Overmaster Wars:
Delta City Doomsday - Act Seven
By M. Hadley
In the cold, antiseptic room that resembled an elevator, Trish held her ground in one corner facing forward, not daring to move. Her trembling left hand held her right arm as she stared straight at the featureless wall, her whole body trembling uncontrollably. And while Superhose whispered reassurances to her thoughts, the wondrous garment itself was steadily increasing in luminosity, as the sheer danger it sensed in proximity was omnipresent.
There were no buttons to push for motion. Instead, it seemed the silvery monstrosity of bones and tubes behind her was the controller of the bizarre vessel, transporting her to God knows where.
A sound interrupted her mental panic, but not for the better. From unseen speakers, a song suddenly reached Trish's ears, serving only to unhinge her even more.
It was the rock group's Queen worldwide hit, "Another One Bites The Dust".
*Don't give in to the fear, Trish!* Superhose chanted, rallying courage in its owner. *That's what he wants you to do, to succumb!!*
*How did Gran Evie handle him, Superhose?* Trish asked desperately.
*With faith, kid. Faith.* Superhose assured her.
Just as the pigtailed blonde was about to ask her partner another question, a tiny part of the wall before her suddenly turned transparent. Forming a minuscule circle of clearness, it began to spread slowly, growing bigger by the second. In under a minute, the elevator had become something of a glass box, revealing an expansive fantastic world that was more horrifying to the disguised Protector than astonishing.
While they were within something resembling a typical elevator shaft, speedily ascending to the sky, the levels displayed before them were in measurements impossible by human standards. It was as if each level of the building was simply a peek into a city or countrywide landscape, unfeasible to fit on a typical building floor. However, while each floor had a unique focus, all shared the same frightening theme: the subjection of women.
One floor consisted of a gargantuan ivory maze, with half-naked frightened women racing for their lives from silvery skeletal androids with harsh spotlight eyes. Another had screaming and thrashing women staring into giant eyeball-like machines, which forcefully hypnotized them and forced them to either fight or make out with each other. Yet another floor had women, these in various superheroine costumes, having their naked breasts being strapped into bizarre devices.
*Trish…my goodness…* Superhose marveled. *The Milk Machines.*
*Those poor ladies…* Trish sighed in agony.
The peculiar elevator's surface suddenly became solid again as it came to a gentle halt. The door opened lengthwise with a woman's scream, sending chills racing down Trish's spine. She was a mass of goosebumps when she exited the elevator, not looking back for a second at her inhuman host. Her sandaled foot hit linoleum, or what resembled linoleum.
"Look up, girl." She whispered to herself, and obeyed her self-command.
Gone was the usual plush, typically CEO-styled office of the Don of Delta City. In its place was a monstrous mutation, a manifestation of mad science gone wild. Like everything else in the Tower, its space was impossible to determine from the outside. Although normal compared to the floors she had witnessed before it, Trish determined that it was at least half a football field, a deduction confirmed by the Superhose measuring it. Gigantic computer screens and multi-colored mainframe panels covered the bulk of the wall space, along with a couple of towering bookcases filled to the brim with literary works. A huge golden desk set directly in the center of the gargantuan room, empty. Behind it was a stripper pole on a raised circular platform, overlooking an extraordinary view of the world famous Delta City skyline. Sitting by the stripper pole was a woman in an Ultra Woman costume and stripper heels, chained to said pole with a golden dog collar and chain.
Immediately before Trish was six clear tubes that she recognized from Superhose's reminiscence as "Graviton Tubes". Each one held the statuesque form of a masked heroine beauty, bound by the wrists and ankles by pink energy ropes and pulled violently by the clash of gravitational forces.
"Shimmering Stars!" she exclaimed, slowly walking up to one of the tubes. The poor heroine being held inside made painful eye contact. A scream escaped her bleeding lips.
"You gotta help us!" she sobbed, flexing wildly in her fantastical bonds. "Please!"
Just as Trish's hand was about to touch the glass surface of the tube, a silvery skeleton landed before her with an earthshattering thud.
"The master will be meeting with you in a few minutes." It droned with a curtsey. "Please, take a seat."
Trish's eyes lingered on her poor fellow crimefighter in dire straits, while Superhose had to nudge her onward. The six Graviton Tubes seemed to form a pathway of sorts, leading to two small chairs directly before the great golden desk. Reluctantly, Trish took a seat, crossing her legs nervously. The silvery skeleton stood behind her, become a still, silent sentinel as it awaited its creator.
