Paragon vs. Plastica
by Cobalt Jade (cobaltjade@aol.com)
Chapter 14: Gambit
Cinnabar walked slowly across the factory floor, Sabreglass held high
before her. Her head was clearing from its fog. She glanced right and
left: disused machinery, loading docks, mannequins. In the far distance
was a brighter area lit with fluorescent lights. Her memories of the
factory were vague, but she knew there was a work area, a warehouse, and a
lab, and that had to be the lab. If Plastica was anywhere, she had to be
there.
She began to walk towards it, keeping alert for Plastica's henchmen and
women, but they were either hiding, or occupied elsewhere. But she had
little advantage in surprise. Plastica in the open was as vulnerable as
she ever was; her talents lay in manipulation and disguise. "Come on out,
Plastica!" she shouted. "Don't be a coward like Polly Mehr was!"
Spotlights switched on above her. Cinnabar squinted, shielding her
eyes; but her taunt had worked. Plastica was sensitive about her days as a
mousy grad student. "I am no coward," she growled.
"Then let me see you!"
The spotlights dimmed to normal, revealing Plastica as she stood on a
catwalk some twelve feet above. She looked at once determined and insane.
Her hair was shoulder-length now and magenta-pink, and she wore a bright
red vinyl jumpsuit with four-inch spike heels. The jumpsuit had been
unzipped almost to her navel, exposing the inner halves of her taut,
spherical breasts. In a photo shoot she might have looked stunning, but in
real life the effect was freakish and cold.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you and magenta don't go together?"
Cinnabar said.
Plastica snarled. "Don't overestimate yourself because you escaped my
Maze."
"And don't overestimate yourself, because you can't escape from this
factory." Cinnabar raised her sword and pointed it at her. With its powers
she could make short work of the former plastics expert, but she needed
something she had. "I want the records on every mannequin you made,
Plastica, who they were and what happened to them. And I want them now."
"A threat?" Plastica said amusedly. She feigned a yawn, fanning her
open mouth with scarlet-tipped fingers. "Ho-hum. Where have I heard that
before?" She quickly reached behind her for some large weapon. "I can use
this, and very easily; I can also flood the whole of the factory floor with
my mannequin gas. And I think I will." Her hand moved.
"Watch!" Cinnabar commanded. She whirled Sabreglass before her, letting
it act like a spinning shield... in effect, a giant fan. Plastica danced
back from the cool rush of air that blasted her, skittering on her heels.
"You might not care about your lackies, but you care about yourself."
Plastica cursed, and by that Cinnabar knew she was not immune to her own
creation. She glanced briefly at the computer laptop before her. But what
her hand did, Cinnabar could not tell.
"Will you come down easily, or do I have to go up and get you?" Cinnabar
said.
"Do you know my mannequins are recyclable?" Plastica said.
"Stop delaying, Plastica," Cinnabar said. "What does that have to do
with anything?"
"I wrote it into the formula," Plastica continued, as if she hadn't
heard. "Like soda bottles and margarine tubs. Do you know what happens at
a recycling center? Those objects are put in a machine that grinds them up
very fine, into a sort of plastic flour that can later be melted. The
colors don't matter, but the grade does. Most anything can be recycled
these days. Telephone cases, toys, patio furniture. Even mannequins."
A horrible noise filled the air, like a thousand woodchippers going at
once. Cinnabar spun around to see the machine Plastica was pointing at, a
twenty-foot high monstrosity with its warning lights spinning... an
industrial-strength plastic grinder. And her still-mannequinized friends,
suspended on hooks from the ceiling, were headed straight towards it.
#
Cal ducked ARTIE through the opening on his right, into the main part of
the factory. Chrystar followed, a grim expression on her transparent face;
but as he watched she altered, her crystalline flesh becoming less shiny
and more solid, until she was as tannish-pink as the factory's stockpiled
mannequins were. "The better to hide here, my dear," she quipped. She did
look very much like a mannequin.
