Mob-Girl 7 by Dru Emily was amazed how big the Atlantic Ocean really was. It seemed to take forever to reach the coastline, but she still got to Africa much faster than any aircraft could have managed. She would have gotten there sooner if she wasn't worried about shredding another outfit. Mapping this new and intersting land gave her quite a thrill. There were many differences between this place and her home. Checking out the mountains and jungle, Emily picked out many creatures she'd seen on National Geographic documentaries, and some things she'd never heard of. Opening up her senses, she went low and slow and embraced the jungle scents and sounds. She felt deeply connected with her environment, yet infinately removed from it at the same time. Emily became aware of several men carrying big guns through the undergrowth several miles to the south near the edge of the desert. Their elaborate cammoflage was unable to hide them from Emily's eyes. The idea of being hit by the large projectiles their big weapons must fire piqued her interest, and Emily descended gracefully to land nearby. Checking them to see who they were Emily came to the conclusion that they were most likely poachers. They had no uniforms as such, just unmaked camo gear with native grasses stuffed wherever it would stay. They spoke quietly in a language Emily had no understanding of. In all there were five of them, two caucasians and the rest native Africans. With a naughty smile, Emily stepped out from behind a tree and into their line of sight. Their reaction was instantaneous. Guns were raised and shouting began in earnest. But no matter how loud they were, Emily just couldn't understand them. She shrugged her shoulders to indicate a lack of comprehension. When the shock of her arrival wore off, the guns lowered and the men gaped at her. Emily was getting used to this reaction now. But she didn't want them to just oogle her body, so she took action to get their guns up again. Her hand sank into the bark of the tree beside her until it hit the hardwood beneath. There was a low creaking sound, which grew loud and urgent as Emily continued to reach her arm out. The high foliage shook and lurched away from her, and the trunk of the healthy tree came crashing down to the jungle floor, snapped by her incredible strength. Emily turned her head to enjoy the impact, watching the huge branches snap off as they drove deep into the topsoil. The poachers stepped back fearfully, their guns raised as Emily had desired. But they were still holding fire, unsure of their situation. Emily became a blur of motion, reforming in front of one of them. "Are you guys gonna use those things?" she asked, indicating the gun. Looking the man in the eye, Emily realised his gaze was fixed on her cleavage. His gun barrel started to drop, but Emily took it carefully between her thumb and forefinger, raising back up to her breast. Her free hand rested on his forarm, and she gave him a little squeeze. The intense pain that accompanied the breaking of his bones finally got him to fire. As expected, these bullets were heavier and faster than those fired by the small uzis she'd encountered in Metropolis. She felt them more, but the sensation was nothing approaching pain. Each lump of lead disintegrated into shrapnel on her inviting flesh, the first drawing a gasp from her full lips, and the pieces flew off in all directions. The man fired twelve shots from his rapid-fire rifle before realisng that most of the bullets were bouncing straight back into his stomach. He callapsed, so Emily closed the barrel with a pinch and dropped the gun on his writhing body. The rest of the poaching party wasted no time. After seeing what this breathtaking beauty had done to their friend, the danger they were in was clear to them. Letting out a battle cry to increase Emily's excitement, the four men trained their guns on her and let loose. Emily found the experience to be everything she had hoped for. Carefully catching in her hand any bullets that threatened her scarce clothing, she sped up her senses to enjoy every individual impact. The battle cry waned and the men threw down their emptied guns and turned on their heels. Not really interested in chasing them, Emily laughed at the fleeing hunters and launched into the sky. Spending the rest of the afternoon at it, she mapped the African continent and marked numerous places, such as the pyramids in Egypt, for future visits. Realising that time was up, Emily turned back toward the Atlantic and headed for home. By the time Emily Lahey met up again with her dad, Clark Kent was feeling sore from his own long journey. At least this