"She Hulk of Earth 2," Ch. 9

By Eegore, eegore959@yahoo.com

Sheila, backed into a corner, "rises" to the occasion

A sharp breeze sliced through the alley, whipping up a dust devil that swept over Sheila Huckaby and the man she has just killed.

She had lost all sense of time. Had she been scuffling in the dirt, crying and moaning, clutching handfuls of Nick Trask's shirt, for - five minutes? An hour? She didn't know. Her mind had tossed a cloak over her and Nick's body, which was growing cold. Nothing else existed. There was only her and dead Nick and massive, heaving, suffocating despair.

The bones in Sheila's pale, doughy body ached as she shook with sobs. The tatters of a red T-shirt hung shapelessly over her torso, becoming pinched in the folds of her stomach. As she stretched out a hand to stroke his face, an arthritic jab shot from her wrist to her elbow. She grimaced, and something inside her realized how foreign her small, lumpy body now seemed, and how tightly she had embraced the overwhelming sensations that came with her gamma-pumped form.

Sweat continued to drop off her forehead, forming dark patches on Nick's clothes. Her metabolism was still recalibrating to the needs of a small, frail frame instead of the demands of a 7-foot-2 blast furnace of incalculable power. That furnace had melted down swiftly, violently, in the moments after the accident in which Sheila, clutching Nick with growing passion, snapped his spine and ruptured several of his organs. She had reacted with horror and fear and disbelief, a combination that snapped the mental bindings that held her Amazonian body together. Gamma energy exploded out of her. It took only a few seconds for Sheila to implode back to woman she had been, to the body she had owned -

"-before all this happened," she mumbled. The plaintive, disembodied words that visited her brain occasionally when she was big and green had feared this would happen. What if you can't control it? said the voices, which may or may not have been her conscience or the scared little girl inside her. What if you kill someone?

She had shooed away the voices, insisting to herself that such a wonderful, incredible gift couldn't have a dark side. She felt so powerful and hot and sensuous. What could be wrong with that?

A lot, she growled to herself. It was bad enough that people feared me, that some ran away. It was bad enough that that psycho Blonsky was siccing a battalion on me and wanted to cut me up. It was -

"No, those weren't bad things. Not at all. This - this is a bad thing. Very, very bad."

She looked up from Nick's body. A few feet away, glittering in some weeds, was the gamma rifle, lying where it had tumbled to a stop after she had hurled it in fear and disgust over what she had done. A half-hour ago, a lifetime ago, she wouldn't have hesitated to fire the rifle on herself again, to soak up the radiation that she knew would bring back the muscle and the might.

"Not now," she moaned, her lower lip quivering. "Not ever."

# # #

"Now or never, gentlemen."

Ten soldiers ' five at each end of the alley ' crouched in their green khaki and Kevlar, weapons pointed at the ground. An 11^th man, outfitted in a black jumpsuit and cap, cocked his head to the microphone on his collar.

"OK," he said. "Move in, but stay frosty. First person to locate the rifle, notify the rest."

As one, the squads rose into a crouch and began advancing on the two figures in the center of the alley, all weapons live but held at their sides. Two sharpshooters on the roof of one of the stores set their sights on Sheila. All were under orders to capture her alive. They also had orders to fire if the situation got out of hand.

They were 10 paces from Sheila when the sound of a boot scraping gravel made her look up from Nick's body. Her eyes widened at the sight of the guns and the uniforms. She spun her head around and saw the men behind her. Confused beyond comprehension, she tried to speak, but could get out only a guttural croak.

The man in the dark jumpsuit stepped forward. His eyes were hidden by mirror sunglasses, his mouth fixed with a grim smile.

"Ms. Huckaby, you need to come with us."

Sheila rocked slightly on her knees. A glimmer of realization was invading her thoughts, but it was an uncomfortable fit. Again, she opened her mouth. "Y-you're-you're from-"

"The base. Yes, we are," the man replied in monotone. "And it's time to go." He held out a hand to her. Some of the soldiers moved in closer, some scanned the alley, others looked down at Sheila and the body laying in the dust.

"No sign of the weapon, sir," one said.

"You're sure?" replied the man in black. "Hmmm ... keep looking. We know she had it within a few minutes of her devolvement. Find it." His eyes narrowed. "Now."

