Another Face in the Crowd

Felt like a bit of cheat, a toy like this. But it wasn't perfect. The battery life was lousy. The wand went dead on her just before she finished slicing a complete circle in the front of the display case. It always did that. Always crapped out one stupid second too soon. She had to finish the last little bit of the job with a regular glass cutter. Only a few centimeters, but it took her much longer than it should have. She'd already got out of practice, since she acquired the Magic Wand. Sad. This is what happens!

But she had reached the target—the prize! She had Teen Spirit's costume.

She wasn't gonna lug off all of it. She'd take the tunic and the cape and the mask—those were the essential, crucial bits. But the gloves and the boots, and the panties too, forget it. Hell with 'em. She doused them all with the acid, just to make it easier on herself. Too cumbersome, all the accessories together—the damn boots especially.

The acid reduced them to green steam. Didn't take long. Smelled horrid, though. And probably took years off her life, breathing in those putrid fumes.

The crucial items, she folded up tight and small as she could, and zipped them into a bag on her belt. She tried to think of the bag as her utility pouch, when she used it. Iconic characters like her always had utility pouches, right? But a fanny pack, was what it really was. Nothing more. It looked pretty retarded, when it was full and bulging, like fanny packs always do, whether you wear them on your actual fanny or against your belly or your hip. But what else could you do? Bring a briefcase or a goddamn purse? She needed both her hands free.

She stood on a chair and scrambled back up through the holes she'd sliced in the ceiling and the roof. Now she had to climb down the side of the house again to the spot behind those trees where she'd left the business suit and the fox mask, as well as the wine glass ... A valuable prop.

Of course the silly fanny pack under the suit coat made her look potbellied. But that was not unusual, for men like these. Oh no. And she'd had the bag on from the beginning tonight, and even when it was empty it bulged out. So to the security men, if any of them were dedicated enough to pay that much attention, she would look no different now than she had before.

Once disguised, she'd make her way casually back through the gardens to the cliffs over the sea, and then dive straight down to where her little mini-sub awaited her, under the water.

It needs to be noted, she would stand out a bit more this time, among the revelers—because almost nobody else had their clothes on anymore. Only a very few very sad hung-up hold-outs were just observing events, at this point. Still she remained quite confident she could get away with her act. She would look odd, no doubt, but not odd enough to seriously alert the hidden security men ... Every party ended up with at least one poor pathetic wallflower, adrift and helpless and forlorn among everybody else's noisy fun, regardless what kind of party it was. Right?

4.

And yes, she would have got through just fine, if one of the hired women hadn't decided to pounce on her. An act of pity, it seemed. Well-intentioned.

"Why are you still dressed?" screeched the girl, "Are you shy or something? You shouldn't be shy! You're missing out on all the fun, aren't you? You'll regret it tomorrow. Let me help you! Come on now! Hey! Don't go! Don't be scared! Don't run away! Stop! Stop!"

And then, grabbing and clawing at her torso, not violently but just playfully, like a rambunctious kitten, the damn silly drunk girl ripped open the front of the suit coat. It was actually more Sinja's fault than the hooker's. Trying to evade her, backpedaling ... That was what made it tug open. And a coat of that sort is never very secure on you, with just a couple buttons on it.

The girl saw what she was wearing underneath it, her shiny red leather ninja costume. Must have noticed the fannypack too, and the fact that she had breasts. The ninja outfit did nothing at all to disguise them, the way it clung to her figure. The girl wasn't frightened, only puzzled. Not very bright, perhaps, and also she was fucked up on something or other. You could tell from her eyes. "Whatcha got that on for?" she asked, "You're one of us?" She seemed to have assumed Sinja was another entertainer like herself. "I didn't realize. Couldn't tell. Whoopsy!" She giggled, but then she looked confused again, and a little annoyed. "What's the big idea with the suit? I don't get it."

Her shrill voice was much too loud. Heads were turning, all around them.

Sinja just shushed the girl and dodged around her, through one of the arched entrances to a hedge maze. Closest available bolt hole. She didn't run—that would only make things worse. But then the stupid girl started pursuing her, and kept on calling after her. "Hey! Hey! Where you headed? Whatcha up to in here? Hey! Let me in on it! Why won't you tell me? Is it a special surprise?"

Elevated lamps brightened slightly over the maze, and she saw security men with rifles rising up on little platforms at its corners, where they'd be able to scan the entire interior at a glance. They'd also be able shoot anyone they wanted to in here from those vantage points, if that turned out to be necessary. No alarms were going off yet, though. They weren't sure anything was really wrong; it appeared they were trying to be discreet.

