Blue Lynx in... The War on Drugs (Part One)

Chapter One

October 23rd.  11:34 PM.

First, there was nothing.

And then, there were small sounds.  Crickets chirping.  The wind rustling through the trees.

Her eyelids began to open.  She could feel cool air on her face and legs.  She could feel pain.  In her body.  In her head.  And especially in her wrists.

She could feel, too, a profound sense of weightlessness.

Her vision was blurry, but she could begin to make out shapes.  The dark corners of a medium sized room.  A small white table with a few scattered objects.  In front of her, two large doors.  Barn doors.  All illuminated by a single small light source coming from somewhere around her head.  She saw light, moonlight, coming in through a small window on her left.

She tried to breathe in, but her airflow was interrupted.  Something had been placed over her lips.  Something sticky.  She could feel it on her mouth and on her cheeks.

Through her nose, she could smell... The night.  And manure.  And dirt and sweat.

She shook her head groggily as her eyes made what they could out of the low light.  She could feel tension in her arms, which she could feel on either side of her head.  Above her head, she felt something digging into her wrists.  She tried to move her arms, and found she couldn't.

Thoughts slowly returned to her.  "What?  Where?"

She lowered her head.  She could see her shadow on the hay-strewn, dirty concrete floor; the shadow of her feet dangling a foot above the ground.

She tried to move her feet, and found she couldn't do that either.

"What's happened to me?"

Tape on her mouth.  Her wrists and ankles tied.  And pain.

She shook her body.  Nothing.  Whoever had tied her had known their way with rope.  She watched helplessly as her shadow swung a small arc along the ground.  She could feel smaller sensations now... The tug of her spandex outfit on her arms, her body, her buttocks.  A belt, laden with small objects, hanging somewhat loosely around her hips.  A delicate feeling on her nose and around her eyes; her mask.  Her fingers encased in rubbery gloves, her toes and ankles in tight boots.

She closed her eyes.  "Oh no."

She heard a creak, and looked up at the door.  Two men crept in through the entrance, one after the other.  Both tall, skinny white men, shirtless with overalls.  One of them wore a wide brimmed hat.  He closed the door behind them.  They stopped and stared at her.  And they both grinned.

"Damn.  She is quite the looker, ain't she, Clayton?" said the guy with the hat.

"Oh yeah.  Didn't notice it so much when she was back there fighting us and stuff.  But now.  Damn," said the other.

She lowered her head, glaring at them.  She tried to say something, but the words came out as a muffled mess.  The men burst out laughing.

"Boss said he'd be here in a little bit.  I guess that means we'll have some time to ourselves now," said the hatted man.

"That's right," grinned the other.  "Lots of time for a proper introduction."

"With no funny stuff, this time," said hat.  He stepped over to her and moved his hands behind her back.  She tried to shake off his fingers as they slowly walked their way up her butt and came to a rest near her belt.  She could feel him working at the clasp; she made small, muffled sounds as she watched the man's grin widen.  Then, second later, she heard a small click and felt the fabric fall from her waist.  The hatted man lifted the belt, white with a series of buttoned pockets along it, and held it near her face.

"Don't think you'll be needin' this thing anymore," he said.  "Too many damn gadgets for comfort."

He shook the belt at her face, laughed, and then turned around, setting the belt on the table.

"The Boss told us we got lucky.  And you know, he's probably right," said the hatless man.

"He told us you're the new talk of the town.  The city's own little... Superheroine," said the hatted man, drawing out the last word with an evil grin.

"He said you've been really been fuckin up those criminals in the city."

The hatted man wandered back to her.  She squirmed, tried to find a loose part of the ropes.  But her ankles and wrists were wrapped with care.  She could feel her body begin to break out in sweat; could feel a prickliness through her long-sleeved, bikini-cut spandex costume.  The man licked his lips as her placed a bony hand on her cheek, forcing her to look at him.

"But guess what, Blue Lynx?"

He stroked her exposed cheek calmly, sliding his fingers and thumb around the contours of her blue mask, reaching back to touch her black hair, and sliding back to rest his hand on her cheek.

"YOU'RE IN THE COUNTRY NOW!"

Chapter Two

October 22nd.  9:35 AM.

Beautiful, athletic, 23-year-old Erin Steele woke to the sun streaming through the window of her apartment.  She breathed deeply and stretched and pulled off the sheets, sitting in bed wearing soft pink cotton short shorts and a white spaghetti-strap top.

She felt a twinge of pain in her leg and looked down.  A light blue bruise was spreading across the lower part of her thigh.  That guy had gotten her pretty good, last night.  On at least one hit, anyway.

She smiled and shook her head.  All of this was so crazy.  But it was so right, too.  And so fun.  A bruise here and there couldn't stop her.  This new life-- this life of fighting crime as a superheroine Blue Lynx-- was an addiction now.  Every night, she wanted to go out and beat some guy up.  It was better than sex, better than red wine, better than just about any feeling she's ever had.  And it was all for the good of the city, of course.

She heard a knock on her door.  "Erin!  Quick!  You're on TV!"

Erin sprang out of bed and opened the door.  Her roommate, Margot, stood there in her pajamas and glasses.  She smiled at her broadly, and the two young women walked into the main room of their apartment and plopped on the couch.  A news reporter in a black trenchcoat was interviewing a young woman.  Erin immediately recognized the woman from last night.

"So you say it was the superheroine Blue Lynx who saved you from those men?" the reporter asked, leaning at the woman with his microphone.

"Yeah," the woman replied.  "Well, it's complicated.  I heard a scuffle in the alley over there and I went to investigate.  I saw Blue Lynx fighting a couple of men.  And then, as I watched, a man came up from behind and grabbed me.  He started saying things to Blue Lynx, you know, like, Don't Move, or I'll... But she was on him so quick and she freed me and I ran away."

Margot looked at her friend.  "You didn't tell me that that happened."

Erin shrugged.  "It got a little complicated.  But I sorted it out."

The reporter continued.  "This is now the sixth reported instance of vigilante justice by Blue Lynx.  Who is she?  And what does she want?"

The news reel flashed a photo of Erin in her superheroine attire.  White knee high boots.  Bare thighs.  Tight blue spandex outfit with a low v-cut neck.  Masked.  Hands on her hips.  Smirking.

"You look hot," Margot laughed.

Erin laughed too.  "I never get tired of that picture."

"I gotta say, I did pretty good with that superheroine costume," Margot said.

She was right.  When Erin asked Margot to join her in her quest for justice, she didn't know she was so crafty.  But she did know that she was brilliant.  They had first crossed paths in college, in a "History of Law" class.  Erin had majored in Political Science, Margot in Computer Science.  They had talked and become quick friends and had fun.  It was just weeks later that Erin shared with Margot her dream... Her idea for a superheroine who could right some of the wrongs of their campus, and then their city.

"You as a superheroine?"  Margot had said.  "But how?  You've never fought anyone in your life?"

"That's what you think," Erin had replied.  For years, Erin had studied martial arts.  She had become an obsessive exerciser, and completely committed to a clean, green diet.  She used to practice her moves on her boyfriends.  "And I beat them every time," she had said.

"Well that's great," Margot said, "But you won't be fighting your boyfriends.  And what the heck would you want me for?  Tech support?"

That's exactly what Erin had wanted.  Margot had a gift.  She could invent things.  She could hack things.  She knew her way around technology far better than Erin or anyone else Erin knew.  She could equip Erin with the tools and support she would need to be a superior crimefighter.

And she did.  They started small... Campus robberies.  They got more ambitious... Out of control frat parties.  Allegations of sexual misbehavior.  Corruption in the campus hierarchy.  By the time of the girls' graduation, superheroine stuff had become a full-time job, one that neither of them wanted to retire from.  So they had moved to the city and moved on to even bigger things.  Last night was, in itself, a fairly routine beatdown of a couple of obnoxious thugs.  But those thugs were part of a larger operation, one that the girls' had been working on for months now.

Margot pointed at the TV.  "Hey look, your dad."

Erin looked up.  It was her dad.  But there wasn't anything special about that.  Not when your dad was mayor of the city.

The TV reporter leaned toward him.  "Mr. Steele, what is the city's position on costumed superheroines like Blue Lynx?  Are they necessary in the city's war on drugs?"