Cal was about to go forward when a steady, throbbing shriek suddenly
filled the air. "Uh oh, what's that?"
Whatever it was, it didn't sound good, but to their left was a more
urgent situation. Darlene lay plastered against a tank, trapped in some
kind of clear, gluelike substance as the black he remembered from the
van trained a weapon on her. "That's Phanxine, if I'm not mistaken,"
Chrystar said. "But who's that with her?"
"Darlene -- Cosmic Girl. The team member ALOSH sent from the East
Coast. She's been helping us."
Chrystar started forward. "I'm going to have a word with Phanxine."
"But the gas --" Cal said. He hovered in place, caught between the
retreating crane and Darlene's plight.
"... has no effect on me. You follow the girls, see where they went.
I'll take care of this."
Cal flitted ARTIE away, following the plasticized superheroines.
#
Darlene cringed against the side of the tank. *Not again,* she thought
resignedly. She'd been plastered, petrified, paralyzed, gilded, and
frozen... now she was going to be a human-shaped decoration for the
factory floor, her plasticized body squashed there forever. The black
girl's grin widened as she struggled. Some lackeys followed cruel orders
without thinking, but she really seemed to relish them. Chuckling, she
cocked her weapon, letting a fresh flow of gas hiss from the reservoir tank
up into the barrel. "Any last words?"
"No so fast!" One of the mannequins came to life, leaping out at
Darlene's captor and striking her in the side. The black crumbled
with an *uff,* the rifle clattering loudly on the concrete floor. The
mannequin stepped over her, grinning broadly. "You're in a bit of s sticky
situation, aren't you?"
"Chrystar," Darlene breathed. "Lori told me about you. You must have
met Cal."
Chrystar nodded. "But Plastica snagged the others before he could
restore them. She used a crane to carry them away; he's following them
now. He gave me the antidotes for safekeeping." The black started to
stir, groaning, and groped for her rifle; Chrystar kicked it away from her
without a backward glance. "Don't try it again, Phanxine, or next time it
will be your head." She examined Darlene's bonds. "Hmm, looks like some
kind of superglue."
"It's chrysteel. The antidote should be in the blue can. It's probably
the same one he used on you." Chrystar opened the pouch she had slung
around her neck and removed the dissolvant. She opened it and sniffed,
making a face, then sprayed Darlene's encased shoulder. Darlene steeled
herself as the chrysteel began to smoke, but all she felt was a slight
warmth. The solid mass began to soften. "Where's Cinnabar?"
"She made it through the maze, but Plastica tried to trick her with a
replica of herself. I couldn't hear because I was trapped in the
chrysteel, but she seemed to be hypnotized. She snapped herself loose at
the last minute just before an iron cage came down. It would have sprayed
her, but she ran out into the factory. She's looking for Plastica now, I
guess."
Darlene saw Phanxine rise behind Chrystar's back. "Careful! She's
going for the hose!"
Chrystar whipped around to see Phanxine's hand on the nozzle, She made a
feint for her, knocking her down as she lifted it, but Phanxine still
managed to turn the valve. A weak stream gushed out, coming very close to
Darlene's boots, but Chrystar already had closed her hand over Phanxine's,
and Chrystar was stronger.
But Phanxine had other tricks in mind. With a yell she snatched the
pouch from Chrystar's neck, breaking the cord, and took off across the
factory floor. On the way she picked up her gas rifle, making for the
shrink-wrapped mannequins where Plastica's other henchwoman had hidden.
Darlene guessed an ammunition cache -- or a means of communication -- had
been stashed there.
"Shit!" Chrystar swore, peeling off after her. With a herculean effort
Darlene tore herself free from the dissolving chrysteel, noting parts of
her costume tore free as well. The antidotes were the only ones they had;
they'd taken all of them, leaving none behind at HQ. Pushing her left
breast back into place, she followed.
