The following is a work of fiction created and written by Jim Robert Bader, with ideas and suggestions provided by my good friends, Bill Guiroff and Kate Norcross (the REAL-life Katie). No other persons living or dead are intended to be reflected here (save for purposes of obvious parody and/or social commentary), and any resemblance to other creations of popular fiction are purely coincidental. This property is the work of Jim Robert Bader and is a rough draft copy, to be revised and altered should I one day find a friendly publisher willing to help me out. It is presented here for the express purpose of gaining friendly recognition and/or creative commentary and may not be duplicated or published elsewhere without express permission of the author. Mar-Sa The Ultra-Girl Book One/Part Two The Girl of Tungsten Steel by Jim Robert Bader September 4, 2001 (First Copyrights Only) 00000000 000 000 000 vvvvvvv 000 000VVVVVVVVVVVVVV000 000 VVVVVVVVVV 000 000 VVVVVV 000 000 VVVV 000 000 VV 000 00000000 Mar-Sa, The Ultra-Girl by Jim Robert Bader Book One/Part Two The Girl of Tungsten Steel Chapter Thirteen. Unbound "You wanna explain things again to me, Chief?" Inspector Hiram Turlough growled at his boss, "You want us to back off this case and let the Feds take it over?" "I already told you," Lieutenant John Chin of Homicide replied from the other side of his desk, "We've been given the official word that it's a matter of National Security and they've asked us nicely for our full cooperation..." "Bullshit!" Turlough spat, "I got a dozen of witnesses, I got a stiff in the morgue who's been crushed like a Raggedy Anne doll..." "Not anymore," Lieutenant Chin replied, "It's been impounded as evidence, along with all the X-rays and Forensics tests. What part of this are you not getting, Hiram? They're the Feds, they do this kind of stuff for a living!" "It's still Bullshit," Turlough snarled, "I don't care if they come in here with a Congressional Subpoena, this is still our case and we got a murderer out there who's walking the streets..." "That ain't what I heard," Detective Sarah Littlebird, Turlough's partner, spoke up with an amused lilt to her voice, "Eyewitnesses say our perp flew the coop literally taking half of our evidence with her..." "Is that supposed to be a joke?" Chin asked, "Because if it is, I'm not laughing. C'mon, Hiram, you know the score. You've been with the force long enough to figure out that you can't win against city hall, much less Washington. Just the fact that they're interested in a routine mugging ought to tell you you're not gonna get anywhere being a pain about this. Just accept the inevitable and leave the lone wolf act for the streets..." "I ain't never left the streets, John," Turlough thundered, "Unlike you when you took that cushy desk job..." "Yes, and I intend to keep it, thank you very much," Chin stiffly replied, "You could have had a desk of your own if you didn't keep making so much noise and offending the wrong people..." "At least I still got my dignity and my sense of justice," Turlough imperiously declared. "Yes, and you can take both of them with you when you shut the door," Chin pointed at same in a manner that left one in no doubt that it was an order, "And so help me, if I get word that you're still following this case, I'll pin your badge to my wall right next to your hide, so beat it! Go out and catch some real bad guys!" Sarah waited until her fuming partner had followed her out of the office before saying, "Is that what a broken marriage sounds like? I'd heard when partners split up like that..." "Don't get started on me, Missy," Turlough warned, "I ain't giving up that easily. Nobody comes onto my turf and makes a mockery of the Justice system, and Feds or no Feds, I ain't giving this up until I get to the bottom of this thing, one way or another." "As my grandfather would probably tell you," Sarah smirked, "You should always be careful what you wish for..." "No witticisms out of you, young lady," Turlough snapped, "I'm old enough to be your grandfather, and you should show more respect for your elders." "Whatever you say," Sarah said unrepentantly, "I'm just thinking of the kind of APB we'd have to post on this subject. Not many six foot blondes with bronzed skin wearing funny costumes in this town, nossiree..." "Oy," Turlough rolled his eyes, "What did I ever do to deserve getting a Yenta for my partner? You want to get anywhere on the Force, young lady, you need to get a better attitude than that." "Like you?" Sarah asked, "Like you always say, follow the example set by your senior partner..." "Your old man must be rolling in his grave to have a daughter like you on the warpath," Turlough groaned, "Can't you be serious about a case for once? A man is dead, for pity's sakes..." "Sounds to me like he wasn't much of a man," Sarah replied, "Attacking a helpless woman with a knife." "Doesn't matter if he was with the angels or the devil incarnate," Turlough chided, "Our job is to catch 'em, we leave the judging to the system." "So, partner," Sarah mused in more serious tones, "What do you propose to do if our mysterious golden girl puts in another appearance?" "Find and arrest her, of course," Turlough answered, "And if she gives us any trouble, then to hell with the Feds, she'll learn to respect the system." "Assuming that guns and handcuffs will even work with her," Sarah cautioned, "And if she really can fly..." "What, you've been smoking some loco weed in your peace pipe?" Turlough said dismissively, "Things like that can't happen in real life." "You know, it's kind of funny," Sarah mused. "What's funny, Pocahontas?" Turlough snapped. "Sorry, she's Iroquois, I'm part Apache," Sarah corrected, "And I was just thinking how every time someone says that in a movie it turns out to be a reverse prophesy, so you mind if