StrykeForce 1: Out of Their League

"NNNoooooooo waaaaaayyyy!!!! Noooooo wayyyyyyyy!" Quimby dribbled out with astonishment. "You see this picture?" he told Mac holding up the photo again for him to see.

"Yeah..... dude, you need to chill." Mac cautioned Quimby.

"No! No, you don't understand.... her hair is shiny and brown.... her face is like a European beauty.... look at those legs!!!! Hmm hmmm hmmm!"

"Quimby.... there's women like that all over the world, man." Mac said shaking his head.

"But YOU humiliated her! Heeeehhhheeeeeehhheeeeeeheee...."

Mac shook his head again and rubbed the back of his neck. "I did the job I was hired to do."

"But YOU'RE a BLACK MAN!!!!"

Mac froze and raised an eyebrow. "......say what?"

"You see, Mac.... one of my favorite fetishes is the violation of the beautiful super heroine by the the raging bull stud black man...like you!" He said smiling.

Mac took offense and stepped back. "Quimby! You CRAZY talkin' like that to me?"

"You....you are the black adonis.... the mighty big black di...."

Mac raise up a hand to stop Quimby's next word and said with an amazed expression. "Dude, you need to chill on that kinda language, man. I realize your haid is always on the fuckin' internet when you not doin' the science thing..... but this shit is wack, bro!"

"But all white women love big black...."

"NO! No, that shit is just fetish bullshit.... get that straight..... and it's all about stretching your dick by yourself. It ain't real, man. People is people, who the fuck cares what color they are???? Get your head straight, jacko!"

Quimby looked perplexed and confused and asked, "You ..... you mean you really don't mesmerize all the girls????"

"Quimby, if I do.... it's got nothing to do with the fact that I am black! I suggest you knock that shit off!"

"I'm.... I'm so sorry, Mac....." Quimby said while looking to the ground in shame and confusion. "I never meant to make you angry..... I just..... um, get ....off...."

Mac stood with his hands on his hips shaking his head lightly. "I know, dude. I know you spend too much time alone.... never with no real woman.... damn fetish sites..... it's a fuckin' unreal world, man."

At that moment a familiar and commanding voice interrupted the current conversation from behind one of the adjoining tables. "I'm glad to see you understand, Mac.... it's important we keep the team all on the same page." Mr. Turgesen informed him as he stepped forward into view.

Mac seemed a bit surprised and sheepish to see the big man suddenly in their midst and he took a few steps backward and tried to explain, "Oh, Mr. Tergesen, I didn't realize you were here, sir... you know I was just trying to set Quimby straight on a few issues...."

"Yes, yes... I heard enough..." Tergesen replied. He was flanked by two large men, one on each side as he made his way forward. Ken Tergesen was a big man at six-foot-two, but more of a desk jockey, a money man than the athletic Mac or the super cerebral Quimby, and he wore an expensive pin striped suit with a silk tie and vest. His hair was slicked back with gel and he wore thin silver rimmed glasses. In his hand was a small cigar which made little steams of white smoke as he spoke and motioned with his hands.

"Quimby is special in many ways, Mac... and I think you sense that... he does the job for me.. and his return is my allowing him to run wild with the fetish thing.... it's just business."

Mac nodded his understanding. "Yes, sir... I just took a little offense at some of his language...."

Quimby piped up with a solemn expression. "I...I am sorry, Mac."

Turgesen continued, "He's not very 'P.C.' by today's standards....." He said with a moderate understanding. "But then he doesn't have to be as long as he does the job.... still, Quimby try and be more sensitive will you?"

"Yes..... sir." Quimby responded and looked toward the ground in sorrow.

Mac, trying to help Quimby back up off of the emotional ground, referred to the photos Quimby held of Gold Stryke. "He likes the leader.... I think he has been having a little too much private fun.... right, Quimby?" Mac said trying to get a smile from the crestfallen scientist.

Quimby looked up at Mac with a slightly embarrassed expression and said, "Hmm hmmm heheh you know me too well already, Mac. Heeehheee."

Turgesen's men made little movements of impatience and snorted a bit as they stood beside him, and Turgesen himself cracked a smile, but then pushed to get down to business. "I want you guys to know you did a great job with this first part of the plan. I see a great potential at removing these so called 'do gooders' from getting into my business in the future. We got a little beat up, but that's part of the price we pay. Quimby, what's your next move?"