Phanxine had been making for the mannequins, but soon changed her mind.
She leapt up on the conveyer belt of a nearby machine, making to smash the
bottles against its hull. Acting on instinct, Darlene brought her hand
down on the nearest switch. The conveyer belt jerked into motion, sending
Phanxine tumbling off her feet. She hit the belt flat on her face, the
precious containers rolling from her grasp. Chrystar hurriedly rescued
them before they could hit the floor. "Got 'em," she said.
Stunned, Phanxine blinked. She tried to raise herself up on her arms,
but it was too late. Something within the machine had grabbed her legs and
feet, pulling her inside. "No! No! Make it stop!" she pleaded, fingers
clawing on the rubber. "It's got me. It's --" Her eyes went wide.
Shrieking insanely, she was drawn inside. Muffled screams continued for a
while as ratchets turned and pistons popped, then grew fainter, and
stopped. Only the mechanical noises remained.
"Well, that was certainly spectacular," Chrystar said conversationally.
"Should we go down to the other end, and see what's become of her?"
Darlene shrugged nonchalantly, even though she feared Phanxine had been
really mangled. They walked around the machine to a small, square opening
curtained by hanging black strips. They didn't have to wait long. In a
few seconds the nude, shrink-wrapped body of Phanxine came head-first
through the curtain, thumping helplessly down the short rollered bed like a
chocolate-brown grub. Darlene was pleased to see she had been tightly
packaged in dozens of yards of thin plastic sheeting, her arms trapped
against her sides. Faint wheezing sounds came from within the transparent
cocoon as she struggled, bound legs thrusting helplessly. What remained of
her clothing sprayed out of a slot in the machine's side.
Chrystar grabbed a utility knife and sliced a small breathing slit under
her nostrils. "Behave," she said lightly. "We'll be back for you
shortly."
"Mmph! Mmph!" was all Phanxine could say in return. Her eyes rolled
with dread toward the invoiced mannequins.
"Yes, we just might sell you with the rest," Chrystar said. She and
Darlene ran in the direction Cal had gone in.
#
"Let's see if you can save them, Cinnabar!" Plastica laughed.
Cinnabar spun around, acting on instinct, and let Sabreglass pull her up
and forward. Her friends' lives came first; Plastica would have to be
dealt with later. The figures had been arranged in two rows, on two tracks
approaching the funnel from opposite directions. It was clear they would
meet in the middle and drop their victims then. She saw Noelani, Shana,
Allison and Lori... but where was Gina? And how had Lori been released
from the water-filled snowglobe?
Something exploded to her right in a puff of pink gas. She swerved,
narrowly missing it. Plastica was firing at her! The rifle hadn't been a
rifle at all, but a sort of bazooka that fired shells of the gas. She
turned her head briefly to see Plastica firing off another shot, her
perfect face contorted with a crazy hate. It was clear she would have to
run the gauntlet to save her friends, and risk being turned into a
mannequin herself.
She zipped back and forth as the shells exploded; the only way she could
hope to avoid them was by facing Plastica and moving backwards. Meanwhile,
the statues were approaching rapidly.
Then, movement from the floor. It was Cal, followed by and Darlene and
Gina. "Up here!" she shouted. She sounded coarse and undignified, but she
had to be loud to carry over the noise of the plastic grinder. There was
no reason for anyone to be cool and collected right now.
ARTIE zipped up to the ceiling, Cal searching desperately for a way to
stop the cranes. The little robot's laser fired repeatedly, trying to
damage the mechanism. It hadn't been designed for assault, only repair.
The gas grenades continued to fire, keeping Cinnabar from coming nearer.
Plastica knew better than to waste her shots at a robot, however.
"I'll get her," Gina mouthed, running across the floor to search for a
way onto the catwalk. Darlene, meanwhile, ripped off the grinder's
mechanical panel and began to probe inside.
Cinnabar dodged another grenade, this one sending her moving backwards.