The measurement of time became lost to the undercover Golden-Haired Crimebuster as she sat paralyzed in the very throneroom of Hell on Earth. The exasperated screams of the trapped occupants of the Graviton Tubes, combined with the disturbing imagery she had witnessed so far was taking its toll on the poor soul, nearly succeeding in breaking her resolve.
But it was not enough. Trish pressed her lips together, causing a stoic expression to overtake her charming features. She was the champion of Capitol City, and leader of the Protectors of Justice. She wore the legendary Superhose, or Uberhosen, passed down from her grandmother before her, a shining star of her own generation if there ever was one. This creep, this "Overmaster" was simply another madman, like the dozens she had faced in her adventures back home. Lady Chlorofoot, Constricta, her own Don De Cienzo…they had all fallen before her sleek pantyhosed feet.
That train of thought also brought out her one true failure, the Silk Vixen. Detective Sgt. Jack MacTaggert was still months away from a full recovery from her horrendous attack, and while the Sleek-Legged Beauty brought the French miscreant to justice, the damage was still there. From there, her thoughts lingered on Halo, who seemed to mirror her own single-minded vigil at Jac Mac's bedside all those weeks ago. It seemed down right hypocritical to talk the Angelic Avenger away from her self-induced post by the comatose Golden Angel's side, but it had to be done.
For Trish had a first hand experience of the darkness of revenge consuming one's soul.
*Trish!* Superhose ripped her from her mental reverie. *Look at that!*
The pigtailed blonde obeyed her partner's cerebral nudge, glancing down at her feet, and gasped audibly. The floor was an amber color and transparent. Below her very feet was a giant pool of sorts, with no visible bottom. Swimming inside that pool, an inch beneath the floor's clear surface was a giant silvery leviathan, resembling a fat snakelike creature. Its gargantuan head was a silvery skull, just like the silvery skeletal creatures, with laser-red spotlight eyes. Swimming frantically before it was a long-haired beauty with a stunning upper female form and a sleek fishlike body with jewel-like green scales.
It was an actual mermaid of legend.
*That is a Surfacer Synturion.* Superhose reported in a frightened tone. *They can seem to swim through concrete as well as water because of their burrowing capabilities. They can capture a superheroine by swallowing her whole and then squeezing her either into unconsciousness or death.*
*Oh my goodness…* Trish marveled. *Like that "Tremors" movie?*
*Oh, Trish, my dear…please, please forgive me. There was a pact between your Gran Evie and I to forget the war we fought in all those years ago. And I guess it had succeeded. It should have fallen into place when the Dirty Pair was attacked in Yoshiwara…but here…everything is coming back…*
*So what are those skeleton things?*
*Trish…they are the thing of nightmares. Chloroformed-powered gynoids, the horrifying personification of perversion and mad science. Built to be mockeries of superheroines, our mirror duplicates, though horrifically caricatured…Synturions. The Heroine-Hunters. Tireless. Deadly. And like myself…indestructible…*
*Nothing evil is indestructible, Superhose.*
*And yet, your conviction is lacking, kid.*
As the mental exchange was unfolding, the mermaid had led the Surfacer Synturion on a frenzied chase in the murky water, and had even disappeared from view for a moment. But suddenly, as Trish watched helplessly, the blonde creature of myth had returned, her tail fin a blur as she soared up from the depths to where the heroine was sitting. She pounded on the surface beneath Trish's feet, her frantic small fists making no noise for the petite blonde to hear.
"I'm sorry!" Trish choked back a sob, shaking her head frenetically. She glanced away from a moment, trying not to make eye contact with the mermaid directly below her.
But curiosity returned her gaze to the floor, where the mermaid was in tears, her hands covering her eyes. Directly below her, huge red twin spotlights lanced out of the gloom, heralding the head-on charge of the mammoth Surfacer threat.
"Below you!" Trish fell to her knees, slapping the floor madly, trying to gain the attention of the mermaid. Sadly, however, the watery maiden was engrossed in her sobbing, oblivious to the menace that loomed seconds away.
*We can't save her, Trish.* Superhose said sadly. *At least…not right now…*
"We can't give up!" Trish shouted audibly, smacking the floor frantically. The mermaid still did not budge from her position. It seemed that she had relinquished herself to her fate.
The silvery skull face of the abomination opened wide, revealing a hole darker than the water surrounding it. Just as it was about to consume the water nymph whole-
"My apologies for my tardiness." A deep, eloquent masculine voice, mechanically filtered, startled Trish. Welcoming the interruption, the young woman's bespectacled eyes fell upon the newest visitor to the room. A black caped armored figure appeared, emerging from a skull's mouth that had spontaneously formed from the wall itself. It, or he was followed by two Synturions, pushing along the limp, lethargic form of an attractive young woman. A third Synturion emerged thereafter, reading a clipboard in one skeletal hand and holding a cup of steaming tea in the other. When it had fully stepped into the room, the mouth of the skull closed. The giant cranium, displaying a horrifying grin, melted into the wall, reverting it to its original solid form.