Quimby's eyes lit up and suddenly it seemed he was into another gear altogether as he instantly became more analytical and serious. "Oh, I have just the thing for phase two. Special battle suits and a layout for the surrounding grounds that will remind many of war tactics from Vietnam."

Turgesen chuckled at the idea. "Sounds..... ambitious."

Mac looked to Turgesen with a "Aint this guy too much" expression and shook his head in amazement.

Turgesen smiled and bit into his cigar as he settled back to listen to what Quimby had to say.

Quimby continued. "We will spread more dis-information among the contacts who feed these heroines their intel. They will believe that the old, abandoned amusement park is being 'commandeered' to be used as a new base for your operations, Mr. Turgesen. With a new crew for Mac, one that hasn't been so abused by the Stryke Force, there will be fresh muscle..... and they will be wearing a special suit I have designed for up close hand to hand battle."

He turned and opened a nearby drawer underneath one of the tables. He then extracted what looked like a green overcoat with long sleeves. The coat had little tubes running the length of it which could be easily seen as fiber re-enforcement.

"You see..." Quimby said. "The suits will seem to be made of tougher fibers to handle the combat, but instead they secrete a colorless, orderless gas which the heroines will inhale as they fight Mac's men. The men will be immune, as they were to the semen cocktail from last time, so they will have full capability for deep breathing.... which happens anyway during this intense physical exertion."

Mac inturrupted. "Do we have to drink more of that crap you give us? It tastes like death!"

Turgesen added. "Yes, Quimby, isn't it possible to make things a little more tasty for them this time. I have gotten lots of complaints about these chemicals you are feeding my men...."

Quimby again became apologetic. "Oh! Of course..... of course..... it seems I can do nothing without upsetting someone.....damn..... I will cover the taste with high fructose corn syrup.... just like professional cola producers do."

"But isn't that stuff poison?" Turgesen asked.

"Only in the long term...." Quimby assured him. "Thousands die every year from the effects of HFCS in the public food supply, but because the effects are mostly long term, it seems death comes as a result of old age..... but your men, will only be ingesting this for the purpose of defeating the super heroines..... and humiliating them, of course."

Mac shook his head. "I am NOT crazy about all these chemicals, sir."

Turgesen grabbed Mac's shoulder gently and re-assured him. "Mac, you have the best medical coverage there is, when this is all over, we're gonna clean you up... I promise."

Mac nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I have a detailed report I will turn into you before the day is over," Quimby told Mr. Turgesen. "Once you have given the go-ahead. Then Mac can present it to his men...."

Turgesen nodded. "Okay. Now what humiliations have you got planned?" He asked with a humorous fascination.

"OOOOooooOOOOoooOOOOoo!" Quimby again cooed. He turned and grabbed a remote control and pressed a few buttons. Then opened another drawer. As he did, in response to the remote, there were a half a dozen or so small, metallic balls which floated into view from all around the lab, and they hovered in a haphazard formation all around the five men. On the walls behind Quimby, several monitors came to life and revealed the viewpoint of the metal balls, who had cameras in their shells but seemed to move about without any discernible power source or locomotive capacity.

"This time," Quimby said. "The humiliation goes public." And he then pulled out of the drawer a small "pigs" snout with a string attached to it, which he held in one hand. In his other hand, he held a head band with artificial "pigs ears".

Mac questioned. "A pig snout and ears?"

"Oh yes! You turned them into little suckling piggies last time.... but no one knew.... we'll do it again this time.... and everyone will get to see what little suckling piggies the Stryke Force 1 really are! HHHEEEEhhhheeehhhheeeee.....hhheeeeeehhheeeeeee......(snort-snort)"

*******

The hour was late, long after most citizens of Capitol City had fallen asleep on the Craig Ferguson Show. The sky was star speckled and clear, with a light breeze blowing in from over the river. The interstate highway was freckled with late night travelers whose car and truck headlights silently scanned the surface of the cement ramps on the turnpike. Few but the most powerful persons in this town were aware of the imminent cancer that had now begun to infect the city.