Steven Steele cleared his throat.  "The city's position is evolving.  Obviously, we support the rule of law and order.  But the fact is that Blue Lynx has been crucial in the crackdown on opiates that it plaguing our city and its surrounding areas."

"Looks like he's finally figuring it out," Margot said.

"Yeah," Erin replied.  "Still has a way to go, though."

"You ever think about telling him who the Blue Lynx really is?" Margot asked.

"No," Erin said, tersely.  That was absolutely out of the question.  No one but Margot knew about the secret identity of the Blue Lynx, and Erin intended to keep it that way.  She could trust Margot.  She could probably trust her dad, too.  But if anyone else got hold of that information, they could use it against him.  Even a rumor about the Blue Lynx's alter ego could jeopardize her dad's political career, to say nothing of her life.

The TV reporter continued.  "We spoke to the leader of the city's opposition party today and asked for his stance on the Blue Lynx."

A handsome man, mid-thirties with slicked back hair, appeared on the screen.  He was Brent Hammerson, the city Speaker of the House, and Mayor Steele's main political antagonist.  For years, he had challenged the mayor on nearly every piece of his agenda.  Erin couldn't help but frown when she looked at his smug face.  But Margot couldn't help but smile.

"You have to admit, he's easy on the eyes," Margot said.

"Shut up," Erin said.  "That guy is horrible.  Disgusting."

"The Blue Lynx," Brent Hammerson intoned, in a deep, resonant voice, "Must be stopped at all costs.  We cannot allow our city's streets to turn into a lawless wasteland.  Which is apparently what Mayor Steele desires."

"See what I mean?" Erin said.

"Hey, I didn't say he was smart," Margot said.  "Just that... Mmm."

Erin rolled her eyes.  It was true: Brent Hammerson was an attractive man.  But that was beside the point.  He was constantly threatening to ruin her dad's career.  And now he was on the record as an enemy of the Blue Lynx.  The guy was not to be trusted or admired in any way.  Erin even had a sneaking suspicion that Hammerson was partially responsible for the uptick in drug crimes in recent years.

The reporter continued.  "But Mr. Hammerson, don't you think times like these, with the drug crisis out of control, demand the sort of blunt action that the Blue Lynx seems to provide?"

"Listen," Hammerson said, holding out his hands, "Everyone is so into this girl.  And I get it.  I've seen the picture.  She's a striking woman.  But we can't initiate the downfall of society just because some chick in spandex is beating people up.  We can prosecute this war on drugs just fine without the Blue Lynx."

"Ooh," cooed Margot.  "I think he might have a crush on you."

"I'd like to crush him," Erin said.  She picked up the remote and turned off the TV.  "Want to get coffee somewhere?"

"Sure, that sounds great," Margot said, picking herself off the couch.  "I can tell you about the research I've been doing on where these drugs are coming from."

Erin shook out her hair.  "Oh yeah?  You've figured it out?"

Margot grinned.  "Wanna take a trip to the country?"

Chapter Three

October 23rd.  8:15 PM.

It was late fall, and already dark, and particularly dark in the dense woods where Margot had parked her car.  She turned off her lights and the engine and she and Erin sat in total blackness.

"Okay," Margot whispered.  "We're here."

Erin looked out the window.  She couldn't see a single goddamned thing.

"Alright," she said.  "And where is 'here'?"

She unbuckled her seatbelt, which caught for a second on one of the flaps on her white utility belt.  She patted the flap down and bent over to rummage through a large backpack.

"The forest.  Outside of the drug house," Margot said.

"Okay, well I know that."

Erin lifted her mask out of the backpack and begin to fasten it around her head.

"You brought the night goggles, right?"  Margot asked.

"Not my first rodeo, partner," Erin said.  She bent down again to pore through the contents of the backpack.  She rose seconds later with a pair of what looked like sunglasses in her hand.

"I put the map to the house on your phone," Margot said.  "We're about half a mile out right now.  But I didn't want to get any closer.  The element of surprise is crucial here.  We don't know for sure what's going on in that house.  Or how many men are there."

Erin set the sunglasses on her face and clicked a small button on its side.  The world suddenly turned green.  It was odd-- it never stopped being odd-- but see could see.  She looked at Margot sitting in the driver's seat.

"I love these things."

She stared at Margot.  She was in civilian attire: a black turtleneck sweater, tight blue jeans, brown boots, and her brown, large-rimmed glasses.  She had taken her hands from the wheel and was trying to stare at Erin.  She, of course, had to wait for her eyes to adjust.

"You know," Margot said.  "Sometimes I wonder why the Blue Lynx gets all the cool stuff."

Erin smiled.  "Well, the Blue Lynx does have the best partner in the world."

"Without a doubt," Margot said.  "You need me to go over the plan, again?"

"I think I got it," Erin said, stretching out her spandex-clad arms and her rubber-gloved fingers.  "I follow the map to get to the house.  I sneak inside.  I find evidence of the drug operation and I take a photo.  I avoid being seen or beating anyone up.  I get out of there, we go home, and we get stupid drunk together."

"Well, that's the simplified version, but you got it," Margot said.  "Remember.  It's pretty important you don't get seen by whoever's in there.  It'll be too easy for them to say it was a set-up or something."

"And you're just gonna wait here, right?"

"You bet.  But it's alright, I brought a book.  And I know I have a flashlight around here somewhere."

"Great," said Erin, opening the passenger side door and climbing out of her seat.  She looked down at her boots, already deep in mud, and sighed.

"I miss the city," Erin said.

"Me too," Margot said.  "It smells funny out here.  And it's so dark and creepy."

"Indeed."  Erin looked up into the trees.  The skinny trunks stretched into the night sky all around her and Margot and their car.  She had never been in this kind of rural forest before.  It was gorgeous.  But it was also, in a way, unnerving.  When Margot had described her plan over coffee yesterday, the whole thing sounded romantic and new and wild.  But now that she was here, in the cold, black forest, the whole world in the green light of the night vision goggles, she wondered if they hadn't made a mistake leaving the city limits.

"Listen to me, Blue Lynx," Margot said.  "I'll be tracking your movement on my phone.  But if things get hairy in there..."

"I know, Margot, I know," Erin said.  "We go over this every single time.  Emergency button on phone."

Margot sighed.  "Okay.  Good luck, Blue Lynx."

"See ya."

Chapter Four

October 23rd.  8:42 PM.

"God.  Damn.  It."

Erin tugged on the thorn embedded in the rubber of the wrist of her glove.  She pulled, and then released, and watched as the branch slowly dragged back her arm to where it had been snagged.  She repeated this process again, and then lost patience, ripping the glove away from the thorn and leaving a small tear in its fabric.

"Damn this forest," she thought.

Erin had no problem running half a mile in the city.  Heck, she loved to run.  She could run ten or fifteen miles if she needed to, and in good time.  But it had become immediately clear as she had stepped away from Margot's car that she was not in Kansas anymore.

It was a slog.  There were logs to climb over.  Mud to slip in.  Dense thickets of branches to cut through.  And all of these damn thorns.

Worst of all, there was barely a path in sight.  The route that Margot had traced on her phone map was completely arbitrary.  It had no respect for whatever was going on in any given square foot of the forest.  So Erin had had to huff and puff and deal with every little obstacle that nature threw in her way.  And in this forest, there were many, many obstacles.

But suddenly, there was light.  A blinding dot of white in front of her.  Erin removed her glasses.  She could see, faintly, the outlines of buildings.  The trail of a fence running around the property.  Puffs of smoke coming from a chimney.  And she could hear something.  Music.  A fiddle whining.  The low thump of a stand-up bass.

"I guess this is the place," she thought.  She tucked the glasses into one of the empty pockets around her belt.  "Finally."

She thought about radioing back to Margot.  But what was the point, really?  Margot had been tracking her this whole time.  She knew that Erin had arrived, was waiting in the forest near the perimeter of the property, plotting her next move.

Erin didn't hear voices, and she couldn't see people.  But the place was clearly occupied.  She saw lights coming through a large building, a farmhouse.  She also saw, unlit, a smaller, square building.  A barn, maybe?  So where were the animals?

A pickup truck sat in a dirt driveway.  She followed the drive from the house and into the woods opposite where she was standing.  It was a narrow, tree-lined dirt path.  Where did it lead?  How did anyone get out here to begin with?