Another soldier looked down at the broken body and whistled. "Wow, the bitch really did a number on Terry, didn't she?" A soldier next to him nodded quietly.

Sheila spun around and stared up at the men, then looked down at Nick. Terry? She turned back to the man in black, whose face betrayed a combination of triumph and pity.

"Did his job quite well, didn't he, Sheila? We plucked him out of special ops, partially because of his physical stature, mainly because he had a marvelous talent for infiltrating enemy lines. And that's exactly what we needed: someone able to get through your considerable defenses."

Sheila's head and heart began to pound as she stared at the impassive man with utter disbelief. "N-no," she stammered. "T-that can't be right. He was - he was nice to me -"

"Ms. Huckaby, why do you think we're here? How would we know you were in some backwater in southeast Utah? Our operative was wired , young lady, isn't that obvious? His orders were to gain your trust and take control of your emotions, with the ultimate goal of triggering your devolvement."

The man gave Sheila a derisive smirk. "I must say, he probably set a personal record for accomplishing his objective."

"P-personal-?" Tears filled Sheila's already red, puffy eyes. Still on her knees, she swayed slightly as her world lost all sense of balance. But he did care, right? Care for me? Even if he was - even if I was - even -

"It was all a ruse, Ms. Huckaby, all a ruse," the man in black continued. "And now we take you back where you belong, and resume what we started. I'm so looking forward to digging those secrets out of you."

Sheila wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "-digging?"

"Yes. I'm not a soldier, Sheila. I'm part of Dr. Blonsky's response team for this project. And to be honest with you, the events of the past few weeks have changed our thinking. At first, we thought you'd be useful alive, partly to keep the tissues viable and partly because of what you might be able to tell us about your transformation. But now, well-"

Sheila was no longer crying. The word "Blonsky" had got her attention in a way that none of the military posturing and hardware around her had. The fog in her brain began to lift, pushed away by a growing sense of hopelessness. He'll never leave me alone. Ever. He made me do - this - just so he can -

"- the biosamples we already have of you have been instructive, and we're confident that more hands-on research will give us what we need. And frankly, my dear, you're one hell of a flight risk. So," he said, crossing his arms, "we go back to the base, we settle in -" He leaned closer to her til their faces were inches apart. "Then I start the dissection."

The man stood, then motioned to one of the soldiers. "Put her under."

Sheila watched with growing horror as the soldier unsnapped the cover to a pouch on his belt and pulled out a handkerchief. He removed a small bottle from the same pouch, opened it, and sprinkled some liquid on the handkerchief. The squad seemed to tighten ranks around her as the soldier reached down, grasped Sheila's upper arm in one hand and, with the other hand, brought the handkerchief toward her nose and mouth.

The pungent smell/taste of the chloroform overwhelmed her senses. Her sight began to blur. Her thoughts began to melt away, narrowing down to one word. Blonsky - Blonsky -

A faint, unnatural hum was their only warning.

A roiling, bright-green bolt shot out of the thicket behind the alley. The soldier holding Sheila screamed as voracious particles of gamma radiation disassembled his arms nearly up to the elbows. He stumbled back, dropped to his knees and clenched his eyes shut, which meant he was only person there who didn't watch the blast strike Sheila Huckaby dead-on, rocking her backward, making her arms flail and her mouth open in a silent scream.

The man in black jolted in surprise and took two unsteady steps backward. The strike team stood its ground despite 20 knees that had turned to gelatin. Some instinctively brought their weapons to their shoulders and put Sheila in their sights. Others simply stared as the thick, boiling beam spread its influence over Sheila's short, pale body, enveloping her in translucent jade.

"FIRE, DAMN IT!" one of the soldiers screamed. "TAKE HER OUT! AND TAKE OUT THAT GODDAM GUN AND WHOEVER'S FIRING IT!"

The team members sprinted to the side of Sheila opposite the gamma ray's path and opened fire. Bullets came within inches of Sheila's body ' then dispersed into their component atoms, making a sound like water sprinkled on a hot, greased pan. Other soldiers fired wide swaths around the apparent source of the beam, hidden in the weeds. The gunfire continued for several seconds, without success on either front.

