Dusty Video Box Presents: The Syndicate of Carnality: Act Five

The Syndicate of Carnality
Act Five
By The Unknown Fan




The Mental Mistress was in a pool of black, on her hands and knees, head bowed, shimmering silver tresses teasing the dark water. She had been snatched into the astral plane without her permission, and trapped there against her will. Steely gray muscles tensed, statuesque body coiled in anticipation. Her puppeteer would reveal himself in mere moments; she wanted to overwhelm him with as much psychic sorcery as she could possibly command.

And then...the water began to transform, resembling a form like smooth, liquid metal. It morphed into a crowd of gray-skinned people.

Venusians.

The surroundings had appeared as well, a ravaged futuristic landscape, not far from the imagination of Earth's early science fiction writers. Jazmon's silver eyes peeked through her unkempt ivory mane, staring into the frenzied eyes and shouting mouths of the mob, impossibly silent.

And then the sounds came, turned up to the maximum volume. The mob was crying for help, crying for peace, crying for revenge. Ward. The four letter word was hurled at her with audible spears of venom, causing her to clamp her hands over her ears. But the sound was still there, the accusations of weaknesses, the blames for their deaths.

"There have been many mountains and valleys in your long life...hasn't it, Vixen From Venus?" an eloquent female voice surrounded Jazmon, drowning out the noise of the berserker Venusians.

Jazmon looked up again...only to find herself staring into the cold, dark eyes of her worst enemy, the devilishly handsome elf and world destroyer, Ward!

"By The Supreme Lord...you are not real..." the Gray One resisted a sob, closing her eyes and chanting her ad hoc mantra continuously. However, she felt his hands grasped her shoulders roughly. Her eyes snapped open. Now naked, he was drawing her to him.

"You are not real!!!" Jazmon screamed, on the verge of hysteria. "I escaped you!! You are not real!!"

But he drew her closer. The Venusian Vixen glanced down, a gasp escaping her silver lips. She was naked as well!

"Stop it! Please!" she cried, as Ward brought her ever so closer.

"You never escaped, Jazmon of Venus." the voice bellowed again. "Yes, physically, in reality...your body escaped him. But your mind...your beautiful, beautiful mind...will never escape. And that's what counts, right? Without the mind...the body is just a flesh shell, a lump of life..."

"Great Tor, face me!!" Jazmon screeched, her hands pressed harshly against Ward's face as she hysterically tried to escape his clutches. However, the Darkelf suddenly transformed again, into a thick, golden geletin-esque mass. Surprised, the Cerebral Champion fell to a sitting position, her large breasts bouncing from impact.

Suddenly, the golden jelly froze around her, trapping her in her position!

Then, she heard steps...sharp, dainty, steps of high heels. Approaching her was a woman, although she was not of the Earth. She was muscular, a true match if not a mirror duplicate of the Venusian Vixen herself. Her skin was red, however, while her ankle-length lovely locks were as green as any Earth leaf. She wore only a skimpy purple string bikini, a white, gossamer cape, and a small glistening purple crown on her pretty forehead.

What drew the attention of the Last Venusian, however, was her feet...transparent Enhancement Platform Sandals, exactly the same design as the Vixens'! From Jazmon's limited understanding of the Rave, their creators, no two pairs were alike.

So how did this...being...obtain a duplicate of Jazmon's own Sandals?

The woman stopped directly before the trapped Venusian, standing on the strange surface as if it was made of concrete. "They are not 'Enhancement' Sandals, darling...but 'Enslavement' Sandals."

" 'Enslavement' Sandals?" Jazmon repeated in astonishment. "But..."

"I can see you have a million questions, little one." the red-skinned beauty leaned down, caressing Jazmon's chin as a mother would to a curious child. "But...that is part of the game."

"This is no game!" the Vixen snarled, struggling to break free.

The crimson-hued female rose up, an arrogant smirk on her face. "My statements are usually law, Planetary Protector. I command wherever I step. Such the demeanor of a ruler..."

"A ruler?" Jazmon spat the word. "You delusional deviant!"

"Careful." the woman wagged a chiding finger. "You should not say such things. You have quite the reputation to maintain or...ahem, regain as Venus's Protector...I mean, former Protector..."

The mention of Venus drew a stark revelation to the forefront of Jazmon's thoughts.

"I...I thought...I was the last Venusian..." she whispered, inspecting the woman before her. It made perfect sense. Only another Venusian, empowered by the Rave's magical devices, could use her enhanced mental abilities to trap her in such a limbo!

The red-skinned woman's glowing silver eyes widened as she glared at the Mental Mistress, as if shocked that she guessed the truth. Then, a chuckle escaped her own silver lips. Soon, she had thrown her head back and laughed a hearty while, her giggles echoing in the dark void.

"And...you STILL ARE..." she guffawed, slapping her knee in continuous chuckling.

"Then...who are you?!" The Vixen asked incredulously.

The woman drew herself to her full height, heels and all. "I am the Martian Monarch, the complete and utter ruler of the Crimson Planet."

"Great Tor, that's impossible!!" Jazmon squealed. "Barsoom has been deserted for centuries! I know...my people and I assisted in the mass exodus to the Andromeda Galaxy!"

"Lies, you gray worm!" The Martian Monarch snapped. "My people are alive and well on Barsoom. There was never a mass exodus-"

"There was!!" The Vixen cried. "I nearly lost an arm in the conflict with the Planet Pirates-"

But there was something about her new adversary's conviction that struck her. Her vast mental powers, somehow in stasis, was detecting truth in the woman's words. But they were also discovering something else.

"You...you are from...another universe?" The Mental Mistress could not believe her own words.

"One that vibrates...on a different frequency than yours." the Monarch turned her back with a flick of her cape. "Your Barsoom is a dead world here, while my Mars is a dying world. But your Earth..."

"You leave Earth alone!" Jazmon growled, every steely gray muscle accented as she fought against her strange bondage.

"For Dejah's Sake!" The Martian Monarch whirled around with astonishing speed, kneeling down and grabbing the Vixen's defenseless throat with a single hand and tightening her grip.

"My servants will have a world where they can expand, Venusian creature." she snarled. "I have the resources and the power to see to that. Armies of perverted creatures at my command. Legions of fanatic worshippers at my beck and call. And yes...thirteen of the worst supervillains I could find...most assembled from remote galaxies...my Doom Legion...my Society of Monsters..."

"I...will...not...fail..." Jazmon gasped. "I...will...assemble...the greatest...guardians of good...ever...to fight...you....to protect...the Earth..."

The Martian Monarch only grinned. "Checkmate, Vixen of Venus."

Before Jazmon could react, she was engulfed in fire. However, as she screamed, her voice was silent. She could do nothing as the fire surged through every fiber of her astral being.


****************************

"I'm telling you, Tyler Durden was the greatest mastermind ever!"

" 'Project Mayhem'? Please! Keyzer Soze didn't have to be halfway nuts to outsmart the world."

A groan escaped silver lips as Venusian eyes slowly opened. Jazmon slowly rose to sitting position, frantically searching her surroundings. She calmed down when she realized that she was in Professor Swan's lab, sitting on two of the long wooden tables placed together.

"Great Tor, what happened here?!" she exclaimed, marveling at the wanton destruction.

Professor Swan uncrossed her arms, breaking her stare at Neptuna and grinning at the Mental Mistress. "It was like being in an episode of 'Hercules: The Legendary Journeys'! But, alas, no hunky Kevin Sorbo...Fishgirl had to do-"

" 'Fishgirl'?!" Neptuna growled, floating over to face the professor. "Do you know how racist that is?"

"Racism beneath the waves?" Swan chuckled in mock astonishment. "Really?"

The Marine Maiden balled a fist and held it to Swan's face. "You like living dangerously, don't you?"

"Please, you won't kill the one woman who can take your breasts down to normal..." Swan rolled her eyes.

The Grey One blinked her eyes rapidly at her Atlantean teammate. "You...you're healed?!"

"Give the alien a prize." Neptuna smacked her forehead exasperatedly. "Duh...well, obviously, not completely..."

She nodded at her huge naked bosom.

"Jazmon." Professor Swan grasped the larger woman's face and stared solemnly in her eyes. "You have someone else on your side. What do you guys see in Soze? Is it Kevin Spacey?"

"Lady Jazmon!" a bubbly voice filled the room as Angelus entered, followed by Crystal Century. The Winged Warrior instantly threw an embrace around her gray-skinned friend, hugging her hard.

"You came!" Jazmon squealed, smiling weakly. "I know you have missionary work-"

"I came as soon as I could, old friend." Angelus nodded solemnly, her ivory tresses bouncing. "It seems that your ranks were sorely depleted..."

All eyes went to the tanks, where the remaining five original Union members floated in stasis. The Venusian Vixen suddenly found herself remembering the horrifying encounter with her new enemy...The Martian Monarch.

"Crystal. Angelus. Neptuna. Vamp...where is Vamp?"

All eyes fell to the floor, with the exception of Professor Swan, who shook her head and wagged an accusing finger.

"Okay...which one of you executed that tramp behind Jazmon's back?" she asked, half-jokingly.

"She had vanished, along with the rest of the vandals, Vixen." Crystal reported. "For all we know, she has thrown her lot in with them-"

"I know she has cruelly wronged you in the past, my friend." Jazmon laid a comforting hand on Crystal's arm. "But...she would not betray me. Not now. Not after our deal..."

"Deal?" Neptuna looked from one face to the other. "What deal?"

"Yes, my Lady....what are you saying?" Angelus gave her a curious look.

The Vixen looked away, ashamed. Patting her shoulder, Crystal looked at the others.

"Vilnus 5." she said. "Jazmon promised her a galaxy far, far away, for her help."

"Jazzy...how could you?!" Neptuna growled.

"I was desperate!" the Vixen exclaimed. "And now...I have good reason to be!"

"There is no depth of despair that should make you run into the clutches of the devil!" Neptuna yelled. "Please tell us, great leader. Tell us the reason for teaming up with our worst enemy and selling out an entire galaxy of souls!?"

"The Martian Monarch." The Cerebral Crusader answered softly.

"The Martian what?" the others asked in unison.

"Riffster. Buffoon. They were working as a team. Two alpha personalities that would have never worked together otherwise. I met their leader on the astral plane...a beast of a woman if I've ever witnessed one."

"And Minatour." Professor Swan spoke up. "Don't forget him!"

"Our new enemy is using all three as part of a team, a legion of our greatest supervillains." Jazmon said in a horrified tone. "They knew when to hit us, at our lowest ebb, when Lotus and the others are out of commission..."

"I guess I did not show much promise as a Unionnaire..." Crystal Century bowed her head in shame.

"The way that criminal clown was frozen, girl?" Neptuna smiled. "You're an A+ Union babe in my book!"

"Look, my friends." Jazmon gave everyone the lookover. "Call me despicable. Call me a monster. But I planned to, as they say on Earth, 'cross that bridge when I approached it'. I am a Guardian of Good, a Unionnaire, a Champion of Justice. I never abandoned the people of that galaxy for a second. And I can't abandoned my adopted world here. An assemblage of our greatest enemies have come to take it from us. I need you all...to stand with me in this dark hour, to lend me your strength and skill, to defeat them and send their leader back to her dimension."

She was quiet for a few seconds before saying, "Please."

Angelus, Crystal Century, Neptuna, and Professor Swan exchanged glances before glancing at the tank, where the other five Unionnaires continued to be healed.

"I say John Doe." Angelus suddenly grinned wickedly, breaking the tension-filled silence.

"'John Doe'?" Professor Swan gave her a bizarre look.

" You were talking about cinematic masterminds, right?" Angelus crossed her hands behind her back and leaned forward, giggling. "From the film called 'Seven'."

"Hey, since when does an angel watch something so gory?!" Neptuna pointed an accusing finger at the Winged Beauty.

"Tyler Durden didn't need to be so bloody to get his point across!" Professor Swan laughed.

"I was always partial to Pinky...from 'Bitchslap'" Crystal Century licked her lips seductively. "Something about a lesbian criminal mastermind with an awesome katana-"

"Should have known the word 'lesbian' had something to do with it!" Neptuna growled playfully.

As the conversation deteriorated into a argumentative free-for-all, Jazmon could do nothing but smile, knowing that everything was all right for now. Her ad hoc team was with her, abet for now, and the others were slowly healing. She could still feel the Monarch's mental tendrils in her thoughts, a stink that would not go away anytime soon.

But she would defeat the Martian Monarch the next time they clashed.

She had not escaped from Ward to cower in fear forever.

THE END

Dusty Video Box Presents: The Syndicate of Carnality: Act Four

The Syndicate of Carnality
Act Four
By The Unknown Fan


Although the pinnacle of a crude fighter, the hairy Minatour was nevertheless a dangerous warrior of unparalleled magnitude, his mythical status well deserved. But, as the Princess of The Depths and her larger adversary plunged helplessly to Earth, his massive, hirsute arms began to slide away from their deathgrip around her enlarged bosom.