I quote that line back at you?" Turlough's reply to that was anything but kosher as he added a few terse words about what a mistake it was for the Goya to give their women voting rights, but Sarah took it in good stride as they headed out in pursuit of another investigation entirely unrelated to anything even nominally paranormal, certain that she' would get to quote her training officer's words back at him before the day got any longer... "Okay, I've checked it out and there doesn't seem to be anything out of place," Mark said, "But the weird thing is that somebody repaired the front door, which you kinda wrecked with your hasty exit, Marsha..." "Ah...yes," Mar-Sa replied, "I guess I...wasn't entirely thinking when it happened..." "Weird is the word for it all right," Phoebe said as stared at the front porch of the townhouse that she shared with her absent roommate, "I wonder if Katie got back early from her vacation? She could afford to have it repaired, but not this quickly." "Oh?" Mar-Sa asked, "There is a problem with that?" "It's been my experience that when you call for a repair guy they usually fit you into their schedule a week or two down the line," Mark explained, "This place got trashed a couple of days ago but now it looks as good as new, like somebody with a lot of clout waved a magic wand and got some magic gnomes to fix it." "Unlikely," the now-cloaked probe-droid said aloud, which Phoebe still found more than a little unnerving, being the only one present who could not see the hovering top when it was visually shielded. "You really miss your roommate, don't you, Phoebe?" Mar-Sa said, sensing the mood-shifts of her somewhat more demure companion, "I think that I would like very much to meet her..." "Hey, you'd love Katie, Marsha," Phoebe smiled, "She's quite a character, believe me. I kinda wish I'd been able to go with her on her trip to Japan...but then...if I had, I wouldn't have met you, so I guess it all worked out..." "Japan?" Mark said, "Your friend is rich?" "She does all right," Phoebe replied, "She's a software consultant, and pretty well paid from what I've been able to gather. We met six years ago when she took me in and got me off the streets, helped me get a job and everything...and...well...we kinda got really close to each other after a couple of years of living together. I've been with her in bad times, like after she divorced her husband, and I've seen lots of other guys come and go in her life, but...well...with us it's always been special..." "Only now you're got Marsha," Mark pointed out, not wanting to sound too bitter on that subject. "Yeah, and I guess in a way I've kinda been cheating on Katie," Phoebe said sadly, "Which is why I wanna explain things to her just as soon as she gets back from whatever business she's doing. Well, guess we'd better go inside and see if the place is just like we remember, and if anybody's looking...you got your disguise up, Marsha?" "Right," Mar-Sa nodded, then closed her eyes and began to concentrate her power. "Disguise?" Mark asked, only to blink as he saw the outline of the golden woman's body shift and blur before his eyes, and then he would have sworn that her image became double-overlapped with a second Mar-Sa, this one shorter and with a normal skin complexion dressed in regular street clothes, which prompted him to say, "Whoah..." "Yeah," Phoebe sniffed, "Said the same thing first time I saw her do that..." "It's a Telepathic illusion that I have been learning how to create," Mar-Sa explained, her voice the only thing unchanged about her somewhat less intimidating new incarnation, "It takes some effort to maintain this for any great length of time, but a few minutes shouldn't be too much of a strain." "An illusion?" Mark looked her up and down before saying, "Pretty neat...even I'm having trouble seeing the real you under all that." "This Unit concurs," the probe-droid observed, "Apprentice Mar-Sa's camouflage field is most effective." "What?" Phoebe blinked, "You mean he can see it too?" "How can that be?" Mark asked, "'Zak ain't exactly telepathic." "Actually, the principle is kind of similar to that of a holographic projection," Mar-Sa explained, "I create the image and project it into my own body aura, and it causes the field around me to shift so that visible light itself is affected. I figure that I won't just have to pass as a normal human around people, I will need to appear fully human in front of a camera, so I'm practicing to make my disguise even more convincing." "You sure convinced me," Phoebe whistled, "You've come a long way from when you fooled those truckers...ah...sorry, I forgot, shouldn't have brought that up..." Mar-Sa glanced down as the three of them approached the townhouse, her now-blue eyes casting a sad reflection that had nothing to do with her illusion. Mark saw this and said, "What's wrong, Marsha?" "I...I killed a man," Mar-Sa blurted out, "I've never done that deliberately before...I didn't even think of what affect I would have when I pushed him away from Phoebe..." "Hey, don't cry over him, Marsha," Phoebe said as she fished a key out from a hidden slot, "You saved my life, and if you hadn't stopped him he might have done the same thing to somebody else..." "But still...I can't accept that my carelessness should be an excuse for such behavior," Mar-Sa persisted, "With my strength, I always have to be mindful of how I conduct myself around normal people. I don't want anyone else to die because of my carelessness..." "Hey, I can't say that taking a life is a good thing, Marsha," Mark said, "And in a way I'm kinda in the same boat thanks to 'Zak's tinkering. A wave of my hand and I could fry someone if I get too careless. At least you care enough to feel bad about what happened..." "Yeah," Phoebe agreed, "And I'd only worry if you didn't feel bad