It had been a month since the defeat of the city's proud heroines, though only a few in the know had any knowledge of their humiliation at the hands of Turgesen's men. Strike Force 1 had been able to recuperate, re-train and re-assert their courage and confidence for another try at stopping the criminal organization threatening every citizen. For Faith, Lizzelle and Samantha it had been an uphill climb to bring themselves back from a crushing defeat of body, soul and spirit. But they had managed to eek one out. The problem was that their hunger had never abated, they had never been able to find an answer to the constant nagging in their gut that they simply HAD to put something in their mouths.

Embarrassed by the prospect of having to explain to the science team just how they had managed to be injected with chemically altered semen, they had passed on getting some type of medical check up and had opted instead to tough it out and hope that the effects would dissipate over time.

Sadly, Quimby's science had seen to it that certain sections of their brains which control hunger, desire and thirst would never shut off when satisfied. This resulted in many sleepless nights, poor combat practice drills and almost ten pounds of additional weight on their bodies. For the subjugated heroines, there truly seemed to be no way out without some type of outside help. They had decided finally, after much struggle, to seek the assistance of the science team.

Unfortunately, their decision came too late before their snitch intel system had informed them of the intended plans of Turgesen's organization. Uncovering the hidden info from low-life, Johnny no-nose, down in the seedy parts of town, the team had informed their command of their intent to suit up and go after Turgesen's men. Begrudgingly, the director had agreed, and Styke Force 1 was back on the prowl.

The old abandoned amusement park stood silent and somber in the night. The rides no longer spun and turned, the lights no longer flashed and jangled for winners of the giant Teddy Bears. The roller coaster, long silent and still, no longer climbed to great heights and then fell with the pull of gravity and the sound of clackityclackity wooden tracks. Instead the ground was often dusty and covered with dew. There was a fog which surrounded the stands and rides on almost a nightly basis, which barely stirred before the morning sun would warm it all away.

Tonight was a night like any other night as the closed park sat silently, awaiting government paperwork to raze it all and flatten it into a parking lot. The difference was that tonight, two teams with much different objectives for the city as a whole would meet here on these grounds. And when they did meet, in close personal combat, away from the eyes and ears of the sleeping city, the fate of that city would be decided before sunrise.

Capitol City University sat just across the street from the old amusement park. It's many buildings covered a wide campus which had many proud graduates who had long since moved on to other places and careers. Tonight, upon the roof of one of the tallest university buildings, stood the threesome heroine team known as Stryke Force 1. Bronze Stryke stood looking through a gun site on a high powered rifle which was set up on a tripod. Gold Stryke was busy adjusting the settings for the gun clamps and Silver Stryke was busy looking over the park across the street for any and all movement.

Bronze pulled her eye away and said, "Looks perfect. I should be able to hit almost anything from here. Not to brag, you understand, but I AM a crack shot."

Gold stood from her crouch while finishing her adjustments and replied, "Yes, that's why your assignment to operate this sniper rifle tonight. Because your going to create problems for our adversaries that they will not be able to solve easily. Remember, listen for my call if I need you to start picking them off."

"Got it, boss." She told Gold. "Everyone likes the game plan."

"You bet they do." Gold retorted confidently.

Silver then spoke up, "I don't see anything. Even with the infra red lenses." She said taking the glasses down from her eyes. "Do you think Johnny was wrong.... could he have been fed the wrong information? We could be in the wrong spot...."

"No, no." Gold assured her. "This is the night.... this is the place."

"Okay." Silver responded and nodded her confident approval.

"Now listen to me, both of you." Gold told them directly. "We've had a bad time of it.... and we're still hurting. But tonight we put this all behind us. Tonight we punch Turgesen right in the nose. We're Stryke Force 1. We win. Understood?"

They both smiled and nodded their understanding with proud and appreciative eyes to their leader.

Mac looked out onto the grounds of the park from his hidden spot behind the haunted house ride and radioed his man Peoter with the mic and ear piece combination under his dark green, full coverage rubber head mask. "Peoter.... see anything yet?" He whispered.

Peoter looked out with his infra red lenses across the expanse of the park. He was high up in the park lights on top one of the small walkways where workmen used to repair or replace lights. He had a back pack full of electronic gear and a switch box. He also had a full, dark green body suit that hid his body heat from detection. The suit, like all of the twenty men Mac had brought tonight, was ribbed with the gas tubes that Quimby had installed in order to oderless-ly, and invisibly gas the young heroines that would be engaging them tonight.