Erin breathed deeply.  The scene was... Eerie.  She had infiltrated creepy buildings before.  One of her first really big nights she snuck into the basement of a frat house and, one by one, silently incapacitated the fraternity brothers.  It was a truly epic operation.  But that time, she had known the layout of the building.  She even recognized the faces of her targets, knew what to expect if they happened to catch her sneaking around.  Here, standing just a hundred yards away from a dimly-lit, ugly black farm in the middle of a massive, seemingly uninhabitable forest, she knew next to nothing.  A cold wind blew through the trees, and Erin shuddered.

But she couldn't stop now.  She had trekked for half an hour through that stupid forest: the least she could do was take a damn picture of a pill jar, or something.  And even if she didn't know what was going on in that farmhouse, well, they didn't know much about her, either.  She still had the element of surprise on her side.  Right?

There was no use thinking about it.  She just had to do it.  So Erin took off.  She scampered from the woods, low to the ground, feeling the tall grass kiss her ankles and lower thighs.  She looked ahead at the truck, then to her right at the farmhouse.  Still no movement, no voices, no anything.  In seconds, she had arrived behind the pickup, where she squatted to the ground, breathing heavily.

She peered from the corner of the truck.  She was now just twenty-five yards from the long front porch of the house.  The porch was unlit, but light still streamed through the windows.  She could see now pieces of the house's interior.  Something that looked like a refrigerator.  She could see light peeking through the front door, which was slightly ajar.

Almost as if to say, "Come on in."

"I'd better not," Erin thought.  She crept around the other side of the truck and looked around the house.  She saw more dense, black forest behind it, and the fence enclosing in some kind of a backyard.  There was a window on the side of the house, a large one with more light.  She dashed toward the window and sunk underneath it, pressing her spandex-clad body against the wood panels of the house.  She could hear the music more clearly, now.  Bluegrass music.  And she could hear a small voice in a thick accent saying something.

Erin turned around and slowly lifted herself up.  She inched her eyes over the pane of the window and looked in.  It was some kind of a den.  And old-fashioned, self-standing lamp.  Next to it, a small radio on top of a small table.  A long, filthy, unoccupied couch on one wall, and a medium-sized TV on the wall opposite.  Between them, on the floor, a large rug.  And on the rug, a pair of empty syringes.  She saw an open doorway, and through the doorway, she saw a long shadow running across the den floor.  And she could suddenly hear what the voice was saying.

"Dammit, Clayton, just fuckin listen to me."

She heard another voice, too.  Lower and deeper than the other.

"Fuckin listenin to you, Jackson, but yer just not makin a damn lick of sense."

"Nah man, you're not fuckin listenin to me."

Erin slid back down the wall.  Two men.  And they didn't sound very smart.  Maybe this would be easy.

She unbuttoned a flap on her belt and pulled out a handful of small, white pellets.  Smoke bombs.  A girl's best friend... Aside from the small taser Erin patted in a different pocket.

Erin counted to three in her head, and then, she vaulted through the window, somersaulting to the floor, and jumped to her feet.  In a single fluid motion, she tossed the smoke bombs through the open doorway.  A second later, there was a small explosion, and plumes of gas moved through the house as Erin dashed ahead.  She cut through the smoke and saw the two men, both skinny and in overalls, and one wearing a hat, waving their arms and coughing.  She sprang on the man in the hat, grabbing him by the neck and using all of her weight to pull him to the ground.

"Hey Jackson!  What the fuck!  Where'd ya go?"

Erin now sat on the hatted man, apparently Jackson, and put him in a swift chokehold.  He coughed and mumbled as Erin tightened her grip.  She looked behind her.  The other man, apparently Clayton was still waving his arms wildly, screaming out for Jackson.  Jackson struggled for a bit, then relented, and finally Erin released him.  His face fell to the floor.  Erin clambered to her feet and ran at Clayton.  She held out an arm and caught him in a clothesline around the next, sending Clayton down hard to the floor.  He wheezed and squirmed on the ground.  Erin now straddled him and repeated the chokehold process.  Just one minute after she had entered the house, both men were on the ground, unconscious.

Erin stood up and waited for the smoke to clear.  She coughed softly.  "Sorry boys," she said.  "But the Blue Lynx..."

Suddenly, loud noise.  Barking.  And she felt something hit her, hard.  She fell to the floor, the dog snarling at her, her arms trying to push it away from her face.  It pawed her chest, snapped at her wrists, panted madly, and barked.  Erin struggled wildly, looking for something to grab, finally finding the dog's forelegs.  She snagged the dog by its front and tossed it away from her, so hard that it hit a wall and fell to the floor.  Erin turned herself over and got on one knee.  She looked across the room, and found the dog in an unconscious heap.

She brushed herself off as she slowly came to her feet.  The dog had torn small rips in her costume, but she didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere.  The impact with the floor still stung.  She held her head, readjusted her mask, and looked around.

"Two men, and a dog," she said.  "That better be it."

She was standing in a dining room area.  The fight with the men had turned over chairs.  A round table seemed unmoved.  There were wooden cabinets, a sink, a fridge, a stovetop.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  Well, aside from the two men sleeping on the floor.  But no drugs.

"They've got to be around here somewhere," Erin thought.

She wandered through the house, went into a hallway, and saw the door.  A concrete door with a small metal keypad underneath its handle.

"Hello there," she said.

Erin tried the handle, but it didn't budge.  She then tried pushing in the door.  A similar result.

"Alright then," she said, dancing her fingers over the keypad.  "If I were a hillbilly drug code, what would I be?"

She punched in a six.  And a nine.  And then another six.  And another nine.  And a small light near the keypad turned green.

"Of course," Erin grinned.  She turned the handle of the door and pulled the concrete slab back.

She looked through the doorway.  The light was, predictably, low.  But she could see wooden stairs leading down into a basement.  She stepped into the doorway and began a slow, careful descent into the secret room, which she could gradually see come into view.  She saw long tables covered in white powder.  Vials full of tablets.  Beakers and test tubes.  Empty syringes.  A large furnace.  Oil cans filled with god knows what.  Shelves full of dirty, cobweb-strewn books.  Wooden crates packed full of orange tubes with white lids.  All lit by a single light bulb hanging from a chain in the center of the room.

She stepped onto the concrete floor and looked around.  This was the place, alright.  This was practically a factory.  A factory for the manufacturing of illegal drugs.  In the middle of the house in the middle of the forest in the middle of nowhere.

"Bingo," she said.

She heard a door slam.

"What?"

And then, a piercingly loud alarm.  Erin held her hands to her ears.  The sound enveloped her, shook her to the bone.  She screamed to try to push it out.

And it stopped.

Erin dropped her hands.  She looked around, and up the stairs.  The concrete door was shut tight.

"Oh shit," she said.  "What is this?"

Another sound came into the room, barely detectable at first.  It started as a fizz, and then grew into a steady buzz.  Erin looked around.

And then she saw it.  Gas.  Thick plumes of smoke, smoke not unlike that which she herself had used earlier.  Smoke that crawled across the concrete floor of the basement and swathed itself around her ankles.  Smoke that rose from her ankles and up her bare thighs and past her arms trying to swat it away.  Smoke that came into her nose and mouth and that made her eyes run.  Smoke that overtook Erin's entire body so that she could only see gray and white clouds.

Erin stumbled, coughed, moved toward the staircase, gripped the staircase rail, fell backward, caught herself, coughed, put her hands on her knees, coughed, batted away smoke and saw more smoke take its place, fell to her knees, fell from there on her butt, coughed, fell on her back and laid out, arms outstretched, hair flowing on the floor, knees bent, eyes closed, smoke caressing her body in every place.

She was unconscious.

Chapter Five

October 23rd, 9:12 PM

Margot sat in her car in the dark forest, scanning her novel using the light of her phone, but finding it difficult to stay focused.  Erin had left forty minutes ago.  She hadn't heard from her since.

This in itself wasn't unusual.  She didn't expect Erin to update her on every single development.  Margot realized how dangerous that could be for both her and for Erin.  She was supposed to be there for Erin in case the Blue Lynx needed information about a place or an enemy.  She was supposed to be there, too, in case of an emergency.

