StrykeForce 1: Out of Their League

"GGGnnnnAAAwww!" She protested again.

Mac then pulled free of her mouth with a wet pop sound and watched as Gold seemed to deflate with the release of tension. Her lovely mouth and chin, were slick and wet with his effluence.

"Thank you, beautiful." He told her while trying to relax and feeling the brain effects from his just having cum. "I guess this means we're married now."

Bronze and Silver fared no better as other henchmen used them in much the same fashion, emptying the chemically altered semen within their bodies into each heroine's bloodstream by way of forced oral copulation. They too could barely defend themselves as they futilely mewed and groaned in protest while the men ejaculated into their young, hot mouths. Weakened hands and arms were raised and attempted to grip and push the men away, but were met with slaps and stronger grips that kept the hands from succeeding at their attempted defense.

Within mere moments, each heroine had fought and fallen to the misogynistic game plan of the evil genius Quimby by way of Mr. Tergesen's henchmen. They would be left to their fate, their heads lolling in half sleep, their mouths coated with the creamy living deposits of the henchmen they had fought, and their blood streams now filled with an insidious, incomprehensible cocktail of chemicals and drugs whose long term effects could only be a matter of conjecture.

"That's all of it, boys." Mac told them while standing triumphantly over the sleeping beauties. "Tergesen: 1, silly Super heroines: 0

The men then left the heroines there, sitting on the docks, with their chins resting on their chests, their "cooing" mouths slightly "ooooing" and "aaahhing" as they slept... and the police were called.

*******

Faith was busy on her knees in her large backyard garden. Dressed in jeans, her usual gardening shirt and flip flops upon her feet, she busily dug and trenched the dark earth with a various arrangement of gardening tools. Her lovely hair was pulled back from her face by a bandanna that covered her whole head and was tied in the back. She wore no makeup, and hadn't even dressed in much else in the last three days as she busied herself about the garden.

It was something she always did to relieve stress. Garden work took her mind off of many of the things that troubled her, be they small or large issues. For the last three days, however, she had practically re-planted the entire garden. It was all she had done, except perhaps to constantly feed her face in an attempt to quench the driving hunger in her tummy. She didn't know why the hunger just wouldn't go away, and a large part of her inner being seemed to be at war with her desire to want to find out.

She had taken three days off from work in the wake of the horrible happenings at Fisherman's Warf, and wanted to be nothing but normal, everyday and free from the fact that for the first time Stryke Force 1 had been beaten by an adversary. Surely, it was her fault, she admonished herself. She had not prepared the team for what had happened to them, despite the impossible job of having them prepared for everything and anything. But she had done a fine job for the last five years, and wasn't happy with losing. She wasn't happy at all.

Her front doorbell rang and she frowned at the prospect of visitors. But she pulled off her gardening gloves and wiped her cheek with the backs of her hands and headed for the door. Upon opening the door she was surprised to find the smiling face of Senator Aaron Chatelain and her father, Louis Eaves, Senior.

"Aaron! Dad! What are you two doing here?" She said inviting them into her home.

She kissed them both and gave her dad a big hug. "What's this all about, gentlemen?" She asked.

"You haven't answered the phone in three days." Aaron told her, placing an arm around her waist. "And I can see you have been gardening."

"Honey, I gotta....." Her dad motioned.

"Of course, Dad. You know where it is...." She told him pointing to the hallway where the lavatory was.

Aaron leaned in and gave her a lover's kiss, which she ordinarily loved, but this time she undeniably found it annoying. He said to her, "Gardening? No phone calls? No work for three days?"

"I've been taking a break." She told him with lowered eyes.

He reached up and placed a hand on her head, pushing her bandanna down and off of her hair, allowing he hair to fall forward around her face. She found his forceful removal of her bandanna uniquely arousing as it caused her another annoyance, and she had wanted to tell him to stop and NOT remove it, but had only sighed and let him have his way. As it happened, there was an unusual twinge deep within her lower body.

"Why are you lying to me?" He asked. "Tell me what's up while your dad is still in the john."

"The director is quite upset with the whole office, I thought I would give him his space. That's all." She responded and patted him on the chest. "Let me fix you boys some lunch." She offered, musing that since her hunger wouldn't go away, she might as well feed her face again in front of her father and lover while operating in a normal, everyday function.