about it, which probably makes me less of a nice person since I wouldn't think twice about dropping a guy like that off a cliff. Anyway, come on inside, let's see if anybody's messed around with my magazine collection." "It looks the same," Mar-Sa said once they were inside the living area, seeing the books and magazines still laying about in the positions where she had left them, "I see no evidence that anyone has been here while we've been out." "Remind me to tell you about a guy named Sherlock Holmes, Marsha," Mark cautioned, "Otherwise you'd know that it isn't the dog that barks you need to worry about, but the one who doesn't." "Eh?" Mar-Sa asked, then her eyes grew strangely unfocused and she responded, "Oh...a fictional character who calls himself a...consulting detective? Curious..." A trilling noise caused everyone to glance down at the floor where a black- furred cat was looking up at them with an inquisitive expression. "Lucifer!" Phoebe cried with delight as she got down on her knee and took the feline into her arms, whereupon she vigorously ran her fingers over the approved areas of his chin, neck and ears, "How is it going, little boy? You've been behaving yourself while me and Marsha were away? Who's been feeding you, baby?" "You guys got a cat named Lucifer?" Mark asked with a raised eyebrow. "He's a friend," Mar-Sa smiled as she watched her lover smooth down the animal's fur with obvious affection, eliciting from him that strangely pleasant thrumming noise that he used to convey approval. "So, what about it, boy?" Phoebe asked as she nuzzled the purring creature, "Anybody come by while we were out? You'd tell us if you frightened away any nasty intruders, right?" "Frighten them away?" Mar-Sa looked puzzled. "She's just kidding," Mark reassured her, pausing to eye the cat before adding, "I think..." "Nothing looks out of place..." Phoebe started to say as she set the cat back down, then her eyes picked up a single anomaly and she turned around to stare at the object that was protruding from the far wall. As she approached it she gave a started oath then said, "Sunuvah...Ariel?" "Eh?" Mar-Sa once again sensed the shift in her lover's moods and said, "Who?" Mark got closer to the car and then pulled it loose from the wall and stared at it before saying, "The Ace of Hearts? What...?" "David Ariel," Phoebe grinned, "The great love of Katie's life...other than me, that is. He's this Limey Brit she met a long time ago back in Israel when she was serving as a field nurse with the Golanis. According to her he's this big- time secret agent for the MOSSAD, or something like that. I never did get too many of the details about him...real mystery man stuff, but I think he's actually a blue-blooded aristocrat who got disowned by his Dad, or something like that." "No fooling," Mark remarked, "Your girlfriend hangs out with a guy like...uh...wait a minute. Ariel? Tall guy, blond haired, likes to dress casual, a real jet-setter, looks like he walked off a country club someplace?" "You've met him?" Phoebe blinked. "Briefly," Mark replied, "And not on purpose. I think he's chasing after me, and you're right about him being some kind of secret agent..." "Amazing coincidences," Mar-Sa said as she looked from one companion to the other, "Is he someone else whom I should meet?" "Not unless you want to get stuck as a permanent guest of a government-run lab someplace," Mark warned, "I'd definitely advise against it." "Oh, he isn't all that bad," Phoebe insisted, staring at the card that Mark had handed to her, "This is his usual calling card. He's got this real gift for throwing objects...never misses anything he aims at, doesn't like guns at all, prefers to use just about anything else as a weapon." "Yeah, that's definitely him," Mark nodded vigorously, glancing around, "I tell you, just thinking he might be in the area gives me chills. Look, I want to hang around with you guys a while more, but if this guy is sniffing around in the neighborhood then I think 'Zak and me ought to go and check it out." "If you think that would be for the best, Mark," Mar-Sa said reluctantly. "Believe me, I do," Mark insisted, "'Zak, let's take a walk. Action!" There was another brief flash of light and then the man before them once again went from a plain-dressed guitarist to a garishly colored superhero, and then with a smile the man's image blurred and a wind was kicked up that sent loose papers and objects flying in all directions. The door opened and shut again with the speed of a snapping pair of fingers, leaving Mar-Sa and Phoebe to stand around looking more than slightly bewildered until the man appeared again after what seemed like a matter of seconds. "Yeah, there's definitely somebody keeping tabs on this place," Mark said as he settled down to relative normalcy, "Got a place close nearby with somebody using a telephoto lens to take pictures, and a suspicious looking van's parked down the block that 'Zak insists is chock full of electronic gizmos..." "Primitive but effective surveillance equipment," the invisible probe-droid elaborated, "This Unit confirms that current location is subject to direct intelligence observation." "Uh oh," Phoebe said, glancing at the card again, "I should have guessed that. Ari's the just kind of guy who could set something like that up. Damn...I should have known it was suspicious that the door got repaired like that and all. We'd better get what we came for and clear out of here, Marsha." "Right," Mar-Sa agreed, then paused to say, "What will we need for travel?" "Whatever we---ah---I mean...whatever I can carry," Phoebe self-corrected, "Looks like we're hitting the road with you for a while, Guy, at least until the heat blows over." "That's fine with me," Mark smiled, "Be glad for the company, but I can promise much in the way of creature