There hadn't been one yet.  There had been times when things had got pretty dicey, though.  A couple of thugs had gotten the drop on Erin one time and tied her to a chair.  By the time Margot was ready to go in and help, though, Erin had been able to cut through her bonds and escape.  And there was another time when that weirdo campus creep, the "DeLynxinator," he called himself, had gotten obsessed with capturing and unmasking the Blue Lynx.  He actually had knocked Erin out and Margot hadn't known it-- him dragging her across campus had seemed to Margot, on her tracker, to be simply the Blue Lynx taking a stroll.  He had gotten her into his dorm room and had his hand on her mask when his roommate had saved the day, fending him off and waking Erin up.  It was good to have allies.

So Margot wasn't too worried.  But she had to admit that this forest was pretty freaky.  The two of them had never fought crime out of the city.  The very act of getting here had been a challenge.  And she couldn't help but think that Erin had been a little... nervous as she had left the car.

Margot tried to focus.  And then her phone buzzed.  She looked at the screen.

BLUE LYNX HAS BEEN INACTIVE FOR TEN MINUTES.

"What?" Margot thought.  She scrolled through her phone to her tracking map.  She saw a bright dot where the Blue Lynx was positioned.  The dot wasn't moving.

"Shit," she said.  She quickly did a time lapse of Erin's movements in the last ten minutes.  She saw small, conservative movement-- probably sneaking-- followed by a quick burst of action-- presumably the Blue Lynx taking out some baddies-- and then slower, more deliberate movement again.  She saw the dot do a couple of small twirls-- was she looking for something?  being attacked by a group of men?-- and then stop.

"Dammit, Erin," she said.  She trying dialing Erin's number.  It buzzed.  But there was no answer.

"Oh crap, oh crap," Margot said.  She set her book on the passenger's seat and gripped the phone with both hands.  What did this mean?  Had Blue Lynx been captured?  Had she been killed?

Margot gripped her forehead with her hand.  What should she do now?  She was almost certain that this house was, in fact, a drug house, and that she could call the cops and they would come out here and they could maybe make an arrest.  But what would they do if they found Erin?  Arrest her?  Erin told her that the cops were the absolute last resort.  But this did not look good.

Her phone buzzed again.  BLUE LYNX HAS BEEN INACTIVE FOR FIFTEEN MINUTES.

"Okay," Margot said.  She took a deep breath, then reached over into the backpack and, after a few seconds of looking, pulled out a taser and a pocketknife.  She stashed the weapons in her pocket.  She went over to the backpack again and, after a few more seconds, pulled out a small black mask.  She affixed the mask to her face and got out of the car.

She looked into the forest.  It was impenetrably dark.  She lifted her phone up.  It cast a small aura around her so that she could see just a few feet ahead.

"The Black Bobcat is here," she said, as she walked, hesitantly, into the forest.  "Hold on, Blue Lynx, I'm coming."

Chapter Six

October 23rd, 9:30 PM

Erin felt first the cold concrete floor, and then she heard the slow rumble of the concrete door opening.  And then she heard the voice of one of the guys, the deep voice, Clayton.

"Hot damn, it worked."

Her eyes opened.  The light that had been dim now seemed blinding.  It hung above her face, almost mocking her.  She rested her arms on the ground and looked around her.  She was in the basement.  Still.  She saw spare wisps of smoke collecting in the corners of the room, above the tables covered in drugs, around the cabinets and shelves and crates full of drug manufacturing materials.  How long had she been out?

She could hear the stairs creak as the two men came down the stairs.

"Yep," said the other guy, Jackson, as he came into Erin's field of vision, looking at her, grinning a sickening grin.  "Looks like we got one."

Erin tried to get to her feet, but her motion felt stilted, weak.  She coughed lightly.  She had inhaled a lot of smoke.  Moving was a challenge.  But she had to move.  Had to.

"The Boss said we were wasting money on that there door trap, didn't he?" said Clayton.  "Said no damn fool'd be dumb enough to just type in something and wander down here."

"And ya remember what I said, Clayton?" said Jackson.  "I said, bud, maybe not dumb enough in the city.  But things get kinda funny out here in the forest.  You start doin stupid stuff."

They arrived on the floor as Erin came to her feet, putting up her fists, glaring at them.  They were just ten feet from her.  She could almost smell their breath.

"And I said, man, if that damn thing works once, if just once we catch ourselves a wanderer with that there gas trap, it'll be all worth it," said Jackson.  He tipped his hat at Erin.  "I think this one is totally worth it."

"But who the hell is she?" asked Clayton.

Erin stared at them.  They were tall, each at least a foot taller than her, but they weren't particularly muscular.  The guy with the hat was pretty skinny, actually-- she could see his ribs sticking out underneath his overalls.  It hadn't been hard to take them down before.  And she wasn't going to have to do it again.  She began to finger the buttons on her belt, looking for a smoke bomb.

"I'm Blue Lynx," she said.  It came out weaker than she wanted.  The gas was still in her system, apparently.

"Lynx, huh?  Like one of them mountain cats?  Killed a few of those in my day," said Jackson, clapping his hands together.

"Well, I'm a little tougher than your average cat," said Erin.  "If you recall, I recently kicked your asses."

"Damn right, you did," said Jackson, clearly the talker of the two.  "You came to our property and for no goddamn reason, you beat us up and hit our poor little dog.  What's the big idea, huh?"

"I had a reason," Erin declared.  "You two are manufacturing drugs.  You are running an illegal operation out here.  I'm taking you down."

Jackson and Clayton stared at her.  The room fell silent for a second.  And then, the two men erupted in laughter, slapping their knees and patting each other on the back.  It was kind of pathetic.

"You're right, Miss Lynx," sneered Jackson, getting a hold of himself.  "We are making drugs."

"And you're right about being part of uh... Whaddya call it?  An operation.  Sure," said Clayton.

"But you ain't taking us down, babe," Jackson said.  "You're wrong right there."

"We'll see about that," said Erin.  She removed the smoke bomb from the pouch on her belt and hurled it at the feet of the men.  Again, the room filled with smoke, and the two men coughed and stamped around.  "Goddammit!  Tired of this shit!" said Jackson.

Erin made her move.  But as she entered the gas toward where the men were standing, she felt lightheaded.  Normally, she could move through the smoke with ease.  But being gassed herself had left her groggy, unsteady, slower.  She stepped toward who she thought was Jackson and bent her knees, preparing to leap at his throat.  But rough hands came out of the fog and shoved her hard against the wall of the basement.  Her head struck the wall and she slipped down toward the ground, coming to a rest on her butt.  She gazed up.  She saw the silhouettes of the men become clearer.  They were pushing aside the smoke plume by plume, coughing, but also coming near her.

"I see you, bitch," said Jackson.  He had come within a few feet of Erin's boots.  She pulled back her legs and tried to find her bearings.  Still facing the rapidly nearing men, she scrambled up the wall, fumbling at the flaps covering her belt pockets.

Jackson took a large step toward her, setting his hand down hard on the wall to the left of Erin's head.  Erin snatched his wrist with her free hand and pulled a small taser from her belt.  With as much force as she could muster, she slammed the taser into Jackson's neck.  Electricity coursed through Jackson's body, and he screamed.  Watching Jackson convulse wildly, Erin removed the taser and then buried her left fist into Jackson's stomach.  He bent over, moaning and coughing, clutching at his abdomen.

Erin raised her arm, preparing to bring it down on Jackson's exposed neck.  But just as she began her forward motion, Clayton grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the wall.  Erin brought the taser up to attack, but Clayton saw the motion and, with a big, clumsy swat, knocked the weapon out of Erin's hands, sending it flying to the other side of the basement.

Erin gasped.  She instinctively moved her hand to her belt, searching for another item.  But Clayton almost immediately caught this wrist, too, and pushed it against the wall, so that Erin was now securely pinned.  She struggled in Clayton's grasp, as he brought his face closer to hers and flashed a toothy, ugly grin.

He coughed in her face, and she winced.  "Got you where I want you now," he said.

Sensing an opening, Erin brought her left boot up.  It connected solidly with Clayton's groin, and he made a heavy wheezing sound as he released Erin's wrists.  Erin brought her closed fists heavily on Clayton's ears.  He cried out, and tried to clutch both his crotch and his head.  Erin pushed herself from the wall and put all of her weight into Clayton's torso.  Her impact sent him off his feet and to the floor.

Erin waved away what remained of the smoke from the bombs.  She looked around at the basement.  She saw the paraphernalia from before.  She saw Clayton splayed out on the floor, clearly in a great deal of pain.  But what had happened to Jackson?