He watched her with suspicious eyes as she made her way to the kitchen and then he looked out of the large patio door at the exterior garden. "Holy crap! Woman!" He exclaimed. "Have you been building the hanging gardens of Babylon?"

She snorted a small, quiet breath at the annoying comment and spoke to him in the other room as she fixed lunch. "You know I always garden.... to relieve stress."

He came around the corner of the kitchen door with a look of shock and amazement and stated. "Stress, yes.... but what the hell is bothering my baby to THIS degree?"

She suddenly snapped at him in a move that even surprised him and she spat "Aaron! Please! I am just fine!!!!" Then she stopped what she was doing and took a deep breath while looking down at the counter top.

He came up to her and held her arms with his hands and gently said, "Your dad's flushing the toilet. Tell me quick. I took off today from the office just to come check up on you."

"I know. I know." Faith told him with a nod. "Turgesen pulled off a major job down at Fisherman's Warf. No one is sure just how it happened, but it was the very thing we were all trying to prevent. We're all feeling frustrated... "

"...and ineffectual." He said, finishing her thought. "What about the Stryke Force 1? Didn't they have your intel on the operation?"

"They did... they did....No one is sure just what happened. No one has heard from them since Friday night...." She told him with searching eyes.

He leaned in close to her as though to whisper as they both heard the bathroom door open and her father returning to the room. He whispered, "I was sent a report from legal, a police report.... it had some amazing things to say about what happened to Stryke Force 1. It may help to know that they are still in operation...."

She gave him a shocked look, and then glanced to see if her dad was within earshot. She was very worried that Aaron had been given a police report about the way the team had been found; beaten, woozy, and with their shorts pulled down around their hips. They had been left like the drunken bums on the bowery for the authorities to find. How much did he know?

"I can't believe you would have that information, Aaron. Who would have....?"

"I'll tell you later.... " He motioned as her dad could be heard approaching. "But your superhero ladies had their asses handed to them Friday night, that's why your boss is so upset."

She looked at him with a pause and her mouth fell slightly open at his rendition of events. The words cut like a dagger through her gut.

"Okay, okay... you two," Her dad began as he entered the room. "What's all this intense whispering about?"

"Dad, have a seat at the table, I am going to make us all lunch." She said with a kind smile.

"You young people.... " Her dad mused. "You think you have to keep things from the old folks... but we've seen everything.... when ya gonna get that?"

"Sorry, Louis." Aaron said to him while taking a seat next to him. We didn't want to spoil your surprise party."

Louis Eaves snorted and responded, "Government! Haven't you got some everyday citizens to spy on somewhere?" He joked.

Faith returned to the table forcing a smile and trying to keep a positive expression and not let on to the turmoil deep within her. They all had salads and sandwiches with iced tea and chatted about any number of things that concerned their everyday lives. Aaron wasn't fooled, however, as he watched his long time, beautiful and svelte future fiance' stuffing her face with enough food to feed his whole staff.

*******

Lizzelle Drake had a rather unusual personal life, as her closest friend and lover was also a trained athlete who had been in the Olympics a few years past. But the odd thing to most was the fact that, although not related, the two of them looked weirdly like sister and brother. For most people it was an odd thing to find a brightly red haired girl who's boyfriend was himself a long haired red head with a face full of lightly sparse freckles.

She had called him on Saturday morning, with a face full of tears and shame, greatly distressed at the events of Friday night, but had simply told him, in a lie, that a younger cousin who lived across the country had been killed in an auto accident. She just couldn't bring herself to face the world after Stryke Force 1 had experienced its first humiliating defeat. She still felt the bumps and bruises from the battle, still tasted the foul acrid linger of strange male penis on her tongue, but it couldn't compare to the foul taste of defeat which she had never known before.

Arnold had spent the next three days comforting her, lying with her and holding her crying, upset form in his arms until late in the night. He had never seen her like this, and he wondered beyond his own good sense if indeed there was more going on here than the tragic death of a child.

Wednesday morning she seemed to be in a bit better spirits, and he made her some eggs and bacon to wake her up with the delicious smell. She appeared in the kitchen with her hair all messed upon her head and a sleepy, worn out expression on her face.