To her relief she saw one crane mechanism halt with a jerk, blue sparks
flying from its motor. The capture tong was half-open, leaving Lori
swinging precariously at the funnel's edge, Cal hovering concernedly before
her.
"Cal!" she shouted, lobbing the grenades off with her sword. "The other
crane!"
But Cal still hesitated. "The antidote," he said at last. "I gave it
to Chrystar... she has it!"
"Never mind," Cinnabar shouted. "Stop the others!"
Cal backed up and spun around as Shana's tong slowly opened. The
plasticized superheroine began to fall, outstretched toes entering the
funnel's mouth. Cal rammed her hard as she dropped, sending her bouncing
onto the lip of the funnel. She tottered there for a heartrending second,
arms and legs evenly balanced, and finally tumbled down... outside the
edge, to the factory floor, where Darlene moved in to catch her. Looking
into the mouth Cinnabar shuddered; she saw banks of rotating drums with
interlocking teeth moved up and down the shaft like giant lawnmowers. At
the bottom was a horizontal grinder, a spinning ring lined with more teeth.
It was clear that anything... or anyone... that fell in would have been
pulverized almost instantly.
"Got her!" Darlene said. She propped Shana against the machine and
returned to her examination of the panel.
"Don't bother with a switch. Just stop it!" Cinnabar yelled. Allison
was swinging up now, her plastic face composed in peaceful slumber,
ignorant of the fate that awaited her. Cinnabar had been too busy to
respond to her frantic mental calls, but she did now.
|| What's happening? What's going on? ||
|| You don't want to know, || Cinnabar said diplomatically. With a cry
she threw Sabreglass at the rolling track, jamming it to a standstill but
leaving her flightless, and stranded on top of the grinder. Allison, Lori,
and Noelani continued to dangle twelve feet above her, tempting targets if
Plastica decided to change weapons.
"Get the antidote, Cal!" Cinnabar ordered. "And stop Plastica if you
can!"
"All right," Cal said. He was still reluctant to leave Lori, but moved
off. Plastica's mouth opened wide as the tiny robot dove straight at her,
all its weapons... the drills, cutters and saw... extended. She gaped,
then her eyes narrowed and she continued to pump out the grenades, the only
weapon she had. One of the canisters shot past ARTIE to hit Lori., the
impact swinging her backwards in an explosion of pink gas. The tong moved
slightly, loosing its grip on her arm. With horrified eyes Cinnabar saw
her begin to fall.
*No!* She dove through the cloud and caught Lori's left ankle as she
tumbled headfirst into the grinder. She hung there, suspended, from
Cinnabar's fist, head suspended a body's length above the rotating teeth.
Cinnabar breathed hard; it had been close. Several gunshots came from
below, but when she looked Plastica was gone, and so was ARTIE.
She tried to draw Lori up. Plastica's mannequins were designed to be
light; they should have been no problem for her, a superheroine, to lift.
But her arm was so sluggish. Her vision blurred and she couldn't even rise
to her knees. *What's happening to me? Why do I feel so... slow?*
The truth dawned with awful clarity. *The gas. I've been dosed.*
*Goddess, not that...*but the chemical was fast taking affect, a rigid
popping and tightening effect all over her body. She saw the skin of her
hands began to grow hard and shiny, evening out in tone to a bland ivory
beige. Her grip remained firm on Lori's ankle, but her other muscles were
fast failing her. She was losing mass, and with her legs no longer acting
as counterbalance, she began to slip forward, into the funnel. She tried
to call for help, but her lips could no longer form the words.
|| Hold on Cinn! || Allison's mental voice said, having sensed her
plight || As long as have some control over your body you'll be all right.
||
But she was fast losing it, her body becoming more and more rigid. Her
head grew light and blackness fuzzed her vision. A strange erotic warmth
made her tingle all over as her head slowly dipped over the edge.