"Where are you, you skinny bastard?" she said out loud.  Only the low buzz of the lightbulb and the low moans of Clayton came in response.  She turned around and saw her taser in the corner.  Still woozy from the gas attack, and with a considerable headache after being slammed into the wall, she walked over to her weapon and bent down.

"Here!"

Jackson leapt at Erin, grabbing her by the body and hauling her to the floor.  In seconds, he had her arms pinned underneath his legs, which were now straddling her stomach, and his hands resting on the floor on either side of her head.  Where had he come from?

"You're not the only one with little tricks, Lynx girl," Jackson laughed.  He admired Erin as she squirmed beneath his weight.

"Get... Off... of... Me," Erin muttered.  She pushed hard against Jackson's legs but he wouldn't budge.  She tried reaching her hands to her belt, but the grip of Jackson's thighs was too tight for her to get into a pocket.

"That little taser thing you got.  It stings," Jackson said, patting his neck, which was now bright red.

He reached his left hand across the floor.  Erin watched in horror as his fingers dangled toward her taser.

"You ever felt it before?  Hmm?"

Jackson brought the taser back and held it above Erin's face.  She tried to control her breathing.  Tried to stay calm.  Tried to do anything except panic as Jackson hovered her own weapon above her helpless body.

"I'll take your silence as a no," Jackson said.

Erin stared at him.  She needed to do something, say something.  She reached at her belt.  If she could just get at her phone, she could at least send a message to Margot.  An emergency message.  Because she was in trouble, there was no denying it.

"Listen," Erin said.  "Jackson?  Is that your name?  Hey, I'm sorry, but I think this has all been a big misunderstanding."

Jackson laughed.  His body shook and the pressure of his legs relaxed slightly.  "Oh yeah?  Funny you should say that now that I've got you right here all pinned and shit."

He wasn't as focused now.  Erin continued.  "So then, why don't you just let me go?"

Jackson laughed again, even harder then before, and was now on the verging of toppling off of Erin on his own.  Erin stretched her fingers toward her belt.  She felt her phone pocket now, and, with Jackson still chortling, almost uncontrollably, tapped it, hoping it would send out a message to Margot.

"Nah, I think not," Jackson said.  "You see, Little Lynxy..."

Erin knew this was the time.  She brought up her arms against Jackson's groin.  His laughter turned into a single high-pitched tone, and his fingers peeled away from the taser, sending the item to the floor.  Summoning her deepest reserves of strength, she pushed him off her body and rolled him onto the floor..  She then quickly scooped up the taser and got to her feet, scanning Jackson's prone, now howling figure.

"You hillbillies," she said, with returning confidence.  "You need to watch your crotches."

Jackson gripped his groin, alternating between mumbles and cries.  Erin now strutted over to him, poking his body with the tip of her boot.

"You should've known," she said, now resting her boot on top of Jackson's body.  "You should've realized that when you fight the Blue Lynx, you lose.  Now, I know you live in the country.  Maybe you don't get cable out here.  But I'm kind of a big thing in the city."  She pushed her hair back and smiled.  "I take out scum like you every day.  And this drug operation that you got going?  It's over, Jackson.  It's over.  Because the law is the law, in the country and in the city.  And..."

Clayton cracked Erin's head with something-- a bat, his fist, a brick, who knew?-- and with a small, girlish sound, she crumpled to the floor, rested her face on the cold, hard concrete, and fell into unconsciousness.

Chapter Seven

October 23rd, 11:01 PM

Margot dashed through the woods as fast as she could.  It wasn't very fast.  Branches and bushes and logs and mud thwarted her every forward move.  She couldn't believe she had sent Erin through this mess just hours before.  "What a stupid, stupid plan," she thought.

And now she had no idea what was happening.  She was pretty sure that the Blue Lynx wasn't dead.  Or, that's what she had thought for a while, anyway.  She had watched as the motionless dot on her phone had darted around in a small polygon for several minutes and then paused.  A minute later, she had received the Emergency Message from Erin.  Which wasn't good.  But it wasn't the end, either. Because immediately after the message had been received, the dot stopped moving again.  And then, after a few minutes, it resumed motion.  A slow, clumsy motion that ambled across her screen, and presumably across the drug house, and then stopped.  For about an hour now.

What had happened?  Was she dead?  The sudden stop was not encouraging.  But even if Erin was alive, it was obvious that she was in big trouble.  Never before had Margot received an Emergency Message.  Whatever predicament Blue Lynx was in was unlike any she had ever known as a superheroine.  And now here she was, Blue Lynx's tech support, wandering through the forest at night, more or less unarmed, on the cusp of facing extreme peril.

Margot pushed ahead.  She couldn't fight.  She had sparred with Erin a few times, and it usually ended with Margot flat on her face.  How could she possibly beat whoever this was who had, maybe, beaten the Blue Lynx?

Maybe.  She kept telling herself this.  Maybe.  She didn't know what was going on.  It could just be that Erin was... Taking a nap.  Or pausing to snap many, many photos of the crime scene.  Or looking at the night sky.

None of these thoughts were convincing.

Margot saw the lights now.  She stood near the place where Erin had stood, gazing from the forest toward the farmhouse, seeing the same truck, the same fence, the same barn.  She saw the same dim lights coming through the windows of the house, illuminating the long porch.  But she saw something that Erin hadn't seen, too.  Another dim light, this one coming from the window in the barn.

She looked at her phone for what must have been the ten thousandth time that night.  The dot-- Erin, the Blue Lynx-- was just ahead of her.  Motionless.  In that barn.

"Shit," Margot whispered to herself.  "Fuck, fuck, shit."

But there was no time.  No time to think.  She knew this.  So she patted the taser in her pocket and dashed in front of the treeline, making her away over to the barn.  She slalomed in and out of the shadows of the trees until she was within yards of the barn, and then crept over to the wall where the window cast a small square of yellow light on the grass.  She pressed her body to the wall, feeling the cool night air and the wet grass on the ground, breathing quickly, her chest heaving up and down.  This was kind of exhilarating.

She turned around to face the wall, strafing over to where the window cast its light, plopping herself underneath the pane.  And then, with utmost delicacy, she peered over the pane, into the window, into the barn.

She saw Blue Lynx, and she saw two men.  The men were standing, grinning at Erin, talking.  Erin was hanging.  Thick rope had been tied around her wrists, thrown over a rafter, and tied toward a hook in the corner.  The contraption left her dangling a foot above the ground.  Her ankles too were tied in the same thick rope.  Her mouth had been sealed shut with duct tape.  She was squirming, darting her eyes, trying to break free.  But she could not.

Margot watched as one of the men, a skinny man in overalls and a hat, walked over to Blue Lynx and, after taking some time to caress her butt, removed her utility belt from her waist.  The man set the belt on the table and continued to talk.  Erin shook, her eyes widened.  And the man walked over to Blue Lynx again, once again getting too close for comfort.  He held his hand up to Blue Lynx's face, danced it around her mask.

"Oh god," Margot thought.

And then, from the corner of her eye, she saw a beam of light.  A car was driving up toward the property.  Margot dropped down from the window and looked toward the driveway, watched as a black Lexus sidled up next to the pickup truck.  And she watched as the car door opened, and a man came out, and the car door shut.  And she saw the man, and recognized him.

It was Brent Hammerson.

Chapter Eight

October 23rd, 11:42 PM

"MMMM!!!" Erin said.  "MMMMMPH!!!"

Jackson's filthy hand stroked her chin, her cheek, pushed its way under the lower edge of her mask, moved back around her head, stroked her hair, patted the dome of her head, and came back to her cheek.

"I just love those sounds," Jackson.  "Don't those little 'mmms' just beat all, Clayton?"

"Yeah," Clayton said.

Erin shut her eyes and pulled her wrists and ankles, desperately feeling for any kind of give.  Nothing.  She'd been tied up before.  But whoever had bound her this time was clearly an expert with rope.

Jackson noticed her struggling.  "Nah, you ain't gettin out of this, Blue Lynx."  He placed his hands on her hips and squeezed.  He ran his tongue out of his mouth, slowly licking his lips, made a big show of it all.  "You might as well just relax."

