Starhawk Chapter 2
Written by castor :: [Tuesday, 14 May 2013 16:34] Last updated by :: [Tuesday, 21 May 2013 11:30]
Chapter 2:An Air Stream
"So what is it?" Starhawk said.
It was a question perhaps best not asked outside a window of a 30 story federal building to one inside. Or perhaps it was the perfect method of asking.
The person inside was Robert Daison, an FBI Investigator, she had encountered several times in the past. He tried for a second to seem calm. A large amount of training he had, was to directing to seem calm. As a kid he loved Colombo because he was calm. Calm, never revel emotion. That was the key to his shtick. Though she had no idea he perhaps worked harder at a superheroic persona then she did.
"Oh hello wants to come in?"
He looked at the window for the first time.
"Sorry don't think you can open it"
"That’s okay". Starhawk paused. "Just want a little information"
Daison shrugged. The device hadn't been reveled to the press who where treating it as an accident that saved the city thanks … to STARHAWK!!! But of course she knew. But not all, obviously.
"Its some sort of hyperpower battery. More powerful then any you normally see. It’s the kind of thing that would jumpstart an aircraft carrier. About 1/10th the size"
"Is it human?" Starhawk asked.
Daison shrugged "At least constructed by humans. There’s things in there you can’t buy. The Felix the cat case for one. So far nothing alien, nothing to far out-just well advanced. I bet if you sold it in a store you would make 10 times a mint. Why it was used to blowup a fertilizer boat is perplexing "
She did not love terrorists. But they where there. "Greed"
"Not seeing it. Where going to have to go public in a couple of hours, and lucky me I ain't doing the briefing. When you fly a plane into a tower, well you didn't invent the plane. The logic behind it is lacking"
Starhawk in this form listened. But had nothing to say.
"Will keep you informed as it develops. What it is, how it got there is the question. Someone put it. And will find him. We may need you may not. But someone did it and will find him"
Starhawk nodded. And flew. No goodbye or thank you. For while Starhawk did not need the thanks of the people she saved, nor did she give it.
Selma Harrison sat and looked across the table at Karen. Her friend.
Friend. Interesting word. Selma wasn't sure she had any. She had acquaintances sure. Several police she knew by name-FBI-earlier that morning Daison. People in her apartment building. A chess club she sometimes went to. People she had slept with more then once. Yes there where people she would be sad about if they died.
But that wasn't really the same thing as a friend was it? And now she was here.
But was friend the right word?
There conversation had been cordial. Selma had talked about her love of chess, which was true enough. She avoided talking about non-existent tractors, and got Karen to avoid talking about too real banks. They talked about hiking-which Selma had never done. Art museums, which she had but never to the degree of her (She had studied art history).
They talked. And then there hands touched.
It was a simple touch. Selma in any form was perceptive to human feelings-and liked it. There where a thousand subtleties of touch from pain to orgasm that she was well aware. Was it an interesting touch?
It was what they might call a good touch.
It was at that moment, and a comparatively long moment that she wondered if perhaps that she would be content to have a good friend with a good touch.
"So" Karen said" I broke up with my girlfriend about three months ago"
And the question was answered.
However that night they only sipped coffee. The coffee was … horrible. Just terrible. Selma hadn't much experience with coffee before. But even she knew the coffee in this store was bad. She was more of a chain girl...
And Karen touched her wrist.
It is perhaps worth a moment to explain what the public thought of Starhawk. She was loved. And perhaps feared. Through unconscious quirk she picked the society perhaps that was least able to deal with that concept well. One either did either, rarely both in America. But she was.
As has been said she gave little information when she talked, other then a general expression of well being, of desire to help and the hope that we would help each other. She was here to help-since there be nothing to do but take her at her word she was. This lead to conjecture, as the universe despises a vacuum of all things.
Part 1 was generally accepted. She was an alien. From the Stars. A Hawk. Though the second may have been poetic, some thought she was from alien race of birds. She had come from another planet full of spires, and togas, and Marlin Brandos or if one was a certain age Russell Crowes. She had come in a ship of crystal or steel. Whether he had come six months ago or 20 years ago as a baby was unknown-clearly she meant humans well. She looked like us. Some thought that was a disguise and she was really something disgusting and reptilian.
Part 2 was an embarrassment. Whispered or placed in the tabloids. Was that this was a disguise. That she had a secret identity as a mild mannered reporter, and lived and walked among us-perhaps your neighbor was she? It was wildly speculated for this was human nature, that she kept harems of muscular men, to her bidding and sucked and fucked constantly.
As we have seen part 2 was more true then not. Except for the reporter and the harem of muscular men (she in fact found too much muscle in men unsightly). However part 1 however was complete fiction.
That night she went flying. She did sleep, but didn't strictly speaking need to with any kind of regularity-a few good hours every couple of weeks would do-but the experience so pleasant she did it more often.
But the night she flew.
She stopped several muggers, a grocery store robbery, helped put out a small fire (no one really in danger, but hey). She even rescued a cat from a tree.