Groaning, his volcanic breath burning Neptuna's ears, the beast of a man clutched his ears, cringing in agony. The seasoned Marine Maiden smiled. Opportunity was not just knocking...it was threatening to tear the door off of its hinges.

The ground rushed up towards them, a deserted highway that had replaced the heavily-populated college campus of earlier. With a snarl, Neptuna slowed her descent, letting her giant enemy plummet past. She then somersaulted gracefully in mid-air and flew after him, catching up to him and wrapping her copper arms around his gargantuan midsection.

Her grip became steel as she gathered all of the remaining strength within her lithe frame, strength that had torn battleships asunder in her young lifetime. She had only one shot at this.

"Burn, you son of Jonah!" she screamed, before unleashing millions of electric volts from within her body. The Creature of Myth bellowed an throaty animalistic howl as he was thoroughly electrocuted. For seconds, his massive frame went limp, giving his smaller opponent the chance to stand them on their heads.

The hot, blue concrete of the highway drew ever so near.

"Electric Eel Suplex!" Neptuna screeched before unleashing an even greater lethal torrent of electricity. The Minatour screamed...or at least it resembled a scream...as he plunged straight to the ground, head first.

A literal tidal wave of concrete erupted from the epicenter, sending spiderwebs in a two mile radius through the material. A blinding cloud of concrete shrapnel filled the air for a minute, before settling silently. With a sigh of relief, the Water Nymph set up from her German Suplex position, fruitlessly brushing the dirt from her glistening, sweat-drenched form.

"Thank you." she whispered, to no one in particular.

"Blessed Creator!" an over-cheery sugary voice reached her ears. "Are you alright, Princess?"

The shrapnel cloud finally settled, revealing a beautiful newcomer, with huge golden wings. Her voluptuous, alabaster form was clad in a sheer golden croptop with silver trim, a matching loincloth that reached her upper thighs, glistening gold anklets and bracelets, a glowing gold chocker, and clear Enhancement Sandals with glowing gold platforms. Her long, white hair flowed over her slender shoulders, while her pouty golden lips held an innocent smile.

"I had it all under control, Angelus." Neptuna spat, enshrouding herself in bravado.

The Angelic Sensation's golden eyes blinked innocent as she laughed heartily. "But my Soul Scream helped just a little, right?"

Neptuna rose to her feet, brushing the dust from her huge breasts. "What are you doing here, sunshine?"

Angelus's dainty hand played absently with the pink halo that floated a few inches above her white tresses. Her happy demeanor turned solemn.

"I would have came from Lucifer sooner, because of Jazmon's galactic summons, but I had missionary work in another galaxy." she told her. "But when I returned to Earth...Jazmon...and the Khree Warrior Crystal Century...were crying out. My Celestial Sense could not ignore them."

"So...you don't know..." Neptuna trailed off, visually lost in thought.

"All I know is that Jazmon was assembling a new Union, and I was honored to be selected!" Angelus's cheery personality reasserted itself.

"A...new...Union?" Neptuna whispered the words. "By the Tides...how long have I been...?"

"A few weeks, Princess." Angelus reported sadly. "After your latest battle, you were all impregnated by the enemy. The Terran scientist named Swan worked diligently to save you, but to prevent further damage to your bodies, you were placed in suspended animation. I'm sorry..."

"What the hell are you sorry for?" Neptuna growled, punching the air. "You had nothing to do with it."

"I know, but..." Angelus's golden eyes flowed to the side as she sighed sadly.

"I'm...I'm sorry, sunshine." Neptuna looked away, her fists balled at her sides. "I...have no right in taking it out on you. You're just...caring for me, as usual."

Angelus slowly closed the gap between them, rubbing Neptuna's shoulders gingerly. "My Celestial Sense, remember? I can...can feel the pain radiating from you. The anger. Its raw."

The Marine Maiden looked into her eyes and chuckled. "People of Lucifer and people of Venus must was close before disaster struck."

The Winged Wonder blinked. "Why?"

"Because you remind me of a certain muscle-bound gray-skinned chick." Neptuna grinned.

"By The Scriptures..." Angelus exclaimed. "Jazmon! We have to rescue our fellow Unionnaires!"

"Right!" Neptuna agreed. "I'll lug this overgrown bison back to-"

"I'll take care of that..." Angelus grinned, pointing towards the unconscious Minatour. As if taking on a life of its own, the pink halo flew above the giant form. Vibrating harshly, it suddenly emitted a cone shape of light, bathing the large beast, and causing it to vanish in a shower of sparkles.

"He is now in police custody." Angelus smiled triumphantly, as the pink halo, leaving a trail of pink hearts in its wake, settled at its place above her head.

"Are you sure they can handle him?" Neptuna raised a green eyebrow.

"We have to rescue our friends!" Angelus nodded, answering her companion. Her glistening gold wings spread wide in a spectacular display, and with a flap, she was soaring in the air, towards Jazmon and the others.

Neptuna lingered behind, lost in thought as she lifted into the air. Why was the Minatour attacking Professor Swan? What trouble was the Venusian Vixen and the others into? Were her other friends, trapped in suspended animation, okay? And when would her breasts shrink to their normal size?

The Princess of the Depths suspended her thoughts, preparing for battle. Whatever was going on, there seemed to be a new conflict on the horizon.


**********************************


He did not know how long he had been unconscious, only that he was slowly surfaced from a sea of black. However, as his vision slowly cleared, the lightning-powered fiend known as the Riffster found himself snapping back instinctively, as if burned by redhot iron. A gorgeous, blond Nordic goddess, her heavenly raiment consisting of a tight black leather bodysuit, harsh silver gauntlets, and daggerlike stiletto boots, sat nonchalantly on an fruit display, eating grapes.

Even though he commanded one of mankind's greatest elements, he had learned to keep his distance from this panther in woman's form. Her icy blue eyes froze him to the bone as she glared at him. These were the eyes Russian prisoners of war had stared into, before she sent them to death.

Her name came with a whisper of fear...the dreaded Senta Masoch!

"Your command of the grovel position is admirable, Riffster." she cooed in her heavily Russian-tinged English.

"Greetings, Senta Masoch." Riffster maintained his icy cool, rising and dusting himself off. "I see the big guy has sent you in. May I ask why?"

"Misogyny...you know I don't tolerate such insult." Senta Masoch half-whispered, half-growled. "And our QUEEN has 'sent me in' to reel YOU in. We're done here."

Riffster said nothing, turning his back on the deadly KGB agent and walking over to where Vamp lay, unconscious. The Shadowelf lay on her back, her small breasts rising and falling against her corset.

"Well, bringing a trophy back..." he trailed off, reaching for Vamp's Enhancement Sandals.

"How about bringing HER back?" Senta Masoch said from behind, startling him. He had not even heard her creep up behind him!

"Why?" Riffster gave her a crazed look, hiding his surprise. "Good guys don't make good teammates."

"She's an enemy of the Venusian Vixen..." Senta Masoch nodded slowly, trailing off.

"And? This bitch is crazy!" Riffster growled. "She stabbed me in my goddamn leg with daggers made out of shadows! You think for one second-"

His last words were rendered ether. An sliver of ice pressed against his throat. Senta Masoch had pulled out a dagger so fast that even his electric enhanced senses could not detect it.

"I don't like woman-haters." she sneered. "Watch your tongue...or I will wear it as a garter."

"I apologize...your Majesty." Riffster breathed. "The...lady...is psychotic."

Senta Masoch pulled the dagger away and rose to her feet. "We take her with us. She is a Sandalbearer. She would know all of their weaknesses. And Strengths."

She held out a silver, calculator-sized device and pressed a button. Before them, a silver disk opened, a portal to the Syndicate's secret headquarters. Without fanfare, the dangerous Swallow Agent walked into the portal, vanishing.

The Riffster knew better than to let their new captive awaken with her powers. He unbuckled her Enhancement Sandals, took them off, looped the straps together, and hung them from the belt of his costume. Then, slinging her flaccid form over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, he walked through the disk.

As if phantoms in a horror tale, the nightmares of society disappeared into ether.

**************************

The Khree Crusader known as Crystal Century would had died of embarrassment if it was possible. The self-proclaimed Buffoon straddled her like a horse now, paddling away at her defenseless, mini-skirted bottom. Each swat sent a ripple of indescribable pleasure surging through her graceful physique, a wave of hot orgasmic fire that engulfed every nerve in her body. The world danced before her eyes as she skitted about on hands and knees, practically blind.

"Toro, Toro!!" The Prince of Pranks guffawed insanely, swatting his human steed harder. Crystal could do nothing but scream in ecstasy, her mind seemingly trapped within a horny human vessel.

Then her radiant emerald eyes fell on a storefront window and her reflection.

Her body was still not hers, or she would have formed the words, "Great Entropy!"

The once proud Oran Khree Void Captain looked upon a debased creature that had become nothing more than an Earth villain's plaything. Her eyes became glistening green pools. She had to fight the super-aphrodisiac. She had to defeat the Buffoon!

The Venusian Vixen, the once proud Champion of Venus, was depending on her. The Union was depending on her. The galaxy was depending on her.

Vamp was depending on her...Vamp...

She inverted herself mentally, searching for the most humiliating thought she could muster, something that surpassed the situation she was in at the moment. Her eyes then returned to the reflection, focusing on the clown-like man humiliating her.

She remember Vamp, softly caressing her legs, in their first encounter. Back then, she was a rookie Khree Policeman, and a newfound wielder of her Sandals, facing off against one of the most dangerous beings in the universe. Vamp was a Shadowelf who worshipped the Terror From Beyond The Stars...Ward.

She had tried to bring Ward's nilistic philosophy to Ora. But Crystal had been ready...or so she thought. Vamp had beaten her easily. She was the last left of the assault forces gathered to face the elf, the shining star...and now they lay dead around her. Her remaining Icebreaker Pistol, pointed at Vamp's black heart, was easily pushed down by the Shadowelf as she leaned over to kiss her new enemy.

Crystal Century was in shock, her green eyes jade ovals, her hands trembling around the gun. Vamp's tongue slipped through Crystal's lips and she...and she...

Ecstasy transformed into rage...and Vamp had replaced the Buffoon as the rider on Crystal's back. Snarling, practically frothing at the mouth, the Subzero Spacefighter dropped bodily to the ground, whirled onto her back, and brandished her twin trademark pistols, twirling them like a Terran cowboy before aiming them directly at her tormentor.

Before the bizarre man could even respond, Crystal Century emptied her below zero payload, unleashing a barrage of white energy bullets that lifted the Buffoon clearly off his feet. As he hit the ground, sliding a few yards, his entire body was coated with ice, transforming him into a steaming ice statue.

Crystal gasped a sigh of relief, her bountiful brown breasts rising and falling rapidly as she regained her breath. She tried to move, but could not, still trapped in the throes of the super-aphrodisiac. A few feet from her, the slumbering Jazmon fought a battle of her own, manifesting through her very limbs warring with each other.

"Crystal!" a shout reached the Spacefighter's ears. She turned her head, just in time to see the winged warrior Angelus and the marine fighter Neptuna float down and land before her.

"You guys..." she cooed, gasping erotically. Her grip on her Pistols stiffened as she fought the urge to massage between her legs.

"Suffering Shitfish..." Neptuna brushed a hand through her emerald braids. She had managed to regain her turquoise hot pants, although her overlarge breasts remained uncovered.

"By the Creator...you poor, poor soul..." Angelus knelt beside the shivering Crystal and caressed her face compassionately. Suddenly, her pink halo floated over the downed Khree Crusader.

"I can heal her, Princess." The Winged Wonder rose to her feet and gave Neptuna a warm smile.

"Deus Ex Machina...how I love thee..." Neptuna nodded, giving her a thumb's up sign.

"Excuse me?" Angelus's white eyebrow rose curiously.

"Get on with it, hugs n kisses." Neptuna snapped, stalking over to where Jazmon lay, fighting with herself.

"Angel Soul Revitalization!!" Angelus screamed, twirling around once and pointing at Crystal's prone form. A column of multi-colored sprinkles floated around her, causing her hair, loincloth, and wings to toss about by an unseen wind. The rainbow sprinkles gathered above her head like a spectrum-esque cloud, and suddenly funneled through the pink halo. Transforming into glowing pink hearts, the cloud engulfed Crystal Century.

Her body suddenly became still. A few seconds later, she was sitting up, blinking back tears.

"Thank you, Angelus!" she hugged the winged woman. "Thank you!"

"Don't thank me." Angelus grinned, her halo returning to its place over her head in a flash of pink hearts. "Thank the Galactic Creator. Praise be!"

The two new Unionnaires joined their Earth counterpart at the side of the unconscious Mental Mistress.

"Can you heal her?" Neptuna crossed her arms over her chest, her voice tinged with concern.

Angelus shook her head sadly. "Whatever is afflicting the Vixen From Venus...her ally is only the Galactic Creator now..."

Dusty Video Box Presents: The Syndicate of Carnality: Act Three

The Syndicate of Carnality
Act Three
By The Unknown Fan

"I always like to play with my meal before devouring it."