"Gross," thought Erin.  But what could she do about it, about any of this?  She was completely helpless.  Gassed, beaten, tied up tightly, hanging from a rafter in a barn that no one in the city even knew about.  Trying to do anything-- struggling against the ropes, or attempting to shake of Jackson's wandering hands-- only seemed to inspire laughter and even more gross stuff.  She needed to keep focus, she knew that, she was telling herself that.  But her fear and disgust and the pain in her arms and head and body kept distracting her.  What she finally kept thinking about, each time she came up with any sort of a plan, was this: The Blue Lynx is a prisoner.

And then she remembered.  Margot!  Erin had sent that Emergency Message... right?  Margot could do this!  She just had to get here, and find a way to get past these thugs, and untie Erin, and then...

Erin grimaced.  Margot had no experience actually fighting crime.  Even if she found the place, even if she had brought a decent weapon, and even if she had the element of surprise, how could she defeat these men who had defeated the Blue Lynx?  Erin admitted that she had been cocky, reckless, stupid.  She had victory in her grasp before she went on that long tangent about truth and justice.  But she also had to admit, sadly, that these guys were clever.  The gas trap in the basement had fooled her completely.  They were clearly aware that they weren't huge, strong men.  So they had relied on trickery.  And they tricked Blue Lynx, and now here she was.

"This is a pretty, uhh, skimpy outfit," said Jackson.  He slid two fingers up Erin's hips, her side, toward her breasts.

"Yeah, pretty... What's the word?  Revealing," said Clayton.

"It almost makes you wanna reveal some more," said Jackson.  He lightly placed both hands on her body, just above her breasts, and stuck the forefingers of both hands underneath the elastic of her spandex V-neck.

"MMMM!" said Erin.  "MMMM!  MMMPPH!"

Jackson pulled back the elastic, slowly, looked inside Erin's costume, his eyes brightening.  He saw Erin's ample breasts encased in a silky, lacy burgundy bra.

"Well I'll be," said Jackson.  "I'll be."

Just then, there were three hard, deliberate knocks at the door.  Jackson released Erin's costume and it snapped back to her body.  Erin hung her head and sighed underneath the tape.  Jackson pointed at Clayton.

"Dammit man, get the door," he said.  "That's the boss."

Clayton nodded and ambled over to the barn doors.  He fumbled with a lock, pushed the handle, cracked it open.  And Erin watched as through the door, in a dark suit and tie, hair slicked back, strolled Brent Hammerson.

"What... The?" thought Erin.

"Goddamn boys," Hammerson said, clapping his hands together once.  "You said you'd tied her up.  But you didn't say you gave the the full-on bondage treatment."

He set his hands on his hips and looked at Erin, scanning from her masked face, down her spandex-clad body, and ending at her tied ankles.  And then he did the process in reverse.  And then he did the entire thing once more.  And he smirked a smug, diabolical smirk.

"You said that stupid gas trap worked?" he asked Jackson.

"Yeah Boss, yeah," Clayton said.  "You said it wouldn't, but, yeah."

"I can elaborate," said Jackson, straining each syllable of the last word.  "This bitch here attacked us and knocked us out.  But then she went down in the basement, you know, entered the wrong code.  The gas came on, and she went lights out.  We woke up and came downstairs and saw Blue Lynx waiting for us.  So we, you know, knocked her out again and brought her here and tied her up."

"Just like that, huh?" said Hammerson, sarcastically.

"Pretty much," said Clayton, tugging at his groin.

"Well I must say, she is, by far, the sexiest visitor we've ever had here on the farm," Hammerson he.  He strolled over to Blue Lynx, walked around her, looking at her back and ass, and then came back to face her.  "But just what the hell was the city's favorite superheroine doing out in the country?"

Hammerson brought up his hand quickly and, with a single deft movement, ripped the tape from Erin's lips.  Erin squealed in pain, then coughed, and then spit.  Hammerson raised his fingers to Erin's chin and gripped it with a dainty touch, pushing it up slightly so that he could see Erin's eyes in the light.

"Blue Lynx?  What were you doing out here?"

"Ugh," Erin said, trying to think of something.  "Going hunting.  And I found some pigs, alright."

Hammerson smiled a mirthless smile.  "Young lady..."

He plunged his fist into Erin's unprotected stomach.  Erin wheezed in pain, brought her ankles up in shock, and let momentum carry them back down and around in a low circle.

"Perhaps you don't know who I am," Hammerson said.  "But let's just say I'm a powerful man.  And powerful man deserve respect.  Especially from little upstart vigilantes."

Erin coughed.  "Oh, I know who you are.  Brent Hammerson.  Speaker of the House.  Total douchebag."

A flash of panic shot through Hammerson's expression, but it quickly settled back to its smug, self-satisfied state.  "Ha, so you do know.  Very well."  He placed his hand back on Erin's chin.  "You still haven't answered my question."

Erin looked at Hammerson in his dark, dead eyes, and then back at Clayton and Jackson, who were watching the situation unfold with clear amusement.  What was this operation?  Did Hammerson control the drug empire in the city?  It was always pretty obvious to her that she was a friend of drug interests, a supporter.  But the kingpin himself?

"I got a tip about a drug house in the forest," Erin said.  "I'm a curious girl."

"Indeed you are," Hammerson said.  "And I guess that's what superheroines do, right?  They just happen upon information about drug cartels, and then they happen to know where to find one of my best suppliers."

"I'm the real deal," Erin said.  She found herself able to smile for the first time in a long time.  It was a grim, painful smile, but it was something.

Hammerson returned the gesture.  "Who's your source, Blue Lynx?"

Erin's smile grew broader, her gaze darkened.  "Why the hell would I ever tell you?"

Hammerson sighed.  "Because I don't really have to ask."  He slid his fingers from Erin's chin to the bottom edge of her blue mask.  "I can just take off this little mask and see who you really are."

"Don't!" Erin said, not thinking twice.  Hammerson and the two thugs chuckled.

"You really wouldn't want that, would you?" Hammerson said, now walking his fingers up the bridge of Erin's nose, and scooting the tips around her mask's eye holes.  Erin tried to shake off his hand, even tried to bite his wrist.  Hammerson just grinned.

"What makes you so damn protective or your secret identity, hmm?  Do I know you or something?" Hammerson said.  "You some girl I used to know?  I've gotten around."

Erin gritted her teeth.  Hammerson might not recognize her as Mayor Steele's daughter.  But if he ever again saw her, he wouldn't forget Blue Lynx's face.  And besides that, there was a pretty good chance that Hammerson would know Erin-- that he had seen her before at some city picnic, or something.  And if Hammerson did recognize her, then the consequences for her, for her father, and eventually for the city, would be dire.  It would surely mean, at the very least, the end of her crimefighting career.

"Tell you what," Hammerson said, dropping his hands to his sides.  "I won't unmask you.  I'll even let you go.  But only if you promise me something."

Erin sneered.  "What?"

"Work with me," said Hammerson.  "Join my team.  Help Clayton and Jackson here.  Embrace a life of crime."

Erin shook her head, smiling, but almost sadly.  "I would never do that," she said, slowly.

"Fine," Hammerson said.  "Have it your way."

And immediately, he was back on Erin, gripping her throat with his right hand, exploring her face with his left, bringing his body close enough to touch hers.  He brushed Erin's mask with patient strokes, watching the bottom edge of the mask peel up and away from Erin's face with each successive go.

"No..." Erin thought, feeling the mask leaving the upper part of her cheeks, feeling her face exposed.  She wriggled, moaned, shook wildly, but there was no escape.

"Let's see who you really are," Hammerson said.

Suddenly, a series of hard, sharp taps came at the window, like machine gun fire.  Hammerson stopped, looked over, and Erin followed his gaze.  She saw, standing in the dark, barely illuminated by the light of the barn, Margot, waving her arms, phone in one hand, yelling.

"The FUCK?" Hammerson screamed.  He separated from Erin and ran to the window.  He looked out, but Margot was nowhere be seen.  Hammerson pounded the window next to the wall.

"GODDAMMIT! WHO WAS THAT?" he yelled.  "The press?  Bitch!" He turned back to Blue Lynx.  "You know about this?"

"It could be," Erin smiled, "That I have a little reporter friend.  Someone I know at the paper."

"DAMMIT, GODDAMMIT!" Hammerson yelled.  He stomped around, waving his arms, gesticulating at Clayton and Jackson.  "One of you, dammit, get that bitch!  Go get her!"