time around he didn't have to hitch-hike. Perry had deposited a healthy budget into Clark's expense account, allowing the painfully human reporter to charter a helicopter for the final leg of the journey. He had already been in the air for eight hours that day, and needed to rest. "Are you sure you have all you need?" the pilot demanded loudly over the intercom as he rotated the chopper over the landing site. "The hut is well stocked. Thanks for the ride...see you this time tomorow." "I can't put her down on this snow. It's too deep." "I'll jump." "Good luck, Mr. Kent. See you tomorrow." Twenty minutes later Clark was trudging through the Fortress of Solitude. Reaching the crystal chamber, he carefully selected a crystall and inserted into the console. A moment later his mother's image stood before him. "Kal-ell, my son. We had hoped you would never need this message. If you do, this means we failed in our duty to Earth. Your powers in the hands of a human will drive that person insane...corrupt their mind. As i'm sure you understand, this places every human life jepoardy. There is hope, yet the device we used on General Zod has no effect beyond the walls of this fortress. It could be used to reverse the process, but this would involve much risk. This human is now also vulnerable to Kryptonite radiation, but we cannot know how effective Kryptonite would be against them as a weapon. There is another way. "You are not the only survivor of Krypton, Kal-ell. There are other children of our world, like the General, who were not with us when our doom befell us. Your best chance is contact one of them. Those who may be within reach have been placed in the communication system. Call one of them, and fight fire with fire...as you Earthmen say." Fat Jimmy was a man who earned his name. Life at the bar suited him fine, especially now that he had doubled his income in the last year. The fall of the Breaker Lahey empire had freed him to become his own boss. Since the bar had always been in Jimmy's name since the day Breaker had bought it, there was no question of who owned the place. Only Breaker's private law enforcement had kept all the profits from reaching Fat Jimmy's bank account in Spain. The place was different tonight. Jimmy had asked for help from Lahey's Chinese rivals, and there were many more Asian faces than usual. Not that Jimmy was rascist, it just made him uncomfortable. He still had vivid memories of the hard-won battles against the triads not so deep in the past as it seemed. So much had changed "Don't worry, Jimmy. Whatever private army he's got working for him now won't do their work in a public place like this." "What the fuck are you talking about? He took out an apartment building in broad daylight. Just pour me a drink...keep your brain-dead theories to yourself, asshole." The jukebox was playing loud and the place was packed more than usual thanks to the special guests. All the money going over the bar should have made Jimmy happy, but it wasn't enough to distract him from his concerns. Now that Carlos was out, he would be asking for a lot money...the protection money Jimmy had kept on collecting, but not passed on. He'd also want a whole years worth of rent. Gulping down his Jack Daniels, Jimmy couldn't avoid the truth. Money wasn't the real concern right now...he was a dead man if Breaker came, and he knew it. He had broken all of the unwritten laws, and knew Carlos would never trust him again. He was wondering if he should try worming his way out of it, even when he knew there was no way he could. One of his biggest bouncers leaned up on the bar next to his boss. "Jimmy, you better get out back," he told him in a low voice. "Breaker's limo was just seen moving through the Projects. If he's coming here he'll show up any minute." Jimmy got up and gestured at the barman. "Give me a bottle." The bouncer and the boss walked up to the door leading to the cool room and Jimmy entered his six digit code. In his office out back Jimmy had set up a wall of monitors across from his Italian marble desk. He had always been a paranoid man, and felt the need to have eyes everywhere. "Get back out there," he told his large ecort, and sat behind his keyboard. Tapping a few keys he activated the screen configuration for the multitude of cameras set up outside the bar monitering the streets and alleys for five blocks in every direction. He even had one set up on a highrise that overlooked the area from on high. He waited for any sign of Breaker's long dark wheels. He only had time to pour a J.D. and pick out a cigar before his eyes picked out the unmistakable black Lincoln. Jimmy hit the button on his