The despicable dynamo known as Riffster continued to make his way into a world of black, a living abyss of echoes that was formerly a typical shopping market. He had pulled his face mask over his grizzled visage, completing his infamous red and lightning-blue ensemble. The sapphire lightning bolts provided limited light, although it seemed to be devoured by the shadowy mass that now engulfed him.

He could not help for feel reluctance at pressing on to face his adversary. Unlike the other Unionnaires, she did not play by the rules of good and evil; in fact, she seemed more like a good drinking buddy than someone to humiliate before the world.

Maybe he could appeal to her dark side.

"I figured you elves to be plant-eaters." he quipped, holding his balled fists before him, sparking with blue electricity.

"I'm a man-eater, human." the sexy voice cooed, all around him, as if in surround sound.

"I thought the Union was always your main course..." Riffster replied, glancing around cautiously.

"They are." the abyss seemingly rippled before him with an audible plop. "But the Venusian mind witch made a Faustian deal with me. She traded lives. Your pathetic world for a galaxy far, far away."

"I see." The Riffster's hand slowly dropped to his sides, the electricity subsiding. "So, you're becoming a goodie-two shoes now, eh? Once you go back, you can't return-"

The rest of his statement was lost forever, replaced with an thunderous bellow. A spike of pure black was stabbed into his leg, causing a small geyser of crimson to erupt from the wound.

"Can you believe that gray tramp had the gall to say that I could harm no one on this miserable planet?!" the sexy voice ranted. Before the  supervillain, the void rippled open, and Vamp stepped through, chuckling quietly.

"Oh God!" Riffster screeched, electricity surging about him as he tried unsuccessfully to pull the spike from his leg.

"Don't call for your worthless piece of air now, light bulb man." Vamp growled. "That's for the lightning in my nether region. And this..."

She trailed off as she made a small beckoning gesture with her left hand. Another spike suddenly stabbed into the Riffster's other leg, causing him to scream and whimper slightly.

"...that's just to turn me on..." the Shadowelf licked her blue lips with her red tongue, slowly unbuttoning her black bra and red corset. She gasped slightly as she fondled one of her small, supple breasts, teasing the nipple as she watched her opponent tremble in agony.

"Damn it..." Riffster said in a ragged breath. "I...she was right, she was..."

Vamp stopped fondling her breast. "Who?"

"I...I-I-I..."the electric criminal stuttered, his lips trembling in agony.

"Who?" Vamp strode towards him, the platforms of her Sandals flashing blood red with each step.

"It...it was the Venusian!" he spat out at last as her elven face was mere inches from his. "Before...before I...came here...she sat this all up...to test you...to test your resolve on the deal."

Vamp's luscious lips twisted into a cold sneer. "Then I guess I failed her little girl scout test."

"No." Riffster gritted his teeth, suddenly seizing her head with both hands. "You passed. Just like the rest of them, your arrogance...is your downfall!"

With that, he electrified the eleven warrior with all the power within his being. His scream of rage, fear, and pain joined hers in a bizarre duet, culminating in a powerful explosion that ripped through the both of them. Riffster found himself flying backward through space, before his back slammed into a large canned food display.

He vanished within the avalanche of metal-contained corn.

*************************

"You poor, poor dears." Professor Swan murmured sadly, silently watching the floating bodies of the unconscious Union members in the glass tanks, for now their prisons. It had been quiet around the lab since Jazmon had gone, although if the report on television was to be believed, it was quite lively outside.

She still could not believe her senses. The Riffster and the Buffoon, joining forces? It was definitely something to be frightened about; sure, the duo was minor villains on their own, but together? For some reason, she could not place her finger on it, but she felt that this was not the end of it.

There was something bigger behind the scene. Something loomed over the horizon.

Suddenly, she felt the ground tremble slightly. Was it her imagination?

Brushing back her red bangs nervously, the scientist leaped to her feet and quickly rushed to the door of the room. Opening it to a crack, she peeked through it...and wish she had not.

"Oh my God!" she backpedaled violently, her back slamming against the table in the center of the room.

The door to the room suddenly exploded as a massive form charged into the room. As the dust and debris cloud cleared, Professor Swan removed her hand from before her face to gawk in horror at the horrific being that stood before her.

He was eight foot tall, a mass of muscles that loomed over the small scientist. His face was literally a bull's head, only matching his hair covered legs and hooves for feet. His entire body was covered in a fine coat of black hair.

"The Minotaur?!" Professor Swan screeched. "What are you doing...here?!"

The named villain only snorted black smoke, and pawed the ground angrily. Suddenly, he charged towards the scientist.

She screamed, blindly rolling to the side. The mythical menace hit the table, easily reducing it to sliver. A mass of scrambling arms and legs, Professor Swan slithered to one side of the lab and thundered hard against the cabinets. As she slide up to her feet, the Minotaur turned to face her, pawing at the ground once again with his feet.

"Please don't kill me!" Swan whimpered. "I just a lowly scientist. My only sin is playing Call Of Duty 12 hours straight!"

However, just as it seemed the hairy juggernaut is about to plow forward, he froze in his massive tracks. Suddenly, his large reproductive organ jutted forward from his fur, causing Swan's face to frown in disgust.

"Gross!" she cried, covering her eyes with the back of one hand. "Can you put that thing away?!"

"It's not for you, Swanie." a familiar voice reached her ears. A newcomer slowly floated into view, landing protectively before her. Her well-developed body was completely nude with the exception of glowing silver platform sandals on her feet.

Long green braids draped over slender shoulders and unto a sexy, tanned back.

"Alright, Minotaur!" Neptuna balled her fists, her enlarged breasts bouncing as she stepped towards the beast. She was still wet from the water inside of the glass tank.

"Since I know you don't carry a wallet in that fur of yours..." The Sea Nymph declared. "It's time to take payback the ol' fashion way...out of your hide!"

A rumble of thunder heralded a terrific explosion directly outside of Professor Swan's lab, located on the second floor of the Biology building of Metro State University. Debris sliced through the air for up to 20 feet around, mercilessly pummeling the horrified students below. A particularly large piece of something crashed to the ground, vanishing in an volcanic-like eruption of dirt.

Within the smoldering crater, a hand slowly emerged. It was a slender female hand, dirty, with broken green fingernails. A disheveled, sea green-haired head followed, its African-braids mangled with dust.

"Suffering Shitfish..." a slightly husky female voice swore as a battered, naked, sensational copper-skinned form rose to full height out of the crater. "I'm...still dazed...off-balanced..."

The Marine Maiden known the world over as Neptuna angrily glared at the source of her misfortune, her shapely breasts, which had grown to the size of watermelons thanks to the sinister pregnancy created by their last adversaries. She had defeated the parasitic creature inside of her. However, it seemed that it would take a while before her body was returned to normal.

With her center of balance off kilter, the Revenging Daughter was finding it hard to battle her latest foe, who stared in rage down at her from the hole they had made in the side of the building.

Every fiber, every cell, every inch of her being was telling the Water Nymph to fly away, to quickly return to her father in the sea. A smile of arrogance ripped across her smudged face. She stepped forward, her silver Enhancement Sandals flashing in the midday sun.

She beckoned the deadly creature with a middle finger.

She was never good at the flight part of the fight-or-flight response.

The Minotaur roared, a cloud of black surging from his nostrils. Brandishing his battle-axe, which spanned twice his height of eight inches, the dark creature of myth stepped nonchalantly out of the hole and into space. He plummeted like a stone, hitting the ground with such explosive force that Neptuna had to cover her eyes with an arm to block the expansive dirt cloud.

With the cloud dispersed, the Minotaur thundered towards his smaller opponent, each step causing the ground to quake. Although the aquatic Guardian of Good stood defiantly before him, naked, with hands boldly on hips, her inhumanly sized breasts quivered with each step, causing her to blush uncontrollably.

The Man-Bull held his gigantic axe lengthwise in both hands as he drew near. His eyes glowed hauntingly red, and he snorted ruby flames. Yet the Princess of the Depths was undaunted, her will indomitable. She wanted much more rage from her beastily assailant.

"Y'know what your old master, Doc Cunnillinga eats every morning before he gets his prison workout?" she sneered. "A knuckle sandwich...delivered by yours truly!"

"Dust!!!" the Minotaur bellowed in his gruff inhuman voice as he held the axe above his head, ready to bring it down on the emerald-haired superheroine. He moved faster than anticipated, causing Neptuna to scramble ungracefully out of the way of his swing. The axe easily sliced the earth where she had just stood, leaving giant cracks in its wake.

"I outstripped the dolphins when I was a baby, your hairy moron!" Neptuna screamed, leaping up with left haymaker. "You couldn't keep up with my speed on your best day!"

However, her attack was blocked by the handle of the axe, proving that the mythical creature could belay her boast. He smacked her with the flat of the giant axe blade, sending her rolling head over hills a few feet from the confrontation point. As she quickly rose to her feet, he was upon her, the axe slicing through the air once more.

With all of her strength, Neptuna flew forward, both fists outstretched. The human missile slammed directly into the chest of her hirsute opponent, taking him off of his hooves. Gritting her teeth, the Marine Maiden aimed for the sky, taking her enemy into the clouds. While the sea was her primary element, the sky was close second.

The Minotaur snorted wildly, kicking with his hoofed feet. Neptuna stared into his bull-shaped face and chuckled sinisterly, knowing the overwhelming fear the creature must felt as the campus was shrinking further below them. However, a gasp suddenly escaped her lips.

The mythical menace casually abandoned his huge accessory, and began to pummel her sensual back with bone-shattering blows! Neptuna wheezed as the air was torn from her lungs and gills. Her grip on her larger adversary was growing much weaker. As a throbbing red crept into her vision, she had released the creature before she had known it.

The large beast seemingly floated in the clouds for seconds, as if forgetting its link to gravity. Then, with a snort of fear, it began its wild descent from the sky.

Neptuna hovered a few seconds longer, watching the giant bull-man fall before soaring after him. A emerald-haired comet, she sliced through the air before him, ending her charge with a powerful roundhouse kick across the snout. A trickle of blood poured out of the corner of the monster's mouth as its face snapped back.

The Revenging Daughter followed up with a flurry of punches and kicks, battering the creature, never letting up for a moment. However, one punch came to slow, and that was all the mythical menace needed. Squeezing her arm savagely, causing her to cry out in pain, the Minotaur whirled Neptuna's falling body around to where he was facing her back.

Suddenly, he wrapped his massive hairy arms around her gigantic breasts, and began to squeeze. Her arms pinned at her sides, Neptuna felt the air rushed out of her for the second time that day. Her Sandals flashed as she kicked blindly, trying to wiggle free.

"Let me go, you air-sucking throw rug!" she gasped, her head shaking uncontrollably from side to side. The Minotaur only guffawed sinisterly, watching with an intimidating patience as the ground rushed up to meet them.

"Got...to...get...free!!" Neptuna gasped, but found herself getting lightheaded. Her eyes wavered as the air continued to escape her body, but with no way back in.

"Dust!!!" The Minotaur chuckled as they free-fell to their doom.

Dusty Video Box Presents: The Syndicate of Carnality: Act Two

The Syndicate of Carnality:
Act Two
By The Unknown Fan


     For mere seconds, all was quiet. The trio of sensational female crimefighters stare down the bizarre symbol of humor in their midst. As usual, Vamp simply licked her sensual lips, thanking Ward for the buffet of violence she was about to unleash. She considered herself a creature of pure nightmare, a Shadow-Elf that would profess to this clown what true evil really was.

Her red taloned fingernails flexed as the dark symbols on her pale elven skin ran together like black ink, pooling around her wrists into wickedly sharp two foot long black and red scythes. She scrapped the razor edges against the concrete tauntingly, sparks surging into the air.

Meanwhile, The Venusian Vixen was helping her friend Crystal to remove the whip cream from her face and between her cleavage.

"You know you are no match for my mental acumen, Buffoon!" the Mental Mistress's eyes narrowed at the clown before her.

"Just let me at him, and watch the crimson spray." Vamp sighed, seemingly on the verge of estasy.

"Blazing Moons, where is he?" Crystal cried, waving her pistol blindly from side to side, and still failing to remove the bulk of the cream from her mask.

The Buffoon was initially silent at this exchange, before thundering in laughter at the top of his lungs.

"Don't you feel anything yet, girl?!" he chuckled rapidly, performing a handstand.

"Why you-!" Jazmon started forward before a sharp, erotic gasp reached her ears. A slight glance at her side cursed her with the sight of Crystal's dark hand trembling, the gun slowly falling from it and shattering as it hit the ground. The Subzero Spacefighter soon followed, her shapely physique collapsing to the ground in a squirming mass of arms and legs.

"Ummmmmmmmm.....wha.....Oh Xeni...." Her shapely lips cooed as her hands rubbed her body up and down. "Can...Can't...stop...feels....feels so...good! Xeni! Ohhhhhhhhh....."

"I betcha she's feeling like the mother of all volcanoes!" the Buffoon cackled as he somersaulted and landed neatly, poised like an alert feline.