Clayton opened the barn door and ran into the night.  Hammerson was still stomping around, huffing and puffing.

"I gotta get the fuck out of here," Hammerson said.  "I can't be seen any longer."  He ran his fingers through his slicked-back hair.  Beads of sweat had formed along his forehead.

Jackson shrugged.  "Alright then, so what do I do about Blue Lynx?"

"Anything, shit, I don't fucking care," Hammerson said.  He moved hastily toward the barn door.  "No, wait.  Yeah.  Just..."

"Feeling the heat a little bit, Hammerson?" Blue Lynx said, grinning.

"SHUT UP!" Hammerson screamed.  "Just shut up!  No, Jackson, unmask her.  Do that, and take her picture, and send it to me."

"Like, in the mail?" Jackson asked.

"Fucking e-mail it to me, goddamnit!  However you gotta do it.  Just do it, and then get rid of her."

"Like, you mean, kill her?"

"Yes," said Hammerson, opening the door, and stepping outside, "Just fucking kill her."

Chapter Nine

October 24th, 12:10 AM

It had been a gamble.  A wild card.  A huge risk for both her and Erin.  But it had worked, Margot thought, running through the forest, waving her phone in front of her for light.

Wait.  Had it worked?  She knew she was being followed by at least one of the thugs.  But she had seen three men in there-- two skinny guys in overalls, and Brent Hammerson.  She had stopped Blue Lynx from being unmasked by Hammerson.  But would their plan change at all just because they saw a young woman waving her arms like a lunatic?

Anyway, she had caused a delay.  She had bought Erin a little more time to do... Something.  And now Margot had to do something of her own.  She had to find a way to lose the thug pursuing her, take him out, lead him to a dead end.

Margot looked behind her.  Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, but the forest was still a nearly incomprehensible mess of black foliage.  She couldn't see the man following her.  But, standing silently now, she could hear him.  His breathe.  A low mumble.

"Where the fuck are you, little girl?"

The man had run out into the night just seconds after they had witnessed Margot's stunt.  He didn't seem to be carrying a flashlight-- she didn't see anything, for one, and several times, she heard the man curse loudly, as if he had stubbed his toe against a stump, or ripped his skin along an errant branch.  Did he have a weapon?  She hadn't seen either man carrying anything inside the barn.  But you could surely fit a lot of things in those ridiculous overalls...

"You can't hide, bitch!  Come out!"

But Margot knew she could hide.  She had the advantage here-- she had the light of her phone, her eyes that were familiar with the darkness, and the spare taser she had pulled from Erin's backpack.  She had been running for about five minutes now.  It was time to stand her ground and fight.

She slipped the phone in her pocket and slid behind a tall, wide tree.  She dipped low to the ground to look for something, a distraction.  She found a small, round rock, which she gripped tightly in her palm.  She pressed herself against the tree and tried to minimize her breathing.

She could hear the man getting closer.  The breathing louder, more labored.  The crunch of sticks and leaves.  The occasional "oww" and curse word.

He called out.  "I know you're out here!"

Here was her chance.  Margot flicked her wrist and tossed the rock across the forest, so that it struck another tall tree about ten feet to her left.  The impact made a small cracking sound, which stopped the man in his tracks.  Margot peeked from behind her tree and watched as the man crept toward the source of the noise.

"You over here?" he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

And Margot charged, screaming, taser buzzing high in the air, toward the man's unsuspecting silhouette.

Chapter Ten 

October 24th, 12:05 AM.

"I think we're alone now."

Jackson shut the barn door.  He had been watching Hammerson as the Boss got into his car and sped off, kicking mud onto the stationary pickup truck.  He turned now toward Erin, who was still tied tightly, still hanging from the barn rafter, but now, oddly, smiling.

"Things are starting to unravel, aren't they?" Erin said.

"I wouldn't say that," Jackson said, adjusting his hat.  "I'd say we're just getting started here."

"You're wrong," Erin replied.  "You're through.  My friend has your picture.  You and your boss.  She's going to escape, and she's going to end this."

"Come on now," Jackson said.  "Your girl's got the picture, but it won't be long before Clayton's got your girl."  He spat onto the hay-strewn floor.  "Clayton's fast."

"Here's a thought," said Erin.  "Why don't you untie me?  I'll tell my friend to call the whole thing off."

"That's a stupid idea," laughed Jackson.

It was a stupid idea.  But Erin didn't have any good ideas.  She was proud of Margot, coming to her rescue, managing to distract the thugs just before Hammerson was about to unmask the Blue Lynx.  But would she be able to ditch Clayton, and then come back here to beat Jackson?  It seemed unlikely.  If the Blue Lynx was getting out of this predicament, she'd have to rely on her own strength and cunning.  Unfortunately, both of those things seemed, at the moment, in short supply.

"Here's a better idea," Jackson said, sauntering over to Erin.  "Let's take off that mask."

Again, Erin's reaction was immediate.  "What?  No!" she cried.  "Why do that?  Why do you even care?"

"Because," Jackson said, placing his right hand on the small of Erin's back, pulling her close, and his left hand on Erin's cheek.  "I want to see all of that pretty face."

He cackled, and Erin breathed in his hot, sour breath.  He was a disgusting cretin.  Every second that his dirty fingers rested on her body, every moment that he looked into her eyes with deep, perverted lust, felt like an eternity to Erin.

"You're a stooge," Erin said, attempting another tactic.  "You're just doing it because your boss wants you to.  You're a coward."

"Nah," Jackson said, tightening his grip on Erin's back.  "I ain't no coward.  But I think what the Boss says makes a lot of sense."

"Why?" said Erin.  "If you're just gonna kill me, then who cares who I am, or what I look like?"

"Well, first of all," Jackson said.  "I like watching you squirm."

Hearing this, Erin could not help but struggle against her bonds, which only widened Jackson's sickening grin.

"And second of all, well, we could use that photo, right?  Make sure you're always in line.  You know.  A little blackmail."

"But listen," Erin said.  "You're going to kill me.  What's the point of blackmailing a dead person?"

Jackson dropped his hand to Erin's shoulder.  "Who said I was gonna kill ya?"

Erin looked at Jackson.  "Your boss.  He told you to."

Jackson laughed.  "Well, I don't think I'm gonna."

Erin furrowed her brow underneath her mask.  "So, you're going to let me go?"

"Nah."

Jackson now dropped both of his hands to Erin's butt, so that each hand firmly clenched one of her buttocks.  He kneaded the bare skin of her upper thigh and the spandex-clad skin of her rear and held his head back, eyes closed, pressing his groin toward Erin's lower body, as Erin winced and made small sounds of discomfort and disgust.

"I like having you here, Blue Lynx," Jackson said, pinching Erin's butt hard, until she cried out in pain.  He rammed his groin at Erin again and again.  She could feel each thrust get harder, and harder.  Suddenly, his face was next to hers, and she could feel his hot breath and wet lips as he kissed on the cheeks, on the mouth, on the chin.  As Erin tried desperately to dodge his lewd kisses, he felt Jackson push the elastic bands of her costume's leg holes up and over the ridges of her buttocks, so that the costume stretched against her crotch, so that the fabric of the costume now sat squished between her cheeks, revealing the lacy edge of her burgundy panties.

Suddenly, Jackson released her, and let her swing from the ropes as he backed away.

"I'm getting ahead of myself, now."

Erin grimaced and she gradually swung back to a stationary position.  She could feel her costume fall back into place, the elastic bands of her bikini rise out of her butt crack and mostly back into normal position.  "So you want to keep me alive, to make me some kind of... Sex slave?"

Jackson clapped his hands to his knees.  "Yup."

"Fuck you," Erin spat.

"I want you here, Blue Lynx.  I want you here forever," Jackson said.  "Which is why it's time to get to know you a little better."

He stepped toward Erin again.

"Jackson.  Don't.  I'm warning you."

Jackson didn't stop.  With steady, intentional motion, he lined his body up with Erin's and set his hands on her face, sticking his thumbs beneath the lower edge of her mask.

"Here we go," he said.

"No!" Erin shouted, as Jackson lifted his thumbs and pulled the Blue Lynx's mask up, inch-by-inch, over the bridge of her nose, past her widened eyes, up the slightly sweat-stained plain of her forehead, and past her long, dark hair, finally pushing the mask up and into the air, completely off of Erin's face, and gripping it loosely in his fingers.