comforts." "Just let me get my stuff then we'll make a cash withdrawal from the bank," Phoebe said with a nervous glance over her shoulders, "Unless they make a move to grab us there, we ought to be safe surrounded by lots of ordinary people." "I do hope that you are right, Phoebe," Mar-Sa fervently agreed, feeling a tightness in her chest at the thought of having to leave this wonderful "love nest" that she and Phoebe had been sharing behind, but the thought of having security people close in on her from all sides was enough to convince her of the urgency of moving to another location. Still her practical side prompted her to say, "What will we do to earn an income when your allotment runs out?" "I'm sure we'll think of something," Phoebe said as she headed at once for the bedroom, "After all, you could always crush lumps of coal into diamonds, right?" "I can?" Mar-Sa asked in amazement, exchanging a look with Mark, who only shrugged and answered, "It's a superhero thing...you'd have to work with the program to understand it..." Far away, on the other side of the country, the man named David Ariel heard his cell-phone beep and at once pulled it out from his coat pocket. "Ariel here. Go ahead." The man sitting before the dignified blond agent remained respectfully quiet for a time but his dark eyes narrowed slightly as he waited for his subordinate to conclude his conversation. "I see," Ariel at last remarked, "Keep on them, but under no circumstances are any agents to attempt to approach this subject. Go to Level Two and have our people on alert, just in case." He closed up the phone then turned to his employer and said, "They've been sighted at the townhouse, both the alien and Daniels." "I see," the man in the chair opposite to Ariel replied in graven tones, "Things are happening more swiftly than we projected. I do believe that our golden visitor is adapting rapidly to Earth culture thanks to the assistance of your friend, Miss Winters." "I'm still at a loss to explain her involvement, Sir," Ariel replied, "Of all the people for this strange being to encounter..." "Yes," the other man said with a dismissive wave of a hand, "Live as long as I have and you'll discover that there are no true coincidences, Ariel. I trust that Archangel will be able to manage things this time?" "I'd feel a lot better about it if I were there to directly supervise affairs," Ariel admitted, "Magnus...if this...lady...becomes cornered or afraid for her position..." "That is why we will remain as far from making direct contact with her as we can manage," the other man insisted, "So far there is no indication that she has any hostile intentions towards us, and quite a lot to the contrary, which leads me to suspect that she might prove to be a valuable asset." Ariel looked more sharply at the other man, "You're thinking of making her an agent?" "Eventually...perhaps," the other man smiled softly, "But that would be getting too far ahead of ourselves. Let us do what we can to ease her way into making the transition to this society, then...when she is more comfortably settled, perhaps then it will be safe for you to approach her directly." "Me, Sir?" Ariel arched an eyebrow, "I would certainly welcome the opportunity, but..." "Unless you would like for your lady friend to be the one to initiate contact," the other man smiled, amused as he watched for an emotional reaction in his subordinate. For anyone else the stony expression David Ariel wore would have seemed stoic, but for a man of his reputation for being unflappable it was the equivalent of deadly glare, not that there was anything the he would or could have done to threaten a man like his employer. "You mean...Kate?" the blond man said aloud, "But she's not even an agent..." "Not for us anyway," Magnus replied, "But as she is already involved indirectly through Miss Winters..." Ariel nodded, "I follow you, Sir. Use Kate for a stalking horse. Well, if anyone could handle a matter as delicate as this one, it would be my Lady Catherine." "Would you prefer to contact her and explain the situation?" Magus asked. "No need, Magnus," Ariel assured the dark haired Continental, "If I know Kate, then she'll be coming home on her own once her business with the Clans is favorably concluded. Then, once she gets word of what Phoebe has been up to...well...let's just say that I wouldn't want to be in Phoebe's pants for all the tea in China." "I doubt if they would fit you, either," Magnus mused as he depressed a button on his chair then said, "Pilot...change of route. Take us to San Francisco International." "Yes, Mr. Richardson," the pilot of the Lear Jet responded, and at once the plane began to gently bank in preparation for turning to its new destination, its occupants already planning strategy of how to maintain a low-key presence when keeping a watch out for strange visitors from distant planets... Mar-Sa found it fascinating as she contemplated the purpose for the business establishment in which she was presently located. This Bank, as the natives called it, was a vital commercial center for the storage and removal of the primary means of capital transfer that the people here called "money," a fascinatingly primitive form of currency barter that had not existed on her own world for many generations. Phoebe had explained as best she could the essential functions of such a place, then went on to elaborate that Mar-Sa would have to learn to operate in such a place if she was ever to establish a line of credit in her own name, to say nothing of establishing her identity as a resident of this, the richest and most prosperous nation on the planet. "The main trick will be faking an ID and getting a name for you that sounds halfway normal," Phoebe remarked as the two of them stood in a line waiting for service at the row of wooden slots that were for