Actually on second thought the cat may not actually have been stuck in the tree. And no one really wanted it. But well.
It was a very good night. Her heart beated to fast to sleep anyway.
She loved. She loved everyone. The mugger victims, the muggers themselves, the club kids, some tired owners, everyone. She loved Karen. For she was human.
However how does one include like in that statement? It confused her.
It is perhaps well to explain how Selma and Starhawk where different. They where the same. A superhero and a secret identity.
But what was the mask?
Neither and both. When Selma became Starhawk in order to master her amazing powers she needed to change her mind. It Became more-Able to process logic a 100 times faster-experiences Senses more-it wasn't that she had x-ray vision, but her senses saw everything within 100 feet of her. It was too much to comprehend for a human brain. So parts where shut off. Somewhere turned on. Her feelings became more primal even as her mind became more logical. It was a delicate balance.
And utterly inhuman.
Starhawk climbed on top of her roof around 1 AM. She needed breakfast. Starhawk couldn't actually eat. Food would simply burn in her stomach.
In a flash her costume disappeared.
Then a cooling happened. The feeling in reverse. Her muscles shriveled and atrophied. Her arms, her legs. Her beautiful ass. Her breasts shrunk down, her head became closer to the ground. The same pain as before, but there was a new sensation. Loss. Stature in its most literal sense.
She in her more vain moment sometimes watched herself transform, her breasts literally balloon, becoming fatty milk-bags that could jiggle happily as she laughed.
She had never watched the reverse.
Still she smiled. For she was human. And human was good. For it loved.
And so did she.
Elsewhere it stood.
"Oh my god don't stop." The girl said on the screen. "Whatever you don't … Oh god that feels so good."
On the computer screen in front of her Karen watched a woman eat out another’s tight glistening clit with relish.
On her chair Karen had her surprisingly muscular legs open, reveling her own humid bush, and a large dildo smashing inside. She pushed and pushed. And oh my god pushed it far into her with an unnatural philosophy.
It was a cliché that lesbians don't like lesbian porn. Not her. She loved it. Loved watching the beautiful girls do beautiful things (fuck fuck fuck), to there fucking hot bodies(my god … push … god push).
As she felt her body quiver, her body open. She thought of her beautiful new friend … god look at those tits. She imagined her. And her. And god … god god … please.
And then she closed her eyes.
When she opened she felt slightly guilty. It was a little early in a relationship. If it was a relationship to do this kind of thing.
Karen took off her clothes and looked at her own body. Selma’s assement in her office attire was that she was attractive. There was truth there. Karen looked like a nerd who played lacross. Her legs where massive oak trunks, tapering to a waist that was thin, but not flat like a models, to breasts… that looked to much like a models. she was the kind of average that one wouldn't go out of there way for.
In younger days she had gone to comicbook conventions. And asked out for dates. Now she went into bars and got by.
Still she was pretty. She had a nice smile. Selma had a really nice smile. She looked like a small model. The kind of girl who could have...well her. If she wanted. But she wanted to play it cool
Its not precisely that she had never slept with anyone as beautiful as her. She had. Actually within the month. But there was something that did attract her. There was an innocence was a word. Beyond her power. It felt. And she respected that.
Still 3 dates she wanted to be fucked.
Daison closed his eyes. It had been a long 24 hours. It was a bit of police lore that if you don't have a suspect with in 24 hours-well your not going to get one.
However the ship was 16 years old. Obviously the device wasn't that old. However it been pointed out that there was no evidence that it had been placed in Chicago, other then it gone off. It had a timer that could be set in years.
And even if it had been placed in Chicago, it wouldn't have been impossible for someone else to get on it. And not place fingerprints on it, or anything useful.
He walked down the hall to see the device itself. Without its kitty like case (to disguise it as a curio, some type of calling card?). It was a lot like a real battery. Nickel Alkaline. The idea could be useful in like an electric car-except it was design for one charge and that was it. A shame.
But how it looked. He had once seen an atomic bomb the army had, and an atomic bomb built in a basement. And this was closer to the former. But the basement bomb needed the army version to exist.
Starhawk had asked about alien technology. He wished not for the first time that she was like batman and could solve all the crimes for them. Nope..but was it a good question. What if the 'builder' as his department had started to call him, had been working from alien plans?
Starhawk. The device was for all practical purposes in Chicago. The ship was designed for her.
He moved to a phone to call her to warm her. the FBI had a special number that somehow …
Selma said heard the ring on her nightstand. It was 8:00 am and she lazed in bed for a quick naked nap. She wasn't sure if she which form would go out this morning as it rang. She picked it up.
The little kitty case was near the device. The FBI had studied it looked for fingerprints of the cheep black plastic case. But had looked for the wrong stuff. They thought it had been just a cover of the machine-which was true. However with there best scientists and their most precise tools they may noticed..Something strange.
"Hello" Selma said. The voice was modulated to turn it into her more ethereal voice of Starhawk.
She didn't get an answer as a large explosion went off in the FBI Lab.