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Losing Her Patience

Written by Gincognifo :: [Thursday, 17 December 2015 02:05] Last updated by :: [Saturday, 29 May 2021 15:51]

Losing Her Patience

by GeekSeven

The gunman smirked as he suddenly raised his weapon and fired it at the woman. A pair of teflon-coated “vest buster” bullets hit her in the chest. The slugs squashed flat against her leotard and the invulnerable flesh beneath, and clattered to the ground.

“The fuck was that?” She stared at the shooter with an expression of angry disbelief. “The fuck do you think you're doing, you fucking fuck?”

The gunman stared at her in confusion. He looked at his gun, then back to her.

“Do you not see the big fucking 'S' on the front of my suit, you twat?” she asked. “Did you think it stood for 'shoot me in the fucking tits'?”

The thug's response was to fire another pair of shots, but his hands were shaking and his aim was off. The slugs would have sailed past her if she hadn't reached out and grabbed them from the air with her fingertips.

“Oh come on, you piece of shit. What part of in-sodding-vulnerable are you having a problem with. What the fuck are they teaching in the schools on this shithole planet? I'm super, you twat. You can fire that pea-shooter at me all day and all you're going to get out of it is sore fingers on your wanking hand.”

She put her hands on her hips. “I'm bloody flying, you dipshit. Isn't that enough of a fucking clue for you. You think I put on a bulletproof leotard and a cape to make a fucking fashion statement? Is your skull cavity packed with actual shit instead of brains? If I cracked your tiny skull open – which I could do with my bare hands, but I fucking won't, because I'm the fucking hero – would I just find a tiny poodle turd running the show?”

She fired twin beams of red light from her eyes, converging on the man's gun. The metal glowed orange. He screamed and dropped the gun. He reached into his belt and pulled out a knife.

“It's like I'm talking to a fucking wall,” she said. “I shouldn't be surprised. You're a twat who's dumb enough to think you can rob a bank in the middle of the fucking day, in broad fucking daylight, in my city. You don't watch the news? You don't read the internet? You didn't watch my fucking wardrobe malfunction on YouTube? You don't know that this city is protected by a superhero? I meet a lot of dumb fuckers in this line of work, but you have to be the fucking dumbest fucker it has ever been my displeasure to work with.”

The man stabbed at her with his knife. The blade broke against her stomach. He stared at the knife hilt for a moment. He dropped it, turned, and ran.

She laughed and swooped down to grab the man by the collar of his black leather jacket. She lifted him off the ground as if he weighed less than a feather pillow. “You actually tried to run? What the fuck do you think this is, the special fucking olympics?”

“Let go, bitch,” he said, flopping like a fish on a hook.

“Sod off, you prick. Show me some fucking respect. You don't get to call me a bitch. You don't get to call me anything at all. If you must speak – and I would strongly suggest you do not need to open your mouth for any fucking reason – but if you really, truly feel that whatever rancid approximation of a thought has crawled out of the fetid swamp of shit-fuckery you call a brain is worth sharing with the world, then keep a fucking civil tongue in your mouth.”

“You can't do this!”

“Is it fucking opposite day? Now, I'm going to fly your shit-streaked, piss-stained ass to the police station and then I'm going to go back to what I was doing – which is none of your fucking business – before you decided to ruin my afternoon. Wanker.”

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