some strange reason named tellers, "Good thing your illusion power's getting better because they've got cameras everywhere, and the last thing you want to do around here is act suspicious." "I see," Mar-Sa said dubiously, "No wonder Mark was reluctant to come in here with us. Since his image is already known to the authorities..." "Yeah, and so's mine," Phoebe winced, "But since they probably think I'm dead they're not likely to be looking for me, so..." "I do hope Mark will be able to wait for us to conclude matters here," Mar-Sa mused aloud while staying close besides Phoebe, not liking to be remembered of how near they had come to being separated forever. "Hey, he'll be all right, Marsha," Phoebe assured, "The guy's a born survivor, and I'm sure he'll find something to do to keep himself busy while we're in here." "I do hope so," Mar-Sa mused softly, taking advantage of her relative anonymity to make a thorough study of the "normal" patrons of this establishment, seeing in them a broad range of human types from both a physical and psychological perspective, classifying them by body and racial type while noting their relative age classifications. Such a widely diverse grouping would have been impossible in the homogenous culture of Ninjarma, and the thought that these people could exist side-by-side in relative harmony said a lot to her about the inclusive nature of their overall culture. Her telepathy also made her more than a bit sensitive to the stray thoughts that these people were projecting, and she had to work hard to maintain her concentration so that she did not become too distracted and accidentally allow her disguise to slip, which would no doubt lead to disaster as she rather doubted their tolerance for diversity was quite ready to stretch towards fugitives from distant planets. "So," Phoebe tried to sound casual as she asked, "What do you make of that Mark Daniels guy? Is he a real trip or what?" "I suppose," Mar-Sa reluctantly agreed, "He certainly is nothing like the men of my world. He seems so...alive somehow...and he is a very good minstrel." "Ah, he's okay," Phoebe shrugged, thinking of way that they had been serenaded by the guitarist, and how wonderful his voice had sounded while the three of them sat watching the sun set over the horizon, "Too bad he wants to play the hermit because with a voice like that he could make a lot of money." "I don't believe that...money...is really all that important to Mark," Mar-Sa observed. "What is the guy, a freaking saint?" Phoebe sniffed, "Everybody needs money to get by, Marsha. You can't pay the bills without it. Maybe if you're living on the road you can eat roots and berries, but I came close to starving when I left my home and came to 'Frisco, and I'm damned lucky I didn't wind up on drugs and pimped into prostitution." "Really?" Mar-Sa said with an incredulous expression, her mind filling with many conflicting images that carried with them some very...disturbing connotations. "Yeah, well...it's nothing you gotta worry about, Marsha," Phoebe assured her, "I don't think they make pimps big enough to push you around, and I'm sure there's lots of better opportunities for a couple of good looking girls like us if we play our cards just right. In fact..." All of a sudden Mar-Sa tensed, a strange feeling coming over her as if danger were just about to descend upon them. She glanced around, wondering if someone had penetrated her disguise and was now aware of the "alien girl" in their midst, but as she pondered this a commotion at the front door to the establishment drew both her attention and that of Phoebe. Several men in long overcoats wearing ski masks over their heads came barging into the place with weapons raised and at the ready. A bank guard started to react to this by automatically going for his pistol, only to be shot down where he stood for his troubles, the sudden burst of automatic fire shocking everyone and causing several bank patrons to begin screaming and going into a full panic. "EVERYBODY DOWN! NOBODY MOVES OR THEY GET IT!" one of these masked figures cried out, and punctuated his demand by firing a live burst into the ceiling before adding, "NEXT ONE WHO MOVES GETS WASTED!" All at once Phoebe and the other patrons hit the floor as if diving for cover that could not be found there. The few who were slow to follow suit were threatened by other gunmen who rudely shoved them down as the five men fanned out and trained their weapons on various people, both customers and bank employees. Mar-Sa just stood where she was until she felt Phoebe tugging on her cape, at which point she glanced down and heard her friend hissing, "What are you doing? Get down before they shoot you!" "Shoot me?" Mar-Sa's attention immediately swerved to the fallen bank guard and at once her heightened sense informed her that the man was still alive but critically injured. The pain he radiated informed her that he did not have long to live unless he received immediate medical attention... And then one of the gunmen made the mistake of rudely shoving his automatic weapon nearly in her face while barking loudly, "GET DOWN OR YOU---!" Any other time and Mar-Sa would have complied with the demand rather than risk having anyone else be injured, possibly even Phoebe. In truth if she had taken the time to think before reacting she would have done just that, but the callous way these men behaved, the disregard for human life displayed by the shooting of the bank guard, combined to make her angry, and without even half thinking about it she snatched the rifle out of the man's hand and tore it to pieces as though the thing were made from balsa. She followed this rash action up by shoving the man away from her, unintentionally using her telekinesis to boost the already incredible force of her hand as the man was knocked