"That smells great..." She murmured. "I hope you made fifty pounds of it." She joked.

Arnold chuckled at the comment, but little did the young man know that it was a strategically placed comment meant to hide her intent at raiding the refrigerator once more like she had done everyday for the last five days. It concerned him to see her packing it in like she had. It was behavior he had never seen her perform before. Usually, when she was upset, the moment didn't last but until the next morning, but this time, he had been entreated to stay for five days. Not wanting to pester her, he had allowed her to simply wade through the difficulty and he had been there to hold her and smooth out the rough edges.

She walked over to him and gave him a long, deep kiss and then said, " Thank you for being here, I really needed your help these last few days."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in close and asked. "What is it about what has happened that has made you such a bed bug? Huh?"

She smiled. "You mean the constant sex?"

"The constant need to put something in your mouth.... if not my tool... then a bread stick..." He half joked.

"I'm ravenous... that's all...."

"Are you preggers?" He asked with concern.

"Oh, no.... " She told him. "I am just recovering from a real shock is all..."

"Uh huh." He responded with disbelief. "You can tell me anything, you know..."

"I know."

"Usually when you're going to town on me, I can relax and let go..... but gotta tell ya.... you gotta little scary a few times there...... you never gave head like that before...."

She nodded and silently agreed. "Can we go and do it again?" She asked with pleading eyes.

"What about breakfast?"

"Fuck breakfast. Fuck me." She flatly told him.

Usually this kind of moment was a friendly, loving and play-filled instance which Arnold and Lizzelle could both laugh and giggle and have funny sex play with. But the look in Lizzelle's eyes gave him a bit of a chill and he silently nodded his cooperation. He took her hand and lead her back into the bedroom, with her walking behind him holding his hand. And as he did he couldn't deny that the strange moment seemed like a walk to the death chamber.

*******

Samantha Trang and her family lived high up in the hill country section of Capitol City. The palatial mansion housed three generations and 19 members of her family. Behind the affluent address, was a tall pagoda type building she used as a temple and place to meditate when life got to be too much. Today, Samantha spends her fifth day in silent yoga style meditation as she attempts to deal with the disastrous results of Stryke Force 1's last mission.

Her silent reverie was interrupted by the quiet shuffling of age old, yet familiar feet. Seeing her distress, her grandfather, a wise sage far into his 90's, joined her in the pagoda. As he sat down on the bench within the inner room he quietly regarded Samantha as she sat in lotus position upon the plush rug covered floor.

"There is much distress within you , mayfly." The old man intoned.

Sam lifted her eyes and turned to the old man and said, "Grandfather, if I speak with you on it, I fear I will not be able to tell you the truth. It is not my wish to attempt to insult you..... with fabrication."

The old man, dressed in a long flowing robe of deep blue with small gold oriental highlights, and a long handled pipe between his lips nodded his understanding. "This has much to do with the Stryke Force 1, does it not?" He asked.

She looked around with questioning eyes and asked him, "Grandfather, I beg you.... no one else may know what you know...."

"Do not be alarmed, mayfly. It is only I who am within earshot."

She shook her head. "My shame... it is too great." And then she closed her eyes and attempted to go back to her meditation.

"Failure.... is often a stepping stone to greater success....one must not fear it.... one must embrace the chance for larger growth."

Without looking his way again she lifted her eyes and peered out into the surrounding hills. "A great crime has been perpetrated against my person.... I fear its effects may have altered me in ..... some unknown way..."

"You now insult your grandfather...." He mused.

"Yes... I apologize... I do know the way... and it is an offense to me.... I cannot hold out against it..." She told him with a heavy sigh.

He nodded. "No man knows fear, mayfly... until fear comes to him.... yet fear exists long before a man is born. Once fear arrives... it is a matter of what is within one's self .... in order to deal with it. Many things are like this. Many things are just as fear is..... nothing is new but the man.... or the woman herself."

"This day, Grandfather. I should be dead. I should be lifeless and at the bottom of the river. But I am not, and yet others before me may have met similar fates. I, and my team, were spared for something unseen.... something unknown which comes our way....." She said while still looking out into the hills.