Suddenly a utility hatch opened at the bottom of the shaft, and a head
of brown curly hair poked through... Darlene! Her face registered
surprise, then without hesitation, she climbed aside. She stretched
herself up in the center of the bottommost tier, in the middle of the
spinning ring. With her bare hands she grabbed one of the moving blades
and, bracing her legs, held it back!
The machine made a horrible noise as the rotating drums slowed, jerking
now and then in spasmic motions. *She's strong,* Cinnabar thought in
wonder. Sparks flew inside the machine as its gears jammed. Cursing
audibly now, Darlene pulled harder. The ring slowly moved out of
alignment, sending the others out of balance. The machine was dying, but
it was still capable of maiming. An orgasmic rush poured through
Cinnabar's rigid body as she felt herself losing consciousness, and begin
to fall...
#
Cinnabar opened her eyes. Her body was tingling again, but it wasn't
erotic... rather it was the pins-and-needles sensation of an arm or a leg
that had fallen asleep. Unpleasant, but bearable. Slowly she stretching,
noting she had her normal skin color and range of motion once again.
Darlene lowered the antidote. "Thank you," Cinnabar said. "That was...
close." Gratefully she rubbed her restored flesh.
Darlene grinned girlishly. Her costume was in tatters, but compared to
the nude or near-nude state of everyone else, it didn't matter much. "I've
stopped aircraft and trains before, but never a plastic grinder." She
looked at her hands, which were still manicured and undamaged. "Hmm...
seems like I've become stronger. I wonder if the Mok'tn had anything to do
with it."
"Good thing if they did." Cinnabar gave her a hug. She still didn't
believe they were all in one piece. Plastica had proved a deadlier foe
than they had foreseen.
A series of high-pitched shrieks drew their attention. Gina had
captured Plastica and was holding her prisoner, carrying her across the
floor in a bearhug with her arms pinned at her waist. ARTIE followed,
claws clutching the laptop Plastica had been so protective of. Her long,
lean legs kicked the air helplessly, but she couldn't escape. She glared
at Darlene and Cinnabar with white-hot rage.
"Shut up," Gina said simply.
Plastica spat out a torrent of curses, twisting like an oil-coated cobra. Gina's only response was to hold her more tightly, so the model's
face actually grew blue from lack of oxygen. "Want to trade places, Cosmic
Girl?"
"With pleasure, " Darlene said, and put a similar hold on Plastica as
Gina finished spraying the others. The shiny rigid flesh of Shana faded to
normal skin; dead eyes became moist, blinked, and the superheroine erupted
into full motion once again, stepping forward with a sigh of relief. For
Lori, Allison, and Noelani the change manifested itself as cracks in their
painted finishes. In seconds their shiny outer shells had splintered,
falling from them in flakes as they stood and stretched. Everyone began
talking all at once... Lori having a very emotional conversation with
ARTIE, which spooked Cinnabar until she remembered who controlled him.
Most of them had only a vague idea of what had happened. "Last thing I
remembered, I was in Polly Jean's -- Plastica's -- condo," Noelani said,
shrugging off the rope that had bound her. "The gas came out of the
doorframe and... everything was like a dream, after that."
"A nightmare," Lori said, shuddering. She looked around in vain for
something to cover herself with.
"Not me," Gina said. "I was aware of every moment." She gave Plastica a
look of sheer venom which was echoed by Shana, who out of all them had
probably suffered the most.
Plastica continued to struggle and curse, trying to kick poke Darlene in
the shins with her high spiked heels. Darlene loosed her grip and shifted
her around, pinning the model's wrists at the small of her back with one
hand while the other arm gripped her in a headlock. "Quiet," she said, and
increased the pressure. Plastica sputtered into silence, her breath coming
in strangled pants. Her eyes rolled with a mixture of defiance and fear.
"So what do we do with her?" Gina said, jerking her thumb.
The eyes of all went cold. Plastica and her henchmen and women would
eventually be delivered to justice; it was due process of the law, after
all. But somehow, that didn't seem enough for what she had done to them.