flying to strike the distant wall with enough force to immediately send him into unconsciousness. That prompted the second gunman nearest to her to swerve around and fire his weapon blindly in her direction, but Mar-Sa's anger reached out to him as her mind expanded her telekinetic field and the pellets fired off by his shotgun were caught and absorbed so that their kinetic energy never even reached her body. The next thing the man knew was that she had ripped his gun out of his hands while she picked him up with her other hand and held him there, unwitting dropping her illusion and revealing herself in her full costumed glory. "What the hell?" a gunman standing further back reacted, turning his weapon on her but not opening fire as sheer surprise and confusion caused him a moment of indecision. His indecision was mutual as Mar-Sa stood there dangling a man off the floor with one hand while wondering what next to do as the gun in her hand meant nothing to her. For a few seconds nothing happened, but then she heard Phoebe whisper, "What are you waiting for? Throw him." "Oh," the sudden image in her mind showed her exactly what Phoebe had in mind, and while Mar-Sa recognized the gesture as originating in a comic book it seemed as logical a course of action as any other that might be taken. And so she threw the man she held bodily at the other gunman and watched as the two of them went down in a skidding heap, and as she used just a little too much force she unwittingly came close to seriously injuring both gunmen. This act, however, decided the matter for the fourth man, who without hesitation opened fire with his semi-automatic weapon, firing off an entire clip at Mar-Sa from only a few meters distance, the high-velocity shells colliding with her telekinetic field, which slowed them somewhat but could not deflect them altogether. She was struck a dozen times by various bullets that hit her body in a dozen different places, rocking her back somewhat as their kinetic force was completely expended. But then Mar-Sa straightened up once again and glared at the gunman, her anger becoming a raging fire as heat formed between her fore-brows and was loosed on her astonished assailant, who only had time to cry out once before he was slammed across the room, the weapon in his hands exploding in all directions. "That...hurt," Mar-Sa slowly remarked, brushing herself off to make sure that she had been no worse than mildly bruised by the intensive gunplay. "What the...who the hell are you, lady?" the last remaining gunman demanded, "What are you? You can't be human!" "And you are?" Mar-Sa asked as she stretched out a hand and this time managed to control her anger, focusing her rage with better results upon the rifle in the man's hands so that she could yank it from him with her telekinesis. Once she had it in her hands she held it up for the man to see before shattering it to pieces with an ease that made the gunman's knees turn to water. "I suggest you surrender," she said with much forced calm, her anger starting to dissipate as the threat of these violent men no longer seemed as important. "Marsha---look out!" Phoebe cried. Mar-Sa did not have time to ask what her lover was warning her against, not having seen the sixth gunman appear from the rear of the bank, though she knew of him the moment he opened fire on her from behind, hitting her in the back with yet more automatic weapons fire, which scattered bullets in all direction but did no more than stagger her slightly forward. "YOU---!" her anger flared up once again and without thinking about it she turned and lashed out at the nearest object, sensing that the gunman had paused to change weapon clips and would renew his fire in another moment. As it happened there was a large wooden table in the center of the room directly behind her, a long desk-like affair that patrons used to write out bank slips, and with an ease that surprised even her she knocked this loose from its moorings and sent it flying across the room and directly at the astonished gunman. He had no time even to cry out as the heavy wooden object slammed into him and traveled the length of the room to crash soundly against the far wall, the man winding up between the desk and the wall with very little doubt left in anyone's minds that his body had been instantly compressed between them. Mar-Sa felt the wave of pain that lasted for just an instant and flinched away in dismay, realizing that she had killed again, regardless of the fact that the man had intended the same for her and would have succeeded if she had been any less resilient. Again a warning sense of danger caused her to turn around towards the sole remaining gunman, and as she looked she saw the man holding an object that he had just pulled out of his jacket, an object from which he pulled a pin before tossing it in her direction, and in an instant her mind classified the type and nature of this weapon and informed her of the danger it posed to their surroundings. Mar-Sa did not hesitate to reach out and snatch the thing out of the air, and then she chose a safe place to throw it and hurled it with great force at a section of the ceiling. It hit the plaster panel there and kept on moving until it impacted with something more substantial, and then it exploded in a burst of hot metal that instantly destroyed everything within several meters radius, causing the automatic sprinkler system to kick on as alarms rang out and people screamed in reflexive terror. Fortunately most of the hot bits of metal from the grenade did not penetrate back through to the interior of the bank, and so there were no further casualties to be added. The gunman, however, was clearly still a menace to everyone, so Mar-Sa wasted no time accelerating forward and crossing the distance between them, moving so fast that the man