Her grandfather merely sat, puffing on his long pipe and listening.

She continued. "This fear.... this new fear... for me.... comes with a heavy price I am not sure that I can pay."

He pulled the pipe from his lips and nodded. "Were you to face a mighty dragon, with mighty jaws and a fiery breath.... and not feel the heat of his flame? ..... would you not find your skin ravaged ... perhaps for all time .... in order to bring about his downfall? This is a decision that has already been made..... and one that must be seen through to its victory..... or defeat."

She slowly turned and faced the old man while still sitting before him. "I do not enjoy defeat, Grandfather."

He shrugged his shoulders and replied. "My little mayfly, which of us truly enjoyed being removed from the womb?"

*******

Quimby was a scientific genius who had few peers. His large, potato shaped head had a little tuft of black hair upon its rounded point. He wore big, black rimmed glasses that made his eyes look like magnified black saucers surrounded by the whites in his sockets. Barely sporting a neck, his shoulders rested just below his bulbous head, and the rest of his torso fanned out from shoulders to bottom in an unusually grotesque rolling, churning "bowling pin" of fat. His short, fat legs always dangled from any stool or seat he took and it was a marvel to many just how he managed to keep his rotund body from tipping over.

But Quimby's body was not the main interest for Ken Turgesen's organization. His main concern was the other-worldy like genius of the man despite his almost frightening addiction to several types of perversion. Turgesen had found that the price to be paid for Quimby's genius was his fulfillment of his most base fantasy desires. Once discovered, he had run with the concept and his organization's growth had gone through the roof as a result.

"OOOoooooOOOOOOOOOoooooo!" Quimby cooed as he sat within his lab which was a part of the temporary headquarters of Turgesen's encroaching organization. He sat looking through photographs he had printed out from the internet, and with each pass of a photo, he spoke an amazed, "OOOOOooooOOOOOooooo!" in response.

On the same Wednesday after the routing of Stryke Force 1 at Fisherman's Warf, Mac walked into the lab from the outside hallway, having been instructed to meet Mr. Turgesen himself there. He heard Quimby cooing to himself loudly and giggling as well and wondered to himself what all that crazy shit could be about. Never having been too far into the temp lab before, he stopped to take a look at one of the side walls.

What the Fuck? He asked himself, as he saw an entire wall of women's hair color boxes all lined up and stacked on top of one another as though they had been put on display for sale in a drug store. They were curiously only brunette colors.

Bizarre behavior by Quimby had become an expected thing by everyone who knew him for only a short amount of time, but this even caught Mac by surprise. Oh, hang on. He told himself. There's chemicals in that stuff. Yeah, he's cannibalizing chemicals. He surmised.

OOOooooOOOOoooooo!" Went Quimby once more, and Mac turned to see what Quimby was up to. Walking down rows of tables with beakers, Bunsen burners, notebooks and other weird science stuff all on display, he finally reached the "pumpkin" like scientist at the end of one of the back tables.

"Yo, Quimby." He called out. "What's shakin', my man?"

Quimby turned with a start and crouched as though he had been swung at with an unseen disciplinary ruler. He regarded Mac with huge, almost alien like eyes behind his large lense glasses and broke forth with a crooked smile.

"OOOoooo hello, Mac!" He said with too much enthusiasm.

"Mac! Mac! Is this the Gold Stryke?? Is this the girl who leads the Stryke Force 1?" He asked as he held up an API photograph of Gold Stryke between his two chubby hands.

Mac took a look at Gold Stryke, smiled a bit, nodded and told Quimby, "Yeah, that's the bitch."

"OOOooooOOOooooO!" Quimby cooed again with almost a quiver of his whole body. "She is sooooo bea-you-teeeee-fullll!" He dragged out with a bizarre, guttural sound in his voice.

"Yeah, she's hot shit." Mac agreed. "I'm the one who nailed her. Got her filled up for ya just right." He said with an assured nod.

"OOOOOooooOOOoooo! You? You got her yourself?" Quimby asked with a smack of his crooked lips.

"Yeah, aint no thing.... once your reverb knocked them stupid... we gave 'em the shots... then the tube steak boogie.... was like any other time, bro. I done it in and out of prison."