Sighing, the armored man removed his flowing cape and hung it on a metal coat rack that had risen out of the floor behind his desk. The two Synturions holding the sluggish beauty threw her harshly on the desk and stepped back, taking positions on both sides of their master's massive red chair. Her mind initially in a haze, Trish paid no attention to the woman lying drowsy before her. Then the familiarity began to overtake her senses, rendering her speechless.
The beauty had a richly tanned skin, with her luscious raven hair twisted in unique braids, accentuated by red beads at the tips. A thin golden tiara with a single ruby gem at the center adorned her forehead, coordinating with the ruby diamond that hung from a golden necklace around her slender throat. Her gorgeous, athletic form was clad in leopard skin, consisting of a mere one strap bra and bikini briefs. Her strong, shapely legs and pretty feet were covered with sleek shimmering pantyhose, adorned with straps that started at her ankles and tied at her knees.
Besides White Venus, this unfortunate champion of justice was also Shining Star's best friend and ally.
She was known as Malkia Msaka…The Hunter Queen.
Trish's fists clenched, taking every fiber in her being, as well as Superhose's coaxing, to maintain her composure.
The armored being sat in his great chair slowly, visually taking great joy in inspecting the dazed crimefighter on his desk before him. He opened her legs wide, painstakingly sliding his metal talons her muscled, pantyhosed limbs.
"You don't mind if I answer your questions while working, do you?" His flaring red eyes locked on the quivering woman in his midst.
Trish shook her head meekly, fighting every urge to leap over the desk and kick the monster's head off of his shoulders.
"Good." His gaze returned to the Hunter Queen's legs, specifically her pantyhose. "The famous 'Wonder Hose'…created by James Haversham…thought to have been lost in the wilds of Africa…"
A moan escaped from the lethargic Hunter Queen's crimson lips, muddled words that sent both Trish and her Superhose cringing in horror.
"Perfume…" she whispered, her head thrashing about on the cusp of unconsciousness. "I smell…Star's perfume…"
Delta City Doomsday - Act Seven
By M. Hadley
In the cold, antiseptic room that resembled an elevator, Trish held her ground in one corner facing forward, not daring to move. Her trembling left hand held her right arm as she stared straight at the featureless wall, her whole body trembling uncontrollably. And while Superhose whispered reassurances to her thoughts, the wondrous garment itself was steadily increasing in luminosity, as the sheer danger it sensed in proximity was omnipresent.
There were no buttons to push for motion. Instead, it seemed the silvery monstrosity of bones and tubes behind her was the controller of the bizarre vessel, transporting her to God knows where.
A sound interrupted her mental panic, but not for the better. From unseen speakers, a song suddenly reached Trish's ears, serving only to unhinge her even more.
It was the rock group's Queen worldwide hit, "Another One Bites The Dust".
*Don't give in to the fear, Trish!* Superhose chanted, rallying courage in its owner. *That's what he wants you to do, to succumb!!*
*How did Gran Evie handle him, Superhose?* Trish asked desperately.
*With faith, kid. Faith.* Superhose assured her.
Just as the pigtailed blonde was about to ask her partner another question, a tiny part of the wall before her suddenly turned transparent. Forming a minuscule circle of clearness, it began to spread slowly, growing bigger by the second. In under a minute, the elevator had become something of a glass box, revealing an expansive fantastic world that was more horrifying to the disguised Protector than astonishing.
While they were within something resembling a typical elevator shaft, speedily ascending to the sky, the levels displayed before them were in measurements impossible by human standards. It was as if each level of the building was simply a peek into a city or countrywide landscape, unfeasible to fit on a typical building floor. However, while each floor had a unique focus, all shared the same frightening theme: the subjection of women.
One floor consisted of a gargantuan ivory maze, with half-naked frightened women racing for their lives from silvery skeletal androids with harsh spotlight eyes. Another had screaming and thrashing women staring into giant eyeball-like machines, which forcefully hypnotized them and forced them to either fight or make out with each other. Yet another floor had women, these in various superheroine costumes, having their naked breasts being strapped into bizarre devices.
*Trish…my goodness…* Superhose marveled. *The Milk Machines.*
*Those poor ladies…* Trish sighed in agony.