"The rifle is made of case-hardened adamantium!" the man in black yelled, not taking his eyes off Sheila while backing up two more steps. "You won't disable it unless you hit the nozzle! We have to -"

Ten military-hardened men and one clinically deadened scientist nearly jumped out of their shoes at the sound of a loud, throaty moan rising out of the woman kneeling in the dust. Sheila was swaying side to side, clenching and unclenching her fists, her eyes shut tightly. Glowing emerald energy spun around her flesh and plunged into her like hot water into a bone-dry sponge.

Inside the shimmering cocoon, Sheila had already shut out the world outside and entered a realm that was hers for the shaping. All thoughts of distaste and fear toward her other self, all sense of guilt for what she had done, were swept away by supercharged ergs that massaged her mind and stoked a flame in her loins. Instead, she had - green thoughts. Angry, green thoughts. Blonsky. Damn you, Blonsky. You hurt me. Hurt me. Damn it. I've had enough -

Sheila's eyes flew open. The irises were seared with green light. "Eeeeee-nufff!" she growled, baring her teeth. Inside her head, the switch was thrown, setting in motion the impossible alchemy of lethal radiation and human flesh. Green sheet lightning played across her skin. Throbbing waves rolled up and down her limbs. The now-familiar but still indescribable sensation of growing power surged inside Sheila. It was like a song building in strength and beauty and complexity. It also was thick and luscious and carnal, as the gamma engorging every cell thundered to its first crescendo, sending a powerful orgasm through her slight flame. Her hips and stomach bucked in response and a sharp gasp escaped her thin lips.

Two soldiers ran into the thicket, looking for the gamma rifle. Three began backing away from Sheila. Five stood transfixed. As they watched, the lumpy girth of the young woman's stomach withdrew and fat seemed to boil off her neck and upper arms. Her light-pink skin became suffused with a green tint that grew deeper by the second. Then, her head rolling side to side, her waist tightening and relaxing, Sheila grew.

Skin, sinew and bone shifted and reconstructed with wet, grinding sounds. Her shins and feet slid across the dirt, growing longer and wider. Sparks jumped from her fingertips as she pressed quivering hands against her thighs. Lengthening, supple fingers traced crevices forming on her upper leg as irradiated muscles surged up and out, filling her quadriceps. Her blue bicycle shorts quickly lost their slack against her bulging thighs, then started to slide up her glowing skin. Another lusty wave was building inside her. She gripped her outer thighs like the handrails on a roller coaster, then held on as the wave crashed inside her, unleashing a sensation that made her bite down on a lower lip that was growing dark and wet and full. Her hips pushed outward. Her waist lengthened and tightened against rising, rolling hills of muscle.

The two soldiers had found the gamma rifle. But no one was there. The weapon was wedged between two blocks of wood, its barrel elevated by a knapsack. One of the soldiers cursed loudly, raised his weapon and fired at the nozzle. The green beam spit and coughed and died. The men shot their gaze back to the alley, where, even from their vantage point, they could see that shutting down this damn thing was not going to prevent hell from descending on all of them.

Her hair billowed and swam and crawled over thickening shoulders and down her back, changing hue from a washed-out brown to a twilight purple. Her shoulders rose and separated slightly as her back opened like emerald petals, sweeping out to her sides, further opening the gap between the shreds of her T-shirt.

Power pulsed and bulged inside Sheila, shoving against her skin, screaming for more and more room. She squeezed her hands into granite fists and emerald lightning leaped from forearm to bicep to shoulder. She groaned as her arms lengthened and swelled, surging each time she tightened her fingers. Her biceps shivered as they rose, dancing with inner light.

Blinding fire leaped from her eyes as Sheila, now nearly 7 feet tall, reached inward and placed her fingers on her breasts. Her hands made small circles, moving with increasing speed. Suddenly the jade energy jumping around her shifted course as if yanked by a violent gale. A throbbing heat collected in Sheila's chest, which began to rise, sliding against the tattered red cloth of her shirt. Breasts, full and round and shimmering in sweat, rose into place, completing the impossible symmetry of her long, muscle-laced body. One, last orgasmic thunderclap shot through her, locking in her 7-foot-2 frame, widening her hips an inch more, pushing her thighs past her pants' breaking point.