"Great Tor!" The Vixen exclaimed in horror. "He's infected her with...with some kind of super-aphrodisiac!"

"It seems it did not take your vaulted telepathy to figure that out!" the Buffoon roared. "Crystal Century's body is simply one huge erogenous zone!"

As on cue, the purple-haired Unionnaire's blue fingernails flashed across her transparent crop-top, releasing her dark brown breasts from their garment prison. Her fingertips barely brushed the top of her cleavage before an orgasmic moan escaped from her lips. The Ice Queen's emerald eyes glistened with tears of embarassment, little diamonds behind her red domino mask.

"Where is the cure, malevolent creature?!" Jazmon growled through clenched teeth, her silver eyes becoming pupiless. "Heal her or I'll-"

Before anyone could reply, a mammoth shadow suddenly engulfed the Buffoon. The criminal prankster only had time to look up with a mere gasp before the area where he stood vanished in a violent explosion of dust and rubble. Initially covering her eyes, the Venusian Vixen's forehead wrinkled, a nearly intangible field of blue energy emerging to telekinetically blow away the blinding cloud of debris.

When she cleared the area, her silver lips parted in shock as she gave Vamp a sidelong glance of anger.

Where the Buffoon originally stood, a one-story shadowy creature leered over them, roaring in triumph. It was Leviathan, one of Vamp's shadow creatures made from her nearly limitless manipulation of the darkness.

"You wicked elf, how could you?!" Jazmon wailed, quickly kneeling down to comfort the moaning and convulsing Crystal. "We needed him alive-"

"He was getting on my nerves." the Shadow Elf waved her off, picking in one of her pointy ears with a red talon and flicking away ear wax. "I don't see how you can stand it. Kill him quickly and solve the problem!"

"Unionnaires. Don't. Kill!" The Gray One practically screamed. "We are the Guardians of Good, protectors of justice. Also...he is the only one that has the anidote to Crystal's condition!"

"Pssst." Vamp shrugged. "That little prissy Khree needs to live a little, I say...always talking about her Khree Void Captain Code. No wonder she couldn't get laid on her planet."

"You despicable..." Jazmon trailed off, standing up slowly, her fists balled and trembling. Before she could take a step towards her adversary, something was thrown into her line of vision. The world seemed to slow to a crawl, time becoming solid. The Venusian's silvery eyes widened in horror as her powerful mind took in the shape and concept of the object before her face.

It was a glowing blue sphere. A split second later, it suddenly exploded in a blaze of light.

"Oh!" she screamed, closing her eyes in pain. She suddenly heard the trademark crackle of electricity as it surged through the air right in front of her. A deep, gruff groan and a loud crash of glass painted a mental picture for her.

Vamp had been hit with a blast of electricity and thrown through the glass store display window behind her.

Riffster.

"I told you to hold it!" his gruff voice floating to her ears confirmed his identity. "God damn it, all you had to do was maintain an inkling of sanity. Now we have to play it by ear, and I'm bad at guessing games!"

"HHOOOOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!" The Buffoon's voice bellowed. "I love games! Video games, board games, party games! I love 'em!"

"What god did I make mad to get the Spongebob of the criminal underworld?" Riffster half grumbled, half snarled. "But...good work. The pie thing...not to shabby. And here I thought you were making an 'American Pie' reference."

"The Riffster and the Buffoon?!" The Vixen cried blindly, her mind still disoriented. "This is one supervillain team-up that will be dismantled before it has begun!"

"Don't worry about 'mind and muscles', carnival man." Riffster's voice chuckled. "The Big Guy said he'll handle her. We just need to focus on the others..."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!" The Buffoon chuckled even louder, his shrill guffaw ending in harsh coughs.

At this, the Mental Mistress slowly opened her eyes. The blurry image slowly came into focus with each blink.

Blink. Two blurry men, one in a patchwork suit and clown paint on his face, and the other in a red suit decorated with blue lightning bolts, slowly walked past her.

Blink. The lightning man methodically stepped through the shattered glass display and vanished, while the other crept up to the squirming, half-naked Crystal Century on the ground.

Blink. The Buffoon reached into the pocket of his patchwork jeans, and withdrew a long paddle that was four feet long and thick. He turned Crystal over on her back. The Khree Policewoman did not seem to protest this, her face twisted in the throes of ecstasy. Chuckling uncontrollably, the clown criminal positioned Crystal so that her silver-plaid skirted bottom jutted up in the air. He then gently pulled the skirt up, to revealed her well-developed buttocks and tiny white panties.

With a crackle of glee, he ripped them away, leaving her naked.

As the Vixen tried to move forward, to halt the coming embarrassment, she found her muscular form unyielding, unwilling to heed her mental commands. Her shapely legs felt heavy as lead before they froze beneath her. The feeling abandoned her gray arms, making them as limp, heavy weights.

Before she could realize her misfortune, she became still as a statue, trapped within her own body!

Blink. Her eyes froze...and she could only watch in stark terror as the Buffoon brought the paddle down on Crystal's exposed rear end.

With what inkling of self-consciousness she had left, the Khree Crusader known as Crystal Century tried to regain control of her luscious physique from the grip of the Buffoon's insanely powerful aphrodisiac. However, even the slightest of movement, or budging the merest of inches, sent overwhelming waves of orgasmic pleasure rippling through her form.

Although alien she may be, her body shared most, if not all of the characteristics of the normal human female. The usual scientific fact of the Khree's physique was several hundred years beyond that of humankind seemed to be merely an empty boast at this low point.

Here she was, one of the highest officers in the Khree Void Police...now nothing more than a lowly sexual deviant.

She could not see the Buffoon hanging over her, measuring his swing to her naked buttocks with his thick paddle. Her shimmering purple locks blocked her vision; it was too hard to move them.

"Ummmmmmmmmmm..." she bit her bottom lip, her cheeks flushing hot with embarressment. She could not help herself...she was aroused uncontrollably, every movement sending fire through all of her limbs!

Her hand stretched forward, in a desperate attempt to crawl to freedom. One of her naked nipples scrapped the sidewalk, causing a loud erotic gasp to erupt from her mouth.

"Oh, don't go anywhere!" The Buffoon chuckled. "The fun just startin'!"

Powerless to do anything but obey, the infected Subzero Spacefighter could do nothing but collapse bodily on the cold concrete, moaning wildly. Suddenly, her world became quiet, the proverbial calm before the storm. She felt the air rush to her unclothed posterior, her silver plaid microskirt flapping in the wind.

And then...WHAMMM!!

"AGHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAHH!!" her orgasmic cry tore from her lungs as her body exploded in heat and sexual pleasure. The Buffoon screamed with harsh laughter as he grabbed a fistful of Crystal's purple hair, arching her head and back, and her dark neck bent forward.

"I love this game!" the Perilous Prankster cackled, holding his paddle aloof with his other hand mere seconds before bring it across Crystal's naked behind once again.

WHAMMM!

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGHHHHHH!" the Khree Guardian of Good screeched, her sensual mouth wide, eyes squeezed shut behind the slits of her red mask. Tears of frustration pooled in her eyes.

she telepathically begged.

She could feel the warm juices flowing from inside of her, trickling down her thighs and pooling around her raw knees. With each stroke of the Buffoon's heavy paddle, she was erupting with passion inside.

"Yes...Niagera Falls!" The Buffoon squealed with delight, seeing the results of his bizarre game. "Let's keep it coming, spacecop!"

The paddle raised slowly, tauntingly, menacingly...and then it was brought down hard.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

***********************************

The Vixen of Venus found herself able to control her eyes once again, but her surroundings had changed. Instead of the city street that served as an impromptu battleground, she was in a dark pink bedroom of sorts...seemingly alien in design.

Venusian in design.

She glanced down, finding herself starring at her large gray breasts and muscular torso. She was completely naked, save her trademark purple earrings, shaped in the Union symbol of a star encircled by a golden ring.

" " she greeted in her native Venusia language, glancing anxiously about the large room. A multi-colored bed sat in the middle, next to a large window. Outside...outside was a view of Venus, the planet of her birth. Trembling in spite of herself, the Gray One slowly walked over and pressed her hand against the glass, sighing at the majesty of Earth's twin planet.

There was something familiar about this scene, but she could not immediately put her mighty mind on the reason why.

Suddenly, the door opened with a quiet hiss. Jazmon whirled around quickly, her lengthily platinum hair flowing behind, and exclaimed, "By the Supreme Lord..."

His muscular legs closed the gap between them in the span of nanoseconds. Jazmon surrendered to his embrace, her head laying on his well-developed chest. She looked up into his eyes, those emerald eyes, just like the moons of Thagor where they had met all those parsecs ago.

They said nothing, verbally or telepathically. Her hand brushed his golden bangs from his forehead before standing on her bare tiptoes, drawing him into a kiss.

As their lips locked, the horrible memories of Ward and other galactic rapists flashed through her mind. A tear escaped the corner of her eye, trickling down her cheek and, as if in slow motion, fell to the ground.

"" she drew back from the kiss, holding his gray face with both hands. ""

Suddenly, the Vixen's hands began to glow, causing visual waves of multicolor to ripple through the male Venusian's face. His form began to waver and warp, and suddenly dispersed into ether, leaving the Mental Mistress alone.

"I...thank you for that moment...this memory of my wedding chamber." she said aloud, glancing about the room. "But it will take more than mere Venusian psychotronic tricks to fool me."

"I would expect nothing less from the former Protector of Venus." a female voice boomed from all around Jazmon. "Or should I refer to you as the sole sex slave that escaped the Darkelf?"

"You should refer to me as your better." The Vixen replied smugly. "You address one of the most powerful minds in existence. I feel your astral fingers trying to pry into the pathways of my cerebral haven. It would be wise to give up now."

But the voice laughed sinisterly. "You foolish little Venusian. Do you think I am really this meek?"

The Gray One practically jumped when the room began to literally crumble around her. She tried to activate her telekinesis for flight, but her vast powers seemed to have been shut off. As the ground became an abyss below her, Jazmon clawed at the air powerlessly as she plummeted into the black.

She did not fall far, however. Glowing pink strands of energy sliced through the darkness, snapping harshly around her neck, wrists, and ankles. With an agonizing pull, the powerless Venusian was snapped spreadeagle. Before her, a large pink cloud of mist formed before her, shaping into a giant, featureless face.

"Do you understand now, Venusian Vixen?!" the female voice boomed from it. "Here, I control everything. Here...I AM TOR!"

"You will never win!" Jazmon screamed defiantly.

"I have control of your mighty mind now, naive one!" the misty face bellowed. "Watch...!"

"No!" The Venusian cried, her gray forehead wrinkling. As if two images superimposed on each other, the Vixen's naked form was soon clothed with her trademark purple halter top, matching microskirt, and glowing transparent Enhancement Sandals. However, her uniform soon flicked from existence, leaving her nude once again.

In the real world, the Venusian's glassy-eyed form began to move, slowly, trembling, as if warring with itself. Her left hand, with a mighty effort, began to lift up slightly. Then, it was slowly forced back to her side.

"You will never gain control of my body!!" Jazmon cried.

"It is already done, you young fool!" the voice spoke, also from her lips.

The Venusian quickly looked around, realizing with a start that her consciousness had returned to the real world. However, at that moment, she could only move her head. She watched in horror as her left arm began to move once again, but not on her accord!

"Cease this at once!" she squealed, her right hand grabbing her left arm and holding it in place. For a minute, the two limbs were at a stalemate. However, suddenly, her left hand flew up and grabbed her throat with strength greater than her own.

The Mental Mistress coughed uncontrollably, feeling the precious oxygen she breathed being squeezed from her lungs. She tried grabbing her delinquent hand with the other one...but that too turned against her. Soon, she was being choked by both of her hands!

"Gahhhhh....hhhh...." she gasped in a dry whisper, unable to form words as her own limbs squeezed her throat. Her knees buckled, and the mighty Cerebral Savior's platinum silver haired head was lying on the sidewalk, her silver eyes closed in unconsciousness.

"Now..." the voice came from the slumbering alien's silver lips. "Let's see if we can get those shoes off..."

 

Dusty Video Box Presents: The Syndicate of Carnality: Act One

The Syndicate of Carnality:
Act One
Written By The Unknown Fan


Even without her Enhancement Sandals, the gray-skinned sensation, known to the blue planet she adored and protected as the awesome Venusian Vixen, was cursed with what all of her mind-reading race suffered from: empathy. It was uncontrollable, a mammoth, piercing wave of naked emotion that overwhelmed her, drowning her in heart wrenching pain and sorrow.

As her hand pressed the icy surface of the glass tanks, her silver lips trembled insignificantly, damming her lamenting. Before her was the source of the empathy: the other five members of the Union of Heroines...the magical marvel Crimson Conjuress, the mysterious crimefighter MitKnight, the kunoichi warrior Lotus, the sea princess Neptuna, and the golden maiden Cleopatra...floating lifelessly in the shimmering blue liquid, frozen in suspended animation.