Cinnabar picked up her sword. She went over to stand before the former
plastics expert, letting Plastica see she was in full control. "As I said,
Plastica," Cinnabar said evenly, "You're going to give us the records on
every mannequin you've made and where they've been sold, as well as where
you've got your formulas locked up."
"No!" Plastica shrieked defiantly. "Why should !?"
*Why should you indeed,* Cinnabar thought grimly. Plastica knew she was
going to prison, and the willing disclosure of her records wouldn't count
for much in a plea bargain, if there could even be a plea bargain.
"She won't talk." Lori shook her head.
"I'll make her," Darlene said. To Cinnabar's shock she slipped her hand
inside Plastica's jumpsuit, playing with the taut, shiny globe of her
almost triple-D breast.
Plastica gasped, flushing the same color as her hair. "Stop it!"
"Just checking the quality of the silicon you've got in there," Darlene
said in a playful, yet sinister tone.
"You can't do that! I'll..."
"You'll what?" Darlene continued to grin, now feeling up the other
breast. Plastica grit her teeth and tossed her head, but Darlene held her
arms pinioned behind her, the position keeping her chest thrust out and
vulnerable. "Anyway, I think you like it."
There was no denying it. Plastica's nipples, now bared, were becoming
painfully hard under the teasing, and so was her breathing. Darlene's lips
brushed her neck and in a seductive tone she said, "Did anyone ever tell
you about me? Darlene, Cosmic Girl, once the willing slave of the Mok'tn?"
"N-n-n no.." Plastica sputtered.
"They had a device called the molecular manipulator that was capable of
transforming organic matter into inorganic matter, and back again," Darlene
said. "Instant statues. Silver, glass, stone, you name it. To make a
long short, they eventually transferred its powers into me. I'm a
living molecular manipulator now, Plastica, and I can change human flesh
into any other substance I want. Especially when I get aroused."
Plastica gave a squeal as Darlene's fingers pinched her nipple. Then,
before the horrified yet fascinated eyes of the Team, she shimmered and
became transparent, her lips poised on shriek that dissolved into nothing
as her face literally fell, blending into the ten or twelve gallons of
water her body had become. And just as suddenly she lost bodily cohesion
altogether, pouring out of her catsuit in a noisy splash...
... and was herself again, panting hard in mingled fear and shock.
"Hmm, I didn't know I could do that," Darlene grinned.
"Careful," Cinnabar warned, knowing all about Darlene's strange power
and how uncontrolled she said it could be. Yet she didn't protest
Plastica's treatment too much.
"How'd you like being water, Plastica?" Darlene said. Plastica's look
said she didn't like it all, her eyes begging for Darlene to let her go.
She was naked and shivering now, her catsuit and boots lying empty on the
floor.
"Your records," Cinnabar said firmly.
"Let me go and I'll get them together for you," Plastica said weakly,
jerking her head in the direction of her lab.
"No; we'll do that honor," Cinnabar said, foreseeing another trick.
"Just tell us where they are."
Plastica's mouth grew surly. "They're all over the place. How can I
tell you every -- oh!" as Darlene began fondling her again. She thrashed
mightily, but as before, she couldn't escape. "What are you doing!" she
gasped. "My feet. I can't --" She looked down, her eyes going wide. The
Team stared with her, at the lower parts of her legs. Her slim, shapely
calves were darkening in color, becoming rough in texture... she was
turning to stone from the feet up!
"NOOOO!" Plastica wailed, trying to run, but by now she was firmly fixed
in place. From the knees down, she looked like she wore a pair of gray
boots. Cursing, she clutched her thighs and tried to move her legs
manually, but nothing happened. She was rooted to the floor as if glued
there.
"Wait, that's not stone," Chrystar said. "That's..."