The peculiar elevator's surface suddenly became solid again as it came to a gentle halt. The door opened lengthwise with a woman's scream, sending chills racing down Trish's spine. She was a mass of goosebumps when she exited the elevator, not looking back for a second at her inhuman host. Her sandaled foot hit linoleum, or what resembled linoleum.
"Look up, girl." She whispered to herself, and obeyed her self-command.
Gone was the usual plush, typically CEO-styled office of the Don of Delta City. In its place was a monstrous mutation, a manifestation of mad science gone wild. Like everything else in the Tower, its space was impossible to determine from the outside. Although normal compared to the floors she had witnessed before it, Trish determined that it was at least half a football field, a deduction confirmed by the Superhose measuring it. Gigantic computer screens and multi-colored mainframe panels covered the bulk of the wall space, along with a couple of towering bookcases filled to the brim with literary works. A huge golden desk set directly in the center of the gargantuan room, empty. Behind it was a stripper pole on a raised circular platform, overlooking an extraordinary view of the world famous Delta City skyline. Sitting by the stripper pole was a woman in an Ultra Woman costume and stripper heels, chained to said pole with a golden dog collar and chain.
Immediately before Trish was six clear tubes that she recognized from Superhose's reminiscence as "Graviton Tubes". Each one held the statuesque form of a masked heroine beauty, bound by the wrists and ankles by pink energy ropes and pulled violently by the clash of gravitational forces.
"Shimmering Stars!" she exclaimed, slowly walking up to one of the tubes. The poor heroine being held inside made painful eye contact. A scream escaped her bleeding lips.
"You gotta help us!" she sobbed, flexing wildly in her fantastical bonds. "Please!"
Just as Trish's hand was about to touch the glass surface of the tube, a silvery skeleton landed before her with an earthshattering thud.
"The master will be meeting with you in a few minutes." It droned with a curtsey. "Please, take a seat."
Trish's eyes lingered on her poor fellow crimefighter in dire straits, while Superhose had to nudge her onward. The six Graviton Tubes seemed to form a pathway of sorts, leading to two small chairs directly before the great golden desk. Reluctantly, Trish took a seat, crossing her legs nervously. The silvery skeleton stood behind her, become a still, silent sentinel as it awaited its creator.
The measurement of time became lost to the undercover Golden-Haired Crimebuster as she sat paralyzed in the very throneroom of Hell on Earth. The exasperated screams of the trapped occupants of the Graviton Tubes, combined with the disturbing imagery she had witnessed so far was taking its toll on the poor soul, nearly succeeding in breaking her resolve.
But it was not enough. Trish pressed her lips together, causing a stoic expression to overtake her charming features. She was the champion of Capitol City, and leader of the Protectors of Justice. She wore the legendary Superhose, or Uberhosen, passed down from her grandmother before her, a shining star of her own generation if there ever was one. This creep, this "Overmaster" was simply another madman, like the dozens she had faced in her adventures back home. Lady Chlorofoot, Constricta, her own Don De Cienzo…they had all fallen before her sleek pantyhosed feet.
That train of thought also brought out her one true failure, the Silk Vixen. Detective Sgt. Jack MacTaggert was still months away from a full recovery from her horrendous attack, and while the Sleek-Legged Beauty brought the French miscreant to justice, the damage was still there. From there, her thoughts lingered on Halo, who seemed to mirror her own single-minded vigil at Jac Mac's bedside all those weeks ago. It seemed down right hypocritical to talk the Angelic Avenger away from her self-induced post by the comatose Golden Angel's side, but it had to be done.
For Trish had a first hand experience of the darkness of revenge consuming one's soul.
*Trish!* Superhose ripped her from her mental reverie. *Look at that!*
The pigtailed blonde obeyed her partner's cerebral nudge, glancing down at her feet, and gasped audibly. The floor was an amber color and transparent. Below her very feet was a giant pool of sorts, with no visible bottom. Swimming inside that pool, an inch beneath the floor's clear surface was a giant silvery leviathan, resembling a fat snakelike creature. Its gargantuan head was a silvery skull, just like the silvery skeletal creatures, with laser-red spotlight eyes. Swimming frantically before it was a long-haired beauty with a stunning upper female form and a sleek fishlike body with jewel-like green scales.
It was an actual mermaid of legend.