did not have time to blink before she was upon him. Being mindful now not to use excessive force, she picked him up and slammed him hard onto a padded sofa, stunning him long enough for her to remove his weapons belt and tie his hands and wrists together, thus rendering him helpless. The danger now passed, Mar-Sa was about to straighten up when she felt a water- soaked Phoebe's hand on her arm as her friend hissed sharply, "C'mon, Marsha, let's get out of here!" "One moment," Mar-Sa said, momentarily ignoring the distress of her lover as she knew that the injured guard was still down and bleeding. Going over to his side she knelt over him, seeing that he was still conscious and alert and staring at her with rounded eyes. Softly she murmured, "Do not worry, I will help you." Having calmed down now from the panicked adrenal surge that had caused her to react with force against the bandits, she reached out and drew upon the power of the sun's Bioenergy once again to bolster her own still-formidable reserves. She stretched out with her hands and held them over the bullet wounds, using her telekinesis to "find" and "pull" three jacketed lead projectiles one-by-one from his body. Then she focused on the golden healing glow within her and felt her aura extend towards him, suffusing his body with her vitality and prompting his flesh to begin knitting together once again. His bleeding stopped, the source of his pain no longer throbbing, the guard lay back and gave a sigh of relief as he felt a warmth travel through him, making him feel refreshed and alive like never before that he could remember. Within seconds his pain was gone completely, leaving only an odd fatigue in its wake, yet still the guard managed to open his eyes and stare up in amazement at his savior before murmuring the words, "Gracias Senorita...que estas miracle..." "Rest easy and give your body time to recover," Mar-Sa urged, "You'll be on your feet again in no time." "Tu estas la Madonna?" the man asked with a note of wonder. "No," Mar-Sa replied, "I am not your...Madonna...but I am a friend." "You speak Spanish?" Phoebe asked. "I suppose that I do," Mar-Sa replied as she straightened up, taking notice of the fact that the siren and overhead sprinklers were no longer active, "At least a little...or rather, Mark does. I will have to remember to ask him..." All at once she noticed the eyes that were being turned upon her from patrons and bank employees alike, then all at once someone asked, "How did she...?" Thinking quickly, Phoebe replied, "Hey, haven't you guys ever seen a superhero before? Betcha none of you grew up reading comics!" "Superhero?" said a well-dressed, distinguished looking man who seemed to have some seniority within this establishment, "Is this some manner of a joke?" "Do they look like they're laughing?" Phoebe waved a hand to indicate the fallen gunmen, then she took Mar-Sa by the arm once again and said, "Let's get out of here before the Cops come. Somehow I don't think they'll be too understanding..." "I completely agree," Mar-Sa murmured, then took Phoebe by the arm and said, "I think, as they say, my cover has been blown..." "Yeah, big time," Phoebe winced as she heard sirens, clearing water out of her eyes and face with the back of her arm, "Come on, Ultra-girl, let's make tracks!" "Ultra-girl?" the bank manager repeated, only to blink in dismay as air was rapidly displaced by the hasty exit of Mar-Sa and Phoebe. Out on the streets Mar-Sa wasted no time scooping Phoebe up into her arms as she took to the air and started levitating. As it turned out she was just in time for an unmarked police vehicle pulled up in front of the bank, a full minute ahead of the regular patrol cars responding to the emergency from both silent and noisy alarm systems. "HOLY---!" Turlough gasped as he saw something pass right over the roof of his vehicle, and he came close to causing an accident as his head whipped around in a futile attempt to track the rapidly moving object. "You mean she really can fly?" Sarah gasped with none of her usual cockiness, turning to see the flapping cape as the golden woman carrying the more normal- looking girl rapidly vanished from among the nearest skyscrapers, "I thought they were only kidding..." Turlough killed the engine then jumped from the car, reaching for his weapon, but with his quarry long gone he could only stare in disbelief, then turn towards the bank itself and say, "Oy gavalt, what just happened?" Sarah also stood there looking uncertain for a moment, then she turned to the bank and said, "Why don't we go in there and find out? There's bound to be a few witnesses, don't you think?" "Teach your grandfather to suck eggs," Turlough sniffed as he headed for the bank, only to halt in his tracks as he and his partner got their first sighting of a foiled robbery care of one "impossible" flying woman... Mark had only become aware that something had gone down when he heard the explosions and alarms in the distance. He came running out of the donut shop where he'd been packing in much-needed calories only to discover that he was too late to be of any assistance. "Holy...'Zak, what gives here?" he demanded, "Where are Phoebe and Marsha?" "Tracking their position," the probe-droid responded, "Subjects moving towards isolated area located two-point-four 'clicks' from here, suggest haste if this Unit and Subject Mark..." "Right, got it," Mark hastily nodded then cried, "Action!" Minutes later they came upon the pair hidden in a wooded part of the Hyde Park area, and as Mark slowed down to a halt he could sense at once that something vital had just happened. Mar-Sa stood looking pensive while Phoebe was positively glowing, and when Mark was able to make coherent sense of the words he heard the latter say, "...But that's just it, Marsha...you saved everybody! You're