They all were naked, save for their Sandals that could not be removed, and their bodies distorted beyond recognition. Their collective breasts had grown sperical, nearly the size of watermelons, while their stomachs ballooned as well. This was a result from an encounter with the alien pair of Xeneen and Agalayana, Moterians who had come to Earth to challenge the Guardians of Good. Their secret weapon had been a parasitic worm from another dimension, which had the ability to infect female hosts and transform them into birthing machines. Earth's champions of justice had been easily overcome by the orgasm-causing worms. If it has not been for Jazmon's immunity to the worms, the Union would have been pet queens for the aliens.

The Gray One exhaled deeply. Wasn't it always this way? She was always the survivor. From her home planet to the deep, horror-filled bowels of Ward's dungeons, she was the last one standing, the final piece on the board. Why was her life worth more than her friends and family? Why did she deserve to live while others died? Why was she continuing to step over dead bodies?

"Fight Club."

Jazmon brushed back the lengthly strands of her trademark silvery hair from her eyes and locked on to the short woman in the lab coat standing behind her. The Venusian had been so wrapped up in worry about her friends that she did not even hear the woman's thoughts when she approached.

"Excuse me?" Jazmon gave her a puzzled look.

"Sorry. Force of habit." the dark-skinned woman chuckled, her red bangs bouncing. "I lost my Mom , Dad, and Grandfather to cancer."

"I'm...sorry to...hear that." Jazmon whispered, flashing her a genuine look of remorse.

"No, no." the short woman walked over and grasped the larger Venusian's muscular shoulders. "I didn't mean to depress you more. What I mean is...you know, the inevitable is the inevitable...distration is the name of the game, keeping your mind occupied, elsewhere...not focusing on the bad things."

"Great Tor...are you reporting..." Jazmon trailed off, her silvery eyes brimming with hot tears.

The short woman smacked her own forehead and grinned weakly. "God, I'm terrible at this 'socializing' thing. No, your friends are fine...for the most part. We don't know exactly what to do...but they aren't dying, dead, deceased at all. Preggers...but the suspended animation is keeping their biological systems frozen."

Without warning, the Vixen swallowed the smaller woman in a massive hug.

"Affectionate, aren't we?" the smaller woman laughed.

"Thank you, Professor Swan." Jazmon told her, releasing he from the embrace.

"I haven't walked on water yet, supergirl." Professor Swan said cautiously. "We breaking down the solution, little by little. But until then, you're all that is left of the Union, Venusian Vixen."

"Do not worry." Jazmon told her, her gaze returning to her friends floating in the tanks. "I have assembled a few...'allies' to...'hold the fort' until Cleo and the others get better."

"A new team of Unionnaires?" Professor Swan's brown eyes widened with interest. "Well...are you going to reveal them to the public?"

"I do not know." Jazmon sighed. "I just...I just feel as if I would be betraying my teammates if I...simply replace them."

"Fair enough." Professor Swan stuffed her hands into her lab coat pocket. "Will they at least be stopping by the lab to visit?"

"I think they are out absorbing the general culture of Earth." the Venusian said matter-of-factly. "I could contact them if you wish-"

"That won't be necessary." Professor Swan cleared her throat. "So...they are aliens, huh?"


Jazmon nodded. "When I escaped my former master...I found many of them on my flight to this solar system. One even helped me escape from a sex slave colony in the Andromeda Galaxy."

"Crazy." the smaller woman marveled with a low whistle. "Sex slavery in space...'space women so hot, they melt the intergalactic chains'..."

A small smile tugged at the Venusian's lucious lips. "By the Supreme Lord...are you mocking me?"

"I'm like half your size." Professor Swan laughed nervously. "Even without your mental abilities, you could tear me in half with your bare hands."

"The motion picture known as The Usual Suspects." Jazmon suddenly said with a grin.

After a second, Professor Swan's eyes blinked with recognition of her opening statement. "Keyzer Soze is better than Tyler Durden? No way that's a better movie twist!"

The Mental Mistress's attention returned to the tanks, to her friends, this time with a smile on her face and warmth in her heart.


************************

"Why are they looking at us?" was the question that left Crystal Century's ruby lips as she and the Shadow Elf known as Vamp walked down the busy streets of Metro City. Was it because of her transparent front crop-top, that showcased her volunptous breasts? Her tiny silver-plaid schoolgirl flirt skirt that proudly displayed her long, lean, muscular legs and thighs? Her twin blue Icebreaker pistols that glistened in her gunbelt, complete with a redesigned Union symbol(a golden star surrounded by a silver ring)? Her red domino mask across her beautiful dark brown face? Or her clear Enhancement Sandals, with flashing silver platforms?

It could not be either of the above...for Earth had several Sandalbearers as guardians, not to mention that as the cosmic police captain on her own planet, Ora, her uniform was simply regulation.

Yet the humans on the street regarded the purple-haired beauty with bizarre looks.

"Why are they looking at me like that?" she asked her companion for the third time. "It is as if I'm a Trilomon with five heads!"

"Because you seem to lack the concept of a human modesty." the fair-skinned elfin woman replied. Contrasting Crystal's long hair, Vamp's black locks were short, with the exception of two long red bangs on both sides of her forehead that reached her thighs. Her lithe body was clothed in reflective and tight black leather...a black and red corset and matching pants, with her revealed skin covered in strange black symbols. On her feet were black Enhancement Sandals with blood red platforms.

Vamp refused to wear the Union symbol. In truth, she was the infamous 'Rogue Sandalbearer'...one of the only known selections by the Rave to rebel against their directives and turn to evil. As a controller of shadows and darkness, she had become a thorn in the Union's side when she discovered them on Earth. In order to gain aid from Vamp for her ad hoc team, Jazmon essentially had made a deal with the devil...she would let the Shadow Elf do whatever she want in the rest of the galaxy, as long as Jazmon and her friends did not pursue her.

"You're not hiding yourself among them!" Crystal snorted. "Your ears are out and everything!"

"I'm proud of my heritage." Vamp pointed at her pointy ears. "They are just symbolizing my devotion to my lord Ward."

"Great Galaxies!" Crystal spat. "How in the name of the Milkyway can you worship such a despicable creature?!"

"Easy." Vamp smirked, stopping Crystal with a hand between her shapely cleavage. "My master's commandments are simple...kill, rape, and pillage. Take what you want and leave scraps for the rest."

"Nilistic hedonism." Crystal growled. "Taking your selfishness to the nth degree..."

"Yet something stirred in you, didn't it, Officer?" the Shadowelf twirled her companion around and pushed her gently against a brick wall. "You had me dead to rights at home. And yet...I escaped? You don't hate me as much as you hate yourself..."

"It was either you or that...spaceship full of innocents..." Crystal's green eyes narrowed at her companion.

"You liked...you liked what we did...before that final showdown..." Vamp seductively licked her dark blue lips, pressing a silencing finger to Crystal's own.

"No! No..." Crystal whispered, noticing a crowd of onlookers gathering around them. A few wolf whistles reached her ears, causing her brown face to blush.

"Do you...see it now?" Vamp leaned over and whispered in her ear, sensually brushing strands of Crystal's purple hair from her face. "Ward is freedom. To do what you want...when you want...to like who you want..."

"Get...off of me..." Crystal barely breathe. Vamp took the silencing finger from the Spacefighter's lips and brushed it gently beneath her microskirt. Crystal closed her eyes with a shiver of erotic pleasure, a shrill, tiny gasp escaping her lips.

"Rules are for losers, Khree female." Vamp chuckled. "You only have one life promised to you...why spend it trapped by regulations and doing what other beings want you to do?"

Unknown to the two heroines, another superpowered being agreed with Vamp's sentiment. Watching from the rooftops above, he was clad in a black trenchcoat and hat. As he glared angrily at the unfolding scene, his blue eyes lit up with sapphire electrical sparks. He had learned that the Union had somehow been defeated.

Who was this rape meat?

He cackled silently. Whoever they were, they would not stand a chance against the Syndicate.



************************

The ideal introduction to a person, place, or thing was not exactly rocket science. True, one would need the perfect environment, perfect timing, and perfect presentation to craft the ultimate positive first impression. But chance, and its uncontrollable counterpart chaos, played a much disproportionate role to the proceedings. The key was opportunity: seizing it, wielding it, exploiting it.

As he watched the bizarre situation unfold between the Shadow Elf and the Subzero Spacefighter, the criminal known only as the Riffster slowly place a cigarette precariously at the corner of his cracked lips and lit the tip with a flash of his shimmering blue eyes. He took a calm drag. Chaos. The Union had introduced chaos into his underworld life, shattering his sex slavery ring to pieces, along with his other criminal endeavors. His self-confidence was torn down even further by Neptuna, the sea’s Revenging Daughter; her electric eel abilities easily eclipsed his own. She even stole his powers from him, rendering him meek and mortal for months on end.

That was until HE came into the picture. Of course, the Riffster would never admit it, but even if this lawless messiah had not made his presence known within the prison, the despicable dynamo would have latched on to any powerful inmate to save himself from being raped in the showers. It was an example of the ideal introduction: chance, timing, environment, and perfect presentation. Among the naked unconscious bodies of the Aryan gang members, the Riffster watched his savior, spellbounded by his words and his face, hidden in the mists of the heated showers.

His new boss preached about a world without superheroines. A world where naked cunts of justice marched, defeated and dejected, through streets, covered in cum, humiliated before the very public they protected. The Riffster wanted such a world, and was willing to fight for it. The icing on the cake was the very idea that his new benefactor returned his powers, twice as strong as before.

“Ssssssshhhh…should we move now?!” a muffled voice whispered into his ear. The Riffster took his index and forefinger and held it before his face. A bolt of sapphire lighting illuminated on his fingertips, enabling him to tap into and respond on radio frequencies. Unlike the others, he needed no communication device.

“Hold on…” he exhaled a small cloud of smoke.

“C’mon…my pies are getting cold…” the voice whined in a squeaky tone.

The Riffster sighed, wondering why his benefactor had stuck him with the most insane of their diabolical ensemble. Unlike the others, the person he was speaking to was not motivated by the simple things in life, like revenge, sexual thrill, or money. He simply thought it was yet another joke to play out.

“Live Wire out.” He snapped, taking one last smoke of his cigarette and tossing it to the rooftop, grinding it under his boot heel.

“‘Live Wire’ wha?” the voice questioned before Riffster mentally severed the connection. His duster billowing behind him, the dynamic criminal surveyed the scene below him, with Vamp erotically pressing against Crystal Century, drawing the attention of everyone on the street.

The sensual elven female had pushed Crystal against the glass window of one of the stores, and was caressing her up and down erotically, much to the delight of most of the onlookers in the gathering crowd. As Vamp’s hand settled on Crystal’s transparent crop top, threatening to un-tie it and release her breasts, Crystal’s hand reached one of her guns in the holster. Like a Terran movie cowboy, she pulled it from the holster, twirled it on her blue fingernailed finger once, and shot it at Vamp.

A white beam of energy erupted from the futuristic blue pistol, suddenly striking the elf in the center of her voluptuous bosom. She gasped, frozen in place for mere moments, before suddenly dissipating into nothingness. Standing behind the fading figure was the real Vamp, who grinned wickedly and clapped her hands.

“Great Entropy! “ Crystal Century growled, brandishing both pistols. “You sinister galactic miscreant! I should have arrested you cycles ago!”

“If you have the guts, Khree cunt…” Vamp beckoned with a black-nailed finger.

"What are you two doing?" a new voice interrupted their confrontation. Two pairs of alien eyes stared up at a lovely vision of a gray skinned muscular female floating above them, her shimmering ivory locks billowing around her shoulders like an unseen wind.

"Vamp...I've told you..." Jazmon trailed off, her transparent heels noiselessly floating to the sidewalk as she smoothed the wrinkles from her tiny purple microskirt.

"The Khree started it!" Vamp teased, licking her dark azure lips seductively. "I was just minding my own business, when she simply flung her cunt in my-"

"How are your friends, Mistress?" Crystal asked Jazmon, concerned etched on her masked face as she holstered her pistols.

"Lady Century, I've told you..." The Gray One smiled sadly. "I have no rank here on Earth, only on Venus."

"Force of habit." Crystal said sheepisly, patting the back of her head. "Khree Void Diplomacy and all that..."

"As for the Unionnaires..." The Mental Mistress nodded towards the excited mumuring crowd. "It seems that you two are it so far."

"I'm going to rape every man on Villus 5, Vixen." Vamp taunted her. "I'm going to break their ruler, make him crawl on his knees, and perform oral sex on me for twenty four Earth hours...and broadcast it for free in seven star systems. Now...you still want my help."

The Psychic Princess said nothing at first, bowing her head and looking away. Then, after a few seconds, she sighed, her volunptous breasts bouncing, before replying, "Do as you will."

"I know." Vamp grinned sinisterly with an exaggerated thumbs-up sign. "I just want that pretty mind of yours to choke on that."