*That is a Surfacer Synturion.* Superhose reported in a frightened tone. *They can seem to swim through concrete as well as water because of their burrowing capabilities. They can capture a superheroine by swallowing her whole and then squeezing her either into unconsciousness or death.*
*Oh my goodness…* Trish marveled. *Like that "Tremors" movie?*
*Oh, Trish, my dear…please, please forgive me. There was a pact between your Gran Evie and I to forget the war we fought in all those years ago. And I guess it had succeeded. It should have fallen into place when the Dirty Pair was attacked in Yoshiwara…but here…everything is coming back…*
*So what are those skeleton things?*
*Trish…they are the thing of nightmares. Chloroformed-powered gynoids, the horrifying personification of perversion and mad science. Built to be mockeries of superheroines, our mirror duplicates, though horrifically caricatured…Synturions. The Heroine-Hunters. Tireless. Deadly. And like myself…indestructible…*
*Nothing evil is indestructible, Superhose.*
*And yet, your conviction is lacking, kid.*
As the mental exchange was unfolding, the mermaid had led the Surfacer Synturion on a frenzied chase in the murky water, and had even disappeared from view for a moment. But suddenly, as Trish watched helplessly, the blonde creature of myth had returned, her tail fin a blur as she soared up from the depths to where the heroine was sitting. She pounded on the surface beneath Trish's feet, her frantic small fists making no noise for the petite blonde to hear.
"I'm sorry!" Trish choked back a sob, shaking her head frenetically. She glanced away from a moment, trying not to make eye contact with the mermaid directly below her.
But curiosity returned her gaze to the floor, where the mermaid was in tears, her hands covering her eyes. Directly below her, huge red twin spotlights lanced out of the gloom, heralding the head-on charge of the mammoth Surfacer threat.
"Below you!" Trish fell to her knees, slapping the floor madly, trying to gain the attention of the mermaid. Sadly, however, the watery maiden was engrossed in her sobbing, oblivious to the menace that loomed seconds away.
*We can't save her, Trish.* Superhose said sadly. *At least…not right now…*
"We can't give up!" Trish shouted audibly, smacking the floor frantically. The mermaid still did not budge from her position. It seemed that she had relinquished herself to her fate.
The silvery skull face of the abomination opened wide, revealing a hole darker than the water surrounding it. Just as it was about to consume the water nymph whole-
"My apologies for my tardiness." A deep, eloquent masculine voice, mechanically filtered, startled Trish. Welcoming the interruption, the young woman's bespectacled eyes fell upon the newest visitor to the room. A black caped armored figure appeared, emerging from a skull's mouth that had spontaneously formed from the wall itself. It, or he was followed by two Synturions, pushing along the limp, lethargic form of an attractive young woman. A third Synturion emerged thereafter, reading a clipboard in one skeletal hand and holding a cup of steaming tea in the other. When it had fully stepped into the room, the mouth of the skull closed. The giant cranium, displaying a horrifying grin, melted into the wall, reverting it to its original solid form.
Sighing, the armored man removed his flowing cape and hung it on a metal coat rack that had risen out of the floor behind his desk. The two Synturions holding the sluggish beauty threw her harshly on the desk and stepped back, taking positions on both sides of their master's massive red chair. Her mind initially in a haze, Trish paid no attention to the woman lying drowsy before her. Then the familiarity began to overtake her senses, rendering her speechless.
The beauty had a richly tanned skin, with her luscious raven hair twisted in unique braids, accentuated by red beads at the tips. A thin golden tiara with a single ruby gem at the center adorned her forehead, coordinating with the ruby diamond that hung from a golden necklace around her slender throat. Her gorgeous, athletic form was clad in leopard skin, consisting of a mere one strap bra and bikini briefs. Her strong, shapely legs and pretty feet were covered with sleek shimmering pantyhose, adorned with straps that started at her ankles and tied at her knees.
Besides White Venus, this unfortunate champion of justice was also Shining Star's best friend and ally.
She was known as Malkia Msaka…The Hunter Queen.
Trish's fists clenched, taking every fiber in her being, as well as Superhose's coaxing, to maintain her composure.
The armored being sat in his great chair slowly, visually taking great joy in inspecting the dazed crimefighter on his desk before him. He opened her legs wide, painstakingly sliding his metal talons her muscled, pantyhosed limbs.
"You don't mind if I answer your questions while working, do you?" His flaring red eyes locked on the quivering woman in his midst.
Trish shook her head meekly, fighting every urge to leap over the desk and kick the monster's head off of his shoulders.
"Good." His gaze returned to the Hunter Queen's legs, specifically her pantyhose. "The famous 'Wonder Hose'…created by James Haversham…thought to have been lost in the wilds of Africa…"
A moan escaped from the lethargic Hunter Queen's crimson lips, muddled words that sent both Trish and her Superhose cringing in horror.
"Perfume…" she whispered, her head thrashing about on the cusp of unconsciousness. "I smell…Star's perfume…"
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