deep into her lungs. A taxi and a few other vehicles slid along the tar as the people standing around them were dragged toward Emily's wicked half smile. She stopped before anyone hit her, and reversed the flow. Blowing as though cooling a bowl of soup Emily watched in fascination as the vehicles, people, bench-seats and garbage bins hurtled up the road in wake of her breath. She wasn't blowing nearly so hard as when she'd taken down Fat Jimmy's goon-mobiles, and yet the results proved to be much more destructive on the environment. Not a single awning or street sign remained when she closed her lips and ended the chaos as suddenly as it had begun. Flying up above the club to see how far the damage stretched she got a thrill to see one or two cars still in the air, and watched them come down on the traffic twelve blocks away
The crowd inside had moved upstairs, some smarter people smashing windows and making new doors. But the windows were made of security glass. No expense was spared when Hung built the place. He had intended his club to stand for centuries.
Wandering over slowly, looking on as they began more energetic chair-swinging. Realising the woman they were attempting to escape was almost upon them, the group moved quickly to another window further away. As Emily continued to pace toward them, loving the way they sweated and yelled franticly at each other, someone was shooting at her. Then another Uzi was blasting away from roughly the same angle. Rising up off the floor and turning toward them, Emily wafted up a little and presented herself openly to the two gunmen. They were standing near the stairs, one of them crouched on one knee. Their guns were soon empty, but others had joined them. Three guys came out from behind the bar to Emily's right and opened fire with AK-47's. The bigger bullets were appreciated, and Emily flew closer to them while the first two reloaded.
"You guys are good shots."
They emptied their guns, and then ducked below the bar to reload. Letting the two Uzi's behind her massage her rear, the incredibly strong Emily smashed her fist down on the bar. Expensive timber exploded into a cloud of sawdust and small splinters, and the three men who sought safety behind it were sliced and diced in the process. What little remained of the bar collapsed a moment later, and behind her she could hear the frightened gunmen reloading. Emily turned and wandered toward them, holding up her fist she blew the dust off it. Her unintentionally overpowered puff tore a hole in the staircase nearly big enough to drive a Buick through. There wasn't much left of the two men or their weapons.
Tearing a piece from the over-sized steel handrail, she honed in on the group still trying vainly to shatter the window. Without looking, she tossed the heavy lump of metal over her shoulder like passing a basketball. Putting in a little flick with fingers, she sent it at them faster than a missile. The explosive impact knocked a hole in the wall, and took out the whole lot of them. Inspecting her work with a quick look over her shoulder, Emily flew upstairs to see what getting mobbed was like.
Hung Hyi's security staff were waiting. As her bar toes touched the polished floor, a shotgun was shoved in her face.
Emily obliged, and wrapped her lips around both barrels. The surprised gunman pulled both triggers, and the gun blasted noisily into Emily's mouth. Her cheeks barely puffed as the hot lead pellets bounced around in her mouth like crackling candy. Biting through the gun, finding it similar to it was an overripe banana, she let him get a good look at the ruined barrel while she chewed and swallowed the hardened metal.
The wide eyed man swung the butt at her head. She stopped it so suddenly a mere inch from her cheek that his shoulder was dislocated. The fool held on as she flicked wrist and released him into and through one of the shatter-proof windows.
Given an on open line of fire, the remaining elite of Hung Hyi's thugs used every tool of death at their disposal on the scantily clad super-girl. But rather than kill or even inflict pain, their efforts brought an unnervingly playful grin to their targets face. The bullets occasionally left tiny splatters of lead as they bounced chaotically from her hypnotic curves. The only damage done was the destruction of the surrounding area.
Emily closed her eyes, and concentrated on speeding her senses up so she could enjoy it all more. She grew confused as the noise stopped and bullets no longer rebounded from her impenetrable skin. Opening her eyes, she saw everything was moving so slowly that the bullets were coming at her like curious dragonflies.. The gunmen and the crowd behind them hardly seemed to move at all. She flew around the room, and laughed at them. How could they possibly hope to defeat her, when she could kill all of them in a single heartbeat and not have to hurry?
Picking out two of the huddled patrons, Emily flew back and landed in the gunfire. Slowing her metabolism back to a normal rate, she saw that the two men in her hands were dead before the bullets bounced off her and tore them to pieces. The movement at super-speed had cooked and broken their bodies, but the gunmen weren't phased by the illusion that the two victims had just appeared in her hand and been shot. They continued shooting as she strode toward them.