Suddenly, Jazmon glanced at her archenemy with silvery, pupiless eyes. The ground suddenly surged and cracked between them. An invisible blast of wind caused Vamp's lengthily red tendrils to waver violently.

"However." The Vixen's words gained volume with each step towards Vamp. "If you harm any of my friends...or any of the natives of this planet...our 'agreement' will be nullified. I will boil your memories and shred your personality to scrap. You will wish you were still in that prison the Rave had left you in..."

"Okay, the ego tossing is done." Crystal stepped in between the two, halting Jazmon in her tracks. Vamp, failing to hide her fear, glanced about her position and noticed the large cracks around her feet and the concrete wall behind her, caused by the Vixen's telekinesis running wild.

"Great Tor..." The Gray One gasped. "What have I done...?"

"It is fine..." Crystal began, before a second interruption took her words. A pie suddenly flew from out of the crowd, smashing her in the face.

"Sweet Starblazers!" the Subzero Spacefighter instantly drew one of her pistols. "Who threw that?! Who?"

"My telepathy is picking up...a familiar pattern..." Jazmon's face wrinkled in a mixture of recognition and horror.

"HOHOHOAHAHAHAHA!" a harsh, bellowing laugh sent shivers down the crowds and the assemblage of Unionnaires' spines. The crowd parted in terror, most of the spectators taking off in a dead run. What was left behind in the chaos was a simple, short man, clad in a roughshod, patchwork suit and grungy clown paint.

"Who is this piece of human DNA?" Vamp growled eagerly.

"By the Supreme Lord!" Jazmon exclaimed. "It is the Buffoon!"

Dusty Video Box Presents: Vendetta! Two

In the last chapter:
Loomis, Kansas, 1979. Alice Ripley, the only African-American high school student of the Midwestern town, experienced the bitter sting of racism and punishment for the sins of her mother daily from her all-white peers, with the exception of her best friend, Tea. Tea persuaded Alice to attend the annual Loomis Preparatory Halloween Ball, which was normally forbidden by Alice’s domineering religious aunt. However, for once, her aunt relented, allowing the young woman to attend the Halloween celebration for the first time. Somehow, someway, Alice ended up in a life-and-death struggle with a large inhuman man, which climaxed with his death at her hands. Now, along with conviction from Tea, Alice begins a new mission…a mission that could lead her down a path that few can return from.

Vendetta
created by Melvin L. Hadley
Bleeding Kansas: Chapter 2

*November 1, 1979*

It took twenty rings of the phone, shattering the serenity of the early Saturday dawn, to elicit the tiniest of frustrated groans from beneath the royal purple covers of the single bed. On the twenty-first ring, a black-finger nailed hand snaked from within the depths of the bedsheets, inching around the headboard for something to grab. By the twenty-third ring, the fingers discovered success with a pillow, and flung it at the phone, knocking it from its place on the bedside table a foot or two away with a thunderous chime. However, the phone managed to land on its base and continued to ring.

The first hand was joined by another, as the covers were pulled up to conceal the maximum length of the person within. After thirty-five rings, it stopped. A weary sigh of relief escaped from beneath the covers.

Then the ringing started again.

The two hands returned, and snatched back the covers, revealing a drowsy nun, clad in a wrinkled but form-fitting uniform that would have broken all the rules of a convent. “Alright, goddamn it!” she called out as she sat up, unsuccessfully rubbing the drowsiness out of her glassy green eyes while wincing as she felt the onslaught of an oncoming headache. “…waking me up this early in the morning…”

She swung her legs to the floor, nearly sliding out of the bed from a nearly empty wine bottle caught under her feet. As she languidly stood up and took a step towards the phone, she felt herself being suddenly jerked back down in the bed. Her conscious not yet awoken with her body, the nun mindlessly repeated her action, only to have the same result. Slowly, she glanced over to her left arm, and with a look of surprise, found the source of her problem.

She was handcuffed to one of the bedposts.

“GREG!!” she screamed, slapping frantically at the other large lump under her covers beside her. “GREG! Get up! Give me the key! Hurry up!”

“Izzat?” the lump muttered incoherently, stirring slightly before becoming still again.

“Gregory!” she screamed again, reaching for the wine bottle on the floor and empting the remains on the lump.

“Hey, hey!!” the bedsheets were thrown back to unveil a hairy, burly man whose head was covered by a black leather mask with fake silver spikes. “What the H-er…Mother Superior! How dare you awaken the Great Fau-”

The nun placed a silencing finger to her thin lips and nodded towards the ringing phone. “Not now, Greg. I need to know …what did you do with the key?” she asked calmly, stressing each syllable.

“Ummmm…” Greg scratched his head, his visible eyes narrowed in drowsy slits. “I dunno…think I left them in the kitchen…or the bathroom or somethin’…”

“Damn it!” the nun growled, fruitlessly trying to stretch her right leg to reach the phone with her feet. After a few unsuccessful tries, she gave Greg a hard glare. “Nice to see you applying some effort!” she said sarcastically.

Greg slowly glanced over to her and nonchalantly raised his arm. Handcuffs connected his right arm to the other bedpost.

“Hey, I just went with the flow as usual.” He shrugged at the nun’s bewildered look. “Your ideas, your rules. Role switch, remember?”

The nun paused, her mind flashing back through the alcohol-filled haze of the night before. “Goddamnit!” She swore, jumping to her feet, and bracing one of them against the wall as she pulled with all the might that her hangover-racked form could summon at that moment. After a minute, the old wood of the bedpost yielded and splintered, sending the nun tumbling into an oak dresser that was on her side of the bed. Clutching her back and recoiling in pain, she quickly jumped to her feet and danced across the assorted piles of discarded clothing, empty Chinese food boxes and beer bottles until she made it to her prize, which was on its one hundred and fortieth ring.

“Touchdown!!” Greg cheered halfheartedly from the bed.

“Hello, Sheriff Regina Kruger. What seems to be the problem?” the nun recited in an artificial cheerful tone as she answered the phone, simultaneously throwing Greg the middle finger.

“That was last night, dear.” Greg chuckled while lacing his fingers behind his leather-clad head, impressed with his own vulgar humor.

The Sheriff ignored him and continued to listen to the scratchy-like monotone of the female phone operator on the other end. As usual, there were the complaints about pranks, mainly from Ms. Eliza Winifred Crane, a wealthy former fashion designer and current member of the town’s governing body. She was also the town’s most devoted gossip and rumor spreader, and had even caused Regina some strife on her job by turning some of the townspeople against her. Ms. Crane reported three costumed kids egging her car, leaving packages of flaming excrement in her back porch, and throwing rocks against her windows all night, keeping her awake.

Regina grinned, making a mental note to take those boys out for ice-cream later for a job well done.

Of course she told the operator to send Ms. Crane reassurances that she would talk to the boys. Snickering to herself, she braced herself for more reports of adolescent misadventures. However, the operator’s tone became mournful as she delivered the next report, even sobbing slightly at some points. Creole was never good at containing her emotions. Regina’s lips tightened in a line as words she never thought she would hear crept into her ears.

“Uh-huh.” She nodded solemnly, picking up one of the Chinese boxes and tearing a piece from it. “Where is it?”

“Okay, I’m on my way.” She said after hurriedly scribbling down the address on the cardboard and slowly hanging up the phone. She turned slowly, glancing at the palms of her hands as realization of the severity of the situation sunk it. Only for a second did disbelief overtook her, before being defeated by her stronger law enforcement instincts. Exhaling noisily, she removed her headpiece and ran a hand through her shoulder-length red curls.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Greg asked, swinging his feet to the floor.

Regina nodded distantly, shaking her head slightly to clear her thoughts. “Need you to go check on Ms. Crane, butter her up a little.” She said to him as she knelt down, sorting through the debris for her pile of clothing. “Last thing we need is the Loomis Commission breathing down our necks about the delinquency rate here.”

Greg removed the mask, displaying his disheveled brown hair, quickly retreating hairline, face, and greasy beard, all slightly speckled with the gray of age. “What happened, Chief?” he asked again.

“187.” Regina called over her shoulder as she vanished into the bathroom next door.

“What?!”

“Exactly!”

“Huh?”

“There was a murder. Deputy Myers is at the crime scene already.”

For a few moments, there was a heavy silence. “So…who…who was the vic?” George asked, breaking it.

Regina reemerged into the bedroom, clad in a loose and worn Kansas City Chiefs t-shirt and an equally worn pair of bellbottom jeans that was two-sizes too big for her. She stumbled over the junk-strewn floor to a chair, where her trademark brown fur lined jacket and gun-belt hung. Brandishing the handcuff key teasingly at Greg, the sheriff removed the handcuff on her wrist.

“Cleopatra King.” She told him, freeing the bedpost piece from the other handcuff and tossing it on the floor. She then took the handcuffs, and returned them to their place on her belt.

Greg arched an eyebrow. “Y’mean the lady from church? The one that’s over the choir and always hosting the prayer meetings? Gotta admit, gonna miss those cookies she always baked for Sunday School…made it worthwhile to actually go…”

Regina grabbed her gun belt and snapped it in place around her waist. “Damn…thought I’d never see the day that I’ll have to be packing a body-bag. I wonder…who would be unscrewed enough to kill such a sweet lady…”

Greg was silently for a few minutes, his forehead knitted in thought. “Look…all jokes aside…I think I know where…where we can start looking. Ever heard of the King Curse?”

Regina gave him a frown as she slid her arms into her jacket. “Yeah, I know about that bullshit legend. That’s what Ms. Crane was screaming about that day she had that accident-”

“We’re not talking about Washington chopping down a cherry tree, Chief. There’s some facts in that story that ARE true.” Greg interrupted. “Mrs. King did have a sister…and she did commit murder here all those years ago. She was locked away in a nuthouse somewhere upstate…and her kid was the one that stayed with King.”

“But…it’s just too convenient.” Regina replied, pulling her badge from out of her jacket’s pocket, and watching the early morning sunlight glisten on the cold gold metal. “’Escapee Psycho Sibling Murders Sister ‘sounds too much like something out of the horror movies. Too obvious, which means not real.”

“I’m just saying…” Greg shrugged. “That’d be the first place to look. I can’t remember exactly, but there was this psychiatrist that was prominent in that case...I can’t remember his name…but he probably could help you out. Then…there’s always the kid…”

“Hey, who’s solving this case?” Regina joked, pinning her badge to her jacket. “I’ll think about it, old man. Now get out there and plant those lips of yours firmly on Ms. Crane’s ass for me. At least one of us gets to have fun today.”

Greg lifted his right arm, still handcuffed to the bedpost. “It would help if you give me the key, Mother Superior.”

“Oh, this?” Regina said innocently, holding the tiny key between her index finger and thumb. Rubbing her chin thoughtfully with her other hand, she gave her subordinate and his immediate surroundings a critical eye. After a minute, she took the key and shoved it in her pocket. Greg’s mouth dropped in astonishment as the sheriff left the room and him behind.

“Regina? Regina!” his cries continued even after he had heard the door slam.


*********Vendetta*********

The tall corn stalks had seemingly swallowed her, allowing only small splashes of the golden sun in as it rose overhead. Everywhere Alice looked, she met a green pole with rotten ears of corn, brushing against her face and tangling her braids. She blinked rapidly, frightened that one of the green leaves or some other natural debris would poke her in the eye. Blindly, she reached forward as far as she could, held on to the cornstalks that brushed against her fingertips, and pulled them aside, clearing a path. Opening her eyes rewarded her with a glimpse of Tea’s back a few feet ahead of her. Like a human harvester, the athletic brunette easily swatted the tightly grown stalks aside, penetrated the tightly clustered barrier of nature.

Having left the junkyard behind, the duo picked one direction and stuck with it, searching the vacant landscape for some semblance of the familiar, while simultaneously searching for any sign of the cannibalistic killers. The only things that greeted them on their journey, however, were wide-open plains, rusted farm tractors and other crumbling equipment, and sporadically, the decaying ruins of a house or business of some kind. Neither was willing to admit to the other that they were wandering aimlessly. The cornfield they discovered after a few hours was the only indication of accomplishment for them.

The throbbing aching of Alice’s legs reminded her of her lack of rest in the last twenty-four hours. Her eyes watered slightly, causing the huddled landscape of green to dance before her. Her steps slowed, and before she knew it, Tea had disappeared from view again. The young woman exhaled deeply as she came to a complete stop, letting her arms fall limply to her sides. The cornstalks she had pushed aside returned to their upright positions, trapping her in their emerald clutches. Just a minute, she thought. Just a minute of rest, then she’ll catch up with her friend. She dared not to tell Tea how tired she was. No. Besides, Tea was not one to accept failure, and acted like a drill sergeant to overcome it.

She was not the one to accept discouragement either. No matter how many times Alice tried to resist, she was always drawn into one of Tea’s mischievous plots. Whether it involved playing a nasty trick on Ms. Crane, or stealing from her teacher’s desk as school, Alice’s psychological defenses were no match for Tea’s persuasive skills. For her failure in abetting in Tea’s crimes, she sought punishment for her transgressions, which her Aunt will carry with maximum efficiency. It was those particular beatings that she actually looked forward to, because she felt the burden of guilt for her sins being lifted afterward…and God had forgiven her.