desk that linked him to his security chief. "William? Are you listening?" "I'm right outside the main entrance, Mr. Franklin." "Good. I can see Carlos on my screen, coming at you from the north in his limo. There's no escort...make sure that car doesn't get within two blocks of this place." "I'm on it." Customising his twenty-two colour moniters to concentrate on Breaker's approach, Jimmy watched the scene as three cars were loaded up with armed thugs to intercept the approaching enemy. Fat Jimmy Franklin leaned back and grinned as he watched the three cars enter the same street Carlos rode up. Jimmy was wondering why Carlos would be stupid enough to bring only one car. Where was the mercenary squad? Sure, the Daily Planet had run a story this morning about his daughter that would explain one car death squad...but every other respected rag in Metropolis was talking about attack helicopters and hired soldiers. Much more acceptable explainations for the level of destruction seen that day. Jimmy put the street scene on the main monitor. He could see the rear windows of all three hit-squad taxis wind down at once and guns appear from them followed by torsos as the men leaned right out. Something happened then that froze Jimmy in his seat. There was a bright flash of red light, and two distinct beams blasted into the rear of the lead car. It exploded in hot ball of flame and veered into an empty bookshop still burning. The car directly behind had been close, and the driver tried to avoid impact only to plough into a speeding motorbike. As Jimmy gulped and went limp there was another flash, just as brilliant as the first and equally destructive. The car that had managed to get through the initial attack lifted into the air in a ball of flame and came down awkwardly to roll several times until rudely stopped by a telegraph pole. Jimmy punched his intercom again. "Bill! That bastard took out our cars! Get another squad going, and sober up the boys!" Bill didn't reply this time. He was too busy giving orders. Four more cars were sent and then Bill could seen on the screen permantly labelled "The Bar", running about rousting his little army out to the street. The four cars only had to turn two streets down before they could see the black limo cruising smoothly their way. Jimmy reset the main screen to watch, and felt a chill when he saw a young woman standing on the road. A very healthy young woman with nothing on but a bikini and a sheer sarong. "That looks like..." Jimmy stopped himself. He knew who it was. It was Mob-Girl. The Daily Planet had been right once again, despite the National Enquirer style of this mornings story. Though he should have left immediately, Fat Jimmy found himself unable to tear his eyes from the screen as the four cars came tearing toward the lone woman. Though the image was clear and sharp, the overweight gangster had trouble believing what it showed him. Emily Lahey, his old boss's daughter, puckered her lips and leaned forward, placing her hands smoothly on her hips. A jet-stream formed a foot from her face, pointing sharply at her mouth. First one, then two, then all four cars lifted into the air and did backflips as the surounding vehicles and people joined them. Rather than fall back down, they flew up into the air and out of the shot. While he tried to comprehend what he had just seen, Fat Jimmy recieved more unerving evidence of Clark Kent's Mob-Girl theory. The girl rose smoothly from the tar and stretched her arms out wide to drag behind her as she zoomed like a missle out off the screens scope, leaving a fifteen foot twister of dust where her feet had been. "I'm out of here..." But before he could move he saw another mesmerising event take place. Mob-Girl landed in the street outside the bar, her hands crossed over her hips as she appeared to be speaking to the drunk mob. Then guns flashed, and Mob-Girl's hands became a blur. After a moment Jimmy realised she was blocking bullets with her open palm. She seemed to get better at controlling the ricochettes, and the gunmen started dropping one after the other until they got the idea to stop firing. Dropping their weapons the terrified men started to scatter. Jimmy could see it was Bill who pulled things back together a bit. He yelled something and the bigger guys went forward with crowbars and chains. "Idiots," he cursed, not seeing himself as a fool though he remained to watch what happened next. The weapons flashed into life, but Mob-Girl just stood there with her arms folded and a cheeky grin on her face. Blows rained down upon her as her attackers circled around, but Jimmy could see that they weren't even making