"No," Erin thought.  "No."

She hung her head as low as it could go, but Jackson brought it back up again with the pressure of his fingers on her chin.  He gazed at the Blue Lynx's unmasked face with a long, patient, satisfied stare.

"Holy shit," Jackson said.  "Yer even better than I expected."

Never before had Blue Lynx suffered such humiliation.  Being captured and tied up was one thing.  Being made the object of a demented hillbilly's sexual fantasy was another.  But having both of these situations occur, and then having her secret identity revealed?  Erin could only shake her head and try to look away from Jackson's nauseating gaze.  She was on the verge of tears.

"Cheer up, girl," Jackson said.  "It's just a mask.  It's not the end of the world."

Did he recognize her?  Erin now directed her attention at Jackson, painful as the very act was.  There was no sign in his eyes that he had ever seen her before.

Jackson turned around and set Blue Lynx's mask on the table next to her utility belt.  Erin had almost forgotten about that earlier embarrassment.  But it didn't seem like much in light of all that had happened since.

"Still," Erin thought.  "He doesn't seem to know who I am.  Or at least, he hasn't figured it out yet."

She felt a small burst of hope, and then she saw Jackson pull a cell phone from his pocket.  He messed with the touchscreen.

"Ready for yer close-up, Blue Lynx?" he said, holding the cell phone up and near Erin's tense, unmasked face.

Chapter Eleven

October 24th, 12:21 AM.

Just then, the barn door creaked.  Jackson dropped the cell phone to his side and turned around.  Sure enough, the door had opened, maybe just an inch or two.

"Clayton?" Jackson said.  He stepped toward the door gingerly.  "That you Clayton?"

He peered out of the crack of the door into the night, shaking his head.  "Hey Clayton," he said.  Erin watched him open the door and step outside, keeping one hand on the other barn door.

And then she heard Jackson scream, saw him stumble clumsily back into the barn, dropping the cell phone to the floor, clutching his neck with his hand.  And Erin saw, seconds later, Margot open the door and step inside.  Her hair was a mess and her boots and jeans were caked with mud.  She wore a black mask and carried a taser.  Her expression was focused, determined.  She set her eyes for a brief moment on Erin, nodded, and then brought her attention back to Jackson, who was stumbling around in a circle, holding his neck, emitting sounds of pain.

"Goddammit!" he said.  "What is WITH you bitches and those things?"

Margot didn't reply.  She ran at Jackson and threw all of her weight at his skinny frame.  The impact sent Jackson to the ground.  He splayed on the floor, convulsing in agony, and opened up his legs so that Margot could deliver a powerful kick to his crotch.

"AUGGGHHHH!" Jackson cried out, his hands going instantly to where the pain was.

Margot turned around quickly.  She looked at Erin, noticed she was missing her belt, and then turned around to see a table.  On it were various farm implements and Blue Lynx's belt and mask.  Margot sped over to the table, opened one of the flaps on Erin's belt, and came out with a small coil of wire.  She then ran over to Jackson, still gripping at his groin, and bent down.  She tried to flip him over on his stomach.  But as her hands got a grip on the underside of Jackson's body, Jackson's had darted out and snagged hold of your wrist.

"Fuck you," he said.  And with his free hand, Jackson punched Margot hard in the face, so that she fell from her kneeling position, spun around, and landed on her breasts.

"Margot!" Erin cried.

"That's her name then?" Jackson said, pushing himself into sitting position.  Margot lay on the floor, still breathing, uttering low, pained sounds.  Jackson looked at her prone body and tried to force a smile, but he winced with the effort.  He rolled over on his hands and knees and crawled toward where Margot lay.

"Margot!  Get up!"  Erin said.  She shook at her bonds, put all of her strength into separating the ropes on her ankles.  But there was simply nothing she could do.  She was helpless.  And she could not help her friend.

Jackson was now straddling Margot's body, pushing her by the shoulder so that she could look up into his eyes.  "Hey babe," he said.

Margot attempted to push the taser in his neck again, but her movements had slowed, and Jackson easily anticipated the attack, forced the taser from her fingers, and hurled into the corner of the barn.

"I had yer friend just like this just a couple hours ago," Jackson said to Margot, pushing one wrist to the floor, keeping eye contact, searching for Margot's other hand.  "Call it Deja Vu."

Margot squirmed.  She still had one had free, and she still had her knife in the pocket of her jeans.  If she could only reach it...

Jackson stopped looking for Margot's arm and placed his rough hand on her face.  "Your friend already knows it, but I can't stand these mask things," he laughed.  He poked his fingers under Margot's mask.  "I took hers, and now I'm taking yours."  And, in one swift motion, he ripped the mask from her face, and let it float to the ground, gently as a feather.  Margot felt the cold air get colder as it touched the exposed skin of her mask-less face.

"Hot damn," Jackson said, squeezing Margot's cheeks.  "Yer just about as hot as she is."

"Jackson!" Erin cried.  "Get off of her!  She's not your problem!  Deal with me!"

"Oh, I will be dealin with you," Jackson said.  "But can't ya see I'm a little busy?"

"Jackson!" Erin cried.  "Jackson!"  But Jackson had tuned her out.  His lustful thoughts had just one target at the moment: the hot girl in the black sweater struggling just beneath his weight.  He scooted his legs down Margot's body, looked down at her breasts, and then further down, at her exposed stomach, her bellybutton seeming to quiver with fear, and then further down, at the place where her jeans buttoned tightly around her waist.

"Well," Jackson said.  "Don't mind if I do."

With his free hand, Jackson pushed the button of Margot's jeans through its loop and pulled back the denim slightly.  He could already she the fringe of Margot's white panties, and decided to see more, so he placed his fingers on the tab of Margot's zipper and pulled down, her jeans opening slightly more as the zipper made its slow descent.  And he seemed to be laughing to himself about all of this when Margot took the knife from her pocket, opened it, and plunged it into the back of Jackson's hand.

"GAHHHHHH!"

Jackson pulled back his hand, the knife still embedded in his skin.  He was howling, and defenseless, and Margot pushed herself off the floor and barreled into him, rolling over him so that he was flattened to the ground and she was soon on her feet.  Blood was coursing out of Jackson's hand and onto the floor, and he was giving it all his attention, not noticing as Margot ran back to the taser, picked it up, and then ran back to Jackson.

"Fucking pervert," she said, sticking the taser between Jackson's legs.  She kept it there, watching Jackson shake with electricity, watching the blood from his hand pool onto the floor, watching his once lascivious expression turn to one of total agony, until he had stopped moving.  His face went slack.  He was unconscious.

Margot dropped the taser and slowly clambered to her feet.  She breathed heavily, keeping her hands on her knees for a while.  A bruise had already started to form near her eye.  Her clothes were covered in mud and grass and dust.  She zipped and buttoned up her jeans and stared at Jackson.  Still not moving.  He was down for the count.  Margot sighed.

She looked at Erin, her arms tied high above her head, a rope stretching from her wrists around a rafter and back to the floor, her ankles bound together.  Beltless and unmasked.  Covered in dust and sweat.  The V-neck of her costume wrinkled and torn in the place, the bottom of her costume riding high, too high, on her hips.  She was smiling.  She was, in fact, so happy she could barely speak.

"Margot," she whispered.  "Margot."

Margot pulled the pocket knife from Jackson's hand and wiped the bloody blade on her jeans.  "I guess I'll cut you down now," she said.

The two women laughed together in the cold barn.  And then, they heard a buzz.  They followed the sound to Jackson's vibrating phone.  Margot picked it up.  "The Boss," she read, showing the phone to Erin.

"Answer it, and bring it to me," Erin said.

Margot pushed a button and lifted the phone up to Erin's ear.

"Status report?" a voice said.

It was Hammerson.  Erin smiled.

"Are you there?  Hello?" Hammerson said.  "Why haven't I got a picture?  What's going on?"

"Sorry," Erin said.  "Your boys aren't available right now."

There was a moment of silence on the other end.  And then, "Goddamn you.  Goddamn you.  You bitch.  You think this is funny?  You think--"

"Catch you later, Mr. Hammerson," Erin said, nodding at Margot.  Margot could hear Hammerson shouting as she ended the call.  She looked up at Erin, her tied up, unmasked, victorious superheroine friend, and grinned.

END OF PART ONE