She felt something ice-cold brush against her bare leg and looked down. She had almost forgotten about the machete in her hand, the wooden handle warm and the tip rusty red from the dried blood it spilled earlier. How could she forget this hated instrument? Why was she still carrying it? She was surprised at how she had quickly grown attached to carrying the blade, it feeling startlingly light and natural in her hand. With a startled gasp, she flung it to the ground and kicked it a few inches from her with a ruby foot for good measure. She glanced down at her hands, covered with a multitude of scraps and bruises, and turned them palms up.

They were red, stained and dripping with fresh blood. But it was not her blood. Frantically, she rubbed her palms against her dress and held them up again to see. No, the blood was still there. With an exasperated cry, she repeated her actions, but yielded the same results. The blood would not come off. Her lips trembling, her eyes overflowing with tears, Alice sat down on the ground, Indian-style, and rubbed her palms against the dirt, each time increasing in viciousness and frequency. Finally, after the twentieth time, she had an epiphany.

She was a killer. She had crossed a point of no return. This was not something that could be washed away…it was a crimson stain on her soul that had corroded it permanently. As the realization shrouded her, her Aunt’s voice echoed in her head, at the crescendo of a fiery sermon about the sin of murder. The punishment for killing was death. Was she being punished like her Aunt had told her?

“It was an accident!” she sobbed mournfully, staring up past the stalks that enclosed over her into the blue sky. “An accident! I…I was scared…I…did not mean for it to happen!”

But maybe she did deserve to be punished. She could still remember the strange sensation she felt when she stabbed her pursuer with the machete. It was not reactionary fear, but satisfaction. Satisfaction at seeing the life drain from his inhuman eyes. Satisfaction at seeing him cower before her in his death throes. Satisfaction of having total power over him for that single instant.

She stopped crying as a tsunami of guilt suddenly engulfed her. She did not have her Aunt to take the burden away. She would have to do it herself. She had to have God to forgive her.

She crawled to where the machete lay on the tilled ground, glinting in the morning sunlight. Her trembling right hand reached for it slowly. The handle was still warm as she picked it up and inspected it for a brief moment. Holding her left hand aloof, palm outstretched, she took the machete and hovered the tip over her palm. She forced her mind to think of something, anything to distract and numb her from what she had to do next.

Then the blade tip sunk into the flesh of her left palm.

Alice whimpered, tears brimming at her eyelids, as she continued to shove the blade tip in little by little into her hand. The pain was immense, and it took all of her willpower and more not to scream. Blood practically exploded from her incision, dripping into the dark earth below. This had to be done; she had no choice in the matter. Suddenly, the cornfield surrounding her took on a dreamlike quality as she meticulously sliced downward in her palm. The pain became a dull ache as memories of the fateful night before surged into her consciousness, mentally distancing her from the situation at hand.



*********Vendetta*********
*October 31, 1979*

Her mother always smelled like a sweet mixture of pine and poundcake when she came in late at night. Alice would sit up and wait for her, tiptoeing down the stairs in her bare feet(much to her Aunt’s chagrin) and to the large living room window that displayed a view of her Aunt’s spacious front lawn. She always took care not to make a sound, because her aunt was very strict, especially about bedtime. She would pull back the expensive curtains and sit in the old wooden windowsill, hugging her knees to her chest until her mother would stagger through the front door, her gray maid uniform smudged with unknown substances, dragging her large purse with a limp arm.

No matter how weary or weathered her face looked, it always managed to brighten when Alice would emerge from the curtains and practically tackled her with a barely muted squeal of delight.

“Child, your old momma’s tired!” her mother groaned. “My back…is killing me. Here baby, carry my bag for me, would ya? Can you lift it?”

Alice nodded, knowing the heavy bag hurt her arms, but was glad to help her mother anyway possible. As her mother delicately placed the large bag in her small arms, Alice would wrap her arms tightly around it, tensing her legs for balance, and biting her lower lip in a grimace. She would always try to race her mother to her room on the ground floor of her Aunt’s mansion, but she never could win. The bag was too heavy, and her mother’s legs were longer than hers.

The smell of incense would hit her every time her mother opened the door to her room. A flick of the light switch revealed a large poster of a black man posed in deep thought, wearing glasses. Mother told her that man was Malcolm X. Another poster, above the head of her mother’s bed screamed in pronounced black bold print the words “BLACK POWER!!” There was a bookcase on another wall, filled with books that had titles that she could not pronounce. She once asked her mother what the stories in them like.The was only answer her mother gave her was that she hoped Alice would never found out.

Her mother collapsed backwards onto her bed, causing the springs to protest loudly as she made a snow angel in her covers. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She said softly when Alice accidentally dropped her bag next to the bed. “Them people know how to work somebody, but can’t even cut me a decent check. To think, I use to make more money on my back in a day then working my fingers to the bone day in and day out.”

“What does that mean, Momma?” Alice gave her a curious look. Of course, she knew what people she was referring to…the “white” people that her mother always complained about. She was always curious to why they were known as “white”, when their skin tone was obviously pink. Just like her skin was brown, but her second grade teacher always told her that she was “black”. At least her best friend Jamie did not call her black.

“Hmmm..?” her mother moaned distantly, her head sinking into her pillow, her eyes half-closed as she freed her feet from her shoes.

“’M-Make money on your back?” Alice paraphrased, twisting a strand of her shoulder-length black hair. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing, baby.” her mother sat up slowly, smoothing her dirty apron with her slightly callous hands. “Just me talking to myself about grown folks stuff. You know how crazy your momma is.”

Grown folks stuff. It was the warning label that encompassed many of the arguments between her Aunt and her mother… arguments that sometimes sent her Aunt into her bedroom in tears. Some of the grown up things she had heard were words like “race traitor” and “house nigger”, which was mostly from her mother, referring to her Aunt. She was glad when her mother said “grown-up stuff” because those other words seemed hateful and even scary, coming from her.

“Momma, don’t talk like that…” Alice told her, climbing into bed beside her. “You’re not crazy.”

“I don’t know, baby…” her mother wrapped her arms around her and drew her close. “Sometimes I feel…I just…working for those Strodes…having to bow and scrape to them…it sometimes gets to me, honey. Having an honest-to-goodness job has always been hard for me. I know its wrong but…sometimes I miss…those days, you understand?”

“You mean…before we moved… here?”

Her mother nodded solemnly. “That’s why we’re here. That’s why I put you in that school, with all the white kids. I want you to be something…something better than me. Better than Aunt Cleo. I don’t ever want you to do what I had to do…experience what I experienced. I don’t want you cleaning floors for white folks…I want them cleaning floors for you. Understand?”

Alice nodded feebly, although she did not understand why she would want someone to clean a floor for her.

Her mother stared at her for a brief second, a faint smile on her face as she pinched her daughter’s cheeks. “So…what will it be tonight, honey? Sundiata again?”

Alice grinned a mouthful of silver braces, clapping her hands together. She was eagerly anticipating her favorite tradition with her mother, her bedtime stories. “What about Brer Rabbit? I heard about him at school today…”

“No.” her mother crossed her arms. “That’s the last story I would tell a child of mine! You are a descendant from a long line of African queens, honey. You want to be proud of your heritage, don’t you? Figures they’d teach that at that school of yours! Let me think…I know someone that has a story that’s actually worth telling. Anansi.”

“Anansi?” Alice repeated curiously, crossing her legs and propping up her chin with her fists.

Her mother smiled, suddenly reinvigorated by an unknown force. She pulled her legs onto the bed, facing her daughter. She cleared her throat and inhaled deeply. Alice was nearly at the edge of her seat, watching her mother’s arms raise, preparing to accompany her verbal story with dramatic arm gestures. It was as if her mother was teasing her by making her wait longer. Her mother’s lips parted as the first words spilled from them.

“Someone must have spiked the punch, man. Look at her. She’s out cold!”

“Momma?” Alice gave her mother a bewildered look. That sounded like a man’s voice!

“Maybe it’s like a black thing or something?” her mother lips were moving, but it was another woman’s voice.

“What is going on?!” Alice asked, glancing around the room wildly. Suddenly, one by one, the walls surrounding her began to melt similarly to a film that was held over the camera for too long.

“You doing a great job of stupidity, Mindy.” Her mother said in a light male voice. “That’s what wrong with the world today, ‘cause of nuts like you.”

Alice scrambled closer to her mother and looked her directly in the eyes, panicking. “Momma! What’s happening?!” she squealed, waving a hand rapidly in front of her mother’s face.

“Oh, blow me, Eric.” Her mother replied in the woman’s voice, staring back at her daughter with glassy lifeless eyes. “I didn’t mean anything by it, just saying…not like we know a lot of people of her kind…”

The walls had disappeared, leaving an unyielding blackness surrounding the bed. Alice clutched her mother in fear as the floor began to crumble away below the bed. “Momma!!!” she screamed, crying uncontrollably. “Help me! Don’t let me die!!”

“People of her kind?” her mother only replied in the man’s voice. “Really, Mindy. Your ignorance is showing.”

The bed now floated in space. Her mother suddenly clutched Alice’s shoulders with both hands, squeezing tightly. Alice’s face tightened as she winced in pain. “Momma…stop it…that hurts…stop…” she said, struggling weakly in her mother’s clutches. She tried to pry her mother’s fingers away from one of her shoulders, but the older woman held viselike grips on her daughter.

“Both of you shut the fuck up.” Her mother demanded in a new male voice, which was muffled. “Obviously, Dorothy here is sick. Anyone checked her pulse? See if she’s carrying a diabetic card or something? Does anyone know how to contact her aunt?”

“Momma, please!” Alice wailed desperately as her mother forcefully pushed her to the edge of the bed. Her eyes widened in fear as she glanced down into the yawning darkness that stretched below her.

“Er, genius? It’s not like she has pockets in that dress…” her mother quipped as she shoved her daughter over the edge. Alice’s mouth opened wide, but the scream never came. She could see her mother leaning over the side, quickly becoming a speck in the distance as the young woman plunged to an unknown fate. The voices that her mother projected earlier were now all around, echoing in her ears.

“…besides, we females have something called purses. Maybe you’ve heard of them.” The woman voice said sarcastically.

“Maybe she’s allergic to something here? Like the hay or something?” the muffled male voice suggested. “We need to find her purse.”

“I didn’t see her eat anything or sneeze or anything.” The other male voice said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“So you were watching her the entire time she was here…” the woman voice sneered accusingly.

“Guilty as charged, your honor.”

“Perv.”

“Hiss!! The cat bears her fangs! Getting a little green, huh Min?”

“Of her? Ms. Wallflower here? I’m insulted by the very idea. She’s like…how that saying goes…’living under a rock for years’. She probably doesn’t even know who Gene Simmons is!”

“But wouldn’t she listen to Earth, Wind, and Fire or something I don’t know…with soul?”

“Eric…” the other two voices said in unison.

“I’m just saying…”

“And you call me ignorant…”

A white light began to appear in the distance, growing exponentially as Alice approached it. She closed her eyes, letting her body go limp as she was engulfed by it. Suddenly, the song “Hot Stuff” thundered in her ears, as if someone had turned the music full volume. Her eyes slowly opened, fluttering from the sudden explosion of light. Her world was a Technicolor kaleidoscope until her eyes gradually focused on three beings standing over her. One was a vampire, dressed in shades, black suit and cape, while another was a girl with pigtails, clad in a Raggedy Ann costume. The third was someone whose head was covered by a large Darth Vader helmet and clad in a simply dark blue jump suit.

“Ummmm…” Alice moaned, caressing her forehead. Her whole body felt slightly numb, and her memories of what had happened earlier were fuzzy. However, one thought did immediately come to mind.

“Tea…” she moaned softly. “Where…is…she…?”

“Ah, Sleeping Beauty. Finally awake.” The Darth Vader guy said in a muffled voice, reaching for Alice’s face. “Gave us quite a scare there. You alright?”

Alice flinched as his hand drew near, a look of terror on her face. An image flashed in her mind, accompanied by vivid sensations. A man in a leather mask reaching towards her. Her body, weak and defenseless, pressed against the cold, hard earth. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Hey, hey…take it easy!” Darth Vader quickly retracted his hand, as if stung by an invisible insect. “Just trying to make sure you don’t have a fever or anything!”

“Yeah, you just fell out…and Derek just picked you up and carried you over here-” Raggedy Ann reported, a slight smirk on her face.

“After I caught you.” The vampire interrupted, tossing his cape over his shoulder with dramatic flair.

“He was all about to cry and stuff.” Raggedy Ann gushed, ignoring the vampire. “It was so romantic!”

“After I caught you.” The vampire declared, pulling his shades down his nose coolly to give Raggedy Ann an annoyed glare.

Romantic? Somehow, that word struck a chord of fear inside her. Romance? No, she could not have romance…not unless she was married! Allowing a man who was not her husband to even touch her was a sin that would be horribly punished by God. At least, that was what her Aunt always told her.