her flinch. Then two men went rocketing away, follwed closely by several others as Mob-Girl cleared the area around her. Bringing her legs to the task she started decapiting and quartering the armed thugs until the smart ones ran away screaming and no-one remained. Most of those in the bar had seen all this, and were making a hasty exit themselves. Mob-Girl was clearly laughing as she turned to look toward the pub. Jimmy felt goosebumbs as every hair on his body suddenly jumped into life as something seemed to pass right through him. The senstion intesified uncomfortably until it suddenly ceased. At the same instant it stopped, Mob-Girl turned to look at her fathers limo as it pulled up. Fat Jimmy jumped up and ran awkwardly from his office. He didn't see Mob-Girl snap her head back, then vanish from the screen in a blur. He heard a crash as he aproached the rear exit, and was knocked off his feet by a violent gust of wind. He heard a soft footstep, then another. Looking up he got a chill as he stared at the powerful creature Emily Lahey had become. He weighed two-twenty, and then some, but this ultra-fit bombshell was clearly unduanted by that. She reached down and hoisted him smoothly into the air by a handful of clothing. He looked down her magnetic cleavage and blinked in disbelief as blood rushed to his favourite appendage. "Where are you going? My father wants to talk with you." Terrified by the casual ease she moved him with, Fat Jimmy Franklin was carried like soiled nappy out into the silent bar. Everyone was watching Jimmy, a man feared and respected, dangle from the slim arm of a girl wearing clothes that men would call generous and women skimpy. "You people better leave," Emily suggested, igniting a few of their shoes with her eyes. Jimmy shook in her hand as she laughed at the swiftly emptied bar. Putting Jimmy on a couch Emily wandered around removing stragglers. One by one they soared over the tables and through the front windows. Most rolled on impact, but some came down very awkwardly on the tar. Some of those didn't get back up again. Through the broken windows Jimmy saw The Breaker get out of the limo, followed by Kirkland and Rudall. Surveying the mess on the street, Carlos grinned and walked into the bar. "Carlos! I've been trying to..." "Shut up Fat-man. I'm talking first." With Mob-Girl drinking bottle after bottle at the bar, Carlos sat down with Fat Jimmy and pulled a cigar from his pocket. "You and me go way back, Franklin. I Have to say I was a little disapointed to hear you were one of the first to betray me." "Mr. Lahey..." "No Jimmy, let me finish." Carlos leaned back. "New furniture. Comfortable stuff too..not from around hear. European furniture Jimmy? Not really suitable for a bar. I hope this isn't what you betrayed me for. This place looks awful. "Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked." Carlos reached for his gun, amazed to see that Fat Jimmy Franklin already had his own in hand. There was a flash of colour, and the surprised Breaker was saved by his daughter. Emily held out her open hand to show Jimmy his bullet, and dropped it into his lap making squirm around to drop the hot metal to the floor. The next sound Jimmy heard after that was crunching bone and protesting metal, then he let out a womanly scream as he realised she had merged his hand with the small gun it held. "That was very impolite, Jimmy," she told him sternly, wandering back to the bar to continue her free-run of drinks. "A nice try, Jimmy. But you can see, my new bodyguard is quick on the take. Let's see how your people work out." No-one materialised to stop the slugs that zoomed at Fat Jimmy...no hand reached out to catch the hot lead that Carlos released his way. Carlos rose and emptied his gun. Then reloaded and emptied that clip too. "Hey boss," Kirkland called out. "I can hear choppers." Emily put down her sixth bottle of vodka and focused her ears. She could hear them too, and her gaze explored the sky through the offices above the bar. "It's the army, I think," she told everyone as she quickly found the source of the noise. Three Blackhawks were flying across the the city, descending toward Fat Jimmy's. Looking through the sturdy airframes, she saw that they were loaded up with heavily armed infantry. Emily licked her lips when she saw an assortment of hand grenades and even several bazookas in their arsenal. Blinking her focus to the room around her, she looked at her father. "This won't take a minute," she promised, her feet leaving the ground as she spoke. Her sentence finished, she left the bar through an unbroken window and arced up toward the incoming 'threat'.