Sinja took several random turns as fast as she could without breaking into a sprint, hopping over several other couples rolling around and writhing on the grass pathways. This maze was fairly crowded, any passage you chose. She managed to leave the other girl behind her, but that might have been a mistake. She was still calling out nearby, and soon as she could no longer see her, she started getting even louder and more annoyed. "Don't hide! Why you ditching me? Hey! Where'd you go? Which way did you turn?" Hearing this, other people kept looking up at Sinja, and they'd mutter as she was passing by them or over them, or they'd cuss. Most only sounded sheepish, but some were becoming aggravated by the disturbance, and suspicious ... "Huh?" "The fuck?" "Shit."

"What's the rumpus?" some guy asked her directly, standing up, "What's that crazy girl freaking out about?"

Sinja only answered with a shrug.

"Some asshole trying to stir up trouble, I bet," she heard another person saying, on the other side of the hedge barrier, "Maybe a reporter snuck in. The security will find the fucker and take care of it."

"They better," another man answered.

Then Sinja passed into a larger space. She hadn't left the maze—this was probably the middle of it. Had another enormous steaming swimming pool in the middle, with a fake island like a mini volcano, but gushing water out the top instead of lava, which fed a series of twisty water slides down its slopes. There were people all over the thing, and everybody was screwing like everywhere else. On the island, in the pool, and scattered in the grass around its edges. Everywhere you looked, you saw butts and boobies bouncing up and down. Gasps and grunts, groans and giggle, splashes and spurts.

She was too exposed. Stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. Retreating into the passages would only look more suspicious, wouldn't it? So instead she strode straight to the pool and dived in. Like that had been her intention all along.

What was she going to do now? The answer came to her in a flash, as she hit the water and swooped to the bottom. Though illuminated, the pool was fairly deep, and as a bonus, its surface was agitated and misty from the water slides continuously sluicing into it. Meant she wasn't very visible down here. A fair number of legs were close by her, a forest of them, in fact, thrashing around. She had to be careful not to get stomped on or kicked in the face or anywhere else, as she huddled at the base of the central island. But no other heads were under the surface. Nobody was paying any attention to her down under here, far as she could tell. Much too occupied with their own strenuous exercises.

When she surfaced, she would need to be able to blend in again with everyone else. Better than before. Only one possible way to accomplish that, in these current circumstances. But it would be easy enough to do, now that the inspiration had struck her. It should work wonderfully. An unsophisticated but absolutely ideal disguise.

She would just have to abandon her costume. Both her layers, in fact. Both the tan suit with the fox mask, and the complete red ninja suit beneath it. But by shedding all disguises, she would immediately become indistinguishable from everybody else in the pool. Just another of the girls. Best disguise of all.

She'd be safe, for a while. The trade-off was she'd have to give up all her tools and weaponry, as well as the fanny pack with Teen Spirit's costume. For the present she'd leave them right here on the bottom of the pool. An unfortunate loss. The items were sure to be discovered during the following morning's cleanup. Her own distinctive costume and equipment, as well as Teen Spirit's. Shit.

Seemed in the end she would be adding more to Headstone's filthy collection than she was taking away tonight. But she couldn't let that bother her at the moment. Later she would make another attempt on his sanctum, trying some other safer strategy, and she'd set things right. Of course in order for that to happen, she first needed to make good her escape.

So Sinja stripped, fast as she could. Turned out a bit more difficult than she'd anticipated. Hard to hold her breath long enough. Thought her head was about to explode. She started to get a little desperate. Then finally she wrestled the last of the clingy leather off her legs and feet, and launched herself for the surface. Bursting up with a big splash and a bigger gasp ... completely unmasked. Entirely naked. Tits bouncing.

Nobody noticed. Hell, nobody even glanced her direction.

But that changed after she swam to the other end of the pool and climbed out. Revealing the full details of her figure. All the party girls were good looking, but as an Icon, even just a streetlevel one, her form stood apart. Or rather, above. High above. Jaw dropping and heart stopping physical perfection. The results of endless ninja conditioning—a harsh, grueling, ugly regimen, but with this glorious payoff. The body and the majesty of a goddess.

She hadn't taken more than three or four steps across the grass, dripping and shivering a little, before masked men approached from all sides, some whistling, some groaning. They circled in all around, closer and closer, reaching for her all at once. A dozen hands clutching at her. More like zombies than men. Hell, most men are zombies, all their soulless fucking lives.

And she couldn't refuse them, could she? Couldn't fight them off.

She had the strength and the skills. Even butt naked, she was by no means harmless. Could have slaughtered the whole bunch in less than a minute. Torn them all to pieces, literally, with her bare hands.

Only she couldn't, 'cause she had to keep in character.

She was supposed to be just another of the Good Time Girls. No different than all the rest. Only better looking.

Shit. Somehow this aspect of the plan hadn't occurred to her, believe or not, when she decided on it.