a hero!" "But I killed a man...again," Mar-Sa insisted, "My lack of control over my powers..." "Hey, he shot first, you acted in self-defense," Phoebe insisted, "Doesn't matter if bullets bounce off that pretty hide of yours, he was still intending to kill you." "So I killed him," Mar-Sa said, "How does that make me any better?" That was one question which Mark was more than ready to answer, "Hey, the day you stop worrying about doing that is the day you've already got an answer, and until you start deliberately killing people by the hundreds, I'd say you don't come anywhere near to being as bad as whatever creep tried to hurt you. So...ah...what did I miss?" "Only the best damned piece of Superheroics I've ever seen," Phoebe grinned, "You should have seen her go at it! She was unstoppable! Those creeps never had a chance..." "What?" Mark's eyes got very round, "You mean I missed it? 'Zak!" "This Unit is alert to potential threats to subject Mark and this Unit," the probe replied, "This Unit...is not equipped for detecting threat to Apprentice Mar-Sa through primitive chemically-propelled projectiles." "Excuses, excuses," Mark sniffed, "I can't believe I missed it! I am soooo depressed..." "Don't be," Mar-Sa replied, looking more disquieted even than before, "I...reacted without thinking to deflect the crisis, and I forgot, through my carelessness, to use less force to defeat those gunmen." "Well, overreacted or not," Phoebe continued to smirk, "You sure taught those thugs a lesson or two about manners." "I can't believe I missed it..." Mark complained as he shook his head sadly, "Action's my middle name, and yet you managed to foil a bank robbery on your first try..." "I wasn't trying to do anything of the sort, Mark," Mar-Sa insisted, "I just...reacted when I saw them shoot that guard, and then I thought that they might threaten Phoebe..." "Hey, the point is that you didn't hesitate, Marsha," Phoebe insisted, "You saved a lot of lives and did the right thing." Mar-Sa paused to consider this then asked, "I did?" "Sure sounds like it in my book," Mark confirmed, "So what if you made a few mistakes on your first try? You'll do even better next time." "Face it, Marsha," Phoebe persisted, "You're a superhero...might as well sit back and enjoy the adulation." "Adulation?" Mar-Sa replied, blinking her eyes as she thought the matter over. "Hey, if you stopped the bad guys from hurting anybody, then that makes you a hero in my book," Mark assured her, "Face facts, Marsha, you've got the same instincts as me. When you see somebody in trouble you go to help them, right?" "Well...yes..." Mar-Sa reluctantly averred, "But still..." "That's just what I do," Mark assured her, "Even if 'Zak here complains about it." "This Unit does not compute the logic of subject Mark's insistence on jeopardizing self and this Unit," the probe responded, "Yet subject Mark insists on seeking out danger..." "Just doing what comes natural," Mark shrugged with a boyish grin, "As some guy once said, with great power comes a lot of responsibility..." "Responsibility," Mar-Sa repeated, glancing down, "Yes...perhaps you are right about that, Mark. I never considered the matter from that perspective..." "So, you with the program now or not?" Phoebe looked at her expectantly. Mar-Sa thought a long moment before replying, "What do I have to do? I mean...to be a...superhero?" "Hey, you've come to the right guy for that," Mark grinned, "I can teach you all about it." "This Unit advises against this illogical course of action..." the probe started to say. "Tough, you're out-voted," Phoebe promptly retorted, looking up with adoring eyes at her golden skinned partner, "This is a democracy, and the ayes definitely have it." Mar-Sa turned to the probe and said, "Unit 1138...perhaps you should consider this as a part of your studies into Earthling behavior. I am beginning to see that winning an argument is difficult when the people here decide something with their heart." "Acknowledged," the probe agreed with a hint of resignation. "Now, the first thing to do if you want to make a name for yourself as a superhero, Marsha," Mark began, "Is to look for somebody who needs your help...and believe me, there's always somebody who's in need of some friendly assistance." "Yes," Mar-Sa decided, "I believe that I can do this. What is it, Phoebe?" "Oh, nothing much," Phoebe grinned, "I'm just wondering what a good sidekick name I should get as your assistant? Any ideas there, handsome?" "I'm sure something will come to you in time," Mark nodded to the two ladies and said, "What are we waiting for? Let's go find some Action...!" (Chapters 12-19) (First Copyrights Only) Created and Written by Jim Robert Bader, all rights reserved, characters and situations are purely fictitious and are not based on persons living or dead (with the sole exception of Katie, whose voluntary contributions are deeply appreciated). Mar-Sa, the Ultra-Girl, is the creation of Jim Robert Bader with ideas and suggestions provided by his friends and collaborators, Katie Norcross (the REAL Kate Cross) and Bill Guiroff, with additional ideas and suggestions provided by Ed Dear III, who took a liking to Mark Daniels. All rights reserved; the characters and situations here are fictitious and are not intended to depict persons living and dead (other than Katie that is). This is a rough draft, subject to future alterations if I should find a publisher friendly enough to sponsor this series. Any resemblance to copyrighted or trademarked ideas belonging to other authors is purely coincidental. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- If you wish to check out my other works, Please check out my Fanfiction webpage at: http://s11.sexshare.com/~jbader/jimbader.html All related chapters of this series can be found there along with my other works.