Slightly panicking, Alice tried to rise to a sitting position. Darth Vader gently grasped her hand and tried to assist the girl, but she quickly snatched it away, her eyes wide with alarm. Realizing how she was acting, Alice lowered her head in shame. “Sorry.” She mumbled, still slightly dazed from the sudden onslaught of the flashing lights and thundering bass of the music.

“It’s cool…” Darth Vader waved it off. “So, what’s the deal? Do you have diabetes or something? We could not find your purse…”

“No.” Alice said meekly as she shook her head slowly. She glanced around at her surroundings. The Ball was still in full swing, the music booming and the dance floor crowded with costumed students. A few other students were standing around the group of four, talking to each other and sipping punch from white styrofoam cups. A table covered by a white cloth served as her temporarily bed and glancing at the plates tossed on the floor around her told her that it was hastily converted from one of the serving tables.

Alice swung her legs over the table, wincing at the stiffness she felt in her back.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Raggedy Ann yelled over the music.

Alice nodded delicately. “I…I think so…so sorry for the inconvenience …”

“Hey, no harm, right guys?” the vampire said. “You seem like a cool customer...”

“Yeah.” Darth Vader agreed, his helmet shifting from side to side as he nodded. “Glad to see you without that gloomy look on your face all the time.”

A slight smile struggled at the corners of Alice’s mouth. She could not help it. For so many years, she thought the whole world was against her. But to find fellow students that were actually nice to her…it was the equivalent of the needle in the haystack. Still, she would never forget the one, true friend that had stuck with her through thick and thin.

“Tea.” She looked at the trio surrounding her. “Have you seen Tea?”

“Tea?” the vampire repeated, giving her a puzzled look and exchanging it with the other two. “Er…I can’t recall…”

“Tea?” Raggedy Ann cocked her head, rolling her eyes sideways as she searched her recent memory. “I…well, I haven’t seen her…”

“Is she dressed up?” Darth Vader asked, scanning the crowd on the dance floor.

“Yeah.” Alice nodded rapidly. “She dressed up like Daisy Duke from the TV show…”

Darth Vader and the vampire exchanged mischievous glances. “Really?” Darth Vader chuckled, imitating his namesake while rubbing the bottom of his chin gleefully. “Pray tell me where this ‘Tea’ can be located…I have quite the sight to…ahem…show her…”

“Is she even supposed to be here?” Raggedy Ann frowned, hands on her patchwork hips. “This is supposed to be a private affair…rsvp and stuff…”

“Cut it out, Mindy.” Darth Vader snapped. “You know a lot of other people brought their friends! Don’t be so hard on the girl.”

Alice bit her bottom lip, staring down at her hands. “I knew it was wrong…but…but I felt so alone…I could not come without her…”

Suddenly, the vampire burst into laughter, startling the other three. They regarded him with strange look, as he slowly regained his composure. “Sorry, guys…just struck me as funny…no offense Ms. Alice…but we always thought…that you didn’t have any friends…with everyone giving you a hard time and all…for things you couldn’t control.”

“C’mon, Eric man!” Darth Vader snapped angrily. “Wasn’t cool, man.”

“Look, I’m not laughing at the fact that she has no friends, Den.” The vampire defended himself. “It’s us, man. We’re the ones that-”

“You don’t believe me?” Alice interrupted, surprised at the anger that had submerged her like a tidal wave. Her whole body tensed as if on instinct, her hands balling into small brown fists. Her brown eyes narrowed into slits as she stared hard at Eric, as if trying to bore a hole inside of his head. The sudden fury she felt inside herself confused her emotions. On one hand, she was frightened by it. On the other, on a deeper more secret level, she relished in it.

“I have a friend!” she growled through clenched teeth. “And her name is Tea! And she’s…and she’s dancing out there! Just look…!”

With a trembling hand, she pointed towards the midst of the sea of gyrating bodies. The other three, with visual expressions of fear scrawled on their faces, followed her finger and nodded in unison.

“I…I think I see her…” Mindy said nervously, frantically glancing from where Alice was pointing to her face and back again.

“Yeah…me too.” Eric nodded, chuckling uneasily as he shielded his eyes from an imaginary sun. “So…what school is she from?”

He glanced at Alice, expecting an answer, but did not receive one. The young black woman was trembling uncontrollably, still pointing towards the dance floor, her eyes widen in fear. On the dance floor, the crowd parted, and he appeared, ambling towards her in a white wrinkled disco suit and slightly disheveled red hair, balancing two styrofoam cups as he clumsily evaded the dancing couples. It was Derek.

Her heart rate quickened to an unnatural rate as the lights became overwhelming to her senses. The flashes of mental images assaulted her mind with a unrelenting ferociousness. The man in the leather mask was clawing at her, touching her where she did not want him to touch. Her hands scratched and clawed at the cold earth as she tried to get away. Her mouth opening, screaming for him to stop.

Derek drew nearer, an uncharacteristic smile on his face as he waved at Alice.

Her mouth was open, her lips forming words, but no sound came out. The images would not stop. The leather faced man was tearing her clothes, and she could do nothing. Every blow she struck seemed useless. Her hands reached for the dark gray clouds in the sky, reaching up to the Kingdom of Heaven. Where was God? Why would He let this happen? She did nothing wrong! She did everything her Aunt had told her!

“H-H-H-Hi every-everyone!” Derek managed the stutter a greeting, blushing in embarrassment when he was in earshot. “Gl-gl-glad she’s up and-and about. H-H-How are-are you, Alice?”

Alice’s breath was trapped in her throat. Her heart seemingly stopped. The leatherfaced man was back.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered, sobbing softly. Fear overtook her body, as she scrambled off the table, falling to the floor. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” she continued to say over and over.

The other four looked on in shock. Derek was the first to react, dropping the cups he was carrying and rushing to her side. “A-A-Alice! W-w-what’s w-w-wrong?!”

Alice screeched as the leatherfaced man quickly squatted down and reached towards her. On impulse, she kicked at him, knocking him on the floor. Jumping to her feet, Alice mumbled, “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” repeatedly as she slowly backed away towards the dance floor.

“A-A-Alice!” Derek shouted, helped to his feet by Eric and Den. He gave chase.

Alice gasped as she saw the leatherfaced man rise from the floor, unharmed, and continued his pursuit of her. She had to get away. Frantically, she darted through the dancing crowd, dodging bodies. She was now driven by pure blind instinct and raw panic. Emerging from the other side of the crowd, she tripped and fell, hitting her head on the saw dusted floor. Dazed, she rose to her knees, her hands instinctively touching her forehead. She felt a huge welt growing slowly from where her head had hit the floor.

“E-E-E-Excuse…Get out the way!!” Derek yelled, pushing his way through the dancers. At that moment, the music stopped with a record scratch. Everyone’s attention was suddenly focused on the direction he was facing. As Derek forced his way through, he could see Alice slowly rising to her feet.

“A-A-A-Alice!” he cried. “S-s-stop t-t-this!”

Alice turned towards the sound of his voice, her lips trembling, her face frozen in fear as she fearfully backed away from him, towards the large barn doors. The leatherfaced man had made his way through the crowd with ease. Was there anything that could stop him?! Her back pressed against the barn door. She had to hide. If she hid, he would go away. He always went away.

“I’m sorry!” she cried as she turned and flung the barn doors open. The cold October air brushed against her as she took off, running as fast, far, and hard as she could.


*********Vendetta*********

*November 1, 1979*

Not even the combination of the throaty roar of Sheriff Kruger’s fiery red 1973 AMC Javelin or the throbbing lyrics of AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” could stir the sleepy town of Loomis after a holiday. Regina had free reign of the town’s streets, with not a single vehicle sharing them with her. With no one watching meant no leading by example. This meant no rules. She pressed the pedal to the floor, and watched the needle on the speedometer rise gradually as the lavish mansions lining the neighborhood on both sides slightly blurred together.

“Season ticket on a one-way ride!!” she sung along with the lead singer, swallowing a handful of Fruit Loops from the cereal box in the driver seat next to her. She always did this to expel nervous energy from her system. This was no time to be nervous. She was the sheriff of the town, and like Marshal Matt Dillon, she had a job to do. The hangover she had before hand was a distant memory, put down by the combination of aspirin and lots of sugar from coffee and dry cereal.

Her heart was racing. Admittedly, she was scared. A murder, in Loomis? Yes, she knew of the first murder that had taken place there. But it seemed like another lifetime…in fact, it practically was another lifetime. The sheriff before her was the arresting officer of the murderer, a black maid who worked for the Strodes, one of the most influential families in the town. She only knew about it from the local legend of “The Kings’ Curse”.

As Regina fishtailed left onto another street, she mentally scoffed. Like the myths of old, “the Kings’ Curse” was a pseudo-explanation of the coincidences of accidents that had befallen many of the townspeople that were linked to the murder case. She had not witnessed any of the accidents in her tenure, except one. Ms. Crane, while toiling in her elegant glass greenhouse one day, was nearly sliced to ribbons when the ceiling somehow shattered. It was a horrifying sight to behold when she and Deputy Greg were called to the scene. Blood was everywhere, and deep ghastly lacerations covered most of the woman’s body. It was a miracle that she did not bleed to death, even more amazing that she had not been driven mad from the pain. All she kept saying over and over was “The Curse is real!!” when she was placed in the ambulance and taken to the hospital in the next county over.

And now, Cleopatra King, the sister of the murderer, dead.

While her skepticism of the Curse waned slightly, her grounded instincts would not let it last long. She also found Deputy Greg’s suggestion to be a little hard to swallow as well. No matter how crazy someone was, they would never kill their own sister…would they?

She brought the Javelin down to 20 mph as she coasted onto Springwood Street. Her destination was drawing near. The houses on this street were especially elegant, practically 2-story architectural masterpieces. The crème de la crème of even the rich of Loomis lived in this area.

Maybe that’s why Mrs. King was killed? Race? All other motives could be ruled out. Every citizen of Loomis was wealthy. After all, the town was built as a retreat for them in the Midwestern isolation, as opposed to Connecticut, also known for their wealthy population. There were plenty of rich here, so singling out Mrs. King for a steal and kill was too much trouble for a robber. Then there was the sister thing, which she had high skepticism about. There was also the niece Ms. King had. Regina had met the young woman before at Sunday Services. She seemed very nice, a little too nice for the average teenager...almost suspicious even, as if she was hiding some dark secret. But she doubted the girl would kill her own aunt.

So who would gain from killing Mrs. King, race wise?

She frowned. The whole town? It was a horrible idea to consider, but she had heard snatches of conversations between the old fogeys of the Loomis Commission, the governing body of the town, when they thought no one was paying attention. They did not look on Mrs. King nicely, despite all the kindness and religious inspiration she was know to emanate. They wanted their Mayberry, their white picketed fences, and apple pie.

She gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Disgusting. But maybe she was jumping the gun a bit. She had not reviewed the crime scene just yet, so there might was another factor that she did not consider.

She slowed to a crawl and turned into Ms. King’s white paved driveway, which stretched up to her lavish red brick mansion. No matter how many of the houses she had visited over the few years as sheriff, she found herself marveling at the beauty of the structure. She pulled up to the gold-trimmed covered porch and cut off the engine. Taking in a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, clearing her mind. She needed to have a fresh mind and a fresh perspective for review of the crime scene.

“Popi…give me strength.” She closed her eyes and whispered, knowing her father was looking down from heaven.

Just as she opened the door, her CB radio began to crackle. “White Rabbit…Tweedle Dee to White Rabbit…come in, please!” a male voice frantically shouted.

Regina quickly reached for her CB speaker. “This is White Rabbit, over!” she declared and waited.

“Oh God…” ‘Tweedle Dee’ cried over the CB radio. “White Rabbit…oh God…he’s bleeding everywhere…won’t wake up..! Over!”

“Tweedle Dee…you’re gonna have to take it easy…tell me everything…over!”

There was a long pause before the radio cackled again. “I got…another phone call after you left…some of the kids…did not come back yesterday…so I went up to the barn...and…Jesus Christ…!”

“Tweedle Dee…take it slow…it’s alright…finish telling me what happened…”

“White Rabbit…I can’t…I can’t do this…I can’t-”

“Yes you can, officer…now tell me what the hell happened….”

“Okay…okay…I’m sorry…just…so much blood…went up to the Barn…saw some kids still there…sent them along…then I found…I found the kid…he was lying…in a pool of his…his own…blood!”

Regina listened intensely. “Tweedle Dee…need an ID, over!”

“White Rabbit…he’s cut…in the side…Jesus…someone carved him up like a…Thanksgiving turkey or something…it’s just a mess…”

“Who is he, goddamnit!? Over.”

There was another long pause before he answered again. “Found his billfold…Derek Peter Simmons…Derek Simmons…”

“Oh no…” Regina slowly, with trembling hands, switched off the CB radio. The realization of the situation sunk in with the force of a sledgehammer.

“We have ourselves a serial killer…” she said quietly to herself. “Interesting…”