"The grounds are clear, sir. They must have not taken the bait." Peoter responded.

"Oh, they are here .... somewhere...." Mac responded. "All other units, report."

One by one each unit of men responded over the inner ear microphones. Mac would have to wait. None of the units reported any activity.

Bronze Stryke looked over the grounds, back and forth, through her rifle site from her roof top perch. "Nothing yet." she radioed to Gold and Silver.

Gold and Silver snaked and darted their way through the surrounding neighborhood and brief wooded area that led to the park's perimeter. They had separated and each headed for per-arranged points of entrance along the edge of the exterior fence. Gold had opted for an entrance point hidden by the delivery entrance gates which had a labyrinth design of gates and passage ways well hidden by surrounding brick walls and high dividers. Silver had cutters in her belt pocket for clipping the fence behind the restaurant in much the same manner as old World War two soldiers may have done when escaping a prison camp.

They both had little trouble accessing these entrance points, and before anyone knew it, they were inside the park and using their best cloak and dagger skills to skulk around the walls and displays with silent, stealthy intent.

"Silver.... are you in?" Gold asked over radio.

"Check. I have achieved the objective." Silver whispered into her own radio set. "I am still having a problem with these damn nose filters.... they just aren't made for an Asian, I am afraid."

"Keep 'em in. We can't assume anything." Gold re-assured her.

Mac was beginning to get impatient, his damn green suit was way hot and the internal heat just seemed to build the longer her wore it. He wanted to rip it off of his body and throw the whole damned thing away, but his loyalty to Turgesen held him back.

He felt the tubes in his leg pocket, tubes no one else knew about and briefly remembered his instructions from Mr. Turgesen. The tubes were filled with a special metallic based chemical that had been used a few years ago to defeat a heroine named "The Gypsy Queen" back on the west coast. They were used for spraying into the breath of a person who inhaled the chemical, but seemingly felt no effects. Quimby had prepared the concoction to atomically bind itself to a person's inner nasal walls, so that they could be tracked by satellite no matter where they would go.

The whole episode was long and drawn out, but it allowed the organization to not only discover Gypsy Queen's true identity, but to cause her a string of "bad luck" by throwing unexplainable difficulties in her path with each step she took. Her battles with other villains and social deviants became more and more ludicrous as the bad guys watched in amusement as Gypsy Queen suddenly seemed more and more inept in battle.

Eventually, Quimby tired of making the former heroine a laughing stock before her enemies, and Turgesen pulled the plug on the project, permanently placing a "plug" in Gypsy's mouth in order to stop her ability to cast enchantments. De-powered, she was then disposed of in the usual Turgesen way.

Ken had pulled Mac aside after their meeting with Quimby and said, "Mac, he's a little too obsessed with this one this time. I think he might go rogue on me over this, so I want you to take Stryke Force out this time... don't let there be a third round... like Quimby is expecting."

He knew Mr. Turgesen was right, for Quimby himself had asked Mac in a private moment if he thought Quimby could ever get Gold Stryke for himself. Mac had laid it out for Quimby as best as he could, telling him that in this life there are some things you can have.... and some things you can't.... he would have to wait for another time... another heroine.. as Mr. Turgesen already had plans for Gold and her team. He had already made arrangements for their removal ... their permanent removal.

Quimby didn't like this, and he pouted like a spoiled child for quite a few days. Then all of a sudden the tantrum was over and Quimby was his old self, or so it would seem. But Mac didn't trust it.... his intuition told him that Quimby had solved the situation to his own comfort, and Mr. Turgesen might actually have a big problem on his hands in the near future.

"Don't worry, Mac." Turgesen told him. "I'll handle it. I'll handle it."

He took a deep breath as he thought on these things, and looked around the abandoned park with impatience. I hope you're right, Mr. Turgesen. He mused to himself.

Suddenly Mac's radio beeped in his ear. "Boss." Peoter whispered. "I got something on the infra red lens."

Mac's interest shot up. He took a few steps to look out into the park. "Watcha got my man?

"Damndest thing.... across the street...." Peoter reported.