And then all she could hear were her own deep, heavy breaths, slowing, slowing. She began to readjust to the body's combination of hypersensitivity and lack of pain. She raised one arm and cocked it at the elbow. She sighed, and smiled slightly, as a long, thick bicep leaped upward, coursing with green tendrils of energy.

It had all taken a bit more than 40 seconds. The soldiers who had been backing away were less than 15 yards from her. The ones who had hadn't moved remained so. During the training for this mission, they had seen videos of Sheila's transformation. The vids, however, couldn't come close to capturing the stupefying spectacle of a live performance. The men were petrified.

Sheila rose slowly. Their eyes followed the sensuous unfolding of her now incredibly muscled, burnished-green frame. It seemed she would never stop rising. She straightened her long, undulating legs, spread apart her feet and put her hands on her hips. She opened her mouth, and her voice was like a tiger's purr.

"I've no argument with you guys. You're just following orders ' sucky as they might be. But you -" She looked directly at the man in black, who was standing about 10 yards away. Her face darkened. "You're no better than Blonsky. You think I'm property - a thing."

The man, his eyes still hidden by his glasses, didn't appear as confident as he was a minute ago. But his stance and the tight lines on his face indicated he still believed his superiority over her. "The transformation hasn't addled your brain, then, young lady," he said evenly. "That's exactly what you are ' an experiment." He began to walk slowly toward Sheila. He almost sneered. "And believe me - you freak - we will fulfill our goal to discover how you work. Go ahead, run away again. I really don't give a damn. The world's not big enough to conceal you."

Sheila stared down at the man. The anger that had descended on her when the transformation began returned in full force. The roiling jade lava of her eyes burned more brightly. She shook her head slowly. "I'm not running this time, Dr. Dissection. No. Killing a person does something to your thinking, you know? Especially if the death was a senseless waste, especially if it was orchestrated by soulless bastards such as you."

She began to stride toward him. "I'm ending this. Now."

The defiance drained from the man's face. He stumbled backward. "No - you can't."

"Wrong. Thanks to you and Blonsky, I most certainly can." Boiling green light grew around her left hand. In one fluid motion, she closed the remaining distance between them, cocked her left arm, then sent a sweeping uppercut toward the man-in-black's head. Her fist flew unimpeded through his skull, dissolving it into a thick puff of subatomic matter. The violent connection pulled his body into the air, where it drew a low arc before landing 20 feet away. She held her follow-through position for a couple seconds, then straightened up grimly, her fists aglow, and walked over to the body.

Ten sets of eyes gaped at the scientist's decapitated husk and at the woman-mountain standing above it. They had been ordered to bring her in at any cost. Those orders now sounded foolish at best, insane at worst. All they wanted to do now was stay alive.

Sheila looked up and turned her eyes to the soldiers. A strange combination of anger and sadness played across her face. "Stay away from the base," she said. "You don't want to be there. I hear there's a bar around the corner here. Go get drunk. I wouldn't mind getting sloshed, either, considering what your bosses did to me today.

"Can't, though," she said, her muscular frame dancing as she stepped away from them. "I've got a job to do."

Silently, Sheila turned and began walking toward the thicket. Behind her, a once-disciplined strike team scattered, sprinting in both directions down the alley, wishing only to put increasingly wide real estate between them and the mightiest creature on Earth.

After a few seconds of searching, she found the gamma rifle, its silvery casing glinting in the morning sun. She bent down and picked it up, noting the shattered nozzle. "Well, my guardian angel, thank you, whoever you were." She looked at the weapon; a distorted reflection of her face looked back from the polished stock.

"Well, no more," she said grimly. "No more protectors. No more hiding behind Daddy or anyone else. Or any thing." Tendons on her forearms rose as she closed her hand around the rifle, crushing its adamantium casing. She dropped the shattered weapon and looked into the sharp, blue sky. A lilting breeze snaked through her long, curving legs and played with the scarce material draped over her breasts. She pointed her arms straight down. Webs of energy around each fist grew thicker, climbing up her wrists.

Two thundering columns of arcane, emerald force blasted against the ground, scattering weeds and rocks and dust all around her. "I'm coming, Blonsky, you bastard." Slowly, she rose, her body turning in the air with perfect grace.

"Get ready."