"... lead," Darlene finished. "Heavier than gold but not quite as
fine. I don't think you deserve to be some glittering, gleaming art deco
decoration, Plastica. Cold, ugly lead is more your nature."
"No, no," Plastica wailed as the transformation crept up her thighs.
Her knees were frozen as a slight crouch but her hips still had mobility;
she thrust them back and forth like a couch dancer's, seeking, uselessly,
to escape. But there was little she could do. In another second the
transformation had claimed her sex, making of it a cold metal slot that
might have accepted coins, if she'd been positioned upside down.
"Where are your records, Plastica?" Cinnabar repeated.
Plastica's perfect lips worked helplessly as the transformation crept up
her abdomen. Her eyes bugged out as her silicon became cold metal
domes, with battleship nipples that looked like they could fire heavy-armor
projectiles. Cinnabar was reminded of the tiny figures of wizards and
warriors her friends used to play Dungeons and Dragons with. "The
E drive on the laptop!" she shrieked. "The password's BH13W98A2F9. That's
where they are. PLEASE!"
Noelani went to investigate. "I see them," she said, but glanced up
suspiciously. "Are you sure these are the right ones? I saw them before
in Sexateria, but these don't look as complete."
"They are, they are!" Plastica shrieked.
"Think she's telling the truth?" Cinnabar asked.
"Hmm, I don't know..." Darlene answered thoughtfully. She lifted her
hands from the villainess's exposed flesh, halting the transformation.
Plastica presented a bizarre as she stood there, a woman encased in
a strapless, dull-colored jumpsuit. But she truly was lead. She sobbed
loudly for some minutes. Not one of the superheroines was moved, however.
"Turn me back," she sobbed. "I can't... " Her eyes rolled in terror at
her new body. "This is... UGLY!"
"You'd rather be plastic like your victims were?" Darlene said. "Or
something worse?"
"Yeah! Like a turd," Gina shouted.
"A chewed up wad of gum that's been stepped on," Lori contributed.
"Paper," Shana said. "And I think I've got lighter fluid and a
match..."
"No, no!" Plastica screeched, between mingled gulps and tears.
"Why the tears?" Darlene demanded. "Isn't this what you always wanted
to be, a helpless inanimate object like your mannequins?"
"Not like this!" Plastica wailed.
"And you will stay like that until you tell us where your formulas are
hidden," Cinnabar said firmly.
Plastica continued her hysterics, but it was clear to everyone she was
stalling. "Let me give you more persuasion," Darlene said. She moved her
hand to the back of Plastica's neck and seemed to concentrate. Plastica
screeched as three-inch metal spikes erupted out of her lead body, looking
for all the world like an iron maiden in reverse. If she'd been wearing
clothing, it would have been ripped to shreds. Seemingly in shock, she
felt one of the spikes with her thumb, a bead of blood. She
wailed. Before she had been unlovely, now she was hideous.
"There's more," Darlene said. She touched the villainess's arms. In
another second they, too, were lead, frozen in a dramatic position before
her, with more of the spikes erupting from her hands, popping out in
sequence up her forearms to her shoulders.
"It's in the suitcase! There, by the door!" Plastica screamed.
Cinnabar looked and did see a satchel packed and sitting where she had said
it was... preparation for a quick getaway, perhaps.
Gina bounded over and opened it up, nodding as she shuffled through the
papers. "They're here."
"Now make it stop!" Plastica begged. The lead was now lapping her chin,
the sharp spikes forming a metal ring around her neck similar to a
bulldog's collar.
Suddenly they heard a bang and felt a rush of hot air. If Plastica had
been hysterical now, she was ballistic. Kylasha the Damned had arrived and
stood in the middle of the floor, her entry vortex swirling behind her.
This work is copyrighted 2002-2003 by Cobalt Jade (Cobaltjade@aol.com).
This work may be be freely distributed over electronic media provided no
fee is charged for its use. Charging a fee for this story, or publishing
without author credit or this notice violates my copyright.
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